Newspaper Page Text
1
■
WOMAN’S LIFE IS A
SEARCH FOR VALUES
By ADA PATTERSON.
r~>HI tMhiT day .1 woman killed
afifeelf. and to those gathered
SBlut her bedside in a vain ef
fort to save her life she said: "l didn’t
know tlie real thing from the phony
until too late!”
y The dying words -*f the poor, p.-iin -
ed ereature, self-slain, despairing,
a «iii:\iot:s 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.
Toe world is a great department
* ore, and we are the shoppers.
Woman’s life is a search for values.
T :e woman whose life ended in e*ui-
ide was a bad shopper. At the bar
gain counter, in search of benefits,
'•he bad selected vvliat was worthless,
»'ip arding what was worthy.
J ’’The power of living a beautiful
9 life dwells in tht soul,” said Marcus
Aurelius. *'and consists in indifference
to those things which are indiffer-
The young girl peeps into her mir
ror. and discovers with a thrill of
pride that she has suddenly, mys
teriously, oecome pretty of face and
pleading of figure: that the sallow
ness and awkwardness of yesterday
i have gone somewhere, somehow; that
l she is growing up and has dominion
in. a new. strange land, the land of
admiration.
Hovering timidly, fascinatedly, it
life's bargain counter, she is in great
danger, the greatest danger that be
sets a woman’s life—that of not
knowing the worthy from what is
worthless.
The stranger, who twirls his cane
with one hand and pulls his mustache
with the other, while he ogles her,
she may, because this shopping is so
new to her, mistake for something
genuine and worth while.
If she watched him saunter a block
further she would see the same twirl-
ihg 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
piy 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
fiat of her own. But if her mind
sits steadily on its throne, there is a
healthy hunger in her that will not
he stilled—the hunger for a perma-
. nent home into which she can build
y 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 l hem, 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 energ>
and receives the comfortable assur
ance of having done his best. The
joys of love intoxicate, exhilarate and
pass. The consciousness of having
done your best with the talents grant
ed you by nature is a permanent sun
shine of the soul. The thorn in many
a death bed has been the thought: “I
have thrown away my talents: 1 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 beat definition 1
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 unmagnetic person is simply in
this atmosphere of thought. We are
attracted by the person who wills good
will, and are repelled by one who is
indifferent or malicious.
The woman who has gotten from
j life’s bargain counter the love of a
good man; if they have bought, or are
j in the way of buying, a home, be it
i 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 s»he has the
soul sunshine which follows general
good will, she knows values. She has
proven herself a good shopper.
Back to the “Sixties
Copyright, 1913, by American-Journal-
Examiner.
By Nell Brinkley ] 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
I 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 resource* of
paper, and with h stump or pencil
traveling perpetually to his lips in or
der to produce fine shadow offeetH, is
1 forever drawing cats with triangular
face's, eyes that are anything hut
round, noses well out of the perpen
dicular, and crooked horizontal lines
for mouths.
Or he makes an irregular oblong,
from each lower corner of which he
lets fall a straight line, to each upper
corner he atfixes another stroke, and
with u circle for head, a few dashes
| for features, dots for eyes, and a
j triangle for n ebeked hat, he pro-
! claims that he has drawn a soldier.
"The child will be an artist,” cry
J his gratified * parents—'"perhaps a
i great artist.”
He loves to perform upon a cheap
cornet or a whistle. Then he will he
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 c ourse,
more serious and justified—it may w
his future is wrecked. His good, ai!
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.
Ignhrant of that first law of devel-
Capable of Talking
Up-to-Date Jokes
Here is a story sent by a golfing
reader:
‘‘Standing one day on the first tee at
St. Andrews waiting my turn to start,
a small caddie came up laboring un
der the burden of a very large kit of
clubs, nearly all irons.
“ ‘Halloa, Jock, wha’s yer man?’
called out a brother caddie.
"The fittle chap replied, ‘I dinna ken,
but,’ looking at his set I’m thinkin
he’s a Glesga ironmonger.’ ’*
• * •
A park policeman, seeing a yellow dog
near two handsomely dressed women,
approaches respectfully, and says:
"Does this beautiful little creature
belong to you, ladies*’’
“Mercy, no!”
Park Policeman (lifting his cane):
“Get out o’ here, you beast!”
• * *
Old Salt—Yes, mum; them's men-o’-
war.
Sweet Young Thing—How interesting!
Vnd what are the little ones just in
front ?
Old Salt—Oh, them's just tugs. mum.
Sweet Young Thing—Oh, yes, of
course; tugs-of-war. I’ve heard of |
i 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 T got locked up, wouldn’t I repent?
Tommy—No, sir; you’d be sorry they ,
icaught you.
T HE patron looked like a generous
man, and the waiter had served
him an order, and now hovered
round the tuble. He evidently had not
been trained on the idea that a good
waiter is practically a noiseless one
who say* nothing.
“Steak all right, sir?” said he, and
moved to the other side of the table.
When the steak had been tried, he
ventured, “Done enough, sir?”
“It will do,” was the reply.
There was another pause, and then
the waiter asked:
"Potatoes cooked right, sir?”
The patron beckoned him to come
! nearer.
"When 1 came in here,’’ he said, ‘1
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 wprking 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.
SEE. No male servants at all
i i T S1 '- K
I then ?
..\V.
“No, sir: not one; There’s
Jones—the handy man as comes in
momin’s to do the rough work and
^th«» haulin’ and carryin’ and things
T Ike 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 housS was
Mr .Nosworth—swore as never an
other should after him and Master
Harry had their falling out. Why.
sir. he was that bitter he’d never
even allow Mr. Charles to set foot in
the place, just because him and Mas
ter Harry used to be friends—which
makes it precious hard on Miss Ren
frew, I can tell you."
•‘As how? Is this ‘Mr. Charles’ con
nected with. Miss Renfrew in any
I 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
Drummond is his full name, sir—he
hasn’t one shillin’ to rub against an-
[ other, and Miss Renfrew she’s a little
I worse off than him. Never gets
I nothin'. I am told, for keepin' house
V ' for her uncle—just her food and
lodgin’ and clothes—and her slavin’
like a nigger f or him the whole
blessed time. Keeps his books and
superintends the runnin’ of the house,
she do, but never gets a brass
farthin’ Tor it, poor girl. I don't like
to speak ill of the dead, Mr. Head
land, sir, but 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 Skinfllint went and
• hanged his will without her know-
- in’ it."
M “Oho!” said Cleek. with a strong
r i ising infection. His will was made
n Miss Renfrew’s favor, was it?”
‘‘Aye. That’s why her come and
out up with un and all his hard-
heartedness—denyin’ her the pleasure
<>' » ven sr-ein’ her y**mg 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.
J 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?”
“^egs! To me and Mistress Antn-
royd, of course. Me and he’- war
sittin’ in the kitchen havin’ a ' te o’
supper at the time. Gorham, he war
there, too, in the beginnin’; but un
di n’t stop, of course—’twouhin't a
done, for the pair of us to he off
duty together.”
“Oh! Is Gorham a constable,
then?”
“Aye—under constable second to
me Got un appointed si* 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
FRIENDSHIP
By WILLIAM F. KIRK.
T HIS Is the friendship I would
choose:
Hard to win and hard to
lose;
Slow to seek a separation,
Quick to find an explanation;
Smoldering in its early days.
Growing like a forest blaze;
Through the seasons bravely liv
ing,
Never asking, ever giving:
Hearing doubters that desert you.
Heeding nothing meant to hurt
you;
Watching all /our faults to catch
them,
Finding fault* 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.
came poundin' back, of course. 1
dunno what I’d a done if un hadn’a,
for Miss Renfrew, her went from one
faintin' fit to another—'t was just
orful. Gorham helped 1 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 js 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 warn’t like
the footprints of any animal as 1
ever see. There be a picture o’ St.
George and the Dragon on the walls
o’ Town Hall at Birohampton, 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.
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-
teen-sixtv-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 arc pushed down, too, over one’s nose,
and tilted up in the back. So look to the order of your back hair,
oh, Bettys, as you have not had to look since hats jammed down
to one’s shoulders, all around, for the last two years, for your
grand-dame’s hats are here, and the nape of your neck is once
more a thing of beauty to be gazed upon.
“THERE IS PLENTY OF
JOY TO GO ’ROUND”
To Make Amends
YEARS
GRIFFIN’S
GATE CITY DENTAL ROOMS
BC'T WORK AT LOWEST PRICE*
All Work Guaranteed,
(our* e to 6-^*hone M. 1»08-8'’" ri< '? n ' -
„>4f . Whitehall St. Over V, 'Sunday new#
I . > <•
A STORY is told of a certain Scot
tish magistrate who on rising one
morning found that he had over
slept himself, and had hut 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, af or
an exciting drive, he deposited his fare
at his destination in time for the ap
pointment, but not before he had dam
aged a passing vehicle in his mad career
The magistrate, on alighting, handed
him his fare with the addition of a
substantial tip. and then, to the man’s
astonishment, pressed thirty shillings
into his hand, ai the same time saying:
“Here’s thirty ■hillings, my man; you
will be brought before me to-morrow
morning for furious driving, and I shall
e you th- ^
T HERE is plenty of joy to go'
’round, you know.
To see this you’re just about
bound, you know.
For the truth of it’s easily found-
and so
It is foolish to envy the chap who’s
arrived,
For the thing is so sweetly and neatly
contrived,
That although you’re still climbing
while he 1s» on top—
If you’ll simply keep going and scorn
the word “stop,”
Why, you'll get there at last,
And his hour may be past
When yours is just found.
Oh, yes, I’ll be bound
That the doctrine’s quite sound—
There is plenty of joy to ’round.
There is plenty of work to go ’round,
you know, p
And your share can be easily found,
you know. \
If to do your part you feel q Ale boiyid
and go S20 ‘
A-looking for work that
do, \
: heat
{'•r women;
. . . Write Ideal
a-fittfng your Whitehall St.
WOU t fit y.Q' 3-20-41
All the while sternly striving to get to
thf Atop,
Where the joy of arriving it not that
you stop.
When yo.u got 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 Tound.
Yes, there’s plenty of joy to go ’round,
my lad;
By the beauty of striving you’re
hound, my lad;
When your tae»k and your duty are
found, be glad.
You’ll know when you're working with
might and with will.
When you’re ser-L'.g fn
ta*k to mlfllf £„.» Teadh
That there's pleas Building,
thought of t h« Charlotte ’
That rthB-s's joy Ir
work, heart
bo vou'i*:j|v"-‘ r ’lave mail
h« ’»H^*-chers’ Agency,
dleir'wJiMinJr
opment which demands rest and leis
ure for the proper growth ot any fac
ulty, somebody is forever at their el
bows insisting that time is valuable,
that life is short, that they shall re
member their talent and waste
neither.
If they would make a stir in the
world, they must be up and doing.
One has memories of weary-eyed,
spiritless or restless, fever-bright
children, tn whom mothers saw
neither the anaemia, nor nerveless
ness, nor sleeplessness, nor indigestion
consequent on long, close hoars, and
overtaxed bra!)ns—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 *>f
mere selfish vanity.
The mother herself, it may he, img
never made one effort toward distinc
tion. and does not know the cost, but
her son or daughter shall, if training,
forcing and perpetual sapurring will
avail, be made to excel, in order tost
she may share their glory.
Such mothers must be left out of
account—it is to he hoped they are
rare; at all events, nothing that nn
be addressed to them from the stand
point of their children’s welfare will
he of the slightest use.
One speaks, therefore, to her who,
with the best intentions in the world,
strives to make geniuses of her aver
age brood.
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, well-
known lawyer;
“1 can’t think how it is that my
children are not so clever and hand
some as yours.”
And she continued to bewail and
admonish her children. "Why do you
not head your class as Clarence N—
does ?”
“Why do you not play the piano and
sing, and carry yourself, and have
pretty manners like Julia N—?”
And eventually; “Why do you not
marry so successfully and get on in
the world so well as Julia and Clar
ence N—?”
The explanation was manifest to all.
Julia and Clarence N— were ex
ceptionally gifted In both looks and
talents.
The others, to whom the N—s were
perpetually held up as examples, were
average, healthy, hearty children,
who, under a just and prudent up
bringing. would have made average
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
round capacities, might have mad®
an excellent, contented man of busi
ness. was converted hv his mother s
teaching Into becoming a neurotic
and morose twelfth-rate poet, whom
nobody reads; while the daughter,
who might have been a happy wife
and mother, a capable teacher or a
helpful hospital nurse, wasted six or
eight hours daily for seven long years
vainly laboring to wrest music from
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 1
FACES
Nell Brinkley Says:
TF the sweet little ghost of my grandmother’s youth should rustle
THE GRANDSON OF MICHAEL
uy
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
exert himself to do so? He married
Anita because he loved her He knew
her past, but did not care.
He did not even get angry one
night when, returning home unex
pected, he found Anita In the arms of
a friend from the club. He simply
asked the friend to leave, as if he
were afraid of him.
"Well, yes! What about it?" cried
Anita furiously. “I have been un
faithful to you.”
“Don’t say anything.” he said gen
tly.
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,” he said to his aston
ished wife. Then be telephoned al!
the tradespeople to stop her credit.
That night she was sitting in hej
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! Ho you afe going
away? And where to, may I ask?
Monte Carlo, Nice. China?”
“I am going back to my own coun
try.”
"To yoyr 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 stand 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.”
Princo Alexis’ voice was very calm
as he replied;
“War has been declared, Anita. 1
need all my money to turn It over to
my king to be used against the Turks.
When 1 get home I will enter the
army as a private.”
Anita was pale with rage. He was
even a greater fool thnn she had
thought.
"You want to he a soldier and
throw your money into that dirty
war! And what about me and my
hills 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
sp id
"l 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 room,
asked for hts suit case, and said:
“Don’t disturb the Princess until to
morrow. She is asleep, but will ring
if she needs any one.”
He took the Orient express for
Vienna.
Nobody discovered the crime until
more than twelve hours later. Hos
tilities had already begun.
When an extradition order reached
the Servian general at the front, the
officer said respectfully to the Paris
detective:
"It is Alexis Petragorevitrh you
want. Come. I will show him to
you.”
The bodies of four private soldiers
lay under a tent. Pointing to one of
thorn the General said with a salute-
“There he is.”
And everybody touched their caps
in respect for four heroes.
Do You Know How
to Whiten Your Skin?
\ NY very dark, sallow or
-<V swarthy complexion can
he improved and lightened by
the use of
Dr. Palmer’s
Skin Whitener
We guarantee Palmer’s
Skin Whitener to be absolutely
pure and harmless. It makes
the skin clear, soft and smooth,
and lightens it.
A trial will convince you.
Price 25c, postpaid anywhere.
FOR SALE BY
All Jacobs’ Stores
And Druggists Generally.
WRITE for record of our eight
work. High class patronage
fleient service. Foster’s Teachers
cy, Atlanta, Ga.
j
Float Talcum Powder—bora- "'*!
perfumed—guaranteed pure. >
TALCUM PUFF COMPANY /
Smfkriirfrt, Bu»h T* rainal Bid*., J
NIW YORK
n private family by
duress Dressmaker,
97-27-4
Steel Engraved and
Embossed Stationery
BUSINESS CARDS AND ANNOUNCEMENTS
Largest Plant in the South Lowest Prices
Stmplei will be •ubmltted or our representative will call upon request.
J. P. STEVt^HNQRAVlNG CO.
L°San. -,^ n 1743 ATLANTA