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I I he Passing of Miss Fearful
i Woman Is Ceasing to Weep—They Realize That No Man
Wants to Be Salted Down in Brine as If He Were a
| Dried Herring.
A Powerful Story of Ad
venture, Intrigue and Love
Within the Law
By MARVIN DANA, from the
Play of BERNARD VF.1LLER
By DOROTHY DIX
O NE of the most interesting and «lg-
nlflrant phases of the evolution of
woman 1s that she'la ceasing to
-wap. i don't know how science ex-
•Jalns it, hut It la a self-evident fact
that every observing person must have
noted that as women developed back
bone their tear ducts have dried up.
Time was. and not so long ago. when
tho very namo of the feminine sex was
synonymous with crying It wan wo
man's hereditary destiny to weep, Just
, it was man’s to work, and she did
what was expected of her by sitting
down and howling whenever she came
up against any of the hard propositions
of life.
The modern woman has change*! all of
tha’. You hardly ever see a woman
weep now. There aft God help us —
just as many things to wring a woman's
heart to-day, and Just as many causes
for tears as there ever wore, but if she
weeps, she weeps In private. It is al
most as unusual and startling now to
see a woman give way publicly to emo
tion as it is to see a man do so, and I
can think of no other one thing that
so emphatically marks the progress of
It measures all the distance between
hysteria and reason. It marks the im
measurable difference between the spoilt
child crying impotently for forbidden
sweets, and the strong adult who takes
what life gives with unfaltering bravery
and cheerfulness.
It seems likely that women always
overvalued the effectiveness of tears,
anyway. Tears were supposed to always
be an unanswerable argument so far os
men were concerned. Unfortunately few’
women can weep effectively. In poetry a
penrly drop that makes a blue eye look
like a violet drowned in dew, gathers
slowly and rolls gently down the alabas
ter cheek, and the man who goes down
before it. In everyday life the woman
who weeps gets red-eyed. her nose
swells and she looks purple and appo-
plectic, and the man gets up, and slams
the door behind, and goes downtown un
it the water spout is over. In these pro-
>aic and oommonsense days weeping lias
played out as a fascination, and tears
ore a failure No man wants to be salt
ed down in brine as if he were a dried
herring.
They Wept Too Much.
The trouble with women's tears in
the past has been that they wept too
much, and in the wrong way. A tear as
a tear Is as effective as any other drop
of salt water, yet people make the mis
take of reverencing it as if weeping over
thing was going to perform some kind
of a miracle.
You might weep over a starving fami
ly until you shed an ocean of tears, yet
it wouldn’t keep them from perishing of
hunger. It is only when you begin to
sob with your pocketbook that you do
any good. It isn't the people who come
t«* weep with us when we are unfortu-
i ;ie and poor and downcast who help
i:s It is those who have learned to
empathize with their bank book and
personal Interest ami assistance.
Nothing else on earth is as plentiful
and cheap and useless as tears, but un
til they are backed up with good deeds
and money nobody has a right to at
tempt to sustain a reputation for chari
ty on them Plenty of people do I have
seen women sit up in a fashionable
church and sniffle Into a point lace
handkerchief all through a charity ser
inon and then drop a plugged nickel into
the contribution plate.
Then there's poverty. If all the tears
women have shed over being poor had
been brought to account It would make
a water power ’that would turn the
wheels of the machinery of the world
Tears toll hark no vanished dollars
Nobody ever heard of a woman lament
ing herself Into A fortune, yet they go
making themselves perfect Nlobes over
their spilt milk.
I had a friend once who lost her money
and who thereafter did nothing but
weep. "What shall I do?" she demanded
••I shall starve." "If you would put in
as much time and energy’ mopping a
floor as you do in mopping your eyes,
you could make a. fortune as a charwo
man.*’ I answered, brutally. She never
forgave me. People never do when you
tell them the truth, but It Is a fact nev
ertheless, that the only tears that can
conjure hack prosperity are the tears we
weep wdth our hands at some good, hon
est labor.
Sometimes I amuse myself by specu
lating on what an improvement it would
be if mothers wept less over their way
ward children and spanked more
Shameful Tears.
Sentimentalists have embalmed a
mother's tears In song and story, and
made them sacred, but I tell you the
tears a mother sheds over an tllraiscd
son or daughter are shameful. There
should he no cause for them, and there
would be no cause for them, once in a
million times, if she had done her duty.
Weep with strict authority, mothers, sob
with a wise up-bringing while your chil
dren are little, and when they are grown
you will not have to shed salt and bit
ter tears over sons and daughters who
have brought disgrace upon you.
It has also appeared to me that women
have wasted quite an unnecessary
amount of tears on their husbands. For
a thousand generations wives have clung
to the theory that a man could be wept
into all the virtues of beatitude. When a
woman had a drunken husband she
opened the door for him in the early
hours of the morning, and bedewed him
with her tears. When she had a brutal
one, she wept when he mistreated her.
but she forgave him and let him go on
doing it. Men don’t weep any over wo
men. They make their wives behave
themselves, or else they haul them up
before the divorce court, and that’s why
the percentage of good conduct is so
largely in favor of the fair sex. and wo
men might well copy their example.
Any way you look at it, it is a hope
ful sign women have abandoned doing
he baby act. It was always weak and
useless We owe it to th^ world to give
•t smiles and sunshine, not showers, and
we beat do our part in it when we meet
the misfortunes of life with that brave
Htlltude that nothing ran daunt.
‘'But wait a minute,” English Eddie expostulated, ‘‘you see this chap, Gilder, is-
1 he Girl Alone in New York
She Lc:es Her Position, But Obtains Another in an Unusual Way.
Tells SLiter All About I*.
SYNOPSIS.
:: Electing a New Pope :
ONE OF THE WORLD’S MOST MOMENTOUS CEREMONIES
I
T HE greatest secrecy, as well as the
utmost solemnity, is observed
when the Cardinals of the Church
of Home are called upon to elect one of
their number as Pope.
Immediately after the Pope is Irnried
there is a gathering together of the Car
dinals, or conclave, as it is called. Inci
dentally it might be mentioned that the
word ’’Conclave’" is derived from the
l^atin cum clave, and literally means an
apartment which can be close*! with one
key.
once gathered together, the Cardinals,
like the jury in a murder case, are not
- rni !ted to leave the Vatican until they
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have selected from among themselves a
successor to the Pupal chair. The cere
mony of election observed to-day is the
same as that Inaugurated by Gregory X,
six hundred years ago.
Communication Impossible.
The Cardinals assemble in what is
known as the Sistino Chapel. All the
entrances are walled up with the ex
ception of one great door known as the
"iSala Regia ” The greatest precautions
are observed that no persons except the
Cardinals remain in the building during
(he conclave, and a very careful search
is made, not only by officials of the Va
tican. but also by the Swiss guards, who
maintain a vigil over the only door lead
ing to the building Even the ft**I
Is carefully examined to make sure that
ri" communication enters the Vatican.
The actual election ceremony is quite
| simple. Each Cardinal writes in a dis
ced hand on a ballot-paper the name
of his particular selection for the high
office, which he then deposits in a chal
ice or urn placet! upon a special altar.
Before doing so, however, he turns to
his colleagues ami solemnly swears he
lms voted according to his firm belief,
without fear or favor, ami in the true
interests of the Church of Home only.
First and Second Ballots.
There are three official scrutators,
who, when all the Cardinals have voted,
and after a short prayer, take all the
ballot-papers from the chalice and read
aloud to the conclave the names record
ed- The number of votes required to
Immediately the two-thirds majority
, lms been recorded for any candidate a
bell Is rung by the junior Cardinal I>ea
con. In response the secretary of the
Sacred College enters with the master
1 of ceremonies, after which the Cardinal
Dean approaches the Pope that is to be
and inquires whether he accepts the
papacy Receiving an answer In the af
firmative, he next inquires what name
the new pontiff intends to be known bv
It should be mentioned that the name
| usually selected is that of the Pope by
whom The Pope-elect was created a
Cardinal, and as soon as this is an-
1 nounoed the senior Cardinal Deacon goes
outside and thus addresses the waiting
crowd: "I unnounce to you a great Joy.
We have as Pope the Most Eminent and
Most Reverend . Cardinal of
the Holy Homan Church, who has taken
the name of
Meanwhile the new dignitary has been
conducted to the rear of the high altar,
where he is speedily arrayed in the vest
ments of the pontificate He then takes
his place In the chair of state in front
>f the high altar, and is ready to receive
the greetings of the Sacred College Each
of the Cardinals kisses him on the foot,
the hand and the mouth, and that pre
cious symbol, the ring of the Fisherman.
* placed on his finger by the Cardinal
Camerllngo.
vJJPm
^ New York Dental Offices
28i/ a and 32V 2 PEACHTREE STREET
Over the Bonita Theater and Zakas' Bakery.
Gold Crowns . . . $3.00
Bridge Work . . . $4.00
All Other Work at Reasonable Pnces.
Mary Turner, after the death of
her father and mother, is forced
to make her own way in life. She
secures a position at the Empo
rium. a department store owned
by Edward Gilder, and, after five
years of bare existence, valuable
silks are stolen from the store,
traced to Mary’s department, and
some of the goods found in her
locker. Although innocent, the
girl is arrested and sentenced to
three years In prison.
After her conviction she tells
George Dn.BM.rest, chief of Gilder's
legal staff, ^fit she can show the
merchant how to stop thievery in
his store if garnted a ten-minute in
terview’. The interview’ is granted,
and, handcuffed to a plain-clothes \
man, she enters Gilder’s private
office. He enters immediately af
terward.
Without mincing of words, Mary
tells him that he can stop stealing
by paying his employees a living
wage.
Now go on with the story
Copyright. 1913, by the H. K. Fly Com
pany. The play "Within the Law" Is
copyrighted by Mr. Veiller and this
novelization of it is published by his
permission. The American Play Com
pany is ‘he sole proprietor of the ex
clusive rights of the representation
and performance of "Within the Daw"
in all languages.
TODAY’S INSTALLMENT.
Nevertheless, indomitable in her pur
pose. she maintained the struggle. A
third time she obtained work, and there,
after a little, she told her employer, a
candy manufacturer In n small way. the
truth as to her having been in prison.
The man had a kindly heart, and, in
addition, he ran little risk in the matter,
so he allowed her to remain. When,
presently, the police called his attention
to the girl’s criminal record, he paid no
heed to their advice against retaining
her services. But such action on his
part offended the greatness of the law's
dignity. The police brought pressure to
bear on the man. They oven called in
the assistance of Edward Gilder himself,
who obligingly wrote a very severe let
ter to the girl’s employer In the end,
such tactics alarmed the man. For the
sake of hls own interests, though un
willingly enough, he dismissed Mary
from hls service.
With All Her Strength. ^
It was then that despair did eorrie
upon the girl. She had tried with all
the strength of her to live straight. Yet,
despite her Innocence, the world would
not let her live according to her own
conscience. It demanded that she he the
criminal it had branded her—if she were
to live at all. So, it was despair! For
she would not turn to evil, and without
such turning she could not live. She
still walked the streets falteringly,
seeking some place; but her heart was
gone from the quest. Now, she was
sunken in an apathy that saved her
from the worst pangs of misery. She
had suffered so much, so poignantly,
that at last her emotions had grown
sluggish. She did not mind much even
when her tiny hoard of money was quite
gone, and she roamed the city starving.
• • • Came an hour when she thought
of the river, and was glad!
Mary remembered, with a wan smile,
how. long ago, she had thought with j
amazed horror of suicide unable to {
imagine any trouble sufficient to drive
one to death as the only relief. Now.
however, the thing was simple to her.
Since there was nothing else, she must
turn to that to death. Indeed, it was
•o very simple, so final, and so easy,
after the agonies she had endured, that
she marveled over her own folly In not
having sought such escape before * * *
Even with the first wild fancy, she had
unconsciously bent her steps westward
toward the North Kiver. Now, she
quickened her pace, anxious for the
plunge that should set the term to sor
row. In her numbed brain was no
flicker of thought as to whatever might
come to her afterward. Her sole guide
was that compelling passion of desire to
be done with this unbearable present.
Nothing else mattered not in the least!
In That Final Second.
So, she came through the long stretch
of Ill-lighted streets, crossed some rail
road tracks to a pier, over which she
hurried to the far end, where it pro-
jected out to the fiercer currents of the
Hudson. There, without giving herself
a moment's pause for reflection of hesi
tation, she leaped out as far as her
strength permitted into the coil of wa
ters. But, in that final second, natural
terror in the face of death overcame the
lethargy of despair—a shriek burst from
her lips.
But for that scream of fear, the story
of Mary Turner had ended there and
then. Only one person was anywhere
near to catch the sound. And that sln-
:1ft person heard. On the south side
of the pier a man had Just tied up a
motorboat. He stood up in alarm at
the cry, arid was just in time to gain
:i glimpse of a white face under the
dim moonlight as it swept down wdth
the tide, two rods beyond him. On
tire Instant, he threw off hls coat and
sprang far out after the drifting body.
He came to it in a few furious strokes,
and caught it. Then began the savage
struggle to save her and himself. The
currents tore at him wrath fully, but
he fought against them with (all the
fierceness of hls nature. He had
strength a-plenty, but he needed all of
it, and more, to win out of the river’s
•hungry clutch. What saved the two
of them was the violent temper of the
•nan Always, it had been the demon
o set him aflame. To-night, there in
the faint light, within the grip of the
waters, he was moved to insensate
fury against the element that menaced.
Hls rage mounted, and gave him new
oower in the battle. Maniacal strength
grew out of supreme wrath. Under the
urge of it, he conquered—at last brought
himself and hls charge to the shore.
When, finally, the rescuer was able
to do something more than gasp chok-
rigly, he gave anxious attention to the
woman whom he had brought out from
'u* river. Yet, at the outset, he could
*iot be sure that she still lived. She
iad shown no sign of life at any time
since he had first seized her. That fact
had been of incalculable advantage to
him In his efforts to reach the shore
vith her. Now, however, it alarmed him
mightily, though it hardly seemed pos
sible that she could have drowned. So
’ar as he could determine, she had not
even sunk once beneath the surface.
Nevertheless, she displayed no evidence
• »f vitality, though ho chafed her hands
for a long time. The shore here was
very lonely; it would take precious time
summon aid. It seemed, nothwith-
standing, that this must he the only
course Then Just as the man was
about to leave her, the girl sighed, very
b-intly, with an infinite weariness, and
opened her eyes. The man echoed the
h, but his was of Joy, since now he
knew that his strife in the girl’s be
half had not been In vain.
Afterward, the rescuer experienced no
great difficulty in carrying out his work
to a satisfactory conclusion. Mary re
vived to clear consciousness, which was
at first inclined toward hysteria, but
this phase yielded soon under the sym
pathetic ministrations of the man. Hls
rather low voice was soothing to her
tired soul, and his whole air was at
once masterful and gently tender.
Moreover, there was an inexpressible
balm to her spirit in the very fact that
some one was thus ministering to her.
It was the first time for many dread
ful years that any one had taken
thought for hei^ welfare. The effect
of II was like a draught of rarest wine
to warm her heart. So, she rested
obediently as he busied himself with
her complete restoration, and, when
finally she was able to stand, and to
walk with the support of his arm, she
went forward slowly at hls side with
out so much even as a^question of
vhither.
And, curiously, the man himself shared
the gladness that touched the mood of
the girl, for he experienced a sudden
pride in his accomplishment of the night.
Somewhere in him were the seede of
self-sacrifice, the seeds of a generous
devotion to others. But those seeds had
been left undeveloped in a life that had
been lived since early boyhood outside
the pale of respectability. To-night Joe
Garson had performed, perhaps, his first
iction with no thought of self at the
back of it. He had risked his life
to save that of a stranger. The fact
astonished him, while it pleased him
hugely. The sensation was at once novel
\nd thrilling.
Glow of Satisfaction.
Since It was so agreeable, he meant
to prolong the glow of self-satisfaction
by continuing to care for this waif of
the river. He must make hls rescue
complete. It did not occur to him to
luestlon his fitness for the work. His
introspection did not reach to a point
of suepeoting that he, an habitual crim
inal, was necessarily of a sort to be most
objectionable as the protector of & young
girl. Indeed, had any one suggested
the thought to him, he would have met
It with a sneer, to the effect that a
wretch thus tired of life could hardly
object to any one who constituted him
self her savior.
In this manner, Joe Garson, the noto
rious forger, led the dripping girl east
ward through the squalid streets, until
at last they came to an adequately
lighted avenue, and there a taxicab was
found. It carried them farther north,
and to the east still, until at last it
;ame to a halt before an apartment
nous© that was rather Imposing, set in a
street of humbler dwellings. Here, Gar-
.*on paid the fare, and then helped the
*irl to alight, and on into the hallway.
Mary went with him quite unafraid,
though now with a growing curiosity.
Strange as it all was, she felt that she
,‘ould trust this man who had plucked
her from death, who had worked over
her with so much of tender kindliness.
So, she waited patiently; only watched
with intentness as he pressed the button
of the flat number. She observed with
interest the thick, wavy gray of his
hair, which contradicted pleasantly the
youthfulness of hls clean-shaven, reso
lute face, and the spare, yet well-
muscled form.
The clicking of the door-latch sounded
soon, and the two entered and went
slowly up three flights oi stairs. On
the landing beyond the third flight, the
loor of a real flat stood open, and in
he doorway appeared the figure of a
woman.
"Well, Joe, who's the skirt ?” this per
son demanded, as the man and his
charge halted before her. Then, abrupt
ly. the round, baby-like face of the
woman puckered in amazement. Iler
voice rose shrill. "My Gawd, if it ain’t
Mary Turner!"
At that, the newcomer’s eyes opened
swiftly to their widest, and she stared
astounded in her turn.
"Aggie!" she cried.
CHAPTER VII.
I N the time that followed, Mary
lived in the flat with Aggie Lynch
occupied along with her brother.
Jim, a pickpocket much esteemed
among his fellow craftsmen. The pe
riod wrought transformations of a
radical and bewildering sort in both
the appearance and the character of
tht girl. Joe Garson, the forger, had
long been acquainted with Aggie and
her brother, though he considered
them far beneath him in the social
scale, since their criminal work was
not of that high kind on which he
prided himself. But, as he cast about
for some woman to whom he might
take the hapless girl he had rescued,
hls thoughts fell on Aggie, and forth
with his determination was made since
he knew that she was respectable,
viewed according to his own peculiar
lights. He was relieved rather than
otherwise to learn that there was al
ready an acquaintiftiee between the
two women, and the fact that hls
charge had served time in prison did
not influence him one jot against her.
On the contrary, it increased in some
measure his respect for her as one of
his own kind. By the time he had
learned as well of her Innocence he
had grown so Interested that even her
folly, as he was inclined to deem It.
did not cause any wavering in his
regard.
Now. at last, Mary Turner let her
self adrift. It scemec^ to her that
she had abandoned herself to fate in
that hour when she threw herself Into
the river. Afterward, without any
volition on her paVt, she had been
restored to life, and set within an en
vironment new and strange to her, in
which soon, to her surprise, she dis
covered a vivid pleasure. So, she
fought no more, but left destiny to
work Its will unhampered by her fu
tile strivings. For the first time in
her life, thanks to the hospitality of
Aggie Lynch, secretly reinforced from
the funds of Joe Garson, Mary fo^ind
herself living in luxurious idleness,
while her every wish could be grati
fied by he merest mention of it. She
was fed on the daintiest of fare, for
Aggie was a sybarite in all sensuous
pleasures that were apart from sex.
She was clothed with the most deli
cate richness for the first time as to
those more mysterious garments
which women love, and she «oon had
a variety of frocks as-charming as
her graceful form demanded. In ad
dition, there were as many of books
and magazines as she could wish. Her
inind, long starved like her body, seiz
ed avidly on the nourishment thus
afforded. In this interest, Aggie had
no share—was perhaps a little envi
ous over Mary's absorption in print
ed page.-. But for her consolation
were the matters of food and dress,
and of countless Junketings. In such
directions, Aggie was the leader, an
eager, joyous one always. She took a
vast pride in her guest, with the un
mistakable air of elegance, and she
dared to dream of groat triumphs tn
come, though as yet she carefully
avoided any suggestion to Mary of
wrongdoing.
To Be Continued To-morrow.
By LILLIAN LAUFFERTY.
D ARLING KITTY:
Since 1 have been over here in
the role of needle In the big New
York haystack, I have 1-—^ blue days
and rose-colored days and "JM
days; but to-day is all a white glare,
and 1 think the lights are pretty strong
for my eyes, sis. Not the "Bright
Lights." but the glow and gleam of ex
citement and having adventures follow
themselves up as l didn’t think they
ever could In really truly life.
Your kind attention, sisterkin. and
I will toll my little tale from its
beginning. Three days ago I lost my
job -but don't picture me starving on
the streets of New York, for I found
a new one this morning! Hard times—
and cutting down the staff." That Is
why I went.
After'dealing that blow to my pride
and my literary aspirations, fate turn
ed around and began to treat me like
the perfect gentleman he can some
times be!
A New Job.
I answered thirty advertisements
yesterday—hut I did not seem to an
swer any one’s needs. When I got
down to No. 4 on my list to-day I had
arrived at the offices of Clark, Clarke
& Clark, attorneys-at-law. Just when
I began to open the door from the
outside some one was turning the han
dle from the inner realms.
open flies the door collision
. . Madge’s hat takes a little list to
port, and Madge yearns for a port of
her own.
A voice speaks: "I BEG your par
don. Have I upset you completely?
Well, I declare—I do seem to run into
you!* And on your way to my office
his time. Now what can I do for
you?”
I should have fled the spot I sup
pose. Instead I said. "Your office?”
And I wanted to add—"Who are YOU?"
"Why yes,” I am Clarke—the one
with the *E.’ Now’ what can 1 do for
you?”
"Give me a position; I have lost
mine." Probably I should not have
MiG it—but I did not want to come
home defeated at the end of four
weeks! I wanted work and a chance
to "show" New’ York—well, I guess I
have both.
I am to get fwenty-flve dollars a
week in return for my services as "Pri
vate Secretary" and Stenographer to
he firm, which consists of Clarke Sen
ior, forty-five or fifty, as New York
ages go—so he may be sixty or a grand
father at ♦-«.*>.» Mr. James 7. Clarke,
nt whom "more anon,” and Clarke Jun
ior. who looks twenty-two or three, and
thinks life is to be devoted to getting
a cane with just the crook to fit his
arm to a nicety. He' is called Mr.
Tommy, and looks it!
And now for the "Anon” and more
of Mr. Clarke. Tie -s the man who
imped into me so violently that day
as I was com.. „ v i « i Grand Central,
and then invited me to tea to give me a
anee to recover my equilibrium
thereby quite upsetting it. I will never
do for the wife of a President! For
Mr. Clarke has a perfectly unforgetta
ble voice, and all I could do about re
membering it was feel that it belonged
to sorpeone I had in all probability met
and forgotten—and It was not until he
was my employer, duly signed and seal
ed, that I realized the full force of that
first impact.
Asked to Tea.
But he was considerate and recom
mended me to the attention of hls
partners in the most impersonal, hard-
ly-knew-you-were-a-girl sort of a way.
And yet the gTrl alone has as her
"Boss" a man who thought he might
venture to ask a little stranger—that
stranger being me—to tea!
Now. Little Miss Safe-at-Home, think
it over—I need work If I am to be a
self-supporting person in New York,
the while I wait for my literary ability
to develop so it can be seen by people
who are more interested in subscription
pulling than in the mere feeling of per-
sonal pride In "Darling Madgie"—and
I like Mr. James T. Clarke. Was I
silly to go on the payroll of Clarke,
Clarke and Clark?
And Kitty, I warn, to know that man
—so that is a perfectly good reason why
I shouldn’t—since I am an employee in
his office. Mr. Clarke is surely a
gentleman—even if ne is a bit overly
friendly. I shall have to prove that
I am a lady, I suppose, by being overly
unfriendly.
Or, won’t I? Hurry up and give
your sage opinion to
Yo
Four loving
MADGE.
Good Discipline
Putting Yourself in Your Wife’s Place
I - HEARD a man talking abqjit his
wife the other day—he began with
' his wife—and he ended with all
the women in the world.
"What is the matter with them?”
he said bitterly. "Are they all going
crazy, or what? II am a good hus
band. if I do have to say it myself
to get any one to believe it; I work
like a bond slave for my wife and
family; I devote most of my waking
hours and some of my sleeping ones
to thinking of new ways to make more
money and more money and more
money for her and the little fellows.
“My wife has a new hat whenever
she wants one. and I never complain
about the bill—even if it does make
me teel blue to see it sometimes—a
hat and a feather, $3."., Why, it's
enough to take a man’s breath. And
she goes away in the summer and
takes the children and has a fine time
for three months, and she has a good
home, and—yet is she happy?
"She is not.
"She is miserable, perfectly miser-
I able, and she makes me miserable
‘Where have I bt
•Who
\ gave me thu play bill?’ 'Where did I
FOR THAT TIRED FEELING
Take Hereford's Acid Photphatt
dimmer overwork or imoninl*.
hear that song I'm whistling?’ ‘Who
was the woman who stared at me so
in the theater the other night”' ‘Why
don't 1 love her any more?’
"And he's not the only one My
brother’s wife is the same—worse, if
anything. My brother can’t spend an
• venlng out to save his life without
his wife wanting to know exactly
where ho went and whom he saw, and
all about 1t -and she doesn’t believe
him wh-’n he tells her the truth.”
Nice little preachment, wasn’t it?
And the man meant It. too—every
word of it You could see that by
the look of irritated, puzzled misery
In ids tired face
What is the matter with us. any
how. girls?
1 wonder if any one knows?
For one thing, it's the mystery of
J the thing that puzzles us.
.Did you ever think of that, Mr
| Man ?
What if the person you loved best
in the world, the person you left
every one you ever cared for just to
he with, went away every day to a
mysterious place he called downtown
.nd stayed all day, and came home
>T« iking with the speech of aliens,
! ’c'king 1th the look of strangers, al
ways thinking, thinking about some
thing that you didn’t know a thing
j about ”
Wouldn’t you wonder sometimes
I what it all was that made him so
absent-minded? .Wouldn’t you wish
he’d tell you something about it ones
in a while, just enough so you could
visualize his day to some extent and
have some sort of vague idea what it
is that he does—down there In the
barred city where you must never go?
It Wouldn ‘t Bore Her.
You know every step your wife
takes all day long—-she wants to tell
you all about It—and when you don’t
listen she thinks vou are tired of her.
It wouldn’t bore her to hear all
about what you do, but you never help
her out a bit. You see. she’s in love
with you; you’re fond of her, but
you are not in love with her. That
isn’t the wav you acted when you
were in love. Don’t tell me! She may
not know much, but no woman
earth is there who can’t tell when a
man really loves her and when ha
stops loving her. too—so you might os
well stop going over that Action once
and for all.
She’s in love and you aren’t—that’s
all. Help you any to know that?
Well, maybe not, but it may help
your judgment of her and your sym
pathy, too. Just think back a year
or so and remember how you used
to feel about her. That will help you
to realize that she fs having rather a
bad time of it herself just now. too.
Morbid, unbalanced, irritating—of
course it is—all of these things, but so
is the life the woman who loves leads
morbid, unbalanced and irritating
from start to finish.
You’d go crazy in six months if
you had to live it, shut in all day
with a baby; no one to speak to but
the grocer’s boy and the postman; no
big ambitions, no great hopes; just
little things, little, little,, from morn
ing to night. *
Don’t scold your wife, don’t be cross
with her. get her mind off the little,
silly suspicions and little stupid curi
osities by telling her a few things
she’d dearly love to know. Tell them
to her without her asking, and see
how surprised and delighted she’ll be.
She’ll take just as much interest in
you and your affairs as Jones, and yet
you talk and talk to Jones.
Think it over. Friend Husband. Put
yourself in the place of the poor little
puzzled thing who’s been tied into a
corset every morning of her life and
had her poor little tootsies pinched,
and her poor head made to ache by
some fool kind of hair dressing ever
since she can remember, just to get
ready for you and for love, and then
she finds out that love is just a part
of life after all and not all of it, as
she has been carefully taught to think,
and she’s all at sea. Put yourself In
her odd. confused, mixed up place and
see if you can’t see what's the matter
with her.
Maybe you can. and if you !o
you’ve won the battle before it is
fought.
Try it and let's hear from you—
we d like to know.
^ T f you think any member of your
I family needs a spiritual stlmu-
A lant during the present sea
son,” said the young girl with the
camera slung over her shoulder, "buy
him a camera and a tank and a scale
and a few dozen different chemicals,
and a book of directions and leave
him to his fate. The seeds of humil
ity, patience and long suffering will
bear fruit a thousand fold.
"Don’t laugh. It’s true! If you
know anything about the capital sins
you know that pride is at the head of
the list. To cure it, let some one take
a good sw'ift snapshot of you when
you’re not looking. It can reveal and
correct more beauty defects than 52
visits to the shop where they make
you beautiful w'hile you Avait. When
that same snapshot is three or four
years old and you gaze upon the hat
that was none too becoming in its
best days, you begin to realize that
the lily of the field had some advan
tages over Solomon.
"As for patience, amateur photog
raphy is more instructive than Bruce’s
spider and more effective than Job’s
soliloquies. When you have measured
out 16 ounces of hypo in a half-ounce
scale—which means that you have to
balance it 32 times, to the rhythmic
chant of ‘Twenty grains one scruple,
three scruples one dram, eight drams
one ounce’—and then forget whether
the last measure was the twenty-first
or tw’enty-second half ounce, and you
have to spill it all out and begin all
over again—if you can do it with
cheerful heart your spiritual condition
is encouraging.
Vacation Time.
"When you have come home from
a vacation with several rolls of films
and begin developing the best and
most cherished roll, and it comes out
of the tank distinct and clear and you
drop it into a bowl of innocent looking
hot water which should have been
cold—a bowl which a member of your
family had placed carelessly at your
side—and you see your jolly groups of
bathers and.canoers run into a shape
less mass of gelatin and you hold in
your hand a blank film roll, then if
you can turn to the offender and say
with serenity: ‘It’s all right, I really
don’t mind then you have merit
ed a triple halo.
"Do you wish to understand your
neighbor? Try a group picture. In
the first place, when it comes to pos
ing a group, have you ever observed
the serene indifference with which
each member regards the.'position and
advantages of every other member?
The most humble and retiring indi
vidual quietly and persistently slides
into an advantageous position, re
gardless of the same desire on the
part of everyone else.
"And when that same group has
been finished and you talk about light
and shade, tone and contrast—yon
were not in it. of course—and you try
to get anyone else to observe th^se
points and you say. ‘Don’t you think
<#he shadows are good?’ your friend
will invariably reply. ‘I didn’t know I
had a double chin!’ or ‘I certainly
can’t wear a soft collar!’
"Then you suddenly realize that
your modest, self-effacing friend has
a normal ego.
"For social popularity the snapshot
is an open sesame. If with your ‘bread
and butter’ letter you can inclose a
few snapshots of the infant idol of
the family, of your host’s new chicken
coop, or your hostess’ new porch set,
the invitation to come again will be
sincere and urgent.
"When it comes to generosity this
gentle art of snapshotting has no
equal. Suppose in a rash moment yo\*
have promised each of eight friends
a full set of twelve prints. After a
preliminary struggle with drams and
scruples you start in to print. Your
family admonishes, urges and finally
commands you to be sensible and go
to bed. but you feel that you must
persist in your altruistic endeavors.
It is midnight before you set your
96 prints to wash in a bowl of run
ning water in the kitchen sink.
"When you return at the end of an
hour you find that several of the
prints, with the perversity of inani
mate things, have slipped over the
drain and a miriature Niagara is
, splashing down upon the floor, on
which the water is already three
inches deep. You try a mop, which Is
no more effective than a handkerchief
in the Gulf of Mexico.
"The heat has been off two hours
and it’s 10 degrees below zero, and
the kitchen has a west exposure, but
you open the door and sweep strenu
ously and exhaustively. And you hear
the splash of the water on the porch,
on the landing below, then on the i
walk in the yard, and you think of
the profile of drainage of the great
lakes. And you tread lightly and
softly, partly because you are re
luctant to dislodge the water-soaked
ceiling in the flat below and partly
because you are afraid of waking
your family and bringing down on
your unoffending head a chorus of
‘I told you so’s.’
"Aiter three hours of hard labor
you close the door just before the
milkman tears up the back stairs.
And then, when you come tp the
breakfast table the next morning,
heavy lidded and sore of spirit, but
discreetly silent, another of your
household comes in and says in a
convincing and appealing tone: Tm
dead tired! I didn’t sleep a wink last
night! ’
"Then, if you can restrain your
words of contradiction and offer
sympathy in soft and gentle tones,
with an invisible smile for the audi
ble slumbers to the rhythm of which
you swished a broom half the night—
well, amateur photography has done
more for you than Gideon Bibles and
long weeks of fasting and sacrifice!"
WOMAN SICK
FOURTEEN YEARS
Restored to Health by f
Lydia E. Pinkham’s
Vegetable Compound.
Elkhart, Ind.:—“I snfTered for
fourteen years from organic inflam
mation, female
weakness, pain and
irregularities. The
pains in my sides
were increased by
walking or stand
ing on my feet and
I had such awful
bearing down feel
ings, was depressed
in spirits and be
came thiu and pale
with dull, heavy
— yes. 1 had six
doctors from whom I received onlr
temporary relief. I decided to give
Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Com
pound a fair trial and also the Sana
tlve Wash. I have now used the
remedies for four months and can
not express my thanks for what they
have done for me.
“If these lines will be of any bene
fit you have my permission u> pub
lish them.”—Mrs. Sadie Williams.
455 James Street, Elkhart, Indiana.
Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable
Compound, made from native roots
and herbs, contains no narcotic or
harmful drugs, and to-day holds the
record of being the most successful
remedy for female ills we know of,
and thousands of voluntary test!
monials on file in the Pinkham loo-
oratory at Lynn, Mass., seem to
prove this fact.
If you have the slightest doubt
that Lydia E. Pinkham s vegecaoie
Compound wili help you, write to
Lydia E. Pinkham Medicine Co. (con
fidential,) Lynn, Mass., for advice.
Your letter will be opened, read and
answered by a woman, and held in
strict confidence.