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4 11 WOMAN’S LIFE IS A | Back to the “Sh Ctl£S” Cn7yrigM ' ' nerlcan-Journal- gy Brinkley j'| BE SURE TO STUDY SEARCH FOR VALUES ' II YOUR CHILD’S ABILITY By ADA PATTERSON. T n^E other day a woman killed herself, and to those gathered about her bedside in a vain ef fort to .•'live her life she said: “1 didn’t know the real thing from the phony until too late!" ’"he dying words of the poor, patnt- ''' creature, self-slain. despairing, ..iixioiis to leave a world in which she kac! allowed herself to be cheated, are » nu .wsage to every woman, whatever her age or station, whatever her gifts, k 1 outlook «r her problems. World a Big Store. T o world is a great department and we are the shoppers. Wont tn’s life is a search for values. T e woman whose life ended in sui- ..is ( i. : i shopper. %U the bar- tin counter, in search of benefits, n- luid selected what was worthless, i^-.Lrdieg what was worthy. ■‘The power of living a beautiful i:te dwells in the soul," said Marcus Aurelius, "and consists in indifference to th*/?** things which are indiffer ent.” The young girl peeps into her mir ror. and discovers with a thrill of pride that she lias suddenly, mys teriously, oorome pretty of face and pleasing of tigure; that the sallow- uess arid awkwardness of yesterday have gone somewhere, somehow; that she is growing up and has dominion in. a new, strange land* the land of admiration. Hovering timidly, fascinatedly, at life’s bargain counter, she is in great danger, the greatest danger that be sets a woman's life—that of not knowing the worthy from what is worthless. The stranger, who twirls his cane with one hand and pulls his mustache with the other, while he ogles her, she may, because this shopping is so new to her, mistake for something genuine and worth while. If she watched him saunter a block further she would see the same twirl ing of the light cane, the same pull- i ing at a feeble mustache, the same ; rolling of shallow eyes at every other ( pretty girl he met. Worthless goods! > The only man worth a second's con- | sideration is the one who does not | ogle, but who, looking with true, steady eyes into your own. asks the only honest question: “Will you be | my wife?” Perhaps they do want it, but the i only real value to befound in the de- , partment of hearts is not the admi ration, but love. Love of general admiration is the commonest mistake ^ of woman. Homes are broken ‘by it. Lives are shattered by it. Yet, mad dened by ’the rush of other women to the bargain counter, many shoppers pay the last penny of their woman hood for what is worse than worth less. To be admired one moment and for gotten the next is the lot of the wom an who cares only for admiration. The honest lore of a good man is the i only article at that counter worth a j thought. Takes Brains to Market. In her search for values a woman who takes her brains with her to market wants to buy a home. She may begin with a furnished room. She may grow out of this into a wee flat of her own. Put if her inind sits ateadily on its throne, t£ere ig a healthy hunger in her that will not be stilled the hunger for a perma nent Jiome into which she can build herself and her family. That home ; vi ill be to her an expression of them- : selves and a growing ground for ev ery inmate of it, a place for charac- j lei- growth and upbuilding. Seeking for values, the permanen- I cies of life, she finds that honest, cheerful work, and plenty of it, is one of them, and good will is an other. The idler always makes a poor bar gain. Ho gives his time and gets nothing. The worker gives his energy and receives the comfortable assur ance of having done his best. The Joys of love intoxicate, exhilarate and pass. The consciousness of having done your best with the talents grant- ed you by nature is a permanent sun shine of the soul. The thorn in many i death bed has been the thought: "I have thrown away my talents; I have waited my life.” There is plenty of sentiment in the world, and in human hearts, if direct ed into right channels. The world’s need is rather the ballast of practical common sense than of flight-provok ing sentiment. But there is no doubt that every life is better and more profitable for the cultivation of a spirit of good wiU. The hypercritical woman stultifies herself. The Woman Who Gains. She forms the habit of studying life through a microscope. She becomes a fault hunter. The best definition I have ever heard of a friend is that he is one who in and out of season wishes you well. That is a good atti tude to take toward life, toward peo ple, toward the world, of wishing them well. The difference between the magnet ic and unmagnetlc person is simply in this atmosphere of thought. We are attracted by the person who wills good will, and are repelled by one who Is Indifferent or malicious. The woman who has gotten from life’s bargain counter the love of a good man; if they have bought, or are in the way of buying, a home, be it ever so little, of their own; if she is developing to the uttermost her tal ent, be it for raising healthy babies or singing in grand opera; if she has the soul sunshine which follows general good will, she knows values. She has proven herself a good shopper. By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. NET IW . 1. _M Ml ga <fesC¥ v Up-to-Date Jokes Here is a story sent by a golfing 1 reader: ‘‘Standing one day on the first tee at St. Andrews waiting my |urn to start, a small caddie came up laboring un der the burden of a very large kit of clubs, nearly all Irons. “ ‘Halloa, Jock, wha’s yer man?’ ! called out a brother caddie. •‘The Tittle chap replied, ‘I dinna ken. but,’ looking at his set. ‘I’m thinkin’ he’s a Glesga ironmonger.’ ’’ • * • A park policeman, seeing a yellow dog near two handsomely dressed women, approaches respectfully, and says: •Does this beautiful little creature belong to you, ladies*” ‘‘Mercy, no!” Park Policeman (lifting his cane): “Get out o’ here, you beast!” • • * Old Salt Yes. mum; them's men-o’- war. Sweet Young Thing—How interesting! And what are the little ones just in front? Old Salt—Oh, them’s just tugs, mum Sweet Young Thing—Oh, yes. of coupse; tugs-of-war. I’ve heard of them. * * • Teacher—Well, Tommy, can you tell me the meaning of ’repent’* Tommy—I don’t know, sir. Teacher—Well, suppose I stole a purse and I got locked up, wouldn’t 1 repent? Tommy—No, sir; you’d be sorry they caught you. - \ ■ ■ us liA'-vV . \t ■ ■ ■ 1 Si ('!' * .y Or> r>. •: • -V U* /'V -At ? /vv U >/V - • mm |f # e A r' ”// m i!i*~ Ti ■■ P ERHAPS an amiable, but assur edly a dangerous, assumption is that on the part of parents, and more ^especially on the part of mothers, that their children have it in them to be geniuses. Little Johnny is seized with a ma nia for appropriating opened envel opes oik other available resources of paper, and with a stump of pencil traveling perpetually to his lips in or der to produce fine shadow effects, Is forever drawing cats with triangular faces, eyes thnt arc anything but round, noses well out of the perpen dicular. and crooked horizontal lines for mouths. Or he makes an Irregular oblong, from each lower corner of which he lets fall a straight line, to each upper corner he affixes another stroke, and with a droit for head, a few dashes for features, dots, for eyes, and a triangle for a cocked hat, he pro claims that he has drawn a soldier. "The child will be an artist.” j his gratified parents—"perhaps a ■ great artist.”' He loves to perform, upon a cheap cornet or a whistle. Then he will be a great musician. He writes rhymes conspicuous for ; everything but meter and rhyming. Then he will be a poet. Ambitious Parents. And on some grant and uncertain Indications—In a few eases, of course, more serious and justified—it may r>e his future is wrecked. His good, all round development—that which would serve to make a useful, capable man of him—is lost sight of. In a world of average men and women, ambitious parents—more es- I peclally mothers—are not satisfied that their boys and girls shall be I average. They are pressed, forced, scolded and persuaded. Ignorant of that first law of devel- j CLEEK OF THE FORTY FACES Bv T. W. HANSHAW. “lb right by Doubleday, Page & Co. TO-DAY’S 1N ST ALLMEN X- SEE. No male servants at all then." "No, sir; riot 1 one. There s >s—the handy man as comes in trin’s to do the rough work and haulin’ and carryln* and things that; and there’s the gardner and Kompner—him as is Mr. Nos- th’s assistant in the laboratory, -but none of ’em is ever in the se after 5 o’clock. Set against n’ men sleep in the house was Nosworth—swore as never an- r should after him and Master ry had their falling out. Why. ire was that bitter he’d never i allow Mr. Charles to set foot in place, just because him and Mas- Harry used to be friends—which :es it precious hard on Miss Ren- r, I can tell you." is how? Is this ‘Mr. Charles' ron- .ed with Miss Renfrew in any ■tare Old Skinflint. jummy! yes, sir—he's her young Been sweet on each other ever e they was in pinafores; but ■r had no chance to marry be- 50 Mr. Charles—Mr. Charles mmond is his full name, sits—he l't one shillin’ to rub against an- r, and Miss Renfrew she’s a little se off than him. Never gets lin'. I am told, for keepin’ house her uncle—Just her food and •in’ and clothes—and her slavin’ a nigger for him the whole sed time. Keeps his books artd ■rintends the runnln’ of the house, do. but never gets a brass bin' for it, poor girl. I don’t like ipeak ill of the dead, Mr. Head- sir, hut this I must say: A rare skinflint was Mr. Septimus Nos- t h—wouldn't part with a groat :ss tin war forced to. Rut praise ler'll get her dues now', poor girl— -s oid Pkinflllnt went and iged his will without her know- ft.” ►An!” said CHek, with a strong .c infection. ”His will was made diss Renfrew’s favor, was it?” \y v - That’s why her come and V;;i with un and all his hard- -f, dness—denytrf her the pleasure , , n M i in’ her voting man just be cause him and Master Harry had been friends and playmates when t’ pair of un were Just boys in knick ers and broad collars. There he a stone heart for you.” A Strange Beast. ‘‘Rather. Now one more question. 1 think you said it was Miss Ren frew who gave the alarm when the murder was discovered, Mr. Nippers. How did she give it and to whom?” "Fegs! To me and Mistress Anm- royd, of course. Me and he war sittin' in the kitchen havin' t .<• o’ supper at the time. Gorham, !»•■ war there, too. in the beglnnin’; but un didn’t stop, of course—’twouldn’t a done, for the pair of us to be oft duty together.” ‘‘Oh! Ts Gorham a constable, then ?” “Aye—under constable second to me. Got un appointed six months ago. Him had just gone a bit of a time when Miss Renfrew come ruahin' in and shrieked out about the mur der, but he heard the rumpus and FRIENDSHIP By WILLIAM F. KIRK. HIS Is the friendship I would choose: Hard to win and hard to 1 lose; Slow to seek a separation, Quick to find an explanation ; Smoldering In Its early days, Growing like a forest blaze; Through the seasons bravely liv ing, Never asking, ever giving; Hearing doubters that desert you, Heeding nothing meant to hurt you; Watching all your faults to catch them, Finding faults of his to match them; Saying till the journey’s end, “Right or wfong, he is my ftriend!” Hard to win and hard to lose— That is the friendship I would ) choose. r came poundin’ back, of course. 1 dunno wfeat I’d a done if un hadn’a, for Miso Renfrew, her went from one faintin’ fit to another—’t was just orful. Gorham helped I to carry her up to the sittin’ room where Mistress Armroyd burnt feathers under her nose, and when we’d got her round a hit we all three went outside and round to the laboratory. That’s when we first see the prints of the animal's feet. Mistress Armroyd spied ’em first—all over the flower bed just under the laboratory win dow.” Keeps Various Animals. ‘‘Oho! then that is what you meant when you alluded to an ‘animal’ when you pounced down upon us, was it? I see. One word more; what kind of an animal was It? Or, couldn't you tell from the marks?” "No, sir, I coulqn’t—nobody could unless it might be Sir Ralph Droger. He'll be like to if anybody. Keeps all sorts of animals in Droger Park, does Sir Ralph. One thing I can swear to, though, sir; they wam't like the footprints of any animal as 1 ever see. There be a picture o’ St (George and the Dragon on the walls o’ Town Hall at Birchampton, Mr. Headland, sir, and them footprints is more like the paws of that dra gon than anything else l can call to mind. Scaly and clawed they is— like the thing as made ’em was part bird and part beast—and they’re a good twelve inches long, every one of ’em.” To Be Continued To-morrow. To Make Amends HED 23 YEARS QR.E.G. GRIFFIN’S GATE CITY CENTAL ROOMS Bt 7 WORK AT LOWEST PRICES All Work Guaranteed. :our» 8 to 6-Phone M. 1708-Sundaye 9-1 24' , Whitehall 6t. Over Brown A Allens A STORY Is told of a certain Scot tish magistrate who on rising one morning found that he had over slept himself, and had but a few min utes in which to keep a most impor tant appointment. Making a hurried toilet, he rushed from the house and hailed a passing cab. “Drive me,” he said to the driver, "to the police court with all possible speed. On no account delay an instant.” Faithful to his instructions, the driver urged his speed to its very utmost. Faster and faster they went until, after an exciting drive, he deposited his fare at his destination in time for the ap pointment, but not before he had dam aged a passing vehicle in his mad career. The magistrate, on alighting, handed him his fare with the addition of a substantial tip. ar.ii then, to the man’s astonishment, pressed thirty shillings into his hand, at the same time saying: “Here’s thirty shillings, my man; you will be brought before me to-morrow morning for furious driving, and I shall fine you that Nell Brinkley Says: TF the sweet little ghost of my grandmother’s youth should rustle -T into a little Chapeau Shop in this Springtime of nlneteen-thir- teen she Avonld raise her little mitted hands to heaven in amaze— for behind the glass eases she would find the very cocked hatR and the same wee bonnets that she fitted over her black curls in eigh teen-sixty-eight! Oh, have .you noticed them well—the “brLlid- dies”—- like little wedding cakes, tiny bowler crowns—all pink buds, field daisies, watered ribbon, brocade, flutings, with “stream ers”—“flirtation ribbons,” or, as they were called in Paris, “suives moi-jeune homme,” hanging down the back in an old, old fashion long forgot? They are pushed down, too, over one’s nose, and tilted up in the back. So look to the order of your back hair, oh, Bettys, as you have not had to look since hats jammed down to one’s shoulders, all around, for the last two years, for your grand-dame’s hats are here, and the nape of your neck is once more a thing of beauty to be gazed upon. "THERE IS PLENTY OF JOY TO GO ’ROUND” T HERE Is plenty of Joy to go* ’round, you know. To see this you’re Just about bound, you know. For the truth of it*s easily found— and so It Is foolish to envy the chap who’s arrived, For the thing is so sweetly and neatly contrived, That although you’re still climbing while he 1s on top— If you’ll simply keep going and scorn the word “stop,” Why, you’ll get there at last, And his hour may be past When yours Is just found. Oh, yes, I’ll be boimd That the doctrine’s quite sound— There is plenty of joy to go ’round. There Is plenty of work to go 'pound, , you know. And your share can be easily found, you know. , If to do your part you feel quite bound and go A-looking for work that you only can do, Or a-fitting your task If your task won't At ymt All the while eternly strtvlng to get to the top, Where the Joy of arriving it not that you stop. When you get there at last. You will find work’s not past: But the secret is found That we rise from the ground By the weakness we’ve downed-— There is plenty of Joy to go Tpund. Yes, there's plenty of joy to go Tound, my lad; By the beauty of striving you're bound, my lad; When your task and your duty are found, be glad. You’ll know when you’re working with might and with will, When you're seeking for power each task to fulfill, That there’s pleasure in ©limbing—no thought of the goal; That there's Joy In Just doing your work, heart and soul. So you’re sure to arrive, And be keenly alive To the bliss that is found In the garb of w'ork gowned Thus your labor Is crowned— And thereifl plenty of i* *o 'vcuuul. T HE patron looked like a generous man, and the waiter had served him an order, and now hovered round the table. He evidently had not been trained on the idea that a good waiter is practically a noiseless one who says nothing. “Steak all right, sir?” said he, and moved to the other side of the table. When the steak had been tried, he ventured, "Done enough, sir?” "It will do,” was the reply. There was another pause, and then the waiter asked: Potatoes cooked right, sir?” The patron beckoned him to come nearer. "When I can.e 1n here,” he said, "I supposed, everything would be all right.” "Yes, sir.” "I took it for granted, and ordered on that theory.” ‘‘Of course, sir." "And if there is anythisi-r wrong, I might say confidently that there is an excellent way to find It out.” “Yes, sir.” “Well, you just keep within ear shot and say nothing, and if there Is anything wrong I*1i talk’. T can do It. And that tip—” “Yes, sir.” "You needn't keep working for It. I don't need to be reminded that you’re the man who waited on me. I never can forget a noisy waiter, and always ’remember’ a wtttl one.” He was not disturbed again. opment which demands rest and lels* ure for the proper growth of any fac ulty, sortiebody is forever at their el bows insisting that time is valuable* that life Is short, that they shall re member their talent and waste neither. If they would make a stir in the world, they must be up and doing. One has memories of weary-eyed, spiritless or restless, fever-bright children, in whom mothers sa.v neither the anaemi \, nor nervelesa- ness, nor sleeplessness, nor indigestion consequent on long, close hours, and overtaxed brains—nothing of these — only that possible realisation of am bitions. Intentions Are Good. That mothers, in this relation, ara inspired by excellent intentions* is not denied. In some rases, it is true, such ma ternal ambition is the outcome of mere selfish vanity. The mother herself, it may be, has never made one effort toward distinc tion, and does not know the cost, but her son or daughter shall, if training, forcing and perpetual sspurring will avail, be made to excel, in order that she may share their glory. Such mothers must be left out of account—it is to be hoped they are rare; at all events, nothing that can be addressed to them from the stand point of their children’s w’elfare will be of the slightest use. One speaks, therefore, to her who, with the best intentions in the world, strives to make geniuses of her aver age brood. Y quite ungifted woman—the wife of a mediocre, unsuccessful man—ob served with an indignation amounting almost to anger to the beautiful, tal ented wife of a distinguished, well- known lawyer: "1 can’t think how it 1s that my children are not so clever and hand some as yours.’’ And she continued to bewail and admonish her children. "Why do you not head your class as Clarence N— does?” “Why do you not play the piano and sing, and carry yourself, and have pretty manners like Julia N—T* And eventually: "Why do you not marry so successfully and get on in the world so well as Julia and Clar ence N—?” The explanation was manifest to alL Julia and Clarence N— were ex ceptionally gifted in both looks and talents. The others, to whom the N—s were ; perpetually held up as examples, were average, healthy, hearty children, | who, under a just and prudent up- | bringing, would have made average I useful members of society. As it w’us, perpetually goaded to | exhibit and develop qualities they lacked, they proved failures. Two Lives Wrecked. The boy who, possessing KMS. nil- round capacities, might hav. made an excellent, contented man of busi- ness, was ^converted by his mother’s : teaching into becoming a neurotic | and morose twelfth-rate poet, whom nobody reads; while the daughter, who might have been a happy wife 'and mother, a capable teacher or a “helpful hospital nurse, wasted six or | eight hours daily for seven long years i vainly laboring to wrest music from I a violin. These two young lives have been j absolutely sacrificed to a maternel j ambition, udeked in its selfish disre- gard of their shortcomings, their ac- \ tual abilities and their personal well- l being. THE GRANDSON OF MICHAEL “Y c OU are stupid and ugly, poor Alexis. You are proud be cause I have married you and because I am beautiful. It flatters you. Then so much the w r orse for me. Byt you are a sport and not stingy, which makes up for much, even for your miserable appearance." Thus spoke Anita Dumoulin, a princess now, wife of the great- grandson of Michel the Wolf. He did not answer. Why should he exert himself to do so? He married Anita because he loved her. He knew her past, but did not care. He did not even get angry one night when, returning home unex pected, he found Anita in the arms of a friend from the club. He simply asked the friend to leave, as If he were afraid of him. "Well, yes! What about It?" cried Anita furiously. “I have been un faithful to you." "Don't say anything," he said gen tly. H« seemed more discouraged than annoyed. Then he went to his club, and the next day he paid Anita's bills as usual. Alexis then refused to pay any more bills. ‘Don’t expect me to pay any of your debts, Anita,” he said to his aston ished wife. Then ho telephoned all the tradespeople to stop her credit. That right she was sitting In hex bouaoir, completely crushed. There was a knock at the door. It was Alexis. She had been expecting him for some time. "I have been packing my suit case," he said. "Your suit case! So you are going away? And where to, may I ask? Monte Carlo, Nlco, China?” "T am going back to my own coun try.” "To your own country? With noth ing but a suit case? You must be crazy. How much money are you going to leave me?" "Nothing at all." "What! You are not going to leave me any money? Well, 1 am not going to stand for it.” And for a quarter of an hour she ejaculated her rage lq the wildest, coarsest and most insulting expres sions. He listened to her without a word. ‘‘And what are you going to do with your dirty money?” she scream ed at last. "You have found another woman, I suppose, who has spotted you for the sucker that you are.” Prince Alexis’ voice was very calm as he replied: "War has been declared, Anita. T need all my money to turn it over to my king to be used against the Turks. When 1 get home 1 will enter the army as a private.” Anita was pale with rage. He was even a greater fool than she had thought. "You want to be a soldier and throw ydur money into that dirty war! And what about me and my bills and ray house? You are a selfish scoundrel, like all men. You, a sol dier! You make me laugh. You are not even a man. You will die with fright, If the weight of your knap sack doesn’t kill you. You, a coward, who did not even fight the man who stole your wife from you!” The Prince did not seem to hear her. He shrugged his shoulders and said: "I am going now. Au revotr, Anita.” His composure maddened her. “You cow'ard!” she hissed, "you will throw away your gun to run quicker, just like all the rest of your miser able countrymen, as soon as they see the Turks. They will chase you like the swine and curs you are. You must be crazy to fight for a good-for-noth ing mongrel country like your Ser- via." She said no more. Alexis’ face had suddenly become purple at her last words. His fingers clutched his wife’s throat and gripped it tightly until she died. Then he left the room, asked for his suit case, and said: "Don’t disturb the Princess until to morrow. She is asleep, but will ring If she needs any one.’ He took the Orient express for Vienna. Nobody discovered the crime until more than twelve hours later. Hos tilities had already begun. When an extradition order reached the Servian general at the front, the officer said respectfully to the Paris detective: “It is Alexis Petragorevitch you want. Come, I will show him to you.” The bodies of four private soldiers lay under a tent. Pointing to one of them the General said with a salute: "There he is.” And everybody touched their caps in respect for four heroes. Do You Know How to Whiten Your Skin? A NY very dark, sallow or -Cl swarthy complexion can be improved and lightened by the use of Dr. Palmer’s Skin Whitener We guarantee Palmer’s Skin Whitener to be absolutely pure and harmless. It makes the akin clear, soft and smooth, and lightens it. A trial will convince you. Price 25c, postpaid anywhere. FOR SALE BY All Jacobs’ Stores And Druggists Generally. Air-Float Talcum Powder—bora- ted, perfumed—guaranteed pure. TALCUM PUFF COMPANY Blaera ud nansfMtKrrni, Bunb Trrainal Bldg., BROOKLYN, NEW YORK Steel Engraved and Embossed Stationery BUSINESS CARDS AND ANNOUNCEMENTS Largest Plant in the South Lowest Prices Samplee will be submitted or our representative will call upon request. J. P. STEVEN" '-NGKAVINO CO. 47 Whitehall Street. Bell Phone Main 1743. ATLANTA