Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

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