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t . > A Letter to a Wronged Wife Bv ELLA WHEELER WILCOX. pvrlght. 191'!. by American-Jour nal-Examinor.) B ELIEVE me, dear madam, the woman who ts an absolutely wronged wife does not ask any i e for sympathy or advice, because wound Is too deep to be probed by *, and it is hidden from sight, l* is only the surfaoe scratch which <« open to the gaze of every eye. Tou say } our trouble has destroyed vour nervous system and made you irritable, cross and irresponsible in your actions. A-e you quite sure you were not ■oil with some of these peculiar- • before you were wronged? Tl-ere was once a wife who believed e husband to be loyal and true iu sense; but she continuously , 1 him about small matters. was Irritable and faultfinding. «] ■■ was a poor housekeeper and h.->ss tn her personal habits. Life .nder the same roof with her was purgatory. Si: Manly, when both husband and ■ if,, were middle aged, she found in infatuated with another woman. -| she lifted her voice and crle 1 id that she had been such a good r ■ faithful, so self-sacrificing, < . ... ,-oted, so loving—and here was her reward. And no one could make her believe »ne rad been the one who hewed tile wood, and shaped and built her own ross. s ir'times the absolutely good and if,; IS neglected and misused, rhe most adorable woman the writer f this every Unw was a misused and neglected wife. “WITCHCRAFT’ Copyright, 1913, by American-Journal Kxumlner. 4W By Nell Brinkley Every Indignity. Si,r had suffered every indignity .Mb ■ from a small-souled brute f a man. Yet she had made her a heaven for her children, and she had developed the most wonder- poise and strength of character u i T made her the admiration of all who knew her. After her children were grown, and homes of their own, she left the man: but she had believed it to be for , best to save her children the scandal of a domestic earthquake were small. And no one ever heard her mention her husband, save with dignity. While a woman remain® under a man’s roof she should follow the old saying: If y.,u are going to PUT UP with situation, then SHUT UP." If you find tin situation Impossible, then get OUT; and when it is necessary, ilk: hut 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 work and duties and distractions which keep you from brooding. Take on interest in your personal appear- sne- . surprise him by growing in at- i ■■iveness, and increase your circle uf friends. Don't Look the Martyr. Do not for an hour let him see you looking like a martyr. Female martyrs are never attrac- ' \” t«• you. Keep busy, and never cl w vourself to be led into quar rels. Tliii 1 about others as much as you ;'ii. and as little as possible of your own sorrows. Sorin\ well borne is a friend and a teacher, imparting a sense of kin ship and sympathy. Put away any • 'loa that you have been specially se lf ud by fate for a crushing woe. <'"ii ler, rather, that you have been ii. ot on-- of God’s intimate family by ng shown into the chamber of sorrow. I -1 yourself kin to all the sorrow- it a world, and cast out bitterness. All this I say to you knowing you L've not reached a state of suffering ' hi, ji paralyzes the faculties and tn nos words useless. For if yoti had '"'i "idd 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. Davsey Mayme And Her Folks By FRANCES L. GARSIDE. T IP >81; who have seen the painting* of angels by Paysey Mayme Ap pleton. so cleverly done that one can hear the swish of their silk petticoats as they fly through the sky. need not for a moment Imagine that painting is the sum total of her talents Ifcr versatility is boundless, her re sourcefulness without limitation, and her faith knows no disquieting depres sion. “I never," she says with a fine show of spirit, "permit myself to become dis couraged, finding stimulus for a faint ing spirit in the women’s magazines. I know that if all else failed 1 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 Jm mens© pickle factory." She had read in one of these Pillars of the Home an article on how to make a quilt that would be such a clsve.r Imitation of one of the kind mads by our great-grandmothers that its value would be priceless. "With «n outlay of five cents 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 Dayaey Mayme borrowed the money from her mother, laid the foundation of the family for tune on a dry goods counter, and began work. She selected a pattern of a bright purple pumpkin trailing its leaves of pale blue across a white field, with a. big pink sunflower in the center. Show ing that disregard of the colors of na turo that proved our foremothers were so courageous. She sewed many days, leaving the calls of other duties for her mother to answer, and at last the quilt wa* don*. and Duysey Mayme exhibited it to h*>r family and friends with as hfcppv a countenance as if a tub of honey had been upset on her soul. True, she found no buyers, but her great resourcefulness at once devised n 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 ones left behind when tor mented with a fear of what th© future may have in store, the dying on© will sc** my quilt and forget all else. Vie will at once be seised with mirth and go dancing into the next -world with hie crown on one ear and filled with th© wildest of merriment. •*lf there is any one among you who fears a lugubrious deathbed and who will name a date the quilt may be rented at a nominal fee." \ COM r\ eve COMMON enough court trial, ren in these, our enlight ened times. THE ROBED JUSTICE, a much injured, woeful and wrathful young man whom anybody can see lias 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 amphora vases three peach trees were flayed of their pinky blossoms to till. Anyway, it’s a creature that anybody can see is « VYTTCH from*.he- last feathery curl on the crown of her head to the strap of her ’broidered slipper. THE COUNSEL FOR THE DE FENSE, a small fat person with a powerful tongue and eloquent eyes; with white wings that are found sometimes to be slightly singl'd, who ALWAYS wins his ease. He never proves that his client isn’t a witch—that isn’t it—but he always gets a Sight sentence—Oh! kisses or something like that. A thousand or so! On the Otherhand. The geography class was In session, and the teacher pointed a finger to the man on the classroom wall. "Here, on one hand, we have the ( for-stretching country of Russia ! \Vtilie," she asked, looking over her I pupils and settling on one small boy ! «it the end of the class, "what do we I see on the other hand?" Willie, hopeless with fright, Iiesitateii I a moment, and then answered, "Warts What the Lecturer Said Snap Shots By LILLIAN LAUFERTY. >, a fancy, a glimmer, a glance. 11 Life is a bit of illusion: ou’Jl find that its changes will lead you a dance. variety’s self will trim up and en hance; >' change- you move on. why you ave to advance: • !*:;11 Sameness—-1 drink your con fusion! MAIDEN MUSINGS. the one real continuous per- u: On its program you will find ‘" ei, k bin ween present and past—or h '. ire and present. 1 Lien, from sight so complete ly ' 1 w orld will never dream Half— " ■' Fa strong box securely. : " on the lid and laugh. —Selected. - is a matter of extremes; so v ; , vou are most particular about 'Feme neatness, extreme suita- anf l extreme good taste! hoof of Value the time-tested, world-tried, home ■“IM -proof of its power to relieve naickly. safely, surely, the head* rnes, the sour taste, the poor -FF ? r ‘d fatigue of biliousness 1 be found in every dose of BEEOHAM’S PILLS ^^frywhere. In boxes, 10c., "5e. _KODAKS ' The Best Finishing and Erlar?- MpV* I ini Thut Can Be Produced.’’ Katun an Films and uoin- p’.etr stork amateur nuppH ■». ire for out-of-town cu"*''ni*r9. - r 'd for Catalog and Price List. A - K. HAWKES CO. K ° K D P \ K ~~ --Whitehall St.. Atlanta. Ga. G OUSIX FANNIE felt too ill to get up last Friday morning and mother became alarmed—quite needlessly, r think—and sent for Dr. Tucker. When l 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 r 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 .' our 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 Dix Amies, met here last night, and according to our rules we gathered around the long bare table. Our maid 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 Lueile,’’ 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.’ 1 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 of 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. 1 accepted graciously. Af terward 1 was glad that I had accepted, for the costumes I saw at the lecture were quite the smartest 1 had seen this spring. «>ne charming gown gave me a splendid idea for a frock for myself, which we can easily make at home out of a lovely old soft lavender brocade that grandmother has had put awa> ever since the Civil War. I think it will divert Cousin Fannie to have some in teresting work \ and I was deeply Ir wssed with hit itinent of the subject. He main tained that i.xc,e to particula credit due to the unselfish member wD is to be found in nearly every famuj group. Mother is everlastingly remind ing me of Cousin Fannie's unselfishness and trying to burden me with a sense of gratitude that I 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 vif 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 \ real ized the danger I had been in. Dr. j Tucker must have thought that 1 greatly needed that lecture or he would not have troubled to get me an invitation. He lias seen when he has come to the house from time to time that I 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 Renssolaers’ house i fairly trembled to think how dread- j ful it would be If my capacity for en joyment should be atrophied. I felt that I must at once begin to gratify my taste for pleasure. I had intended to buy Cousin Fannie some flowers and then go home and pass the even ing reading lo 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. I went over to La Halle Street, in tending to go 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, Lueile," he said, "aren’t you lost?" I laughingly told him my plan and he said gayly: "Let me lie a father to you this evening. We'll dine down town and go to the theater, too, if you'll pardon thy business clothes. Come. let’s telephone your mother. Of course I agreed, for I wasn’t at ill sure that father would stay down own He l as such a stubborn pref erence for home dinners. Carl and I ad a delightful evening and 1 was iwfi:Jl> relieved to find that my rapacity for enjoyment had suffered no injury. Chinks Sometimes. She- Ah, iii irriage confers such peace f mind! He—Yes. know nmrt married men e forever ,etHrg it f, om their wives. She -Whs., pmv? He—Piece of mind. Advice to the Lovelorn HUNTING A HUSBAND By VIRGINIA TERHUNE VAN DE WATER By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. A DISAPPOINTMENT. FJEAR MISS FAIRFAX: I wish you would, pjeuso ex plain the following for me. I re ceived it in a letter from a young 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? 1 fear this week will end such foolishness, if this be tlie true status of such things." ROBERTA. I think li£ lias 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. Just what that air castle concerned — Love or Fame or Business 1 can not surmise. NOT NECESSARILY. •p) EAR MISS FAIRFAX: 1 have been corresponding with i 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 1 am doing. Don’t you think it is all right for her to write 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. For this reason: You are only nineteen, j. 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 sec a blazing tire, Jmt 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 ;i great heat and lasts quite a long time. It always pays in the end to buy good coal, for not. only does it make a clearer tire, but it. leaves fewer' ashes. A handful of common salt thrown into the tire occa sionally makes a cheerful blaze ami lessens the consumption of the coal. Velveteen which has served its pur pose as a dress or blouse should be pre served and made into polishing cloth, in this connection velveteen is almost as good as a < :.am is leather, and can not only be used for obtaining a line polls!: on satinwc- d and mahoaary fur niture. but as a means of brightening s iver and plated goods. When soil* d the velveteen may bo - .c ue---fully cleaned by washing it in a soapy lather. rri IIE wedding was over. Amid a | flutter of excitement among the ^ sentimental bridesmaids. and much showing off of authority by the best man and ushers, Robert Maynard and his 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 name spoken and glanced up startled Dr. Yeager stood before her. fault lessly arrayed, and looking very self- possessed and handsome. "T though that perhaps you would like to know how Paul is getting along," lie remarked. Her Voice Trembled. "Since my last 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. He Is still weak—very weak- but be insisted on writing it. By the way." as she did not answer, “I 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, bowed in return to the physician's farewell. and loft the church. She walked rapid!.' down the sunny street, her heart beating in time to her swiftly moving feet. At the cor ner she stood for a moment and opened the note only a few trembling, wa vering. penciled lines on a single sheet 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 went 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 sills and white-capped nurses passed now and again before the windows. There was no surprise in Beatrice’s mind when site .recognized tlie hos pital where 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 th© floor and close to the feet of the dark-lmired man stretched in a reclining chair, Ills back toward her A sweet-faced nurse cam© 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, and—" "Ho 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 pal© forehead, but his suffering hail lent him a certain pure beauty that had never been his before. "I only came— began Beatrice; then stopped. But the man smiled up at her and held out his arms. With a lit tle sob she knelt beside him and burled her face on his breast "My love!" he whispered; "my love!" Ppbbinp the Dining Pa to'Pay’the KjicR TSJO wonder butter is so high. > Particular women who are \ J loath to use lard or cooking but- 7 ,; 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, oom en ttolene CASTOR! A jeor Infants and Children. ills Kind You Hevs Always Bought 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-. Dears tile {•Jiirua-turu of ■Fried Oysters- Use large oysters; parboil a moment to dry out some of the juice lo pre vent spattering during tftetiymg. Lay them in seasoned bread crumbs, beaten egg and again in breaii crumbs, then brown a few at a time in deep, smok ing-hot Cot'olenc Made only by mii n. a. u-uiouLNa uAu*anv