Newspaper Page Text
L .
Married Life the Third Year
By MABEL HERBERT URNER.
Beauty Secrets of Beautiful Women
Dainty Marguerite Clarke, the Aetress. Tells Girls What Simple Rules Will Do
WKRE’S Home of your thin
I'" I from the bathroom,” a
•* * Helen placed in the tru
things
and
trunk
iray ths tooth brush, tooth paste and
but tl* of glycerine. ”1 was afraid you
might forget them
Alice, who was throwing her clothes
into her trunk with feverish haste, nod
ded an ungracious ‘‘Thank you.”
‘‘Don’t you want me to help you
pack?” ventured Helen. "Your dresses
will bo ali mussed if you put them in
like that.”
“I don't care HOW mussed they are!
I don’t care for ANYTHING,” w r ith an
angry sob. “if only 1 can get home!”
"Tin sorry you feel this way, Alice.
U s distressing to all of us that your
visit should end so unpleasantly.”
Alice kept on rolling up and crush
ing in one garment after another. She
l ad swept everything out of the closet
and bureau drawers into a confused
; ap on the floor by the trunk, and she
v packing them in regardless of how
1 hoy would look when taken out. Her
face was flushed, her hair disheveled,
and her eyes red and swollen from
weeping.
With a sigh at the hopelessness of
the situation, Helen went into the
library to be sure that*nothing of Alice’s
was left in there.
“Better order that taxi now. hadn’t
we?” demanded Warren. “Think she’ll
he ready by ;>: 15? That’ll give us
three-quarters of an hour to get down
there and check her trunk.”
“Yes. she’ll he ready—she’s just
throwing in her things! -Oh, Warren,
it s too had this thing had to happen!
I feel perfectly wretched!”
“Well, you’re a little fool to let It
upset you. If she wants to make a
scene and Insist on starting.home this
time of night—that’s her lookout. It’s
not up to ua to worry. Should think
you’d he blamed glad to get rid of her—
F am.'
The Explaining.
‘‘Oh, yes. I know, but she was going
home so soon, anyway; and now to
have her rush off like' this—and make
hard feelings between the whole fam
ily! How can we ever explain it?”
“We won’t We’ll let her do the ex
plaining."
“Oh, but she won’t tell it as it is—
shel’Il never say that she left because
we followed her mother’s instructions
in not letting her see that man. She
may even make Aunt Emma think that
we”
“The deuce with what Aunt P:mnia
thinks!' as he strode over to the
phone.
While he ordered the taxi. Helen
again went in to Alice. She found her
trying to force down the tray in the
overcrowded trunk.
“Oh. you can't close it like that! You
pack your satchel and get yourself
ready—I’ll lock this for you. Are you
sure everything's in?”
With difficulty Helen finally got the
trunk closed, but she had to call War
ren to lock it. Alice, who was trying
on her veil, did not turn as he entered,
but Helen could see' that she was
watching him in the mirror with angry
eyes. In grim silence Warren locked
the trunk, threw down the key and
stalked out.
Helen stood awkwardly pulling at
the end of the trunk strap, wanting to
say something to make the parting less
strained. Hut there was nothing re-
lenfing in Alice’s manner as she now
swept the key into her purse, took up
her gloves and announced coldly that
she was ready.
“The taxicab will he here in a mo
ment.” murmured Helen, “Warren or
dered it for a quarter past 9.” Then
with hesitating embarrassment: "I’m
sorry you’re leaving live this, Alice,
1 feel that”
“Well, you needn’t be sorry” (cold
ly). “I’m very glad to go, and I think
you’re glad to have me go. It was
a mistake that 1 came at all.”
What little sympathy Helen had for
iice was chilled by this remark.
Warren Is Worried.
“Well, of course, Alice, if you feel
that way about it perhaps It's just
as well that you’re going. I'll see if
» taxi’s come.”
Helen hurried to look out of the
front room window, but the taxi had
not yet come. Warren, with his hands
mrust deep in his pockets, was walk
ing up and down the room—a trick
■ f his when worried—and he was plain
ly worried at this last performance of
his wayward cousin.
In Alice he had met. some one that
he could not dominate. Because he
had sent this man away without letting
him see her, and had forbidden her to
even talk with him on the phone, Alice
..a-d fiercely declared that she would go
home, that she would start that night.
p rflif would listen neither to Helen’s
pleadings nor to Warren’s angry or
ders. She declared if they did not take
her to the station that she would go
alone—that she would not stay another
night in their house. She knew there
was a 10 o’clock train, and she intended
to take it.
So they had no choice but to let her
go.
“Dear, she n impossible,” exclaimed
Helen, fuming from the window. “I
tried to say something nice to her
just now, but she cut me off by saying
she was glad to go, and that she knew
we were glad to have her go; that it was
mistake site ever came ”
"Hump! Well, she’s got that about
right, i’ll write Aunt Emma to-night
and tell iter a thing or two. This is
the result of her pampering and spoil
ing that girl all her life. There’s the
taxi now. Hustle and get on vour
i hings.”
' 'Why, Warren. I’m not going!”
“Like to know why you're not? Now
hurry and ce: ready ”
Helen had not thought of going to
<£•
lie station, hut now she understood
why Warren wanted her. She knew'
mo long drive with Alice would be in
drained, awkward silence, and he had
no Intention of taking it alone.
The elevator boy came up for the
trunk. Warren got into his overcoat.
id at the last moment Alice came out
of her room c arrying her satchel. They
went down to the cab in silence. Helen
took the hack seat beside Alice, while
Warren settled himself on the seat op
posite.
t he night air was heavy with a diiz-
lii'.g mist. In a constrained silence
ev gazed out at the wet pavements
and blurred street lights.
It was a relief when at last the cab
Lew up and they hurried into the sta-
on. Warp" ' *■» i” wMle be went
•t the ticket and check the trunk
When he ca.u . .„ci\ ue naiwied Alice
an envelope.
“Your Pullman ticket’s in there, too,”
brusquely. “Nothing left but upper
berths.”
An Awkward Moment.
The train was made up. and they
l«tssed through the gate and down
the long platform. Warren led the
way into the sleeper, found the num
ber of the berth and deposited Alice’s
bag on the red plush seat. Then cams
be most awkward moment of all—the
moment of parting.
“Well. Alice. I hone you will get
home all right.” Helen held out her
hand and made an uncertain embar
rassed movement as though to kiss her
good-bye. but Alice drew coldly back
and merely shook hands.
“Thank you.” frigidly, “I'm sure I
will.”
“I’ll telegraph your mother from the
station here.” announced Warren, as he
said “Good-bye” with cold formality.
That was all. Still smarting under
Alice’s haughty refusal to kiss her.
Helen left the car with Warren. Out
side as they went back along the plat
form. she glanced up at the windows,
thinking that Alice might wave them a
more cordial good-bye. But when they
passed the window by which she sat,
her head was deliberately turned away.
Warren was striding angrily ahead,
walking so fast that Helen could hardly
keep up with him. He crossed over to
a telegraph window and wrote rapidly
on a yellow r blank:
“Mrs. G. A. Willard.
•• Street, Dayton. Ohio.
“Alice starting for home to-night.
Meet her on the four-thirty to-morrow.
“W. E. CURTIS.”
“That's twelve words, dear,” looking
over his shoulder, “can’t you leave out
‘for’ and some other word—there’s no
use paying for over ten.”
But ignoring this bit of economy.
Warren shoved the telegram unchanged
toward the operator, and demanded:
'Flow' much?” He flung down the 46
cents and left the window with a sar
castic:
“Well, that about ends this pleasing
little episode. Now I’ve just one more
thing to do—and that’s to write Aunt
Emma a piece of my mind. And I’ll
get that letter off to-night, too!”
“Oh, Warren, you must be careful
w’hat you write! There’s no use caus
ing any more unpleasantness—now that
she's gone."
“Well, all the same, I'm going to
write a few things about that head
strong, snippish young lady that'll open
her mother's eyes.”
When they reached home it was al
most 11, and Warren’s ardor for letter-
writing had weakened.
Not So Eager.
“Guess I’ll take my bath and turn
in.” he yawned, “and leave that letter
until morning.”
“Yes. dear, T would; you’re too tired
to write It to-night,” urged Helen,
knowing that by morning his anger
would cool off and his letter be less se
vere. if he troubled to write it at all.”
But Helen s own indignation at .Alice’s
conduct still smoldered. What story
would she tell when she reached Day-
ton? What excuse would she give for
starting home so suddenly at midnight?
Helen had seen enough of Alice to know
that she was not always truthful, and
she feared she would not hesitate to
exonerate herself at their expense.
Ever since her marriage Helen had
made it a point to keep free from any
“mix-up” with any of Warren’s rela
tives. She dreaded their gossip and
criticism. For this reason she had been
reluctant to have Alice visit them, fear
ing it would- end in some family 111-feel
ing.
And now that Alice had left highly
incensed. Helen felt she would be quite
capable of making still further trouble
for them all.
Cleek of the
Forty Faces
By T. W. HANSHAW.
Copyright by Doubleday, Page & Co.
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
:: A
Girl’s Best Investment ::
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX
What Miss Clarke Says:
Swtj, ntiii or wind, 1 believe
in fresh air.
1 walk and walk whenever
l can.
1 went twenty ni nntns once
without a vacation.
Every sirring I take a tonic
dear, little, new car
rots.
They are a wonderful blood
tonic and purifier.
Powder looks flaky and is
laky.
I never go to late suppers
iu restaurants.
No woman can afford to
dissipate.
To preserve one’s looks you
must be clean—clean all
the time.
rf5
lym
- >; fAfcjV-- > r
WW.-fev? .. - - W:
. L-.r* h'sk -• "m. ■ '' >i*.
(apv
:'jy.v i'-iy > C
rJMjk fr&rf’
* ‘
Miss Marguerite Clarke.
These beautiful pictures are the latest taken of this ch;
who in the accompanying interview tells how s
the freshness of youth through simple means.
finds it easy to retain
‘T
NDEED. Mr. Headland, I am
glad—i am very', very' glad—
that fortune has sent 1 you Into
this neighborhood at this terrible
time,” said Miss Renfrew, when
Cleek was introduced. “I do not
wish to say anything disparaging of
Mr. Nippers, but you can see for your
self how unfitted such men as he ana
his assistant ar e to handle an affair
of this great import. Indeed, t can
not rid my mind of the thought that
if more competent police were on duty
here, the murder would not have hap
pened—in short, that the assassin,
whoever he may be. counted upon
the blundering methods of these men
as his passport to safety.”
“My own thought precisely.” said
Cleek. "Mr. Nippers has given me a
brief outline of the affair—would you
mind giving me the full details. Miss
Renfrew? At what hour did Mr. Nos-
worth go into his laboratory? Or don’t
you know, exactly?”
“Yes, 1 know to the fraction of a
moment. Mr. Headland. I was look
ing at my watch at the time. It was
exactly eight minutes past seven. We
had been going over the monthly ac
counts together when he suddenly got
up. and without a word walked
through that door over there. It leads
to a covered passage connecting the
house nroper with the laboratory.
That, as you may have heard, is a
circular building with a castellated
top. It was built wholly and solely
for the carrying on of his experi
ments. There is but one floor and one
window—a very small one about six
feet from the ground, and on the
side of the Round House which looks
away from this building. Nothing
( but the door to it is upon this side,
Fight being supplied to the interior by
. i roof constructed entirely of heavy
corrugated glass.”
“I see. Then the place is like a
huge tube.”
"Exactly—and lined entirely with
! < hilled steel. Such few wooden ap-
| pfiances as are necessary for the
| equipment of the place are thickly
j ( oated with asbestos. I made no com-
* ui'-m when my uncle rose and walked
| in there without a word. I never do.
For the past six or seven months he
had been absorbed in working out the
details of a new invention: and I have
i become used to hi* jumping up like
that and leaving me.”
I To Be Continued To-morrow.
By LILIAN LAUFERTY.
F ROM "Happyland” to “Baby Mine”
—then on to “Little Snow White”;
and now to the part of Raffles-
made Amy Herrick in “Are You a
Crook?” has dainty Marguerite Clarke,
the actress, well known in Atlanta,
wended her triumphal way in six years
of growth in power and ambition And
yet her face retains a sweet, childlike
untroubled quality that is very allur
ing.
“Where does she find the energy?”
I thought as she went eagerly through
the rehearsal cf the third act twice,
and then with unflagging zeal started
off on act II—and “Where do you And
your unfailing enthusiasm?” 1 inquired
when she came over for a chat in a far
corner of the stage of the beautiful
new Longacre Theater, where I was
i playing audience.
I “Oh, I get it outdoors,” sold the lit-
j tie star whose name just suggests her
own sweet daintiness. “I don't need
outdoor exercise because F get plenty
of exercise on the stage, but I do need
the wonderful, bracing, soothing, stimu
lating effects of fresh air. So I walk
and walk whenever l can—to and from
the theater around the block just sn I
jam out in the air. Sun. rain or wind,
11 believe in fresh air.
i “I take osteopathy, too whenever T
am too tired to exercise myself, for
that is a wonderful, lazy way of taking
your exercise so luxurious!” Miss
Clarke laughed in pleased reminis
cence.
“You see, you can't work and give
all the energy and foree it deserve- t<>
your work unless you keep your en
ergy up. So I go outdoors and get a
new’ supply of force. And , I get on for
the longest whiles without vacation:-
I went twenty whole months once with
out a bit of vacation—just getting made
over new each day by the wonderful
outdoor world.”
Gives Outdoors the Credit.
“Perhaps you give too much credit to
fresh air—maybe it is Just your own
private supply of energy and ambition
that works on unceasingly.” I sug
gested.
“[ think not. Ambition does keep you
keyed up and full of the desire to ad
vance. There you have the incentive,
and then you must take every possible
means to make yourself capable of car
rying out your ambitions
“Every spring 1 prescribe a wonderful
tonic for myself—dear, little new’ car
rots. I ice them till they are cold and
delicious—yes, really delicious—-and then
1 Just add salt for a flavoring and eat
away. Quite raw. you know Just try
them and see how good they taste, and
they ar® good for more than taste, too.
They 0$ a wonderful Wood tonic and
purifier. They'do make your skin-nice,”
added Miss Clarice -ingenuously.
They.do aJ! of that—for a smoother,
more absolutely guiltless-of-the-faint-
est-trace,-of-powder skin than Miss
Marguerite Clarke’s you never saw.
“Don’t you believe ip cosmetics-— pqw-
der, even?” I asked.
“Well, T have to be made up on the
stage all the time, you know- so , be
tween whiles I like to give my skin
time to breathe. Absolutely just that—
time to breathe. And besides the point
of view of tho health of my skin, J do
so dislike seeing powder uncompromis
ingly betrayed by the glaring sunlight.
It does look so FLAKY and FAKY!
“I have one little, notion about ac
tresses. and F suppose jt applies to our
whole sex.” mused Miss Clar|ce. “We
must he veiled in a little mystery to be
truly charming. Now, if you are paint
ed all pink and white, and have shad
ows done under your eyes, and all the
paraphernalia of trylng-io-be-attractive,
how can you be elusive or mysterious
or charming, when there are all the se
crets of ‘how’’ laid bare for the least
discerning eye to see?
No Tango Tea.
“In keeping with my idea of ‘mystery’
I do not go to the restaurants much,
And that works out very well, for it
keeps me from eating lobster salad at 1
a, m., ami saves health-and digestion,
and hurries me along to bed at reason
able hours.
“An actress, of all women, cannot af-
Her Favorite Photograph.
, ford to dissipate, you know. But then
no woman who wants to look her best
and to win success in the world can af
ford to dissipate, which mean* waste
her energies in any way. You can't
use yourself up in food or excitement or
Mate hours and have any self left for
worth while tilings,” said the little lady,
' sagely. ,
; “You have made a careful study of
(Taking care of the precious human body,
haven’t you?'’ asked the interview’er.
"Ob, there is a lot more to It,” re
plied the interviewed. “I am very earn
est. about the importance of cleanline**,
j That sounds almost insulting as if ev-
j ery one else wern’t, too. But then If
: people want to preserve the looks they
! already have or acquire some more, they
i must think about being clean, clean, all
the time. (Mean means clean from the
crown of your head to the tips of your
.fingers, and to the soles of your little
; pink feet. too. And it means that ev-
i erything you wear must be just as sweet
i and fresh as you are. Somehow when
you are all clean and ?weet and rested
and out of doors, you don't get sick very
often.
Being in Condition.
"That’s being in condition, I suppose.
Wbv, when I was “Snow White,” this
winter every one told me that l must
be sure to rub my feet carefully In al
cohol or I'd catch dreadful colds. I didn’t
—and 1 didn't! I never dreamed what a
wonderful, free feeling going without
shoes would give. I think it must be
good for us to go barefoot occasionally—
I did feel so splendidly with my feet
free to my beloved air.
“But then I Jove free, untrammeled
motion of every kind. I don’t wear cor
sets off the stage. I don’t like them, and
I am quite sure they \jcre not thought
of in the original scheme of things. I
can't see why we must b« all wrapped
up and bound up, and kept hidden from
air and sunlight. No shoes, no corsets
freedom and suppleness wouldn't that
be ideal?
“Women are agitating for so much
don't you think they might agitate for
these health and beauty causes, too?"
” Advice to the Lovelorn ::
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
GIVE UP BOTH.
I A EA K MISS FA I HE AX
■I''* J fi.iv. gain* i Lite acquaint
ance of tt young lady 25 years .
of age who works iri the'same of
fice as I da. t did nr it.. seem to
care for this young- lady at first,
but as our acquaintance grew we.
seemed to find vve cared for each
other’s coni party.
About two Weeks ago I was in
troduced. to another voting
18 years old, whom 1 seemed to
take a liking to when I met hef.
I have not ’told either of the
young ladles that I cared very
much for them.
■ Now the question is: I am 19
years old, earning $12 a week and
having the support of my mother
on my stiouMer*, which will keep
me fropi getting married tor
about at leftst s.ix years. 1 would
then be ■ bid - - i
in the flbsf pern graph would He
ih Do yeu* think the difference in
would spoil our future
hap
pi ness, as 1 know I c
an win
the
love of this girl, whom
I really
like:
the best, or would you
i advise
me
to forget this girl and
try my
frie
ndshlp with a younger
girl?
L.
H. B.
Be
a little fair, young i
nan, and
don’t ask any girl to wait six year*
for you. Let the waiting be on your
own part. Walt till you have earned
th• right to woo before you start
out to conquer. Bettering your finan-
< i<1 prospects means more to you than
STICK TO THE GIRL.
1 T^\ EAR MISS FAIRFAX:
I Some time ago I met a girl
1 who was keeping company with my
i chum, w’ho was called away from
I her and ulule away be told me that
1 I ' ould call cn her once In a while
'Phis F did and felt a victim to her
v . .. 1 wor P.-r l«»ve and lost l
l mv chum's frien 'ship.
1 Tlrt» gtrl has ihwn that her love
for me is strong, and what I want
to know is, what am I to do?
Here is a little- proposal that I
made to her: 1 would go away from
her. and then she could forget me,
win hack her first lover and be hap
py with him. Her answer was that
she did not want me to go, as she
loved no ohe else but me
H LNRY.
You love each other. That V ct stands
out paramount to all claims of the other
man on hey love or on your friendship
I am sorry for him, but his need of
sympathy would be greater if she mar
ried him while loving you.
KEEPING EVERLASTINGLY AT IT.
1 \EAR MISS FAIRFAX:
1 am deeply in love with a
dear gir! one year my junior. I
have reasons to believe that she
does not desire my company.
Kindly tell me how to win her
love. ANXIOUS,
Be attentive, courteous, generous,
kind and persistent.
If all these fail, try a Iff tie Indif
ference. Make love to another girl.
I K the- yoimg girls who are starting
out with hearts that alternate be
tween hope and feat* were to ask
all ihe sweet-faced old Women they
know this question, “What is the be
investment for a young girl to make?”
can you imagine their answer?
1 am very sure it would not be “In
the love of man.” for man's love is at
tended by much toil and regret and
palpi Neither would It be “In saving
your money." for the sweet-faced old
women have found out that there is
much mofe worth 'while.
I art sure that if orie of these ojd
women would look bark to the days
of Her youth, she would reply: “My
best Investment whs In the love of
one of my own sex. First my mother,
then my sister, then my daughter. !
have found no love like the love of
these."
A Mother's Love. - ■
It Is your mother, little girl, who
loves you w hen no one else will, and
whose love lasts, as long lus 9he lives.
Her love is not dependent on your
wit, your beauty, your accomplish
ments or your worth in financial re
turn*. She loves Voir because it Is
YOU; she would love yviu if you wer*
all that is repcRattf and hideous in
face And character.
It is the. Jove of a sister that
smoothes over the rough places that
even a mother chn't co'mprehend. Her
youth makes her a more sympathetic
listener to the trials of youth, and it
is the only love left in the wreck of
the home when mother has left it
forever.
A Sister s Love.
There ier an understanding in a sis
ter’s lover—tv sympathy, a guidance
and strength. If two sisters love eash
other, and each gives to the other
tho fullest confidence, so long as that
confidence is given without reserve
neither sister will go. astray. A young
girl e;tn native no better investment
thnri in the love of an older sister, tor
the older sister, having so recently
trod the same path, knows all the pit-
falls on the way. An older sister can
make no better Investment than ui
the love of the girl who is younger, for
the realization that she is thr guide
makes her cautious of her own foot
steps.
When the years have come and
gone, and the girl who was shielded
by her mother's love and guided by
her sister’s, becomes a mother, then
Life can make her no greater gift than
The love of a daughter.
Son Falls in Love.
A son may intend to take care of
hie mother some day; many of them
do. bless them! But there are many
son* who fail In this obligation, and
but few daughters. The son falls in
love and marries, and his wife comes
first. The daughter never marries if
her niarrkige means that her mother
will be deprived of some one to love
her and make her a home.
It is the daughter who iy patient,
and self-denying, and watchful and
tender when the years bring their in
firmities; it is the daughter who
stands between the mother and neg
lect, and who In more Instances than
this unappreciative old world ever
knew, sacrifices her own little happi
ness to take her place between her
mother and the poorhouse.
The best investment* girls, is not
in the love of the man who woos you
to-day and forgets you to-morrow. It
Is an investment you will mhke. The
voice of nature commands it, but in
ma-king this investment don’t slight
the love that will last longer, and that
Is the love of your mother and sister
i
kittle Bobbie’s
Pa
By WILLIAM F. KIRK.
F & me was to a horse market
last week. I dident want to go,
but Pa wanted to go, beekause
he sed that a frend of h1s naimed
George Crowley wanted to go & buy a
teem bf horses for his farm. So Pa
& me went to the horse., market &
looked at sum horse*.
Pa was the man that interduced
Mister Crowley to the man who
owned the horse market, & all the
way* down to the market he was tell
ing Mister Crowley what a wunder-
ful bargenn he was going to get.
Moast of the horse* that they have in
this market, Pa toald Mister Crowley,
is old tborobreds, the kind that Mis
ter Keen*? used to race at the track in
the days when racing was racing in
deed. It Is true, Pa sed, that most
of the horses I menshun has done a
littel llte roadwork laitly, such as on
St. cars etc„ but I am sure that you
wtll find them of the good old stock
Jihat Bern Colin A- Sysonby & Rose-
ben under the wire as winners.
I doant rare; for any blooded
horses, sed Mister Crowley. All I
want Is a cuppel of old skippers for
my farm. All I want them to do is
to drag a plow around kind of peace
ful, A not to think of the days wen
the bookmakers had it all thare own
way.
He Was Surprised.
T thot all the time that Mister
Crowley waef a prftty smart man, A
[ newer thought Pa knew very much
about horses, but for oust 1 was sur
prised in Pa, It turned out that he
knew moar than Mister Crowley did.
Fa A and the man In thti horse mar
ket show’ed Mister Crowdey a lot of
good horses, but he kep saying No,
I want a simpei, gentel team for
fapm work. I want a team that will
not run away with the plow, a team
that my wife can drive her guests
around with after they have done
thare days work on the farm, a cup-
pel of horses that is as trac-tabel A
&eey to drive as I am, sed Pa’s trend.
So we all went to another stabel.
I cud see that Pa dident want to go
to another place, & I knew that I
wud rather be out sumwar e playing
ball with the kids, but we went to
this other place A thay showed a
team of horses that was the moast
tired looking team I ewer seer., excep
Roosevelt A Johnses after eleckshun.
The man that was showi^aj the
team to Pa’s frend rite oaver &
leened his hed aggtrrst the hind heels
$joth horses. You see, already, he
sed, that thay are gentle, yet. A* aufe
as my name is August thay havent
kicked since September.
I think that Is a team such as I
want, sed Mister Crowley. You may
send them up to-morrow. How much
are thay?
Pa Is Wise.
Wait a minnit, sed Pa., let me ex
plain. You doant want to buy a horse
or a team of horses without trying
them oh a livery or sum other rig, to
see if thay are gentel. So Pa’s frend
asked the man August to hitch the
teem to a rig. I cud see that he
dident want to do it vary bad, but he
did it, & wen Mister Crowley A Pa
A me got In, the team ran away &
we had to be stopped by a policeman.
I thought you toald me these horses
was gentel, sed Pa’s frend to the man
that called hisself August. What
made them run away with me & my
frend e?
Go A buy ^um other horses sum-
ware else, then, sed August. As sure
as my naim is August I nefifer seen
them run away in May before.
WHY SHE WORRIED
T HERE wan evidently something: on
Mrs. Nerviss’ mind. For sev
eral days she had been very much
preoccupied, and finally Nervlss him
self, fearful that he might in some
way have been the. cause of it. made
certain Inquiries designed to clear up
the situation.
“I hope you didn't mind my com
ing in so Inte from the club last Tues
day night. Maria," he said. "One
o’clock is an unholy hour, I know, but
really 1 couldn't help it very well.
Ypu see"-^—
"Not at all, James dear," the good
lady answered. “1 should hate to
have vour friends think' you were
henpecked. Really, I was glnd you
stayed as long as you wanted to."
Nervis* drew a deep sigh of relief.
"Then what. i» the matter with you,
Maria?” he demanded. "You can't de
ceive me. You are worrying about
something.”
"I certainly am," said the lady, her
voice tremuiou*. "I ant very much
worried. Do you tBink the people at
our bank are honest, James?"
"Whv, certainly." laughed Nervlss.
"Whatever mado yon think they were
not?” i
••Well, something very strange has
happened lately." said Mrs. Nervis*,
Items of Interest
Tiger, ttie remarkable eat of the
Great Eastern Railway Company's'goods
sheds at l'eterborough, England, who Is
repnfod to he about 27 years old, is
pr.aeetufiy .ending a life crowded with
rat extermination and other happy inci
dents. Few cats live much beyond 14
or 16 years. During her long life Tiger
is said to have killer thousands of rats.
She is a light tabby, and came to tho
sheds for refuge during Ji fire at a tim
ber yard close by over 26 years ago,
having been driven from her home in a
timber-stark by die flames. When she
dies she will leave a numerous progeny
of ovgr 200 to succeed her.
“Harem Wonters lends donkeys on
hire like hi* father, kills pig*, smokes
hams, and occupies himself with all
kinds of swinish detail work: also shaves
and cuts hair, except on Sunday,’ runs
the legend ov§r a barber’s shop at
Stierum. Holland.
“and I think you ought to look into
It. You know you have been giving
me my allowance lately in bills, and
I have been depositing them at the
bank.”
“Yes, I am aware of that,” said
Nervlss.
"Well, somehow or other I don't
like the looks of that receiving teller,
James,” said the lady, “and so. for
the past three weeks I have been
putting my initials on every bill de
posited up in one corner, and yester
day Mr. Cleaver, the butcher. In
cashing a check for me handed one
of those marked notes!”
“Well, suppose he did?” demanded
Nervlss. "What of It?”
“What of it?” echoed Mrs. Nervis*.
“What of It? Doesn’t that prove that
those bank people are letting other
people use my money ”
It was at this point that Nervlss
was attacked by a violent spasm of
coughing, which, in her description
of it to the doctor, Mrs. Nerviss de
clared was so like a laugh that at
first she believed her husband had
suddenly thought of something funny.
=»=■ . v
KODAKS
“Tk« Be*t Plnfehlm *nd Ewl»ro-
Ing Th*t 0«n Be Product*.
Huur. hi i FUms and com
plete stock amateur suppltea.
Quirk mall aenrlce for wrt-of-tnwn ruaiomera
Send for Catalog and Price List.
A. K. HAWKES CO.
'4 Whitehall St- Atlanta.
Praise This Remedy
For Lung Trouble
if Ihd voluntarily written words of
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the ccmnrry, praising Eckman’s Al- ;
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J had three hemorrhages, raised blood
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(Signed) SISTER MARIE.
Sisters of St. Francis.
(Above abbreviated; more on re-
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A additional evidence.