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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