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A Letter to a Wronged Wife By ELLA WHEELER WILCOX. ,'oryright, 19IS. by Ameriean-Jour■ nal-Exuminer.) B ELIEVE me, dear madam, the woman who ia an absolutely wronged wife does not ask any for sympathy or advice, because he wound is too d*eep to be probed by words, and it is hidden from sight. T! i r only the surface scratch which rs open to the gaze of every eye. Tou say your trouble has destroyed our nervous system and made you -ritable, cross and irresponsible in ■ our actions. Are you quite sure you were not fflieted with some of these peculiar 's before you were wrongedV There was once a wife who believed; husband to be loyal and true iu , «ex sense; but she continuously l agged him about small matters. s . was Irritable and faultfinding, i . she was a poor housekeeper and ar.less in her personal habits. Life aider the same roof with her was purgatory. Suddenly, when both husband and ■ iif were middle aged, she found i i infatuated with another woman. • n she lifted her voire and cried , tli&t she had been such a good it «o faithful, so self-sacrificing, - ... voted, so loving—and here was let reward. And no one could make her believe s::.- had been the one who hewed the rood, and shaped and built her own cross. Sometimes the absolutely gopd and Te IS neglected and misused. The most adorable woman the writer if tills evert kmv was a misused and neglected wife. Every Indignity. Sue had suffered every indignity from a small-souled brute .,f a man. Vet she had made her , . a heaven for her children, and she iiad developed the most wonder- f i poise and strength of character , :i made her the admiration of all vho knew her. \fter her children tveTe grown, and homes of their own. she left the in a:, but she had believed it to be for • . best to save her children the . ’trial of a domestic earthquake ■tvnilc the\ were small. And no one r\ f r heard her mention her husband, save with dignity. While a woman* remains under a man’s roof she she ; d follow the old saying: If you are going to PUT UP with situation, then SHUT UP.” If you find the situation impossible, then GET OUT; and when it is necessary, talk; but only when it is necessary. if you find yourself obliged to re main under the roof of the man who has wronged you. try and occupy yourself every hour of the day with • .:k and duties and distractions which keep you from brooding. Take an interest in your personal appear- am ; surprise him by growing in at- •activeness, and increase your circle of friends. Don't Look the Martyr. ! >o not for an hour let him see you looking like a martyr. Female martyrs are never attrae- i \ to you. Keep busy, and never allow vourself to be led into quar rels. Think about others as much as you ran and as little as possible of your own sorrows. Sorrow well borne is a friend and teacher, imparting a sense of kin ship and sympathy. Put away any idea that you have been specially se- leotcd by fate for a crushing woe. Consider, rather, that von have been m; Jo one of God’s intimate family by being shown into the chamber of sorrow. Fool yourself kin to all the sorrow- ■ tig world, and eftst out bitterness. Ml this T say to you knowing you I ;t\>- not reached a state of suffering whi 'li paralyzes the faculties and makes Words useless. For if you had '•"J could not have asked for sym pathy or spoken of your trouble. The woman who really loves and has really been wronged can only talk with God. “WITCHCRAFT” Copyright, 1913, by American-.!ourna. Examiner. © By Nell Brinkley Daysey Mayme And Her Folks By FRANCES L GARSIDE. HUSK wb< of angel pie ton. * can heu: A COMMON enough court trial, even in these, our enlight ened times. THE ROBED JUSTICE, a much injured, woeful and wrathful young man whom anybody can see has been conjured “scandalous;” be witched into lightheadedness; circed into following will-o’-the- wisps: spellbound by an enchanting eye. THE OFFENDER, a soft, sweet creature—perhaps the saving, busy girl who hikes out gallantly to a shop or an office desk every morn ing, blue-skied or rainy—perhaps the little aristocrat who labors at riding in Grant Park o’ mornings and serving tea afternoons in a boudoir, whose amphorafvases three peach trees were flayed of their pinky blossoms to fill. Anyway, it’s a creature that anybody can see is a WITCH from the last feathery curl on the crown of her head to the simp of her ’broldered slipper. THE COUNSEL FOR THE DE FENSE, a small fat person with a powerful tongue and eloquent eyes; with white wings that arc found sometimes to be slightly singed, who ALWAYS wins liis case. He never proves that his client isn’t a witch—that isn’t it—-but he always gets a light sentence—oh! kisses or something like that. A thousand or so! have seen the paintings by Daysey Mayme Ap- cleverly done that one the swish of their silk petticoats us they fly through the sky need not for a moment imagine that painting is tie- sum total of her talents. Her versatility is boundless, her re- - ircefnliMss without limitation, and i her faith knows no disquieting depress ion. “I never,” she says with a fine show of .spirit, “permit iftyself to become dis- I couraged, finding stimulus for a faint- | ing spirit in the women’s magazines. I ! know that if all else failed I could read | these splendid articles on remunerative occupations for girls, and start out a any time with determination and a ' pickle and in a very brief period 1 | would be owning and running an im I menee pickle factory.” She had read in one of these Pillars i -if the Home an article on how to make a quilt that would he such a clever imitation of one of the kind made by ' our great-grandmothers that its value I would be priceless. I “With an outlay of five rents for thread,” the splendid article read, “and ten cents for bright colored calico, a girl can make a quilt that will command thousands of dollars.” It sounded good, and Daysey Alayjn* borrowed the money from her mother, laid ;he foundation of the, family for tune on u dry goods counter, and began worje. She selected a pattern of a bright purple pumpkin trailing its leaves of pale blue across a while field, with a. big pink sunflower in the center, Show ing that disregard of the colors of na ture that proved our foremothers were I so courageous. She sewed many da\ s. leaving the ! calls of other duties for her mother I to answer, and at last the quilt was done, and Daysey Mayme exhibited it to her family and friends with as happy a countenance as’if a tub of honey had been upset on her soul. True, she found no buyer*, but her great resourcefulness at once devised » means whereby it may become a source of perpetual income to her family. “I will hire it out,” she said proudly, “to cover what threatens to be a lugu brious deathbed. When filled with mournful thoughts over parting with | the dear • i:» # left behind; when tor mented with a fear of what the future ma\ have in store, the dying one will see my quilt and forget all else. He ' will at once be seized with mirth and go dancing into the next world with his crown on one ear end filled with the wildest of merriment. •If there is any one among you who fears a lugubrious deathbed ami who will name a date the quilt may be rented at a nominal fee." On the Other-hand. The geography class was in cession, and the teacher pointed a finger to the man on the classroom wall. “Here, on tine hand, we have the far-strotcliing country of Russia i \\Tilie,“ she asked, looking over her I pupils and settling on one small boy J at the end of the class, “what do we see on the other hand?” Willie, hopeless with fright, hesitated | a moment, and then answered, “Warts. What the Lecturer Said Snap Shots By LILLIAN LAUFERTY. •invfb, a fancy, a glimmer, a glance. "1 Life is a bit of Illusion; i you'll find that its changes will load you a dance, "h ty’s self will trim up and en hance; As in change you move on, why you ve to advance: Dull Sameness—I drink your con fusion ! maiden musings. - flic one real continuous per- Dr-mar. On its program you will find 1 break between present and past—or Ui ure and present. ■ non, from sight m> completely u the world will never dream half— :V' strong box securely, ' 11 it on the lid and laugh. —Selected. s a matter of extremes: so >■* > 'in are most particular about i .xtrenie neatness, extreme suita- • ai ‘d extreme good taste! Proof of Value ^ the time-tested, world-tried, home eniedy—proof of its power to relieve 'luickly, safely, sorely, the head- the sour taste, the poor J| lr !* a yd the fatigue of biliousness be found in every dose of BEECHAMS PILLS -■ id ,„r,wh«r,. In box.., 10c„ 25,. KODAKS “The Best Flnlshinn and Enlpra- Inii That Can Be Produced.” Kastman Films ami com plete stock amateur supplies, ‘c. , , ice for out-of-t^wn f.istri,i-rs. for Catalog and Price List. A. K. HAWKES CO. K 0 ° E D P * T K — ^Whitehall Ft.. Atlanta. Ga. C OUSIN ; FANNIE felt too ill to get up last Friday morning and mother became ularuied—quite needlessly, L think—and sent for Dr. Tucker. "When 1 recall that 1 have often stayed in bed mornings because of severe headaches and that mother has never even thought of calling a doctor for me I am forced to wonder why she should have been so much more exercised over Cousin Fannie than over her own daughter. When Dr. Tucker saw Fannie he said that he knew . she had been working too hard. He questioned her persist ently until she told him that he day before she had become fatigued because of some unusual sweeping and the polishing of the extra leaves of our din ing table, which were so dusty and bad ly scarred that even oil and floor wax rubbed in scarcely made them present able. “Kindly inform me,” he said in that brusque and dictatorial way of his “why it was necessary for you to wear your self out with that work?” Cousin Fannie only sighed, and as the doctor seemed determined to have an answer. I said with dignity: “My club, the Dlx Amies, met here last night, and according to our rules we gathered around the long bare table. Our makl was out and, of course. Cousin Fannie and I had to make all the preparations for the meeting.” A Great Chance. Though Cousin Fannie insisted that she was merely tired, Dr. Tucker or dered her to keep her bed for several days and instructed me to see that noth ing interfered with her securing a com plete rest. “By the way, Miss Lucile,“ he said, as he was leaving. “Mrs. Van Rens selaer is going to have a drawing room talk by Gregory, the famous English psychologist, next Monday afternoon on ‘The Dangers of Unselfishness.’ l be lieve you would enjoy it. If you like I’ll ask Mrs. Van Rensselaer, who is an old friend of mine, for a card for you.” My first impulse was to decline the card, for the subject 61 the'lecturer did not appeal to me However, it seemed a pity to miss such an excel lent opportunity of going to the ex clusive Mrs. Van Rensselaer's beauti ful house. I accepted graciously. Af terward 1 was glad that I had accepted, for the costumes 1 saw at the lecture were quite the smartest I had seen this spring, one charming gown gave me a splendid idea for a frock fur myself, w hich we can easily make at home out of a lovely old soft lavender brocade that grandmother has had put awa> ever sir.ee the Civil War. I think it will divert Cousin Fannie to have some in teresting work. T . \ • • and 1 was deei»\v Im. cessed with hb tmer.i of the subject. He mail - tained that t t *o particuia credit due to the unselfish member v., • is to be found in nearly every famil. group. Mother is everlastingly remind ing me of Cousin Fannie’s unselfishness and trying to burden me with a sense of gratitude that 1 now see should not be demanded of me. What He Said. The lecturer said that the unselfish ones are as a rule blank pages at the beginning, and that their character istics are produced and developed by the selfishness of the more decided people about them. They' are always at the disposal of others. They are drained for sympathy from morning till night. They think other people’s thoughts, about other people’s trou bles.’ until they actually have no thought of their own to think, and they' lose all individuality and origi nality. By their unvarying unselfish ness they* become a menace in the family by making others selfish in their dependence. As I listened to the speaker I real ized the danger f had been in. Dr. Tucker must have thought that 1 greatly needed that lecture or lie would not have troubled to get me an invitation. Ho has seen when he has come to the house from time to time that 1 am constantly giving up my' own plans and wishes for others. He doubtless agrees with the lecturer that such self-abnegation is 'inimical to the development of character. As I left the Van Rensselaer*’ house 1 fairly trembled to think how dread ful it would be if my capacity for en joyment should be atrophied. I felt that T must at once begin to gratify my taste for pleasure. T had intended to buy Cousin Fannie some flowers and then go home and pass the even ing reading to her, as mother had hinted that Cousin Fannie was dis pirited, but it now occurred to me that for her sake as well as mine it would be much better for me to seek some amusement,. 1 went over to La Salle Street, In tending to g-i to father’s office and coax him to stay downtown and take me to one of the hotels to dinner. However, as I was passing the build ing where Carl Bates’ office is he came out of the door. “Why, Lucile. he said, “aren’t you lost?” I laughingly told him my plan and he said gayly: “Let me be a father to you this evening. We’ll dine down town and go to the theater, too, if you’ll pardon inv business clothe Come, let's telephone your mother. Of course 1 agreed, for I wasn't at all sure that lather would stay down- own He has such a stubborn pref- •rence for I -me dinners. < 'arl and I '*ad a delightful evening and I was? iwfully relieved to find that lr.y •aparity for enjoyjnenu had suffered fio injury. Chinks Sometimes. She Ah, to trriage corUrrs such peace i i mind! ’If- Yes, knew' mort married men e for ever ,ct.t*pg it fj oiu their wives. She- Wha... p»-»v? He—Piece of mind. Advice to the Lovelorn HUNTING A HUSBAND By VIRGINIA TERHUNE VAN DE WATER tt By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. A DISAPPOINTMENT. TV EAR MISS FAIRFAX: I wish you would jUeuse ex- 4 plain the following for me. I re ceived it in a letter from a y oung man and would like to know what he meant: “May I some time tell you about the air castle that is about to be dismantled? I fear this week will end such foolishness, if this be the true status of such things.” ROBERTA. I think he has been disappointed, and wants to tell you about it. He built an air castle, and realizes that it has no foundation in fact, and*must be torn down. .lust what that air castle concerned Love or Fame or Business I can not surmise. NOT NECESSARILY. 1 \ EAR MISS FAIRFAX: 1 have been corresponding with a woman of about twenty-six, dur ing the last year. I am nineteen and a high school boy. and feel very much attached to her. She writes to me about once a month, and al ways asks me to tell her what I am doing. Don't you think It is all right for her to wrile to me. and do you think she is very much inter ested in me? R. N. She may be interested in you as she would be in the welfare of a young brother, and you must not suppose it is anything else. Fur this reason: You are only nineteen, »/■ schoolboy, and should be interested in your studies to the exclusion of all thoughts of love Household Suggestions On a cold, wet night every one likes to see a blazing fire, but this generally means heavy' coal bills. A good plan is to place a quantity of chalk at the back of each grate, in equal proportion to the coals. This throws out a great heat and lasts quite a long time It always pays in the end to buy good cant, for not only does it make a clearer fire, but it leaves fewer ashes. A handful of common salt thrown into the fire occa sionally makes a cheerful blaze and lessens the consumption of the coal. Velveteen which lias served its pur pose as a dress or blouse should lie pre served and made Into polishing cloth, in this connection velveteen Is almost as good us a chamois leather, and can not only t>e used for obtaining a tin. 1 polish on satir.w< d and mahogany fur niture. but as a means of brightening »v r and plated good?. When soiled th velveteen may be succe.-.sfully cleaned by washing it in a soapy lather. T HE wedding was over. Amid a flatter of excitement among the sentimental lrridesinaids. and much showing off of authority by tlie best man and ushers, Robert Maynard and liis newly-made wife had left the church, and the vestibule was now’ full of chattering, laughing guests, waiting for their carriages and automobiles. Beatrice had sat with Helen during the service. The widow had heard the minister’s words without emotion; she had watched the progress of the cere mony' dry-eyed, while Helen wept co piously' “because it was all so lovely.” She had declined, with ill-concealed Impatience, Helen’s offer to take her to the reception at the Damerel house in her carriage. She had come to the wed ding only' to please Miss Damerel, Be atrice said. She did not intend to be bored further by having to say anything In the way of congratulations to the <at present) happy pair. That sort of thing was wearisome to all but those closely concerned—none of whom would miss her. She was making her way through the vestibule of the church, intent on get ting out and away from the crowd as soon as possible, when she heard her fuftue spoken and glanced up startled Dr. Yeager stood before her. fault lessly arrayed, and looking very self- possessed and handsome. “I thougli that perhaps you would like to know how Paul is getting along.” lie remarked. Her Voice Trembled. “Since mty las{ attempt to obtain in formation was so evidently unwelcome, I am not sure that 1 have any interest in the matter,” she retorted, her voice trembling childishly. “Well, that is what I told Paul,” an swered Dr. Yeager, eyeing her keenly. “But he had an idea that you would care to know that he is better. He gave me this note to hand to you. Ho is still weak very weak -but he insisted on writing it. By the way,” as she did not answer, “l have told them at the hospital that if you call there at any time you are to be allowed to see the patient. Good morning! Beatrice took the envelope without speaking, Wowed in return to the physician’s farewell, and left the church. She walked rapidly down I he sunny street, her heart beating in time to her swiftly moving feet. At tlie cor ner she stood for a moment and opened the note. Only a few trembling, wa ver! eg, penciled lines on a single sheet CASTOR IA lor Infants and Children. The Kind You Hava Always Bought of paper, but they brought tears to her eyes. “Thank you for the asters. I knew they were from you. P. M.” “He knew’ they were from me!” whis pered Beatrice. She walked up the street In the brilliant sunshine. The doubts and unhappiness of the past weeks were falling from her. Once or twice she smiled gently. She strolled on. as In a dream. Paul May nard’s little note held tightly In her hand, his face floating before her tear-dimmed eyes. How far she W'ent she did not know, but she suddenly came to a full knowledge of her surroundings be fore a huge building of warm red brick. Sparrows squabbled on the window' Hills and w’hite-capped nurSes passed now and again before the windows There was no surprise in Beatrice’s - mind when she recognized the hos pital whore Paul Maynard lay ill. She knew’ now that this had been the place toward which she had been walking for the past hour. She en tered the building without further hes itation. An attendant led her to Paul’s door and she entered. The sun streamed through the windows and lay in a golden band on the floor and close to the feet of the dark-hatred man stretched in a reclining chair, his back toward her A sweet-faced nurse came swiftly for ward. He Is Much Better. “I am Mrs. Minor.” said Beatrice, softly. “I just came in to ask how Mr Maynard is.” “Oh, he is much better,” the nurse assured her, in a low voice. “He is asleep just now, but he is expecting you Will you wait’.’” “No.” stammered the visitor, “but please tell him I called to ask after him, ar.<l—” “He is awake now.” Interrupted the nurse, as the dark head moved a little. She went noiselessly to her patient s side, and spoke to him gently. Then she motioned to Beatrice to go to him. and, turning, left the room. As in a dream, Beatrice stood by the sick man for a second, silent. His poor hands were still wrapped, In band ages, and a crimson scar glowed angrily on one side of his pale forehead, but I his suffering had lent him a certain i pure beauty that had never been hi* I before. I “I only came—” began Beatrice; then stopped. But the man smiled up at j her and> held out his arms. With a lit- [tle sob she knelt, beside him and burled I her face on his breast | “My love!” he whispered: “my love!” %>bbm^ ihe DininJ Room to“Pay’ihe Kjnchen NfO wonder butter is so high. } •*“ ^ Particular women who are V. loath to use lard or cooking but- t . Jj-j ter in their cakes and fine pastry, use table butter. With butter at ^ the price you have to pay for it, that’s downright extravagance. Cottolene is just as ( good as butter for pastry; for frying, it is better. And Cottolene costs no more than lard. Moreover, Cottolene is richer, and two-thirds of a pound of it will go as far as a full pound of butter or lard. And lard and Cottolene are not to be mentioned in the same breath, for Cottolene is a vegetable product, healthful, always safe — and makes digestible, rich, but never greasy food. Remember, Cottolene is better than butter, better than lard —and much more economical. TRY THIS RECIPE: -Fried Oysters - Use large oysters; parboil a moment to dry out some of the jui e to pre vent spatteringduring thef Lay them in seasoned bread crumbs. beaten egg and again iu bread crumbs, then brown a few at a time in deep, smok ing-hot Cot'olene. Made only by TUL A. K, »-VUJUJANit COWANV