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© • A Powerful Story of • •
• © Adventure, Intrigue and Love © ©
THE LAW
• •
• •
By MARVIN DANA from the © ©
Play of BAYARD VEILLER e ©
M&rv Tumor, young, beautiful and a shop gii
.is arrested for a tIk
iL She's convicted and
years.
Ins is how it
1 she never committed,
“sent away” for three
lapponed:
• 'Copyright, 1H13. by the H K. Ely Com*
l*any. The play “Within the I AW” Is
i copyrighted hv Mr. Velller and this
L noveli^atlon of it is published by his
I pennies on. The American Play Con:
i >a n y
and j
in fill
is the sole proprietor of the ex-
• tig,its of the representation
•erfm .-nance of ‘‘Within the Iavv"
languages.
CHAPTER I.
T
The Panel of Light.
*HE lids of the girl's eyes lifted
slowly, and she stared at the
panel of light in the wall. Just
et the outset, the act of seeing made
not the least impression on her numb
ed brain. For a long time she con-
tfciued to regard the dim illumina
tion in the wall with the same passive
fixity of gaze. Apathy still lay upon
Hrr crushed spirit. In a vague way
realized her own Inertness and
■ rested in it gratefully, subtly fearful
last she .again arouse to the full her
itor of her plight. In a curious sub-
'tofisctowi fashion she was Striving to
hold on to this deadnetwi of sensation,
(tons to win a little reaphe from the
torture that had exhausted her soul.
Of sudden her eyes noted the
black lines that lay arrops the panel
of light. And In that instant her
spirit wns quickened once again The
clouds lifted from her brain. Vision
was l«*ar now. Understanding seized
the f«:;i import of this hideous thing
on v. d.ch she looked. * * * For the
"panel of light was a window set high
•vrithin i stone wall. The rigid lines
of black that crossed it were bars
’»prison bars. It was still true. then.
• She was in a cell of the Tombs.
The girl, crouching miserably on the
narrow
walchir.
*do\v iv h
dos]
wit
ego -
teal s
in the (
with \v
mock in;
PVt
under
was
| I
much a
lips T
ting for
Nation
posture
Seeming,
bed.
f
ifo
t<
nalntained her fixed
the window'—that wln-
wrts a symbol of her utter
Again agony wrenched
She did not weep: long
d exhausted the relief of
did not pace to and fro
r t of physical movement
he caged beast finds a
at ion of liberty; long ago
vigors had been drained
of anguish. Now she
i incapable of any bodily
ere came not even so
feeblest moan from her
nent was far too rack-
futile fashion of latnen-
;he merely sat there In a
f collapse. To all outward
nerveless, emotionless, an
abject creature. Even the ayes, which
held so fixedly their gaze or the win
dow. were quite expressionless. Over
them la\ a fi’. n like that which vdlls
the eyes of some dead thing. Only
an occasional languid motion of the
lids revealed the life that remained.
Injustice of Ker Fate.
. So still the body. Within the soul.
fur\ aged uncontrolled. For all the
desolate calm of outer * ning. the
tragedy of her fate was being acted
with frightful vividness there in
memory. In that dreadful remem
brane* her spirit was rent asunder
anew by realization of that which had
become her portion. * * * It was
then, as ones again the horrible in
justice of her fate racked conscious
ness with its tortures, that the seeds
of revolt were implanted in her heart
The thought of revenge gave to her
the first meager gl-am of comfort that
had lightened her mouth through
many miserable days and nights
Those seeds of revolt were to be nour
ished well, were to grow into their
flower a poison flower, developed
through the three years of convict life
to which the Judge had sentenced her.
The girl was appalled by the nn-r
ell ess ness of a destiny that had >o
outraged right. She was wholly in
nocent of having done any wrong.
She had struggled through years of
privation to keep herself clean and
wholesome, worthy of those gentle
folk from whom she drew her blood.
And earnest effort bad ended at last
under an overwhelming accusation—
faliie, yet none the less fatnl to her
This accusation, after soul-wearying
delays, had culminated to-day in con
viction. The sentence of the court
had been imposed upon her; that for
three years nhe should be impris
oned • 4 • This, despite her Inno
cence. She hod endured much—mis
erably much!—for honeerty’s sak*\
There wrought the irony of fate She
had endured bravely ror honesty’s
sake. And the end of It all was
shame unutterable. There was naught
left her save a wild dream of re
venge against the world that had
martyrized her “Vengeance is mine.
1 will repay, saith the Lord” * * *
The admonition could not touch her
how Why should the care for the
decree of a God who had abandoned
her?
When Her Father Died.
There hat! been nothing in the life
of Mary Turner, befopre the catas
trophe came, to distinguish It from
many another. Its most significant
details were of a sordid kind, familiar
to poverty. Her father had been an
unsuccessful man. as success Is esti
mated by this generation of Mam
mon worshipers. He was a gentle
man, but the trivial fact ts of small
avail to-day. He- was of good birth,
and he was the possessor of an in
Merited competence. He had, as well,
intelligence, but It was not of a float)
rial sort.
So. tittle by little, his fortune he
came shrunken toward nothingness
by reason of injudicious investments
He married a charming woman who,
after a brief period of wedded hap
plness. gave her life to the birth of
the single child of the union. Mart
Afterward, In his distress over his
loss, rfav Turner seemed even more
Incomptnent for the management of
business affairs. As the years passed
the daughter grew toward maturity
in an experience of ever-increasing
penurv Nevertheless, there was no
actual want of the necessaries of
life, :hough always a woful lack of
its elegancies. The girl was In th,’
high school when her father finally
g ive over his rather feeble effort of
living. Between parent and child the
Intimacy had been unusually clos.
At his death the father left her a
The World’s Lost Secrets
ARTS AND CRAFTS THAT HAVE VANISHED.
-jy -» UMEROUS arc tin* trade secrets
* 1\ handed down generation after
generation from father to son,
and va.-i • the capital made out of
some of them in the commercial world
of to-day
Particular!} . perhaps is this the
ease among the numerous manufac
turers of piquant sauces and the
coup t’ess venders of patent medi
cines
But there is also, it must be re
membered, another side to the case.
Many, alas are the priceless trade
•^crets buried far down below the
knoldering dust of the misty past,
and lost to the world, perchance never
again to be recovered.
To cite the first example that oc
curs to the mind of the writer, for in-
Btan-'e. what would an artist of the
present day give to be possessed of
the secret held by the old masters—
Raphael. Rubens. Corregio. Van Dyck,
and their compeers—for mixing their
colors so as to render them imperish
able and impervious to the ravages of
time ?
The red colors, especially, of these
artists of a by-gone epoch are every
whit as bright now as they were
three long centuries ago. On the con
trary. the colors of pictures painted
only a hundred years ago have lost
their luster and are faded and de
cayed to a deplorable extent.
A Violin Varnish.
Again, in the world of music, the
manufacturers of violins —old mas
ters. as one may justifiably term them.
In another branch of art treasured a
recipe for a varnish that sank into the
wood of their incomparable instru
ments. and mellowed it as well as
preserved it.
With such extreme relentless jeal
ous}., however, did they guard their
great secret that it. too. is lost, to all
appearance, irretrievably.
Rather more than a hundred years
ago there lived in a quaint, old-world
viHage in Wales a working black
smith .who had managed by some
~ means or other to bring the welding
f of steel to such a pitch of perfection
that the joint was absolutely invisible.
■ and the temper of the steel as fine as
on 4he day it left the tester’s hands.
. By hi^ process he was able to join the
I very finest of sword blades, and after
he had finished with them they were
absolutely a good and as sound as
• when they had left the factor}
The blacksmith’s fame spread far
and wide, and, naturally, ho attained
a great reputation; but he made a
point of Invariably working in soli
tude. He was offered large and
tempting sums to divulge his secret;
but kept it obstinately to himself, and
when his span of life had run its
course he took it w ith him to another
world.
Greek Fire.
The ancient Greeks had a substance
which we call Greek fire, and which
they used in naval warfare.
Their method of employing it was
simply this to throw the substance
upon the surface of the water, where
it flamed up and set fire to the ships
of the enemy. What was it? The
only known substance of the present
day that would do this is the metal
potassium, but to set fire to a ship
In the manner described would ne
cessitate the use of at least half a (
ton of the metal. Where did the
Greeks obtain the substance they,
used with such effect? Or how did
they make it? If Greek fire was!
potassium, the secret of the process
is another that must be numbered
with the lost.
Yet another perennial and ever
green conundrum. What were the
Pyramids of Egypt intended for”
And how were they erected? With
all the scientific and practical knowl
edge at the command of the engi
neers of the present day, they are
not capable of building the Pyramids,
in the first place, because we have
no machinery of sufficient power to
raise enormous blocks of stone such
as form them to a height of four hun
dred and odd feet. and. secondly, we
should be at a loss where to obtain
the said stone.
Again, there Is no granite within
fifty miles of the Egyptian Pyramids
of the same character as that of
which they are constructed.
The man who could disinter the
buried recipe for Roman mortar
would be bowed down to and wor
shiped by the builders of the pres
ent da> How they made it is a
i-rofound secret, and bids fair to re
main so.
The mortar is as firm now as it
was 2.U00 years ago; it has calmly
scoffed at the ravages of time and
weather
The above are but a few—a very
few—of the lost and buried secrets
of antiquity which modern scientists
and mechanicians would give much
to learn
character well instructed in the excel
lent principles that had been his own.
That was his Mole legacy to her. Of
worldly goods, not the value of a pin.
Yet, measured according to the
stern standards of adversity, Marj
was fortunate. Almost at once she
procured a humble employment In the
Emporium, the great department
store owned'by Edward Gilder. To
b*- sure, the wage was infinitestimal
w hile the toil v.. - body-breaking,
soul-breaking. Still the pittance could
be made to sustain life, and Mary
whs blessed with both soul and body
to sustain much. So she merged her
self in the army of workers—in the;
vast battalion of those that give their
entire selves to a labor most stern
and unremitting and most ill re
warded.
Mary, nevertheless, avoided th
worst perils of her lot. She did not
flinch under privation, but went her
way through it, if not serenely, at
least without ever a thought of yield
ing to those temptations that beset
a girl who is at once poor and charm
ing Fortunately for her, those in
closest authority over her were not so
deeply smitten as to make obligatory
on her a choice between qomplal-
sanre and Jose of position.
She knew of situations like that,
the cul-de-aac of chastity, worse than
any devised by a Javert. In the
store such things were matters of
course. There Is little innocence for
the girl In the modern city. There
can he none for the worker thrown
Into the storm-center of a great com
mercial activity, humming with vi
cious gossip, all alive with quips from
the worldly wise. At the very outset
of her employment the sixteen-year-
old girl learned that she might eke
out $G w'eekly by trading on her per
sonal attractiveness to those of the i
opposite sex. The idea was repug
nant to her, not only from the maid
enly Instinct of purity, but also from
the moral principles woven into her
character by the teachings of a father
wise in most things, though a fool in
finance. Thus she remained un-
smirched, though well Informed as to
the verities of life.
She preferred purity and penury :
rather than a slight pampering of the
body to be bought by Its degradation.
Among her fellows were some like
herself; others, unlike. Of her own
sort, in this single particular, were
the two girls with whom she shared |
a cheap room. Their common decen
cy in attitude toward the other sex
was the unique bond of union. In
their association she found no real
companionship. Nevertheless, they
were wholesome enough. Otherwise
they were illiterate, altogether uncon
genial
A Mind Keen and Earnest.
In such wise, through five dreary
years, Mary Turner lived. Nine hours
daily she stood behind a counter. She
spent her other waking hours in ob
ligatory menial labors; cooking
her own scant meals oyer the gas;
washing and ironing, for the sak«* of
that neat apepAranoe which was re
quired of her by thos* 1 in authority
at the Emporium—yet. more espe
cially, necessary for her own self-
respect. With a mind keen and earn
est, she contrived some solace from j
reading and studying, since the free
library gave her this opportunity.
So. through most of her hours, she
was able to find food for mental
growth. Even in the last year she
had reached a point of development
whereat she began to study seriously i
her own position in the world of econ- j
omy. to meditate on a method of bet
tering it. Under this impulse, hope
mounted high in her heart. Ambi- !
Don was born. By candid comparison I
of herself with others about her she I
realized the fact that she possessed j
an intelligence beyond the average. I
The training by her father, too. had
been of a superior kind. There was '
as well, at the back vaguely, the !
feeling of particular self-respect that ]
belongs inevitably to the possessor of
good blood. Finally, she demurely i
enjoyed a modest appreciation of her j
own physical advantages. In short, j
she had beauty, brains and breeding. !
Three things of chief importance to !
any woman though there be many
minds as to which may be chief j
among the three.
I have said nothing specific thus
far as to the outer being of Mary 1
Turner—except as to filmed eyes and ;
a huddled form. But, in a happier
situation, the girl were winning
enough. Indeed, more! She was one |
of those that possess an harmonious j
beauty, with, too. the penetrant charm
that springs from the mind, with th** ;
added graces horn of the spirit. Just i
now, ns she sat, a figure <>f desolation,
there on the bed In the Tombs cell, it
would have required a most analytical
observer to determine the actualities
of her loveliness. Tier form was dis
guised by the droop of exhaustion.
Her complexion showed the pallor
of sorrowful vigils. Her face was
no more than a mask of misery. Yet
the shrewd observer, if a lover of
beauty, might have found much for
delight, even despite the concealment
imposed by her present condition.
Thus the stormy glory of her dark
hair, great masses that ran a riot,of
shining ripples and waves. And the;
straight line of tin* nose, not too thin,
yet fine enough for the rapture of a
Praxiteles. And the pink daintiness
of the ear-tips, which peered warmly
from beneatli the pall of trusses.
One could know nothing accurate
ly of the complexion now. But it
were easy to guess that in happier
places it would show; of a purity to
“Three years isn’t forever. When I come out you are going to pay for
every moment of them. There won’t be a day or an hour that I won’t re
member that at last it was yoUr word that sent me to prison.”
admiration. There was the delicacy
of the hands, with fingers tapering,
w r ith nails perfectly shaped, neither
too dull nor too shining. And there
were, too, finally, the trimly shod feet,
set rather primly on the floor, small
and arched like those of a Spanish
Infanta. In truth, Mary Turner
showed the possibilities at least, If
not just now the realities, of a very
beautiful woman.
Naturally, in this period of grief,
the girl’s mind had no concern with
such external merits over which once
she had modestly exulted. All her
present energies were set to precise
recollection of the ghastly experience
into which she had been thrust.
In its outline, the event had been
tragically simple.
There had been thefts In the store.
They had been traced eventually to a
certain department, that in which
Mary worked. The detective was
alert. Some valuable silks were
missed. Search followed immediate
ly. The goods were found in Mary’s
locker. That was enough. She was
charged with the theft. She protested
innocence—only to he laughed at in
derision by her accusers. Every
thief declares innocence. Mr, Gilder
himself was emphatic against her.
The thieving had been long contin
ued. An example must be made. The
girl was arrested.
The crowded condition of the court
calendar kept her for three months In
the Tombs awaiting trial. She was
quite friendless. To the world she
entice, with a gentle blooming of
roses ih the cheeks. Even in this
hour of unmitigated evil, the lips re
vealed a curving beauty of red—not
quite crimson, though near enough
for the word; not quite scarlet, either;
only a red gently enchanting, which
turned one’s thoughts toward tender
ness—with a hint of desire. It was,
too, a generous mouth, not too large;
still, happily, not so small as those
modeled by Watteau. It was alto
gether winsome- more, ii was gener
ous and true, desirable for kisses—
yes! more desirable for strength and
for faith.
She Showed Possibilities.
Like every lntellifcnt woman, Mary
had taken the trouble to reinforce the
worth of her physical attractiveness.
The instinct of sex was strong in her,
as It must be In every normal woman,
since that appeal Is nature’s law. She
kept herself supple anti svelte by
many exercises, at which her com
panions in the chamber scoffed, with
the prudent warning that more work
must mean more appetite.
With arms still aching from the
lifting of heavy bolts of cloth to and
fro from the shelves, she neverthe
less was at pains nightly to brush
with the appointed 2Q0 strokes the
thick masses of her hair. Even here,
in the sordid desolation of the cell,
the lustrous sheen witnessed the fi
delity of her care.
So in each detail the keen observer
might have found adequate reason for
j
1
A NAUGHTY LITTLE COMET
By ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.
was only a thief in duress. At the
last the trial was very short. Her
lawyer was merely an unfledged
practitioner assigned to her defense
as a formality of the court. This nov
ice in his profession was so grateful
for the first recognition ever afforded
him that he rather assisted than oth
erwise the District Attorney In the
prosecution of the ease.
At the end, twelve good men and
true rendered a verdict of guilty
against the shuddering girl In the 1
prlsoner’3 dock.
So simple the history of Mary Tur- •
ner’s trial. * * * The sentence of the
judge was. lenjent—only three years!
CHAPTER II.
A Cheerful Prodigal.
T HAT which was the supreme
tragedy to th© broken girl in
the cell merely afforded rather
agreeable entertainment to her for- (
mer fellows of the department store j
Mary Turner throughout her term of
service there bad been without real
intimates, so that now none was
ready to mourn over her fate. Even
the two roommates had felt some
slight offense, since they sensed the
superiority of her, though vaguely.
Now they found a smug satisfaction
fn the fact of her disaster as empha
sizing very pleasurably their own
continuance in respectability.
As many a philosopher has ob
served, we secretly enjoy the misfor
tunes of others, particularly of our
friends, since they are closest to us.
Most persons hasten to deny this
truth in Its application to themselves.
They do so either because from lack
of clear understanding they are not
quite honest with themselves, from
lack of clear Introspection, or because,
as may be more easily believed, they
are not quite honest in the asser
tion. As a matter of fact, we do find
a singular satisfaction In the troubles
of others. Contemplation of such
suffering renders more striking the
contrasted well-being of our own lot.
We need the pains of others to serve
as a background for our joys—just as
sin Is essential as the background for
any appreciation of virtue, even any
knowledge of its existence. * * So now,
on the day of Mary Turner's trial,
there was a subtle gayety of gossip
ing* to and fro through the store.
The girl’s plight was like a shuttle
cock driven hither and yon by the
battledores of many tongues. It was
the first time in many years that one
of the employees had been thus ac
cused of theft. Shoplifters were so
common a« to be a stale tonic. There
was a refreshing novelty in this case,
where one of themselves was the cul
prit Her fellow workers chatted des
ultorily of her as they had opportu
nity, and complacently thanked their
gods that they were not as she—with
reason. Perhaps a very few were
kind-hearted enough to feel a touch
of sympathy for this ruin of a Mft».
Gave Attention to Girl.
Of such was Smithson, a member of
the excutive staff, who did not hesi
tate to speak his mind, though none
too forcibly. As for that, Smithson,
while the possessor of a dignity nour
ished by years of floor-walking, was
not given to the holding of vigorous
opinions. Yet his comment, meager
a.s it was. stood wholly in Mary’s
favor. And he spoke with a certain
authority, since he had given official
attention to the girl.
Smithson stopped Sarah Edward3.
Mr. Gilder’s private secretary, as she
was passing through one of the de
partments that morning, to ask her if
the owner had yet reached his office.
“Been and gone,” was the secreta
ry's answer, with the terseness char
acteristic of her.
“Gone!” Smithson repeated, evi
dently somewhat disturbed by the in
formation. “I particularly wanted to
see him.”
’’He'll be back, all right,” Sarah
vouchsafed, amiably. “He went down
town to the Court of General Sessions.
The Judge sent for him about the
Mary Turner case.”
“Oh, yes. I remember now.” Smith-
son exclaimed. Then he added, with
a trace of genuine feeling: “I hope
the poor girl gets off. She was a nice
girl—quite the lady, you know, Miss
Edwards.”
“No, I don’t know.” Sarah rejoined,
a bit tartly. Truth to tell, the sec
retary was haunted by a grim suspi
cion that she herself was not quit© the
lady of her dreams, and never would
be able to acquire the graces of the
Vcre De Vere. For SaTah, while a
most efficient secretary, was not in
her person of that slender elegance
Mary had endured much—miserably much!—
for honesty’s sake. At the end of it ill was
shame unutterable. There was nom ht left
her save a wild dream of revenge.
which always characterized her fa
vorite heroines in the novels sue af
fected. On the contrary, she was of
a sort to have gratified Byron, who
declared that a. woman in her maturi
ty should be plump. Now, she re
called with a * e of envy that the
accused girl had been of an aristo
cratic slimness of form. “Oh. did you
know her?' she questioned, without
any real interest.
Smithson answered with that bland
stateliness of manner which was the
fruit of floor-walking politeness:
A Good Saleswoman.
“Well, I coyldn’t exactly say I knew
her, and yet I might say, after a
manner of speaking, that I did—to a
certain extent. You see. they put her
in my department when she first came
here to work. She was a good sales
woman, as saleswomen go. For the
matter of that,” he added with a sud
den access of energy, “she was the
last girl in the world I’d take for a
thief.” He displayed some evidences
of embarrassment over the honest
feeling into which he had been be
trayed, and made haste to recover his
usual business manner, as he contin
ued. formally: "Will you please let me
know when Mr. Gilder arrives? There
are one or two little matters I wish ro
discuss with him.”
"All right,” Sarah agreed briskly,
and she hurried -n toward the private
office.
The secretary was barely seated at
her desk when the violent opening
of the door startled her. and. as she
looked up. a cheery voice cried out:
“Hello, dad!”
At the same moment a young man
entered with an air of care-free as
surance, his face radiant. But, as his
glance went to the empty armchair
at the desk, he halted abruptly, and
his expression changed to
appointment.
“Not here!” he grum
once again the smile was
as his eyes fell on the set
had now risen to her feet
of excitement.
“Why, Mr. Dick!” Sara!
“Hello, Sadie!” came th*
utation. The younc- mar
and shook hands with 1
"I’m home again. Where
Even as he asked the c
quick sobering of his fat
ness to his disappoint me
finding his father in the
such was the relations
owner of the department :
new arrival on the scene,
patient chagrin under wl
now labored was to be f
tain indication of charact
disregarded. Unlike man;
really loved his father. r i
the mother years before i
without other opportunit
tion in the home, since he
brother nor sister. He 1*
tlier with a depth of feelin
the two a real camarad
great differences in temp*
that simple and sincere r
he bore for hi? father,
vealed a heart ready for
to give of itself its best
beloved. Beyond that, a
was little to be said o
exactness. He was a spo
fortune, if you wish to
Certainly he was only a <
world’s hive. Thus far
joyed the good things of
ever doing aught to des<j:
contributing in return—;
smiles and his genial ai
ness.
one of dia
lled. The a
on his.lips
retaiy, who
in a flutter
gasped,
genial sal-
advanced
cr warmly,
s dad?”
uestion, th©
e bore wit-
nt over not
office. For
lip of th©
tore to this
And in the
ich the son
uind a cer-
r not to be
• a child, he
he death of
ad left him
/ for affec*
had neithei
■ved his fa-
g that made
Tie. despite
rament. In
igard which
he boy re
eve, willing
for the one
yet, there
him with
led child of
have It so.
Irone In the
he had en-
life without
ve them by
ave by his
r of happi-
To be Continued To-morrow.
Strange methods of greeting the spring
are practiced in the commune of Nagy-
halmagy. Wales, every year It is a
kissing market, and the institution this j ^
year has been more successful than
ever. All the women and girls are at '
liberty to kiss strange men. From tho •
surrounding district nil the young worn- |
©n who have been married since last ()
Faster arrive at the kissing market and j)
kiss strange men to their hearts’ coi
tent.
/OUR FILMS TO US
n I ail< j we W jjj develop them free. We are film specialists
and give you perfect results and quick delivery. Mail
> negative for free sample print Enlargements made
and colored Pictures framed. Chemicals Cameras.
S3 00 to $85.00.
°sh films to fit any camera —guaranteed not to stick j
atalogue. Quick mail order service. * i
-- • CONE, Inc.. “A Good Drug Store”—(Two Stores)—Atlanta. §; ducking
ir• n> iimnn ■ r■ r — ——a——■————Shot.
A new device made its ajtpearanee ;
on a fair ground during the recent j
holidays. A target is affixed to a can- I
vaa screen, below which sits a man, J
protected from the ball by a net Three I
shots a penny is the price. The thrower
} who hits the target releases the seat
j on which the man .s ensconced, and he I
• falls into a tank of water beneath him. I
foil
i of wat
l>ws every
Copyright, 1013, by American-Journal-Examiner.
HERE was once a little comet who lived' near the Milky Way!
loved to wander out at night and jump about and play.
The mother of the comet was a very good old star—
She used to scold her reckless child for venturing out too far;
She told her of the ogre. Sun. who loved on stars to sup.
And who asked no better pastimes than gobbling comets up.
But instead of growing cautious and of showing proper fear,
The f>»tlish little comet edged up nearer and more rear.
She switched her saucy tail along right where the Sun could see.
And flirted with old Mars just as bold as bold could be.
She laughed to scorn the quiet stars, who never frisked about.
She said there was no fun in life unless you ventured out.
She liked to make the planets, and wished no better mirth
Than just to see the telescope aimed at her from the Earth.
She wondered how so many stars could mope through nights and days.
And let the sicklv-faced old moon get all the love and praise.
And as she talked and tossed her head and switched her shining trail,
The staid old mother star grew sad, her cheek grew wan and pale.
For she had lived there in the skies a million years or more,
And she ha*t heard gay comets talk in Just this way before.
And by and by there came an end to this gay comet’s fun—
S . went a tin bit too fir and vanished in the Sun!
N'» nv.r*- .< :•■ swines her shining trail befor'.the whole world’s sight,
1 hr *ii* t stars s laughed to scorn are twinkling every night.
By FRANCES L. GARSIDE.
W HEN the baby gives a shrill cry
every one in the house runs to
it, and when It keeps it up every
one runs from it except its mother.
• • *
When a mother puts away her first
baby's worn-out shoe it is with the self-
expresaed belief that some day the State
Historical Society wdll send for it.
• • •
A mother with her first baby sug
gests a girl with her doll, but there
isn’t so much resemblance to pastime
when the second, third and fourth ar
rive.
• • •
A mother feels worse when she can't
afford to buy a certain toy for her child
than the child will feel if it gets no
toys at all.
• • •
The modern mother does so much to
spare her children pain, it is a wonder
she doesn't think up some plan of tak
ing their pills for them.
• • •
“It’s a good thing,” every mother
thinks, when the father loses an um
brella, ‘ that bringing the children home
doesn’t depend on their father.”
• • •
Every father cherishes a secret re
sentment because his wife will forgive
their son so much more than she will
forgive him.
• • •
Mother and father never agree upon
what he can afford, and as every daugh
ter grows up she has one more to take
her side of the argument.
• • •
All father gets when he complains
to his children of the sacrifices he has
made for them is a mental comparison
with their mother, who has made great
er sacrifices and never mentions them.
The Storage E
!gg
By PERCY SHAW.
I MET a storage egg one day,
And, filled, with subtle agitation,
I asked, him what he had to say
Upon suspended animation.
He made no move to speak and so
I boldly put a simple question.
As to some facts I sought to know
On superhuman indigestion.
And though he looked p -ofound, my
eyes •
Perceived he scorned all conversation
He even showed a dull sur] rise
For one in such a lowly ; tatlon.
At last I smote him on tie hip.
Half earnestly and half n banter.
He said no word, but witl a chip
He broke and ran away instanter.
Give Yourself a Chaice
Are you sickly in any way? /.re you
below par? Then you are not living ri. ;ht. You
are not getting what might be yours Postpone
ment is the price ot your birthright.
Life has untold blessings if you will reach out
and grasp them. Great obstacles recede >efore the
onrushing enthusiasm of the man or
woman w-ho is vigorous and happy. The
world smiles when you are well. Health
tinges everything with beauty.
Strong words, you say—ye true. To
the man or woman who will not >e denied,
who demands the right of bein z healthy
and happy, Nature—yes, and man—hold
out new hope. The ebbing SDark may
be renewed. The sluggish biod stream
may be .quickened. The weakened n« rve£ and
muscles may be brought to new life and strength.
And you wish to know what will do these things for you? Electricity.
Electricity is
Nature’s Greatest Health Builder
When old Ben Franklin drew the spark down the silken cord, he brought
to man a wondrous power—an agent to do his bidding and to strengthen
the very vitals and sinews of the man who used it.
The greatest achievement of the last decade has been t'o bring dectricitf
to suffering humans in a form safe, convenient and economical.
Many there are to-day, healthy and happy, who ascribe their veil being
to the curative, strengthening power of electricity.
Be you young or old, male or female, there is
new beauty, new life, new power, new happiness
for you in this wonderful modern invention.
The “Home”
Health and Beauty Battery
A few minutes each day will give wonderful
rest) its.
Constitutional headaches grow less and finally
disappear under the tonic effect of the elec
trie current.
Lame backs nrd lumbago lose their terrors
Rheumatism Is relieved. Neuralgia alike, and
• physical weaknesses of nearly every descrip
tion.
Thin faces and thin arms become plump.
The skin becomes soft and velvety, free from
unsightly eruptions.
The electric current from the Home Battery,
gentle or forcible, according to your require
ments. stimulates and strengthens the whole
system, giving Nature the power to so perform her functions as t i
parts healthy.
p r ; r . fin all complete In n handsome, satin-lined box. with Hail
rritc fdiWi Brush. Electrode. Sponge. Massage Holler. Metal Foot
Plate, connecting cord for these Access -rios. and Instruction Manual, giving
explicit directions for nil kinds of treatments.
The Home Battery is complete In itself, no outside batteries >r connec
tions. nothing to get out of order, current easily regulated. \’e use a
standard dry cell which yon can easily renew when required.
^nsrinl Off • For a time only, we will give three extra «;ry
OptfCid! V-Min . rolls—practically a year s supply—free with each bat
tery. upon receipt of coupon printed below.
You will enjoy the delightful effect of the electrical current, w other you
use the battery for face massaging- with the electric hair brush to correct
scalp troubles and promote beautiful hair as a general tonic treatr lent—or in
any of the many ways described in our Instruction Manual for spi ifle needs
Life will take on new beauties when you fee) the vital blood of health
coursing strongly through your veins.
Send In your order for the "Home" Battery » day Don’t wait a ro*nute
You can’t afford to delay •
This is your opportunity to renew your strength and vigor, vour op
portunity to become physically fit. to step out from the weakling class, and
be a winner
Give yourself a chance. Act now Only So.00 for the complete outfit
— your passport to health.
Western Merchandise & Supply Co.
326 West Madison St., Near Market St. CHICAGO
Back—10 Dav
keep all
I rial Couj: on
This coupon,
entities you t<
Health and I?
terv, complete
three extra dr
khipped preps,
ten days. If
satisfied at the
time, your Si
promptly refu
return of mach
This offer \j
imited time
< oupon to-day.
with $5.00,
one Homo
sauty Bat-
(ineluding
colls free)
d. Try it
lot entirely
end of that
.00 will bo
idel upon
ne.
m.-i.le for a
only. U