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1
• A Powerful Story of •
• Adventure, Intrigue and Lore •
THE LAW
Mary Turner, young, beautiful and a shop girl,
is arrested for a theft she never committed.
She's convicted and “sent away” for three
years. This is how it happened:
Copyright, 1?].?. by the H. K. Fly (, om*
pany. The play “Within the Law" In
’•op.vrlghted by Mr Veiller and tbl*
noveli-zatlon <>f it is published by hi»
permission. The American Play Com
pany is the sole proprietor of the ex
clusive rights of the representation
and performance of “Within the IjHW”
in all languages.
CHAPTER I.
The Panel of Light.
1 ~aHE lids of the girl’s eyes lifted
slowly, and she stared at the
panel of light in the wall. Just
t the outset, the act of seeing made
iot the least impression on her numb
'd brain. For a long time she con
tinued to regard the dim illumina
tion In the wall with the same passive
fixity of gaze. Apathy still lay upon
her crushed spirit. In a vague way
• T realized her own inertness and
ested in it gratefully, subtly fearful
• st she again arouse to the full hor
ror of her plight. In a curious stib-
'‘onscious fashion she was striving to
hold on to this deadness of sensation,
thus to win a little respite from the
torture that had exhausted her soul.
(»f a sudden her eyes noted the
black lines that lay arrows the panel
of light. And in that instant her
spirit was quickened once again. The
clouds lifted from her brain. Viol an
as Clear now. Understanding seized
the full import of this hideous thing
on which she looked. * * • For the
l ine! of light was a window set high
’ ; thin a stone wall. The rigid lines
of black that crossed were bars
prison bars. It was still true, then.
She was in a cell of the Tombs.
The girl, crouching miserably on the
narrow bed. maintained her fixed
•catching of the window—that win
dow which was a symbol of her utter
despair. Again agony wrenched
within her. She did not weep; long
• go she hud exhausted the relief of
tears. She did not pace to and fro
n the comfort of physical movement
with which the caged beast finds a
mocking imitation of liberty; long ago
Per physical vigors had been drained
under stress of anguish. Now she
was well-nigh incapable of any bodily
activity. There came not even so
much as the feeblest moan from her
lips. The torment was far too rack
ing for such futile fashion of lamen
tation. She merely sat there in a
posture of collapse. To all outward
seeming, nerveless, emotionless, an
abject creature, liven the eyes, which
held so fixedly their gaze on the win
dow. w< r• quite expressionless. Over
tiicm lay a film like that which veils
the eyes of some dead thing. Only
an occasional languid motion of the
lids revealed the life that remained.
Injustice of Her .Pate.
So .Mini the body. Within the soul,
raged uncontrolled. For all the
f ury
desrdat'
tragedy
with f
vnemci:
bra nee
anew b
become
of outer seeming, the
of her late was being acted
ightful vividness there In
In that dreadful remem-
her spirit was rent asunder
realization of that which had
her portion. * • * It was
then, hs once again the horrible in
justice of her fate racked conscious
ness with its tortures, that the seed*
of revolt were Implanted In her heart.
The thought of revenge gave to her
the first meager gleam of comfort that
had lightened her moods 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 tin* three years of convict life
to which the Judge had sentenced her.
The girl was appalled bv the mer-
cllessneas of h destiny that had so
outraged right. Him was wholly In
nocent of having done any wrong.
Hhe 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 had ended at last
under an overwhelming accusation—
false, yet none the less fatal to ,her.
This a ecu sat ion, after soul-wearying
delays, had culminated to-day in con
viction The sentence of the court
bad been imposed upon her; that for
three years rhe should be impris
oned * • • This, despite tier Inno
cence She had endured much—mis
erably much!—for honesty’s sake.
There wrought the Irony of fate. She
had endured bravely for honesty’s
sake. And the end of It all waf
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, salth the Lord.” * * *
The admonition could not touch her
now. Why should fr'he care for the
decree of a God who had abandoned
her?
When Her Father Died.
There had 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. Ho was a gentle
man. but the trivial fact is of small
avail to-day. He was of good birth,
and ho was the possessor of an in
herited competence. He had. as well.
Intelligence, but it was not of a finan
cial sort.
So. littre by little, Ills fortune be
came shrunken toward nothingness
by reason of injudicious Investments.
I-Ic married a charming woman who.
after n brief period of wedded hap
piness. gave her life to the birth of
the “ingle child of the union, Mary.
Afterward, in his distress over his
loss, Ray Turner seemed even more
incompetent for the management of
business affairs. As the years passed
the daughter grew toward maturity
in an experience of ever-increasing
penury. Nevertheless, there was no
actual want of the necessaries of
life, though always a woful lack of
its elegancies. The girl was In th’
high school when her father finally
gave over his rather feeble effort of
living. Between parent and child the
intimacy had been unusually close
At his death the father left her a
The World’s Lost Secrets
ARTS AND CRAFTS THAT HAVE VANISHED.
N UMEROUS are the trade secrets
handed down generation after
generation from father to son.
and vast is the capital mude out of
>ome of thorn in the commercial world
of to-day.
Particularly, perhaps is this the
case among the numerous manufac
ture].. of piquant sauces ami the
countless venders of patent medi
cines.
Put there is also, it must be re
membered, another side to the case.
Many, alas! are the prleeless trade
1 secrets hurled far down below the
utoldcrtng dust of the misty past,
and tost to tiie world, perehance never
again to be recovered.
To cite the ttrst example that oc
curs to tlte mind of the writer, for in
stance. what would an artist of the
present day Rive to lie possessed of
the secret held by the old masters
Raphael. Rubens, t'orregio, Van Dyek.
mid their compeers -for mixing; their
colors so as to render them Imperish
able and impervious to tlte ravages of
time 7
Tiie rod colors, especially, of these
artists of it by-Rone epoch are every
x\ hit as bright now as they were
three long: centuries agio. On the con
trary. tite colors of pictures painted
only a hundred years ago have loat
their lustct and cm faded and de
cayed to a deplorable extent.
A Violin Varnish.
Again, in the world of music, ihc
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.
\\ ith such extreme, relentless jeal
ousy. however, did they guard their
jrreat secret that it. too. is lost, to all
appearance, irretrievably.
Rather more than a hundred years
ago there lived in a quaint, old-world
village in Wales a working black
smith who bad managed by some
means or other to bring the welding
of steel to such a pitch of perfection
tha; the joint was absolutely Invisible.
- id the temper of the steel as fine as
lie day it left the tester’s hands.
R’ - process he was able to join the
v(■!•’ finest of sword blades, and after
1 4 finished with them they were
abso’utely a~ good and as sound as
when they had left the factory.
The blacksmith’s fame spread far
and wide, and, naturally, he attained
a great reputation; but he made a
point of Invariably working in soli
tude. He was offered large and
tempting sums to divulge Ills secret;
but kept it obstinately to himself, and
when his spun of life had run its
course he took It with him to anothei
world.
Greek Fire.
The ancient Greeks bad a substance
which we call Greek tire, 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 tip and set fire to the ships
of the enemy. What wai it? The
only known substance of the present
day that would do this is the metal
potassium, but to set fire to n ship
in the manner described would ne
cessitate the use of at least half a,
ion of the metal. Where did the (
Greeks obtain the substance they,
used wi h 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
ak form them to a height of four hun
dred and o$d feet; and. secondly, we
should be at .1 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 arc 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 dux How they made it is a
profound secret, and bids fair to re
main so.
The mortar is as firm now as it
was -,o00 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 ex- cl
ient principles that had been his own.
That was his .•ole, legacy to her Of
worldly goods, not the value of a pin.
Yet, measured according to the
Htern standards of adversity, Mary
wan fortunate Almost at once he
procured a humble employment In tR
Emporium, the great department
store owned by Edward Gilder. To
he sure, the wage was inflnitestlmal
while the toil was body-breaking,
soul-breaking. Still the pittance could :
be made to pustain life, and Mary
was blessed with both soul and body
1 to sustain much. So she merged her
self In the army of workers —in tR
vast battalion of those that give their
entire selves to .1 labor most stern
and unremitting and most ill re-
w 1 rded.
Mary, nevertheless, avoided th •
wfirst perils of her lot. She did not
flinch under privation, but went her
war through it, if not serenely, at
le it without ever a thought of yield
ing to those temptations that b« ■,
a girl who is at once poor and charm
ing Fortunately for her, those lr.
closest authority over her were not so
deeply smitten as to make obligatory
on her a choice between oomplai- \
sam e and log.-* of position.
She knew of situations like that,
the cul-de-sac of chastity , worse than
any devised by a .Invert. In the
stor* such things were matters of
course. There is little, innocence for
the girl in the modern city. There
<an be none for the worker thrown
into the storm-center of a great com
merclal activity, humming with vi
cious gossip, oil alive w ith quips from
the worldly wise. At the very outset
of her employment the sixteen-year-
old girl learned that she might <-ke
out $6 weekly by trading on her per
sonal attractiveness to those of th.
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 ;i tool In 1
finance. Thus she remained un
smirched, though well Informed ns to
the verities of life.
She preferred purity and penury
rather than a slight pampering of th.
body to be bought by its degradation.
Among her fellows were some lil
herself; others, unlike, of her own)
sort, in this single particular, wen
the two girls with whom she shared
a cheap room. Their common decen
cy in attitude toward the other m
was the unique bond of union. In
their association she found no n il
companionship. Nevertheless, they
were wholesome enough. Otherwise
they were illiterate, altogether uncon
genial.
A Mind Keen and Earnest.
In such wise, through five drearv
years, Mary Turner lived. Nine hours
daily she stood behind a counter. Shu
spent her other waking hours in ob
ligatory menial labors; cooking
her own scant meals over the gas;
washing and ironing, for the sake of
that neat apeparance which was re
quired of her by those in authoilt.x
at the Emporium—-yet, more espe
cially. necessary for her own ;>
respect. With a mind keen and earn
est, she contrived some solace Rom
reading and studying, since the L
library* gave h< 1 thl< opportunio
So. through most of her hour.', sir
was able to find food for mental
growth. Even in the last year sin
had reached a point of development
whereat she begun to study seriouslj
her own position in the world of .con-
omy, to meditate or, a method of but
tering it. Under this impulse, hope ;
mounted high in her heart. Amid
tlon was born. By ( undid compan: -.
of herself with others about her sh
realized the fact that she p, -
nn intelligence beyond tiie ave.r.ig
The training by her lather, too. 11.-:
been of a superior kind. There wr
as well, at the back vaguely, tl -
feeling of particular self-respect th;
belongs inevitably to the poss* ssor <
good blood. Finally, shu demure I
enjoyed a modest appreciation of hi
own physical advantages. In shor
she had beauty, brains and breed ini
Three things of chief importn
any woman—though there be
minds as to which may be
among the three.
1 have said nothing specif!,
far us to the outer being of
Turner—except as to filmed ev
te-
Ns
■fa’ll.
m
Dur
ace to
many
chief
a huddled %orm.
situation. the ,
enough. Indeed, n
of 1 hose that pos*
beauty, with, too, t
thus
Mary j
yes and 1
happier
were winning I
She was one
ss an harmonious
penetrant charm
or.
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that springs from the- mind, with tn
added graces bofn *f the spirit. .1'
now. as she sat. a figure of desolation,
there on the bed in he Tombs cell, b
would have required a mu.q analytical
observer to determine the actualitiou
of her loveliness. H. r form was dis
guised by the droop of exhaustion.
Her complexion showed the pailo’
of sorrowful vigils. Her f e < v i
no more than a mask of misery Yet
the shrewd observer, if a lover of
beauty, might have f.-und much for
delight, even despite tie concealment j
imposed by her present condition.
Thus the stormy glorx of her dark,
hair, great masses that ran a riot of
shining ripples and waxes. And the
straight line of the nose, not too thin,
yet fine enough for the apture uf n
Praxiteles And the pit k c..ini , ~
of the ear-tips, which pe red warmh
from beneath the pal! of resses.
One could know nothing accurate
ly of the complexion no' . But it
were easy to guess that in hnppi.
places it would show of 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,
with 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
1 (‘collection 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. Thu goods were found in Mary’s
looker. That was enough. She was
charged with the iheft. 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
with a gentle blooming of
in the cheeks. Even in this
f unmitigated evil, the lips re
lied .1 curving beauty of red—not
to crimson, though near enough
the word; not quite scarlet, either;
y a red gently enchanting, which
ned one’s thoughts toward tender-
is -with ;i hint of desire. It was,
. a generous mouth, not too large;
1. happily, not so small as those
deiud by NVat’eau. It was alto-
her winsome—more, it was gener-
and true, desirable for kisses—
!—nn re desirable for strength and
faith,
e Showed Possibilities.
.ike every intellifent woman. Mary
1 taken the trouble to reinforce the
rtb of her physical attractiveness.
’ instinct of sex was strong in her.
very normal woman,
in
is nature
|tple and
at which
■amber se
law. She
>velte by
her com-
)ffed. with
P
ig that more work
ppotite.
aching - from ihe
Its of cloth to and
vc';, she neverthe-
nightly to brush
(pointed 200 strokes the
■> of her hair. Even here,
id desolation of the cell,
shten^ witnessed the fl
ea re. ~
detail the keen observer
found adequate reason for
A * TA
Do You Know
That—
Strange methods of greeting t! • sp
are practiced in the commune < N.t.
h&lmagy. Wales, every year. 1
kissing market, and the Institute m l:
year has been more successful tn
ever. All the women and girls tre
liberty to kiss strange men. Fr< n t
surrounding district all the young wo
en who have been married sine 1*
Easter arrive at the kissing m.r . a
kiss strange men to their hearts <•<
tent.
A new device made
its
U*pt
on a fair ground during the
holidays A target is affix.si to
vas screen, below \vh>oh :
protected from the ill l>> . net
shot? a penny is the price The
who hits the target releases t
on which ihe men s ens t-noed.
falls into a tank of water bent a
A ducking follows every su«
■NAUGHTY little comet
By ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.
Copyright, 1913. by American-.lournal-Kxaminer.
\ ts once a little comet who lived near the Milky Way!
I to wander out at night and jump about and play.
R'.er of the comet was a very good old star—
s; old her reckless child for venturing out too far;
of tiie ogre. Sun. who loved on stars to sup,
d no bettor pastimes than gobbling comets up.
>f growing cautious and of showing proper fear,
title comet edged up nearer and more roar.
v ' nicy mil along right where the Sun could see,
n old Mars just as bold as bold could be.
'< rn the quiet star**, who never frisked about,
• •as no fun in life unless you ventured out.
planets, and wished no better mirth
many stars could mope through nights and days,
ed old moon get all the love and praise,
tossed her head and switched her shining trail,
star grew snd. her cneek grew wan and pale.
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 case.
At the end. twelve good men and
true rendered a verdict of guilty
against tiie shuddering girl in the
prisoner’s dock.
So simple the history of Mary Tur
ner’s trial. * * * The sentence of the
judge was lenient—only three years!
CHAPTER II.
A Cheerful Prodigal.
T HAT which was the supreme
tragedy to the broken girl in
the cell merely afforded rather
agreeable entertainment to her for
mer fellows of the department store
Mary Turner throughout her term of
service Jhere had been' without real
intimates, so that now none was
ready to mourn over her fate. Even
th*» two roommates had felt some
slight offense, since they sensed the
superiority of her, though vaguely.
Now they found a smug satisfaction
in 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 out
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.
a« 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. Uontemplation 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 as to be a stale tonic. There
was a refreshing novelty in this case,
where or.e 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
l.ipd-hearted enough to feel a touch
of sympathy for this ruin of a life.
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
as it was. stood wholly in Mary’s
favor. And he spoke with a certain
authority, since ho had given official
attention to the girl.
Smithson stopped Sarah Edwards,
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 Session<.
The judge sent for him about th»
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 rejoine 1,
a bit tartly. Truth to tell, the sec
retary was haunted by a grim suspi
cion that she herself was not quite the
lady of her dreams, and never would
be able to acquire the graces of the
Vere De Vere. For Sarah, while a
most efficient secretary, was not in
her person of that slender elegan e
• • By MARVIN DANA from the • •
• • Play of BAYARD VEILLER • •
Mary had endured much—miserably much!—
for honesty’s sake. At the end of it all was
shame unutterable. There was nought left
her save a wild dream
of revenge.
I —
! which always characterized her fa
vorite heroines in the novels she 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 couldn’t exactly say I knew
her. and yet I might say, after .a
manner of speaking, that I didf— 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,” lie 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? Thera
are one or two little matters I wi9h to
discuss with him.”
“AH 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 one of dis
appointment.
“Not here!” he grumbhed. Then
once again the smile was on his Ups
as his eyes fell on the secretary, who
had now risen to her feet in a flutter
of excitement.
“Why, Mr. Dick!" Sarah gasped.
“Hello, Sadie!” came the genial sal
utation. The youn* 3 ' man advanced
and shook hands with her warmly.
“I’m home again. Where’s dad?”
Even as he asked the question, th*^
quick sobering of his face bore wit
ness to his disappointment over not
finding his father in the office. For
such was the relationship of the
owner of the department store to this
new arrival on the scene. And in the
patient chagrin under which the son
now' labored was to be found a cer
tain indication of character not to be
disregarded. Unlike many a child, he
really loved his father. The death of!
the mother years before had left him
without other opportunity for affec^
lion in the home, since he had neither
brother nor sister. He loved his fa
ther with a depth of feeling that made
the two a real camaraderie, despite
great differences in temperament. In
that simple and sincere regard which
he bore for his father, the boy re
vealed a heart ready for love, willing
to give of itself its best for the one
beloved. Beyond that, as yet, there
was little to be said of him with
exactness. He was a spoiled child of
fortune, if you wish to have It so.
Certainly he w r as only a drone In the
world’s hive. Thus far he had en
joyed the good things of life without
ever doing aught to deserve them by
contributing in return—save by hl.«
smiles and his genial air of happi
ness.
To be Continued To-morrow.
r
The Storage Egg
By PERCY SHAW.
I MET a storage egg one day.
And. filled with subtle agitation,
I ashed 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 J sought to know
On superhuman indigestion.
And though he looked profound, my
eyes
Perceived he scorned all conversation
He even showed a dull surprise
For one in such a lowly station.
At last I smote him on the hip.
Half earnestly and half in banter.
He said no word, but with a chip
He broke and ran away instanter.
By FRANCES L. GARSIDE.
W HEN the baby gives a shrill cry
every one in the house runs to
it, and wffien 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-
expressed belief that some day the State
Historical Society will 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."
Give Yourself a Chance
Are you sickly in any way? Are you
below par? Then yon are not living right. You
are not getting what might be yours Postpone
ment is the price of your birthright.
Life has untold blessings if you will reach out
and grasp them. Great obstacles recede before the
onrushing enthusiasm of the man or
woman who is vigorous and happy. The
world smiles when you are well. Health
tinges everything with beauty.
Strong words, you say—vet trie. To
The man or woman who will not be denied,
who demands the right of being healthy
and happy, Nature—yes. and man—hold
out new hope. The ebb’ng spark may
be renewed. The sluggish blood stream
may be quickened. The weakened r.erves and
muscles may be brought to new life an ! 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 drev; the :ipark 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 to brine electricity
to suffering humans in a form safe, convenient and economical.
Many there are to-day, healthy and happy, who ascribe their well being
to the curative, strengthening power of electricity.
Be you young or old, male or female, there 13
new beauty, new life, new power, new happiness
for you in this wonderful modern invention.
The “Horae”
Health and Beauty Battery
A fex* minutes each day will give wonderful
results.
Lonstitutionnl headaches grow less and finally
disappear under the tonic effect of the elec
trie current.
Lame barks and lumbago lose iheir terrors
Rheumatism Is relieved. Neuralgia alike, and
physunl 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 Horae 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 to keep all
parts healthy.
D •_ 1 <£C AO 8,1 complete in n handsome, satin-lined box, with Hair
1 I IC" Brush. Electrode. Sponge. Massage Roller. Metal Foot
Plate, connecting cord for these accessories, and Instruction Manual, giving
explicit directions for all kinds of treatments.
The Home Battery is complete in itself, no outside batteries or connec
tion*!. nothing to get out of order current easily regulated. We use a
standard dry (“ell which you can easily renew when required.
Q • 1 For » limited time only, we will give three extra dry
■jpt.Cial C4 .J1 S —practically » year’s supply—free with each bat
tery. upon receipt of coupon printed belo—.
You will enjoy the delightful effect of the electrical current, whether you
use th' battery for face massaging—with the electric hair brush to correct
scalp troubles and promote beautiful hair as a general tonic treatment—or in
ary of the many ways described in our Instruction Manual for specific needs.
Life will take on now beauties when yon feel th° vital blood of health
coursing strongly through your veins.
Semi in vour order for tne “Home” Battery to-day. Don’t wait a minute.
Yon can’t afford to delay.
This is your opportunity to renew your strength and vigor, your op
portunity to become physically fit. to step out from the weakling class, and
1)0 a winner. -
Give yourself n chance. Act now. Only $5.00 for the complete outfit
your passport to health.
Western Merchandise & Supply Co.
326 West Madison St., Near Market St. CHICAGO
gggap** Money Back — W Day
Trial Coupon
/