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4 If' I II . 5 I | ff Bp u .ft 8 ’ll Advice to the Lovelorn By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. NO. | AEAR MISS FAIRFAX: ■*-' I am 15 and have been (jo- Inp with a man of 27 for the f>a»t throe months. He says he loves me dearly, and has piven me some nice presents. The last time we were together we had a quarrel, but he wants to call | again. Do you think It would be proper for me to accept his com pany? Every time wo aro to gether he insists on an early i marriage. Would it be all right for me to marry him when my parents object? BEI.I-.E. Tou foolish little girl, don’t you know that this man Is not a good man? If he were he would not cons a girl of 15 to marry him against her par ents’ wishes. Tou must promise me that you will not see him again. PART FAULT; PART VIRTUE. D ear miss Fairfax: 1 am a girl of 1*1. employed as a stenographer, and conse quently meet quite a number of 1 people. Girl friends come out to see me, but my mother will not let me visit them, saying she knows nothing about them. Boys also Lilt permission to call on me, but she says It is foolishness, and will not allow them to call; neither will she allow me to go out with them. She is always telling me I have no friends, and I think It Is partly her fault. Do you? LONESOME. i She Is right In refusing to let you i go with girls and boys of whom she | know s nothing, but docs wrong, j when you are consequently lonely. In twitting you with being friend less. Look on the better side of It. Be content with being friendless rather than have the wrong kind. For the Eyelashes. v -w j HEIN the eyelashes are thin ^/\/ and weaa, a simple treat ment for strengthening them Is to moisten one of the Angers with lanoline, close the eyes and run the greased finger along the edges of the eyelids, taking care that the ‘grease does not get Into the eyes themselves. Weak eyebrows may also be treated with lanoline, which should be rubbed | gently into them. WOMAN’S ILLS DISAPPEARED Like Magic after taking Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound. NORTH BANGOR, N. Y "As I have used Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vege. table Compound with groat benefit 1 feel it my duty to write and tell you about it. I was ailing from female weakness and had headache and back- ache'mearly all the time. I was later "'cry month than 1 n ’ should have been and so sick that 1 had to go to bed “Lydia K. Pinkham’s Vegetable Com pound has made me well and these trou bles have disappeared like magic. I have recommended the Compound to many women who have used It success fully ' Mrs. James J. Stacy, R. F. D. No. 3, North Bangor, N. Y. Another .Made Well. \ ANN ARBOR, M1chY-“Lydla E. Plnk- ham’s Vegetable Compound ha^ done wonders for me. For years 1 suffered .terribly with hemorrhages and had pa*ns so intense that sometimes 1 would faint away k 1 had female weakness so bad that 1 had to doctor all the time and never found relief until I took your remedies to please* my husband. I recommend your wonderful medicine to <•11 sufferers as I think !t Is a blessing for all women "—Mrs. L. E. WyCkofP, 112 K. Ashley St., Ann Arbor, Mich. There need be no doubt about the ability of this grand old remedy, made from the roots and herbs of our fields, to remedy woman’s diseases. We possess volumes' of proof of this fact, enough fo convince the most skeptical. Why don’t you try it? Bathing Skirts To Be Shorter According to Very Latest Edict Up-to-the-Minute Jokes Pity the Poor Rich Girl What the Newly Wed Should Know WhatHappened to a Girl ■f T TILL Atlanta girls follow the bathing suit fashion as laid down by Y/y Chief of Police Woodruff, of Atlantic City? The chiefs latest edict says the skirts may come as low—or as high—as “a little above the knee.” The picture above gives an idea of the new bathing skirt, the dotted line 'mdicating the length which obtained last summer. Atlanta yomg women who contemplate a visit to the seashore at Tybee or Cumberland or daily visits to the "beach” at Piedmont Park may be in terested in knowing the season’s fashion as it applies to the famous bathing place—-Atlantic City, which so often sets the pace. $1,000 Reward Offered for every ounce of adulteration or in ferior grade cof fee found in a sealed can of Max well House Blend. Adi yotrr grocer for it. TTUSBAND (very late home from the club)—H’m! I told you not to sit up for me. Wife (sweetly)—1 didn't. I got up to see the sun rise. Bellows—Poes your daughter play on the piano? Old Farmer (in tones of deep dis gust)—No, sir She works on It, pounds it, rakes It, scrapes it, jumps on It, rolls ovftr on it, but there's no play about It, sir. Wife (with Suffragist leanings)— Until women get the vote it is Impos sible for them to get justice In the i courts. Husband—True; they »ret more mer- I ey than Justice. ! "Why, the size of your bill,” cried j the angry patient to the doctor, makees me boil all over!” “Ah!" said the eminent practitioner, j calmly, “that will be f 10 more for sterilizing your system." "Tommy, did you carry your books on the left side this morning 0 " de manded his mother. “Yes’m.” "Very welL Now, don’t forget to carry them on the right side to-morrow morning.” "What difference does it make?* 1 growled dad. “That shows what kind of a fathe; you are," snapped the mother, "if the child didn’t alternate he might get curvature of the spine." Gentleman—I thought you were a blind beggar? Beggar—That’s my lay. Gentleman Well, you are not blind now. Beggar (indignantly) —Well, sir can’t a poor fellow take a day off occasion ally? Paterfamilias was lecturing his son on education. “Look here, my boy,” ■ •o said. “I made my pile with only a common school education.” “I dare say, dad," replied the son. “hut it takes a college education to know how to spend It." Mr. Too good I went under an oper ation yesterday. Mr. Markwell—You surprise me. Was It very serious? Mr. Toogood I had a growth removed from my head. Mr. Markell My goodness. And here you are about and looking well. Mr. Toogood Oh, don’t fret, old sport; I only had my hair cut. "We’vo tried a new experiment in our village,” said the old gentleman with gold-rimmed spectacles. "We decided that as the tendency to vanity was so great there ought to be some reward for people who were capable of standing aside and rejoicing hi others’ success. So wo organised a society for the pre sentation of modesty medals.” "How did It work?” asked the inter ested listener. "Badly, I’m sorry to say. As soon as a niun won one of the medals, he would get so proud that we had to take it away again.” By DOROTHY DIX. P ITY the poor rich girl who has nothing to do but to amuse her self doing things that bore her stiff. Her lot is, indeed, a hard one. and much more deserving of our tears ihan many of the woes of the poor over which we art' accustomed to weep. There has recently been a great furor ■ ver a young heiress, moving in the most exalted circle of English society, who ran away from home because she wanted to make her own living. The r uble was almost torn up by the roots in an attempt to find out if the bold adventurer had come- to America, de tectives were put upon her track, and finally she was found and returned to her gilded cage, from which she will probably never have the courage to at tempt another flight. The young woman’s mother was so prostrated with horror that she took to her bed. Society was shocked ami shrugged its shoulders, and tapped Its empty fore head with a significant intimation that there was something wrong with the poor girl’s mind, for her mania was to do something terrible and Incomprehen sible. She wanted to go to work. She want ed to be a doer, not a waster. She wanted to be of service to her fellow creatures, not a parasite on society. She wanted some real interest in life, not make believe ones. She wanted to be of some use in the? world, not a mere cumberer of the ground. And she was rich! And she didn’t h iv*’ to work. And she could have ev er/ mortal thing that money can buy! And she wasn't satisfied. Nc Wonder They Worry. No wonder her family wrung their hands when they thought of her, and - ailed her peculiar, and wondered what on earth they would do with her. for likely as not she wouldn’t want to mar ry a sapheaded youth with a few more millions, or even he willing to purchase a degenerate old roue with a title for a husband. But however her family and friends may feel over this poor girl’s futile break for freedom, she has my hearty sympathy, for I can think of nothing else that human ingenuity has ever in vented that would be such a martyr dom of boredom as to have to live the life of what we call “a society woman," unci that is nothing but just one party after another. Unless you happened to be built that way. There are, of course, women who find their highest happiness in buying clothes and who ask no more blissful occupation than to be continually taking off one dress and hat, and putting on another dress and hat. To them it Is a great and noble achievement to have been the first to wear a Robespierre cpllar, or to have had a skirt slit two inches high er in the knee than anybody else, and If they could choose their epitaph they would have, “She Was a Swell Dresser and Was Buried in an imported Shroud." carved on their tombstones. The Auction Bridge Career. There are other women who can make a career out of auction bridge, and who satisfy every need of their natures by -shlng from card table to card table. There are others who keep themselves from perishing of inanition by pushing everything to the extreme, by tur key trotting hader than anybody else, by flirtations that border on the ragged edse of scandal, by spending thousands of dollars for lap dogs, and y rushing from place to place as fast as steam or gasoline will carry them. And there are others whose highest ambition is to know the people that don't want to know them, and who consider a laborious life of striving well spent if it lands them at last within the sacred precincts of the four hundred where all of your family affairs get into print. To cure for all of these things enough to make them worth while you must be born that way. and that Is w’hat makes the tragedy of the rich girl whose brains were not cut on the bias and frilled In ue middle and hobbled with a blue rib bon tied about them. Dress doesn’t seem to her the most Important thing in the world. Nor does she feel that bridge Is the chief end of life. To spend her time In dancing like a monkey on a stick seems to her noth ing less than a crime, and she abhors the fat dinners and luncheons that she eats to the accompaniment of fat talk, with the same fatheads for perpetual company. She wearies of the artificial interests of those who are forever at their wits’ end to devise some new way of killing ie time. She wants the real thrill of a real interest where you pit your own in telligence and skill against that of oth ers. and struggle for a real prize. She wants to do something that Is of some account, something that will upbuild. She wants work and to be a worker, not to he a dressed-up doll. And the thing she wants most she can’t have. Nobody will let her try, even, to find out what Is in her. what strength she has, what are the measures of her taJents. There Is nothing left for her but to go in for philanthropy, and she hates philanthropy. She wants m save herself, not others. And that’s why 1 say, pity the poor rich girl. Her only salvation is to be born without any human qualities That is if she is to be happy. Criticism Widespread. There is a great deal of criticism of women who want to do things, and we hear much of the discontent among women. People say of such-and-such a woman that she Is rich, that she’s got a tine house, and Jewels, and automo biles. and money enough to buy every thing she fancies; and they throw up their hand** and say, “In Heaven’s name, why Isn't she contented?" The answer is. because she’s got no worthy outlet for her energy’ and Intel lect. Very likely such a woman Inherit ed from her father a talent for finance loat would have made her a Wall Street magnate, or an executive ability that would have put her in the Governor’s chair had she been a man; and to spend her Mme changing her clothes and going to pink teas no more fills the measure of these wrmen's desires than It would their father's The rid woman with brains and am bition and a desire to be of use in the world is as forlorn a figure us exists in the v«.rld. She is the victim of her wealth s much as the poorest person ' his poverty, and her life » far bullet :;i<»n that of any worker engaged in labor i:i which he is interested. | Some Practical Suggestions by a Practical Business Woman, Who Says Happy Marriage Is Made Up of Little Sacrifices on Both Sides. “M By Margaret Hubbard Ayer ARTICLE II. ATRIMONY is a fine art. To criticise it properly one must see it at a distance, then one can find the small flaw's that sometimes spoil the masterpiece." Mrs. Isabelle Kellie, a writer and a business woman, who has been suc cessful at many things, including matrimony, gives her ideas on this subject to the Newly Weds to-day. "A happy marriage is made up of little sacrifices on both sides. When these sacrifices are appreciated by the other half they turn in to mutual plf :;sures. "It takes a great deal of thought to make a fine art of matrimony. Few young married people are willing to study each other’s needs and make allowances for each other. Married couples soon get into the habit of ordering each other about without saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ A woman will do many little services for a man if he voices his wants politely, and the same applies with equal truth to the other sox. “Generally one finds when a mar riage is not ideal that the couples are suffering from too much of each other’s society. In the days when most people lived in houses sur rounded b'y gardens the harassed hero or heroine could flee to the arbor and indulge in the luxury of soli tude. But there is no such thing as solitude in the modern flat. And every human being feels the need of being alone and absolutely quiet at . times. Does Not Harp on Trouble. "The girl who has been in business before her marriage realizes that her husband is fagged out w'hen he comes home from his day’s work and, if she remembers her own experience, she knows that he can recuperate and get rested sooner if she will refrain from pouring out the trials and tribula- MRS. ISABELLE KELLIE. tions of the day in his ears or adding to his nervous state by a weepy sym pathy. Many people are like animals when they are ill or very tired. They want to be left absolutely alone. "Every person is entitled to a room or den where they can retire and commune with their own souls when they need to do so, without fear of hurting the feelings of the rest of the family. The small apartments where all privacy is impossible have had their share in adding to modern ‘Nerves.’ "As modern living conditions make it impos^ble for people to get the privacy that went with larger houses and more space, that sense of privacy must be recognized and respected and fostered and the odious familiar ity that inevitably breeds contempt must be guarded against. One can do it if one is forewarned and T think that problem lies in he hands of the wife. Love Doesn’t Bar Politeness. "Love should not be a bar to polite ness, and the fact that one is mar ried is no good excuse for forget ting those small phrases that go with ii request such as ‘Do you mind?’ or ’Will you be kind enough?’ which one would never omit to a stranger and which smooth the rough places wonderfully. "There is such a thing as seeing too much of one another, and I have known of many couples who seem to forget that a man needs the compan ionship of other nun just as a woman craves that of other women. "Once the honeymoon is over I think that a man should be allowed one night a week for his club or his friends, providing that the compan ions are of the right kind, of course. It is a good thing for him to see oth er men than those he meets in busi ness. “On the other hand, I think later r.n when there are children and a ! woman has no nurse for them the fa- j ther could arrange to take charge of I them one evening a week and give the mother an absolute rest, ‘an even ing off,’ to go to the theater or see her friends and family. Of course, a man says that she has the entire day to herself, but a woman with small children has not a minute day or night to call her own, unless some one else takes the charge of the children. "There would be fewer bored mar ried couples if men and women culti vated a hobby. The hobby may be anything from suffrage to golf or yachting to suit the income and taste of the individual, and husband and wife should not necessarily have the same hobby. "A diversity of interests of this kind stimulates the mind and helps con versation when the inevitable time comes where husband and wife fin*! J that they have nothing new to talk • about.” Married Life the Third Year “O H, where ARE the goos scis sors? l ean t out with these!" Helen threw down her sew- I ing and again searched through her ! work basket. "What In the Sam Hill do you want?” growled Warren, as she moved the read ing lamp, and raised up his papers to look on the table. "The scissors—we’ve only one pair that'll cut. Oh. maybe Alice has taken them In her room," Alice wait writing—A voluminous let ter. from the pages of closely written note paper. She looked up with a slight frown as Helen entered. "Have you the good scissors in here, I Alice? I’m sorry to disturb you. Oh, ! yes, here they are,” seeing them on the dresser. Helen went back and took up her sewing, cutting ovenly with the sharper scissors the material the duller pair had only “chewed.” "Pear," as she thoughtfully threaded a needle. "I don’t know' what to think about all the letters Alice w-rltes. Every day since she came she’s spent hours writing to some one." "Well, what of it?” snapped War ren. “What business is It of ours how many letters she writes?” It’s Only to One Person. "But it’s only to one person! It isn’t as if she were writing home or to a lot of school girls—ehe’s writing to some man!” "How do you know It’s a man?” “Why, no girl is going to write a twenty-page letter to another girl and write one every day! And, besides, there’s a man’s picture in her locket 1 saw her looking at it yesterday. And somehow I feel it’s somebody her folks don’t approve of or don’t know anything about.” "Fiddlesticks! You’re always imag ing something. Why shouldn’t a girl of eighteen write to a man if she wants to?” "Tf her mother knows it—yes. but I feel that Aunt Emma doesn’t know this." persisted Helen. “And that pic ture in h«*r locket—It isn't any one of her own age—It’s a man of thirty- five or forty. And I don’t like his face, but it’s Just the type that would attract a young girl." ”Oh, cut It! Can’t you see I’m try ing to read?" Helen sewed on in silence, but in spite of Warren’s lack of interest and apprehension, her thoughts kept revolv ing about the many page letter Alice was always writing, and the man’s face she had seen In the locket. Things Were Not Right. Intuitively she knew that thinks were not right, and the fact that Alice was here under their protection gave her a haunting sense of responsibility. The next day the noon delivery brought Helen a leter from Alice’s mother. Alice was shampooing her hair In the bathroom, and Helen called to her cheerily as she opened it. "Better hurry up! Here’s a letter from your mother.” But as soon as she glanced at the letter, she realized It was one that Alice could not see. “A letter from mamma?” asked Alice, coming in, shaking her wet hair over her towel-covered shoulders. "But it’s only a business letter," fal tered Helen. "Nothing that would In terest you." "I know what mother wrote you," ex citedly. "I know why you won’t let me see that letter! She wrote about Mr. Hampton! She’s afraid I’m writing to him. or that I’ll see him—isn't that it? Oh, you needn’t answer. I know it is." "Yes. that’s what she lifts written about.'' Helen looked at h&r steadily. “And don’t you think, Alien, that your people have had enough trouble without you causing them thi6 exU* worry?" “Then why don’t they let me alone? I’m eighteen—I’m old enough to know what I’m doing. Why shouldn’t I write to Mr. Hampton—and see him, too, if I want to?" "Alice, I don’t know anything about this man, but I do know that your mother wouldn’t object to your seeing him without some good reason." “Oh, mother!” with an impatient shrug, "w’hat does she know about Mr. Hampton? Just because he’s, a little older than I! And he's sq much more interesting and clever than any of those Dayton boys I know. Why I’ve always said I couldn’t care for a man who wasn’t a lot older. And the fact that he’s divorced—I don’t see what that’s got to do with it? l^)ts of people have been married un happily and it isn’t their fault.” "Divorced! Oh, Alice, he ISN'T divorced?” How Foolish. “Well Is there anything disgrace ful about that? Aren’t lots of people divorced—nice people, too? He’s tdld me how unhappy he was with his wife—how they were never con genial. Her tastes and interests were so different—they’d nothing in com mon. Oh. his life* has been so sad? You can tell that by his eyes—the most wonderful dark eyes! And he’s so distinguished looking, and has the most glorious voice!" Helen sank into a chair with a help less gasp of dismay. "I suppose it’s useless for me to try to tell you how foolish you are. Can’t you see no man of any principle would talk to a young girl about his divorced wife? Why, everything you say about him shows”— “Cousin Helen, I happen to love him and I’m engaged to marry him, so you will please not say anything more!” “Then I must say this, Alice, that while you’re here, you are not to write him another letter. I can’t have the responsibility. Your moth er’s to send for you the first of the month, then she can handle the situ ation, but while you stay here—you must not write him again.” “And how are you going to keep me from writing him?" "If you won’t respect my request— I shall have to ask Warren to see that you do." "Warren!” sniffed Alice. "Do you think I’m afraid of him? Because he’s always lording it over you doesn't mean he can bully everybody else. I don't care if he IS my cousin. 1 think he’s about, as selfish and overbearing as any one I ever met. And since you feel so free to say things against Mr Hampton, just let me tell you that if I marry him he’ll be a lot kinder to me than Warren’s ever been to you!’’ And before Helen could recover from her amazed indignation Alice had flounced int'' her own room, slam med the door and locked it By LILLIAN LAI FERTY. D earest kitten: "I’ve been to the animal fair, the birds and the beast were there, the old baboon—" and that Is about how a New York ball strikes me to-day. But I took it far more seriously last night. And, oh, how I wish I hadn’t! Honey, you may call some of the 11 tie dances in Savannah and Macon and August* "slow," and wish Joe could take you to a real function up in Atlanta, hut dances are happy youn; things, and balls are painful old affairs, and I know. Besides all of which, the R 0 y c , girls have not the costumeB for bails, I wore my little blue charmeuse, and felt in a blue funk when I behJId Glory’s glory, A Callot creation of pale pink and apple green chiffon all done with posies and pearls , n d priceless lace. He'd Call It Inadequate. Now, I don’t doubt tiat a fashion editor would call this i. most Inade quate description, but how you'd come closer to describing the b'e«i|. dering fluff that dwelt under Glory's skyline plush evening coat, I don’t see. But 1 just about ; erished when I beheld the utter spU ndlferousn sa of all the ladies fair at the ball. And T. Albert Jo instone was ashamed of the little Hoositr he had brought along in his paity. Of course, he was very polite and took a dance, but It was a turkey trot, and v.e had to sit it out. Neither he nor Glory introduced me to a soil, and if Mr. English had not been perfectly line about his little CinderelU partner, she must have been a hopele ss wallflower. But he took many dances and signed all sorts of scriggles, so it really ap peared that I was quite a belle, and all his -introductions w * re so clever and flattering that he fairly per suaded the men 1 was a personage instead of a mere little scribbler who may never amount to anything at all. And how I hate the turkey trot and the bunny hug and all the menagerie wriggles! Why, the Inventors of those far-from-dances forgot all about the fact that dancing is an ex pression of noetrv and hythm! The turkey trot is very' bad meter—lots of •xtra feet and so much swing that it drowns out all delicacy. And a more go-as-you-please affair you never saw—you follow' the leader—who is your partner pro tern.—and Just when you’ve learned to wriggle and twist as his fancy dictates you get a new dictator. Kitty, think of being glad and thankful and joyous when a dance concludes to end! Bu I was, and when T. A. and Glory decided to stay for the supper and cotillon, or what ever they' have at these Manhattan functions, I was happy to hear Mr. English declare that we were both working folk and would now proceed to buy us a little taxi and ride home in it. I was so tired end felt such a social failure—badly dressed i nd unable to mix. I just wanted to drop my head down on mother's shoulder and cry it all out. And the only shoulder handy was Mr. English’s—so j sat up very straight and bit my' li >s and swal lowed all the bitter thoughts that were trying to choke me. I ’Spose I’m Engaged. And then Mr. English suddenly said: "Poor little girl, you have had a stupid evening. It was like putting one little anemone into a bunch of hothouse roses. Will the delicate little wildflower forgive me for tak* ing her out of her wotds into that atmosphere?” And thfn—oh. Kit'y, don't ask me to explain how it ever could have happened—b it it did—Mr. English took me in his arms and kissed me. Am I engf ged to him? T suppose I am. and I don’t want to oe one bit, and I am so ashamed of some one I don’t know what to do, and her name is—Your loving MADGE. pilfilmiH miiuuiinn 77trrr77nTmTiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiminiiimiiHiiiiiiiiitiiiii(iiiimimiiiiiiiiini IK Give the Kiddies Lots of Sweets Divinity Fudge Part J.—3-4 cap Red Velva Syrup, 1 ox. chocolate, 1-2 cap water, 3 cups sugar, 1 teaspoonful almond extract. Part 2.—/ cup sugar, 1-2 cup water, whites of 3 eggs, 1 cup chopped nut meats, 1 teaspoon • ful vanilla extract. Boil part one until a little hardens in cold water. Boil part two < with out egg whites, nuts and extract) until tt forms a soft ball when tried in cold water; remove from stove, tyour gradually into stiffly beaten whites of eggs, beating all the time. Then beat it into part one. Now beat the rnutore for 20 minutes, add nuts and vanilla extract ana pour into battered tins or plates. Cool and cut in squares. The chocolate may be omitted. That old notion of sweets disagreeing with children is all wrong. The best and biggest physicians say, "Eat sweets, your body needs them.” They say that when your palate craves candy, satisfy the desire, because some hungry tissue requires it—but you ought to ir ake the candy you give IXie kiddies yourself, and you ought to make it with 7 in the red can, because it's the very best syrup for candy-making that your money can buy. It g-ves a real tang to candy that you can’t get with any other syrup—and the very first can of Vcjva you us* will j rove that what we say about it is so. It’s Just fins for cakes, too, and other baking. Yes, buy Velva in the clean, sanitary can. Buy it often and give the kiddies sweets. You can get Velvra in the green cans, too, at your grocer’s if you prefer it Send for the book of Velva Recipes. No charge• PENICK & FORD, Ltd. New Orleans, 2 . La 1