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4 i nr WOMAN’S LIFE IS A SEARCH FOR VALUES Back to the “Sixties 99 Copyright, 1913, by American-Journal Examiner. •By Nell Brinkley By ADA PATTERSON. T : herself, and to those gathered about her bedside in a vain ef fort to save her life she said: "I didn't know the leal thing from the phonv until too late!” .The dying words of the poor, paint ed creature, self-slain. despairing, anxious to leave a world in which she had allowed herself to be cheated, are a message to every woman, whatever her age or station, whatever her gifts, her outlook or her problems. World a Big Store. The world is a great department store, and we are the shoppers. Woman’s life Is a search for values. The woman whose life ended in sui cide was a bad shopper. At the bar gain counter, in search of benefits, she had selected what was worthless, discarding what was worthy. “The power of living a beautiful life dwells in the soul," said Marcus Aurelius, “and consists in indifference to those things which are indiffer ent." The young girl peeps into her mir ror. and discovers with a thrill of pride that she has suddenly, mys teriously, become pretty of face and pleasing of figure; that the sallow ness and 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 oounter, she is in great danger, the greatest danger Miat 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 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 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 love of a good man Is the only article at that counter worth a 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. But if her mind sits steadily on its throne, there is a healthy hunger in her that will not be stilled-—the. hunger for a perma nent home into which she can build herself and her family. That home will be to her an expression of them selves and a growing ground for ev ery inmate of it, a place for charac ter growth and upbuilding. Seeking for values, the permanen 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. He 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 s permanent sun shine of the soul. The thorn in many a death bed has been the thought: “I have thrown away my talents; I have wasted 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 will. 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 dimply 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. ?> *3 & % <W & l: 1 nmK r $%> ww f > v.,.r i NV Up-to-Date Jokes Here Is a story sent by a golfing i 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 e very large kit of 1 clubs, nearly all Irons. “ ‘Halloa, Jock, wha’s yer man?’ called out a brother caddie. •'The flttle chap replied, ‘I dinna ken, but,’ looking at his set. 'I’m thinkin’ I he’s a Glesga ironmonger.’ ” * • • A park policeman, seeing a yellow dog near two handsomely dressed women, j approaches respectfully, and says: “Does this beautiful little creature belong to you, ladles*’’ “Mercy, nor’ Park Policeman (lifting his cane): “Get out o’ here, you beast!” • • • Old Salt—Yes, mum; them’s men-o’- war. i Sweet Young Thing—How interesting! j And what are the little ones just in i front? Old Salt—Oh, them’s just tugs, mum. i ! Sweet Young Thing—Oh, yea, of I j course; 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 I repent? Tommy—No, sir; you’d be sorry they , caught you. ipsa, §=* 4AV> BE SURE TO STUDY YOUR CHILD’S ABILITY By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. 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 or 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 eats with triangular faces, eyes thut are 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 lie lets fall a straight line, to each upper corner he affixes another stroke, and with a circle 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,” cry 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 scant and uncertain Indications—In a few cases, 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 pecially mothers—are not satisfied that their boys and girls shall be average. They are pressed, forced, scolded and persuaded. Ignorant of that first law of devel- Capable of Talking i © 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 j 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 pauye, and then j the waiter asked: “Potatoes cooked right, sir?” The patron beckoned him to come nearer. “When I came in 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 anything 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’ll talk. I 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 still one.” He was not disturbed again. By T. W. HANSHAW. Copyright by Doubleday, Page & Co. TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT. 44 I SEE. No male servants at all then?" “No, sir: not one. There’s j onea —the handy man as comes in mornin’s to do the rough work and the haulin’ and carryin’ and things like that; and there’s the gardner and Mr. Kempner—him as is Mr. Nos- worth's assistant in the laboratory, sir—but none of ’em is ever in the house after 5 o’clock. Set against havin' men sleep in the house was Mr Nosworth—swore as never an other should after him and Master -Harry had their falling out. Why, \ he was that bitter he’d never §8..-? n aJlow Mr. Charles to set foot in ’place, just because him and Mas- S Harry used to be friends—which ies it precious hard on Miss Ren- gs v, I can tell you.” 5v- jr - As how? Is this’Mr. Charles con nected with Miss Renfrew in any way?” A Rare Old Skinflint. “Lummy! yes, sir—he’s her young man. Been sweet on each other ever since they was In pinafores; but never had no chance to marry be cause Mr. Charles—Mr. Charles I)rummond is his full name, sir he hasn’t one shillin’ to rub against an other, and Miss Renfrew she s a little worse off than him. Never gets nothin’, I am told, for keepin’ house for her uncle—just her food and lodgin’ and clothes—and her slavin like a nigger for him the whole blessed time. Keeps his books and superintends the runnin’ of the house, she do, but never gets a braes farthin’ for it, poor girl. I don t like to speak ill of the dead, Mr. Head land, sir, hut this I must say: A rare old skinflint was Mr. Septimus Nos- worth—wouldn't part with a groat unless un war forced to. But praise be, her’ll get her dues now, poor girl— unless old Skinflltnt went and changed his will without her know- in’ it.” “Oho!” said Cleek, with a strong rising infection. “His will was made in Miss Renfrew’s favor, was it?” "Aye. That’s why her come and put" up with un and all his hard heartedness—denyin' her the pleasure o’ even stein’ her ywung 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 be a stone heart for you." A Strange Beast. “Rather. Now one more question. I 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?” “Pegs! To me and Mistress Anra- royd, of course. Me and her war sittin’ in the kitchen havin' a ite o' supper at the time. Gorham, he war there, too, in the beginnin’; but un didn’t stop, of course—’twouldn’t a done, for the pair of us to be oft duty together.” “Oh! Is 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 rushin’ in and shrieked out about the mur der, but he heard the rumpus and By WILLIAM F. KIRK. T HIS is the friendship I would choose: Hard to win and hard to lose; Slow to seek a separation, Qulok 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 theip, Finding faults of his to match them; Saying till the journey’s end, , “Right or wrong, he Is my friend!” ' Hard to win and hard to lose— ! That is the friendship I would choose. ESTABLISHED 23 YEARS DR.E.G. GRIFFIN’S GATE CITY DENTAL ROOMS BC .T WORK AT LOWEST PRICES All Work Guaranteed. Hours 8 to 6-Phane M. 1708-Sundsyn P-1 24*/, Whitehall dt. Over Brown A A lens camo poundin’ back, of course. 1 dunno wlfcat I’d a done if un hadn’a, for Mis* 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 bit 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 couldn’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 I 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 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 cafeer. The magistrate, on alighting, handed him his fare with the addition of a substantial tip, ami 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 amouR vj ' into a little Chapeau Shop in this Springtime of nineteen-thir- teen she would raise her little mitted hands to heaven in amaze— for behind the glass cases she would find the very cocked hats and the same wee bonnets that she fitted over her black curls in eigh- tecn-sixty-eight! Oh, have you noticed them well—the “bit-lid- 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 yotir grand-dame’s hats are here, and the nape of your neek 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 SO’ 'round, you know. To see this you’re Just about bound, yon know. # For the truth of it's easily founH— and so It is foolish to envy the chap who's arrived, For the thing is so sweetly and neatly contrived, That althongh you’re still climbing while he is On tbp— If you’ll simply keep going and soorn 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 bound That the doctrine’s quite sound— There is plenty of joy to go ’round. There is plenty of work to go ’round, you know, And your share can be easily fbtmd, you know. If to do your part you fee! quite bound and go A-iooking for work that you only can do, Or a-flttlng your task If your taEk All the while sternly striving 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 *round. Yes. there’s plenty of Joy to go 'round, 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’e pleasure in climbing—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 blief that Is found In the garb of work gowned. Thus your labor Is crowned— And tkw*j* plsaty ot* opment which demands rest and lels. ure for the proper growth of any fac. uity, somebody is forever at their el bows insisting that time is valuable, that life is short, that they shall re member their talent und , waste neither. If they would make a stir In the world, they must he up and doing. One has memories-of weary-,yad, spiritless or restless, fever-bright children, in whom mothers satv neither the anaemi nor nerveless ness, nor sleeplessness, nor indigestion consequent on long, close hours, arij overtaxed brains—nothing of these— only that possible realization of am bitions. Intentions Are Good. That mothers, in this relation, are inspired by excellent intentions is not denied. + In some cases. It is true, such ma ternal ambition Is the outcome at mere selfish vanity. The mother herself, it may be, lias never made one effort toward distinc tion. and does not know the cost, but her son or daughter shall, if training, forcing 1 and perpetual sspurring will avail, he made to excel, in order that she may share their glory. Such mothers must be left out df account—it is to be hoped they are rare: at all events, nothing that can bo addressed to them, from the stand point of their children’s welfare will be of the slightest use. One speaks, therefore, to her who, with the best intentions in the worK, strives to make geniuses of her aver age brood. A 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, welK known lawyer: “I can’t think how It is that my children are not so clever and hand* some as yours.” And she continued to bewail and I admonish her children. “Why do yotl j not head your class as Clarence N— j does?” “Why do you not play the piano and sing, and carry yourself, and have pretty manners like Julia N—?” . 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 ev 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 useful members of society. As it. was, perpetually goaded to exhibit and develop qualities they lacked, they proved failures. Two Lives Wrecked. The boy who, possessing good, all- I round capacities, might have 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 dally for seven long years vainly laboring to wrest music from I a violin. These two young lives have been absolutely sacrificed to a maternel ambition, wicked in its selfish disre gard of their shortcomings, their ac tual abilities and their personal well being. CLEEK OF THE FORTY FACES Nell Brinkley Says: TP the sweet little ghost of my grandmother’s youth should rustle THE GRANDSON < DF MICHAEL “Y 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 worse for me. But you are a sport and not stingy, which makes up for much, even for your miserable appearance.” Thus spoke Anita Dumoulln, a princess now, wife of the great- grandson of Michel the Wolf. He did not answer. Why should he exept himself to do so? He married Antta 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. ”1 have been un faithful to you.” “Don’t say anything,”, he said gen tly. He 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,” ho said to his aston ished wife. Then ho telephoned all the tradespeople to stop her credit. That night she was sitting In hei boudoir, 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, Nice, China?” “I 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, I am not going to 9tand for It.” And for a quarter of an hour she ejaculated her rage In 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. I need all my money to turn it over to my king to be used against the Turks. When I get home I 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 your money into that dirty war! And what about me and my bills and my 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 revoir, Anita.” His composure maddened her. “You coward!’’ 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 roo asked for his suit, case, and sal “Don’t disturb the Princess until t morrow. She is asleep, but will ri If she needs any one." He took the Orient express t Vienna. Nobody discovered the crime un more than twelve hours later. He tilities had already begun. When an extradition order reach the Servian general at the front, t officer said respectfully to the Pai detective: "It. is Alexis Fetragorevitch y want. Come, I will show him you.” The bodies of four private soldie lay under a tent. Pointing to one them the General said with a salut “There he is.” And everybody touched their ca in respect for four heroes. Do You Know How to Whiten Your Skin: A NY very dark, sallow or • A swarthy complexion can be improved and lightened by the use of Dr. Palmer’s Skin Whitener TVe guarantee Palmer’s r ' Skin Whitener to be absolutely pure and harmless. It makes the skin clear, soft and smooth, and lightens it. A trial will convince you. Price 25c, postpaid anywhere. 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