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A Letter to a Wronged Wife Bv ELLA WHEELER WILCOX. pyright. 1913. by American-Jour iml-Exuminer.) B ELIEVE me dear madam, the woman who is an absolutely wronged wife does not ask any for sympathy or advice, because wound Is too deep to be probed by a and it is hidden from sight. It is on'y the surfaoe scratch which es open to the ga*e of every eye. You sav your trouble has destroy d votir nervous system and made you rritable, cross and irresponsible in i our actions. A r> you quite sure you were not affli 'c.i with some of these peculiar- j i..fore you were wronged? T was once a wife who believed . usband to be loyal and true In a spy ense: but she continuously !.-■ him about small matters, s was irritable and faultfinding'. was a poor housekeeper and , s. in lier personal habits. Life ; ler tiie same roof with her was purgatory. su flenlv, when both husband and . were middle aged, she found , .fatuated with another woman, she lifted her voice and crie.l i : that she had been such a good , faithful, so self-sacrificing. . , , voted, so loving—and here was her reward. Am no one could make her believe s ■ ad been the one who hewed the and shaped and built her own cross. S ' limes the absolutely good and ,i , ;fe IS neglected and misused. ■ adorable- woman the writer ,,f this every knw was a misused and ted wife. Every Indignity. Si, had suffered every indignity -sib ■ from a small-souled brute man. Vet she had made her , . a heaven for her children, and *he iiad developed the most wonder- 'poise and strength of character i made lief the admiration of all who knew her. After her children were grown, and n homes of their own, she left the man. but she had believed it to be for !.>. b.’st to save her children the * m ini of a domestic earthquake • rile t:ie> were small. And no one ever heard her mention her husband., saw with dignity. While a woman remains under a man’s roof she should follow the old saying: If you are going to PUT UP with • situation, then SHUT UP." If you rind the situation impossible, then GET OUT; and when it is necessary, ili 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 work and duties and distractions 'hi r beep you from brooding. Take f.i, interest in your personal appear- am - : surprise him by growing in at- ctiveness, 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- u* you. Keep busy, and never blow v.mrself to be led into quar rels. Think about others as much as you an. and as little as possible of your own sorrows. Sorrow well borne is a friend and ■i teacher, imparting a sense of kin- G ip and sympathy. Put away any idea that you have been specially se- b ictl iv fate for a crushing woe. Consider, rather, that you have been to.! It* one of God’s intimate family by being shown into the chamber of sorrow. Feel yourself kin to all the sorrow- - world, and cast out bitterness. Ml this I say to you knowing you not reached a state of suffering the faculties and r words useless. For if you had .'on could not have asked for sym pathy or spoken of your trouble. T*he ; o really loves and* has naliy been wronged can only talk with God. “WITCHCRAFT" C§§3 Copyright, 1913. by American-Journal- Examiner. By Nell Brinkley Daysey Mayme And Her Folks By FRANCES L. GARSIDE. T IP inK who have seen the paintings of angels by Imysey Mayme Ap pleton. ho 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. Her versatility irt boundless, her re sourcefulness without limitation, and her faith knows no disquieting depres sion. "I never," she nays with a fine show of spirit, "permit myself to become dis couraged, finding stimulus for a faint ing spirit in the women’s magazines. T know that if all else failed I could read these splendid articles on remunerative occupations for girls, ami start out any time with determination and a pickle and in a very brief period T would be owning and running an im mens© pickle factory.” * She had read in one of these Pillars of the Home an article on how to make a quilt that would lie such a clever imitation of one of the kind made by our great-grandmothers that its value would be priceless. "With an 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 Daysey 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, 4how ing that disregard of the colors of na turo that proved our foremothers were so courageous. She sowed many days, leaving the calls of other duties for her mother to answer, and at last the quilt wa» G< • » . and Daysey Mayme exhibited it t«» her family and friends with as h&ppj 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 a 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 luge brious deathbed. When filled with mournful thoughts over parting wiih the dear ones left behind; W'hen tor mented with a fear of what the future may have in store, the dying one wdll see my quilt and forget all else. He will at once be seized with mirth and go ilancing into the next world with his crown on on© ear and filled with the wildest of merriment. "If there is eny one among you who feats a lugubrious deathbed and who will —name a date the quilt may be rented at a nominal fee.” 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 tile, 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 Hayed of their pinky blossoms to fill. Anyway, it’s a creature that anybody can see is n WITCH 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 singed, who ALWAYS wins his case. He never proves that his client isn’t a witch—that isn’t it—but he always gets a light sentence—7* >h! .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 mup on the classroom wall. ‘Here, on one hand, we have the far-stretching country of Russia. \Viilie,’’ she asked, looking over her I pupils and settling on one small boy 1 at the end of the class, "what do we J see <»n the other hand?” Willie, hopeless with fright, hesitated I a moment, and then answered, "Warts.” Snap Shots By LILLIAN LAUFERTY. \* b. a farcy, a glimmer, a glance. 1 Life is a bit of illusion: i you’ll find that its changes will load you a dance. ' - s self will trim up and en hance: i; * ange you move on, why you • ve t 0 advance; •’■ill Sameness—I drink your con fusion ! MAIDEN MUSINGS. ' the one real continuous per- ,,rniH1 O11 its program you will find hyp.ih between present and past—or 'de and present. What the Lecturer Said ?’oim bilit * from sight so complete ly • world will never dream half— ; 1 ’ f strong box securely, if on the lid and laugh. —Select©; j. is a matter of extremes; so vou are most particular about 'G-enie neatness, extreme suita- extreme good taste! Proof of Value 0 the time-tested, world-tried, home temc'.y—proof of its power to relieve quickly, safely, surely, the head- the sour taste, the poor and the fatigue of biliousness he found in every dose of BEEOHAM’S PILLS SeM -T.rjwhere. !n boir., 10c.. 2Sc. e-z— KODAKS ‘ The Best rinlihing and Enlarfl- I in'1 That Can Of Producad." Tasiman Tilra* ami roin* r-lstc stock amateur sxippll *s. "c - . U*e for out-of-town customers. , '.'na for Cataloe and Price List. A K. HAWKES CO. — w h j tehaH ?t.. Atlanta. Ga. C OUSIN FANNIE felt too ill to get up last Friday morning and mother became alarmed—quite needlessly. I think—and sent for Dr. Tucker. When I recall that l 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 ^iad 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, 1 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 an«l ! 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 Lmile." 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.’ J be lieve you would enjoy it. If you like I’ll ask Mrs. Van Rensselaer, who is an old friend of mine, tor a card for you." My first impulse was to decline the card, for the subject of the lectui^r 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 I was glad that I hail accepted, for the costumes I sav* at the lecture were quite the smartest I had seen this spring. One charming gown gave me a splendid idea for a frock for myself, which ne can easib make at home out of a lovely old soft lavender brocade that grandmother lias had put awaj ever since the Civil War. I think it will divert Cousin Fannie t<> have some in teresting work. T, ■ \ ‘ ttll and I was deeply impressed with lib itment ol the subject. He main tained that t * *♦- * 'J particulS credit due to the unselfish member w.: is to be found in nearly every family group. Mother is everlastingly remind ing me of Cousin Fannie'® unselfishness und trying to burden me with a sense of gratitude that I now see should not bo 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 ideal ized the danger I had been in. Dr. Tucker must have thought that 1 greatly needed that lecture or he would not have troubled to get me an invitation He has seen when he has come to the house from \\me 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 Renseelaers’ house I fairly trembled to think how* dread 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 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. I went over to La Fail© 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, Lucile." he said, "aren't you lost?" 1 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 my business clothes. Conte. let’s telephone jour mother. Of course I agreed, for l wasn't at ill sure that father would stay do\^i »:Wn He has such h stubborn prrf- •fenee for home''dinners. Carl and I ’ad a delightful evening and 1 was iwfully relieved ‘ to find tl at n y •apaeitj tor enjoytnenu had ✓ suffered no injury. Chinks Som?timss. Kh©- : Ah, io {triage confer* sugh peace f mind! He - \*e«, knew men married men forever /tfirg it fjom their wives. She Why., p-"'v? He—Piece of mind. Ad vice to the Lovelorn HUNTING A HUSBAND By VIRGINIA TERHUNE VAN DE WATER By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. D 1 A DISAPPOINTMENT. EAR MISS FAIRFAX: I wish you would please ex plain the following for me. 1 re ceived it in a letter from a young man and would like to know what he meant: "May 1 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, j I think lie has been disappointed, and j wants to tell you about it. He built j an air castle, and realizes that it has no foundation in fact, and must be torn I down. I Just what that air castle concerned— | Love or Fame or Business- T can not surmise. NOT NECESSARILY. I A EAR MISS FAIRFAX 7 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 wfiat 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, ». 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 coal, for not only does It make a clearer fire, blit it leave* fewer ashes. A handful of common salt thrown into the lire occa sionally makes n cheerful blaze aid lessens the consumption of the? coal. Velveteen which lias served its pur- I pose as a dress or blouse should be pre- ; served and made into polishing cloth. | In this conr.eelioij vclvete* n is almost as good as a chamois leather, and can no: only t e used for obtaining a ’im polish on satfnwo d and mahogrun fur niture. but as a means of brightening stiver and plated goods. When soiled the velveteen may be successfully cleaned by washing it in a soapy lather. T HE 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 uiul 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 l>ored further by having to say anything in the way 9f congratulations to the (at present) happy pair. That sort of thing was wearisome to all hut 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 stye heard her name spoken and glanced up startled. Dr. Yeager stood before her, fault lessly arrayed, and looking very self- possessed and handsome. "I though that perhaps, you would like to know how Paul is getting along." he remarked. Her Voice Trembled. "Since my last attempt to obtain in formation was so evidently unwelcome, I am not sure that I have any interest in the matter,*’ she retorted, her voice trembling childishly. "Well, that is what l 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 sec the patient. Good morning!” Beatrice took the envelope without speaking, bowed in return to the physician’s farewell, and left the church. She w'alkcd rapidly down the sunny street, her heart beating in time to her swiftl. moving feet. At the cor ner she steed tor a moment and opened the note. < ml' a few 1 rambling. wa vering. penciled lines on a single sheet of paper, but they brought tears to her eyes. "Thunk you for the asters. I knew they w’ere 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 Pilling 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 riot know, but she suddenly came to a full knowledge of her surround iugs be fore a huge building of warm red brick. Sparrows squabbled on the window Bills 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 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 the floor and close to the feet of the dark-haired man stretched in a reclining chair, his back toward her A sweet-faced nurse cam© swiftly for ward. He Is Much Better. "I am Mrs. Minor," said Beatrice, j softly. "I just came in to ask how Mr Maynard is." “Oh, he is much better, the nurse j assured her, in a low voice. "Lie is 1 asleep just now, but he is expecting you. I Will you wait?” "No." stammered the visitor, "but please tell him I called to ask after him, and—’’ "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 his suffering had lent him a certain pur© beauty that had never been his before. "I only tame—" 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 buried her face on his breast "My love!" lie whispered; “my love!" Qobbin^ Vhe Dining Rp to“Pay”the Kacru CASTOR 5 A For Infaa + .s pud Children. The Kind You Hevc Always Sought 3ear>= tho aiRiiaturo of TVJO wonder butter is so high. 7 Particular women who are v loath to use lard or cooking but- «, ^ 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 4» 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 arc 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 Oyatcro- Use large oyster*; parboil a moment to dry out some of the juice to pre vent spattering during the frying. Lay them in seasoned bread crumb-, beaten egg and again in bread crumbs, then brown a few at a time in deep, smok ing-hot Cnt'oUne. Made only by TUli N. Ii. ‘•AIRUAMt COiULLNV