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f hi *e ©d. ingl that abo no liev Eva ther By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. NO. * HEAR MISS FAIRFAX: 1 am 15 and have been go ing with a man of 27 for the past thro© months. H© says lie loves me dearly, and has given me some nic© presents. The last time w© 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- ■r*wner he Insists on an early TiHarriage. Would it be all right • for me to marry him when my * parents object? BBLL8. You foolish little girl, don’t you know that this man la not a good man? If he were he would not coax a girl of 15 to marry him against her par ents' wishes. You must promise me j that you will not see him again. PA-RT FAULT; PART VIRTUE. T^BAR MISS FAIRFAX: , I am a girl of 16. employed 4 ♦ as a ethnographer* and conse quently meet quite a number of J j peopfe. , f Girl friends oome out to see j me, but my mother will not let » me \ialt them, saying she knows t J nothing about them. Boys also * ' ask permission to call on me, but she says It is foolishness. * ! and will not allow them to call; t neither will she allow me to go t out with them. She Is always telling me I * have no friends, and I think It * la partly her fault. Do you? LONESOME. She is right in refusing ;o let you |ro tvith girls and boys of whom she know© nothing, but does wrong, * when you are consequently lonely, in twitting you with being frlend- v less. Look on the better side of it. 9 Be content with being friendless rather than have the wrong kind. ▼ —j i For the Eyelashes. y | w or THEN the eyelashes are thin I \/\/ and weak, a simple treat ment for strengthening them R is to moisten one of the fingers with _ * I Ian dine, close the eyes and run the J: 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. J WOMAN'S ILLS DISAPPEARED' like Magic after taking Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound. NORTH BA NOOK, N. Y used ■W ■* -■ -'ip/ l $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. Ask your grocer for it. ’*Cof.ee Co. Nashville Houstc* Jacksonville - ** “As I havei Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vege» | table Compound with great benefit I feel it my diny to write and tell you t about it. 1 was | ailing from female weakness and had headache and back ache nearly all the time. I was later every month than I should have been J and so sick that 1 had to go to bed ‘Tydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Corn 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. Jatnes J. Stacy, R. F. D. No J, North Bangor, N. Y. Another Made Well. ANN ARE >K. 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 j faint ii\va> i had female weakness j so bad that I had to doctor all the time and never found relief until 1 took your remedies to please my husband. 1 recommend your wonderful medicine to all sufferers as I think it Is a blessing for all women.”—Mrs. L. E. Wyckoff. 112 S. 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 i to convince the most skeptical. Why i don’t.you try It? Advice to the Bathing Skirts To Be Shorter j Pity the Poor ! What the b Jewly Wed Should .Know What Happened Lovelorn According to Very Latest Edict Rich Girl ] Some Practical Suggestions by a Practical Business Woman, 1 privacy that went with larger houses and more space, that sense of privacy must be recognized and respected to a Girl ! W ILL Atlanta girls follow th© bathing suit fashion as laid down by Chief of Police Woodruff, of Atlantic City? The chief’s 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. Up-to-the-Minute Jokes H USBAND (very late home from the club)—H’m! I told you not to sit up for me. Wife (sweetly)—I didn’t. I got 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)— Until 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 bill,” cried , the angry patient to the doctor, “makees me boll all over!” “Ah!” said the eminent practitioner, calmly, "that will be $10 more for sterilizing your system.” “Tommy, did you carry your books on the left side this morning?” de manded his mother. "Yee’m.” “Very well Now, don’t forget to carry them on the right side to-morrow morning.” "What difference does it make?’ growled dad. “That show’s what kind of a fathe you are,” snapped the mother. "If the child didn't alternate he might get curvature of the spine.” (Gentleman l 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,” he 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—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’ve tried a new experiment in our village.” said the old gentleman with gold-rimmed spectacles “We decided that as the tendency to vanity w’as so groat there ought to be some reward for people who were capable of standing aside and rejoicing in others' success. So wo organized a society for the pre sentation of modesty medals.” “How did it work?” asked the inter- isted listener "Badly. I’m sorry to say. As soon as a man won one of the medals, he would got 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 than many of the woes of tho poor over which we are 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 aw r ay 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 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 and 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 muke 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 have to work. And she could have ev ery mortal thing that money can buy! Aral she wasn’t satisfied. No 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 be 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,” 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 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 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 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 ishlng 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 edss of scandal, by spending thousands of dollars for lap dogs, and > 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 n laborious life of striving well spent if it lands them at last within the sacred precincts of the four hundred where all >f 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 • e middle and hobbled with a blue rib bon tied about them. Dress doesn’t seem to her the most important thing in the w’orld. 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 u» time. She wants the real thrill of a real Interest where you pit your own In telligence and skill ugainst 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 I say. pity the poor rich girl. Her only salvation Is to be born without afty human qualities. That s 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 sny, ”ln Heaven’s name, why Isn't she contented?” The answer is, because she’s got no worthy outh t for her energy and intel lect. Very likely such a woman Inherit ed from her father a talent for finance that 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 n man; and to spend her Mmc changing her clothes anti going to pink teas no more fills the measure «.f these women's desires than it would their father’s The rich woman with brains and am bition and a de§1re to be of use In the world is ns forlorn n figure as exists in the world She is the victim of her wealth «s much as the poorest person is of his i verty, and her life Is far duller tuun That of any worker engaged In labor In which he is interested. Made Up of Little Sacrifices on Both Sides. By Margaret Hubbard Ayer. ARTICLE II. T* ATRIMONY is a fine art. To lYI 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 anil 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 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 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 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 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 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 ‘.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 a 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 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 bis 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 on when there are children and a woman has no nurse for them the fa ther could arrange to take charge of 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 anvthing from suffrage to golf oi 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*! that they have nothing new to talk about.” Married Life the Third Year ±^ BE L HERBERTml ' ES : “O’ H, where ARE the Boos scis sors? I 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 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, Alice? I’m sorry to disturb you. Oh, yes, here they are.” seeing them on the c.resser. 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 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 ining something. Why shouldn t a girl of eighteen write to a man If she wants to7” „ . "If her mother knows It—yes, hut 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- 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. Thing's 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 <jjgy the noon delivery brought Helen a leter from Alice’s mother. Alice was shampooing her hair In the bathroom, and Helen oalled 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 realised 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 eee that letter! She wrote about Mr. HamptonI She's afraid I’m writing to him. or that I'll see him—isn’t %at it? Oh, you needn’t answer, I know It is.” “Yes. that's what she has Written about ” Helen looked at her steadily. “And don’t you think. Alice, thal your “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 about Mr. Hampton? Just because he’s a little older than I! And he’s so much morb 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? 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<5Td 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 into her own room, slam med the door and locked it. By LILLIAN LAU ?ERTY. D earest kitten: ”I’ve been to die animal fair, the birds and the beast were there, the old baboon—” an( j that is about how a New York bar strikes me to-day. But I took ]■ far more seriously last night. And oh, how I wish I hadn’t! Honey, y 0 ,j may call some of the lit.Ie dances In Savannah and Macon and Augusta "slow,” and wish Joe could take you to a real function up in Atlanta, but dances are happy young things, and balls are painful old affairs, and I know. Besides all of igbich, the Royca girls have not the costumes for balls. I wore my little blue ch .rmeuse, and felt In a blue funk wten I beheld Glory's glory. A Callot creation ot pale pink and apple gre ( n chiffon all done with posies and pearls and priceless lace. He’d Call It Inadequate. Now, I don't doubt that a fashion editor would call this a most inade quate description, but how you’d come closer to describing the bewil. dering fluff that dwelt i nder Glory’s skyline plush evening «oat, I don't see. But I just about 'perished when I beheld the utter splendiferousness of all the ladies fair at the ball. And T. Albert Johnstone was ashamed of the little He osier he had brought along in his parly, of course, he was very polite and took a dance’, but It was a turkey trot, and we had to sit it out. Neither be nor Glory introduced me to a soul, and if Mr. English had not been jierfectly fine about his little Cinderella partner, she must have been a hopeleos 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 wire so clever and flattering that he 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 fie menagerie wriggles! Why, the inventors of those far-from-dances forgot all about the fact that danc ng is an ex pression of noetry and nythml The turkey trot is very bad meter—lots of ••xtra feet and so much swing drowns out all delicacy. And a more go-as-you-please affair you * saw—you follow the leader—w' s your partner pro tern- nd 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 w ten a dance concludes to end! But I was, and when T. A. and Glory decided to s: n for the supper and cotll'on. or what ever they have at these Manhattan functions, I was happy to hear Mr. i English declare that wt 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 such a social failure—badly dressed and unable to mix. I just wanted to drop my head down on mother’s shoulder and cry it all out. And the cnly shoulder handy , was Mr. English's—so I sat up very ' straight and bit my lii s and swal lowed all the bitter thoughts that cvere trying to choke me. I ’Spose I’m Engage 1. And then Mr. Enghsh suddenly said: “Poor little girl, you haw 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 woe ds into that atmosphere?” And the i—oh, Kitty, don’t ask me to explain how it ever could have happened—but it did—Mr. English took me in his arms and kissed me. Am I engaged to him? I suppose I am. and I ( on’t want to oe one bit, and I am sc ashamed of some one I don’t know what to do, and her name is—Your loving MADGE. Miniiiim nTniiilllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllltltlllllllllllillllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllilillllllllill Give the Kiddies Lots of Sweets Divinity Fudge Part 1.—3-4 cap Red Velva Syrup, 1 ox. chocolate, 1-2 cup water, 3 cups sugar, 1 teaspoonful almond extract. Part 2.—1 cup sugar, 1-2 cup water, whites of 3 eggs, 1 cup chopped nut meats, 1 teaspoon ful vanilla extract. Boil part one until • little hardens in cold water. Boil part two > with out egg whites, nuts and extract) until it forms a soft ball when tried in cold water; remove from stove, pour gradually into stiffly beaten whites of eggs, beating all the time. Then beat it into part one. Now beat the mixture for 20 minutes, add nuts and vanilla extract and pour into buttered 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 make the candy you give Che 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 g ves a real tang to candy that you can’t get with any other syrup—and the ver> first can of Ve.’va you use will prove that what we say about It la to. It s just fine for cakes, too. and other baking Yes, buy Velva In the clean, sanitary 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 IL Send for the booh of Velva JRccipet. No charge. PENICK & FORD, Ltd. New Orleans, La. yd