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Advice to the
Bathing Skirts To Be Shorter
Pity the Poor
Rich Girl
What the Newly V
7ed Should Know
What Happened
to a Girl
Lovelorn
According to Very Latest Edict
Some Practical Suggestions by |
a Practical Business Woman, j
privacy that went with hirerer houses
and more space, that sense of privacy
Igitow must be recognized and respected
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
NO.
|}EAR MISS FAIRFAX:
I-/
ing with a man of 27 for the past
three months. He says he loves
me dearly, and has given me
?*©me 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 we are to
gether he insists on an early
• marriage. Would it be all right
for me to marry him when my
parents object? BELLE.
You foolish little girl, don’t you
know that this man is not a good
man ?
If he were he would not coax a girl
of 1T> to marry him against her par
ents’ wishes. You must promise me
that you will not see him again.
PART FAULT; PART VIRTUE.
P)EAR MIPS FAIRFAX:
I am a girl of 16. employed
as a .stenographer, and conse
quently meet quite a number of
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
ask permission to call on ' me,
but she says It is foolishness,
and will not allow them to call;
neither will she allow me tg go
out with them.
She is always telling me 1
have no friends, and I think it
is partly her fault. Do you?
LONESOME.
She is right in refusing to let you
go with girl3 and boys of whom she
knows nothing, but does wrong,
when you art- consequently lonelv,
1n 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.
W HEN the eyelashes are thin
and weaK, a simple treat-
ment for strengthening them
ts to moisten one of the fingers with
lanoline, close the eyes and run the
greased finger along the edges of the
eyolids^ talcing caro 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. T "As 1 have
used Lydia E.
Pinkham’s Vege.
table Compound
with great benefit 1
feel it my duty to
write and tell you
about it. 1 was
ailing from female
weakness and had
headache and back
ache nearly all the
time 1 was later
very month than I
bould have been
and so sick that 1
had to go to bed
‘ Lydia E. 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 1t success
fully.”—Mrs. James J. Stacy, R. F. D.
No. 3, North Bangor, N. Y.
Another Made Well.
ANN ARBOR, Mich.—"Lydia E. Pink-
ham's Vegetable Compound has done
wonders for me. For years 1 suffered
terribly with hemorrhages and had
pains so intense that sometimes 1 would
faint away. 1 had femnle weakness
so bad that I 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
all sufferers as I think it is a blessing
for all women ”—Mrs. L E. Wyckoff,
112 S. Ashley Ft., Ann Arbor. Mich.
There need he no doubt about the
ability of this grand old remedy, made
from the routs and herbs of otir fields, to
remedy woman's diseases. We possess
volume** of proof of this fact, enough
to convince the* most skeptical Why
don’t you try it?
\~JL TILL Atlanta girls follow the bathing suit fashion as laid down by
\\ 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 indicating the length which obtained last summer.
Atlanta young 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.
Ash yoar g rocer for it.
Cheek-Neai
Cof.ee Co.
Nashville
Houston
Jscksoavillo
H I’SB AND (very late home from the
club)—H’m! I told ydu not to sit
up for me.
Wife (sweetly)- I didn’t. I g<»t up
to see the sun rise.
Bellows—Does 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 over on it, but there's no
play about it, sir.
Wife (with Suffragist leanings) —
I'ntil women get the vote it is Impos
sible for them to get Justice in the
courts.
Husband—True: they *jet more mer
cy than justice.
“Why, the size of your Mil,” cried
the angry patient to the doctor,
"makees me boil all over!”
"Ah!” said the eminent practitioner,
calmly, “that will be $10 m »re for
sterilizing your system."
'‘Tommy, did you carry your books
on the left side this morning?” 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?’
gTowIed dad.
“That shows what kind of a fathei
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,”
ho said. ”1 made my pile with only a
Common school education.”
"I dare say, dad,” replied the son,
“but it takes a college education to
know how to spend it.”
Mr. Toogood—1 went under an oper
ation yesterday.
Mr. Markwell—You surprise me. Wan
it very serious?
Mr. Toogood- I had a growth removed
from my head.
Mr. Marked 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’ve tried a new' experiment in our
village.” said the old gentleman with
gold-rimmed spectacles. “We decided
that as the tendency to vanity waa so
great there ought to be some reward for
people who were capable of standing
aside and rejoicing in others’ success.
So we organized 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 man won one of the medals, he would
get so proud that wo had to take it
away again.”
By DOROTHY DIX.
P ITT the poor rich girl who has
nothing to do but to amuse her
self doing things that bore her
stiff. Her Jot Is. Indeed; a hard one.
and much more deserving of our tears
than many of the woes of the poor over
which we tire accustomed to weep.
There has recently been a great furor
over 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
cable 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 cagp, 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 i*arasite 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
« imberer of the ground.
And she was rich! And she didn’t
have to work. And she could have ev
ery mortal thing that money can buy!
And she wasn’t satisfied.
No Wonder They Worry.
No wonder her family wrung their
hands when they thought of her, and
tiled 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 j
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- j
dom of boredom as to have to live the !
life of what we call “a society woman,”
and) 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 ami 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 collar, 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 i
would have, "She Was a Swell Dresser
and Was Burled in an Imported Shroud.”
carved on their tombstones.
The Auction Bridge Career.
There are other women who cart make
a career out of auction bridge, and who
satisfy every need of their natures by i
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
rugged edse of scandal, by spending
thousands of dollars for lap dogs, and
rushing from place to place as fast as
tain or gasoline will carry them.
And there are others whose highest
ambition is to know the people that don’t
want to know r 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 care for all of these things enough
to make them worth while you must be
born that way, and that is what makes
the tragedy of the rich girl whose brains
were not cut on the bias and frilled in
A® 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
e time. Hhe 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 be 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 talents. There Is nothing left
for her but to go in for philanthropy,
and she hates philanthropy. She wants
io save herself, not others.
And that’s why l 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 fine house, and Jewels, and automo
biles. and money enough to buy every
thing she fancies: and they throw up
their hands 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
lhat would have made her a Wall Street
magnate, or an executive ability that
would nave put her in the Governor’s
chair had she been a man; and to spend
her f lme changing her clothes and going
to pink teas no more fills the measure
of these women's desires than it would
their fatner’s
The riel woman with brains and am
bition ami a desire to he of use In the
world is as forlorn a figure as exists in
the world She is the victim of her
wealth hs much as the poorest person
is of his poverty, and her life is far
waller tnan that of an> worker engaged
in labor in which he is interested.
Who Says Happy Marriage Is]
Made Up of Little Sacrifices on
Bofh Sides.
By Margaret Hubbard Ayer
ARTICLE II.
{ 11% f\ ATRIMONY Is a fine art. To
M
criticise it properly one
must see it at a distance,
then one can find the small flaws that
sometimes spoil the masterpiece.”
Mrs. Isabelle Kellie, a writer and
a business woman, who has been suc
cessful at many tilings, 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
pleasures.
"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 sex.
"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 by 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 fiat. 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 when 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 fr>m
pouring out the trials and tribula-
MRS. ISABELLE KELLIE.
tion-s 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 feeling;* 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 impossible for people to get the
and fostered and the odious familiar
ity that inevitably breeds contempt
must be guarded against. One can
do it if one is forewarned and I think
that problem lies in lie hands of the
wife.
Love Doesn’t Bar Politeness.
"Love should not be a bar to polite-
r.ess, and the fact that one is mar
ried is no go-jd excuse for forget-
ting- those small phrases that go with
a request such as 'Do you mind 7’ 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 men 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.
"Or. the other hand, I think later
on when there are children and a
woman has no nurse for them the fa
ther could arrange to take charge o.
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 tliat 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 ta.-te
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 tine
that they have nothing new to talk
about.”
Married Life the Third Year B L MA 3S, H - E * BERT ’ JRt,E . R .-
“O'
II, where ARE the goos scis-
sore7 *1 can't cut with these!”
Helen threw down her sew
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 was writing—a voluminous let-
“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, “what does she know abortt
Mr. Hampton? Just because he’s a
little’ older than I! And he’s so much
ter, from the pages of closely written more interesting and clever than any
* of those Dayton boys I know. Why
note paper. She looked up with a slight
frown as Helen entered.
“Have you the good scissors in here,
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 evenly with the sharper
scissors the material the duller pair
had only “chewed.”
“Dear,” as she thoughtfully threaded
a needle,* “I don’t know what to think
about all the letters Alice writes. Every
day since she came she’s spent hours me
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—she'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—
I 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-
lging something. Why shouldn't a girl
of eighteen write to a. man if she wants
to?" . ,
“ir her mother knows it—yes. but
I feel that Aunt Emma doesn't know
this,” persisted Helen. "And that pic
ture In her locket—it Isn't any one
of her own age—it's a man of thirty-
live or forty. And I don't like hie 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'B 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 ae soon as she glanced at the
letter, she realized It was one that Alice
could not aee.
“A letter from mamma?” asked Alice,
coming in, shaking her wet hair over
her towel-covered shoulders.
‘•But it’s only ft business letter,” fal
tered Helen. "Nothing that would in
terest you.”
*T 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."
“Ye®, that's what she h($.s written
about.” Helen looked at hOr steadily.
"And don’t you think, Alico, that your
people have had enough trouble without
you causing them this exu* worry?”
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 thabls got to do with it?
Lots 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 t<5Id
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 fio 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 film 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 into her own room, slam
med the door and locked it.
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 bad
strikes ,me to-day. But I took it
far more seriously last nig-ht. And,
oh, how I wish I hadn’t! Honey, you
may call some of the li tie danced ! a
Savannah and .Macon and Augusta
“slow,” and wish Joe could take you
to a real function up ir Atlanta, but
dances are happy youn i things, and
balls are painful old ± ffairs, atm j
know'.
Besides all of which, the R oyc , t
girls have not the costumes for balls, t
I wore my little blue charmeuse, and
felt in a blue funk when I beheld
Glory’s glory. A Callot creation of
pale pink and apple green chiffou all
done with posies and pearls and
priceless lace.
He’d Call It Inadequate.
Now, I don’t doubt t.iat a fashion
editor would call this a most inade- '
quate description, but how you’d f
come closer to describing the bewil-
dering fluff that dwelt under Glory's
skyline plush evening coat, I don't
see. But I just about i erished when
I beheld the utter Bph ndiferousnrss
of all the ladies fair at the hall.
And T. Albert Jo instone was
ashamed of the little Hoosltr he had
brought along in his patty. Of course,
he was very polite and took a dance,
but it was a turkey trot, and we had
to sit it out. Neither he nor Glory
introduced me to a soul, and if .Mr,
English had not been perfectly fine
about his little Cinderell t, partner, she
must have been a hopeless wallflower.
But he took many danc;s and signed
all sorts of scriggles, so it really ap
peared that I was quite a belle', and
all his introductions wire so clever
and flattering that hi fairly per
suaded the men I 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 darn Ing is an ex*
pression of noetrv and rhythm! The
turkey trot is very bad meter—lots ot
"Xtra feet and so much swing that it
drowns out all delicacy. And a mors
go-as-you-please affaii you never
saw—you follow the leader—who is
your partner pro tem.—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 eoti'lon, or what- '
ever they have at the! e 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 and felt sue .!
failure—badly dressed f nd unat ■ to
mix. I just wanted to drop my he i
down on mother's shoulder and 1
all out. And the cnly si oul
was Mr. English’s—so 1 sat up very
straight and bit my.liis and swal
lowed ail 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 puUing
one little anemone into a bunch of
hothouse roses. Will the delicate
little wildflower forgive me for tak-»
Ing her out of her woods into that
atmosphere?” And then—oh, Kitty,
don’t ask me to explair how it ever
could have happened—b it it did—Mr.
English took me in his arms and
kissed me. Am I engi ged to him?
i 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.
^lIHliiiTiiiniiinuiiniiii iiiiinTiilllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll
Give the
Kiddies
Lots of
Sweets
Divinity Fudge
Part 1.—3-4 cup Red Velva
Syrup, 1 ox. chocolate, 1-2
cup water, 3 cup* sugar, 1
teaspoonful almond extract.
Part 2.—1 cap sugar, 1-2 cup
water, whites of 3 eggs, 1 cup
chopped nut meats, 1 teaspoon-
ful vanilla extract.
Boil part one untii a little hardens
in cold water. Boil part two (with
out egg whiten, nutn and extract)
until it forma a aoft hall when tried
in cold water; remove frem atooe,
pour gradually into atiffly beaten
whiten of egqa. heating all the time.
Then heat it into part one. Now beat
the mixture for 20 minutes. add
nutn and vanilla extract ana pour
into buttered tine or platen■ 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 make
the candy you give file kiddies yourself, and you
ought to make it with
in the red can, because it’s the very best syrup for
candy-making that your money can buy. It gives
a real tang to candy that you can’t get with any
other syrup - and the very first can of Vojva you use will I rove
that what we say about It la so. It'a just fine for cakes, too,
and other baking. Yes, buy Velva In the clean, senitarj can.
Buy it often and give the kiddles sweets. You can get Velva 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, La.