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I
MAGAZINE
The Passing of Miss Tearful
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 andLove
Within the Law
By MARVIN DANA, from the
Play of BERNARD VEILLER
By DOROTHY DIX
O NE of the most Interesting and sig
nificant phases of the •volution of
woman la that .lie ia ceasing to
weep. 1 don't know how science
plains It. but It I* a self-evident fact
that every observing pereon must have
noted that a. women developed back
bone their tear duds have dried up
Time was, and not ao long v*°- "ben
the very name of the feminine sex was
synonymous with crying 1C w-ns wo
man » hereditary destiny to weep. Just
as it was man's to work, am! she did
what was expected of her by sitting
down and howling whenever she came
up against any of the hand propositions
of lifp
The modern woman lias changed all of
that. You hardly ever see a wrotnan
weep now. There are fJud help un
just ga many thing, to wring a woman s
heart to-day. and Jn«l as many causes
for tears as there ever wore, but 11 she
weepa, she weeps In private. It la al-
nioat as unusual and startling now to
see a woman give way publicly to emo
tion as it t# to see a man do au, and I
ran think of no other one tiling that
ao emphatically marks the progress of
my *ex.
It measures ail the distance between
hysteria and reason- It markn the Im
measurable difference between the spoilt
child crying impotently for forbidden
sweets, and the strong adult who take®
what life given with unfaltering bravery
and cheerfulness.
It Bfterr»F likely that women always
evil valued the effectiveness of tears,
anyway Tears were supposed to always
be an unanswerable argument so far as
men were> /concerned. I'nfortunateiy few
women can weep effectively. In poetry a
pearly drop that makes a blue eye look
like a v*olet drowned in dew, gat bars
slowly and rolls gently down the afubas-
ter cheek, ami 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-
plectie, and the man gets up, and slams
ttie door behind, and goes downtown un
til the water spout is over In these pro-
saic and < ommopsense days weeping has
played out as a fascination, and tears
are a failure. No man wants to be salt
ed dowp 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 teax is as effective us any other drop
of sail water, yet people make the mis
take of reverencing it as if weeping over
h 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 jour pocket book tjuit you do
any good. It isn’t the people who coma
to weep with us when we are unfortu
nate and poor and downcast who help
us. It is those who have lgamed to
sympathize with their bank book and
personal interest and assistance.
Nothing else or. earth Is as plentiful ;
and cheap and useless as tears, but un
til they are backed up with good deeds '
md money nobody 'lias'a right to at-'
tempt tt» sustain a reputation for chari
ty on them. I*)or>t^ Of people do. I have i
seen women nit up $*i fashionable'
church and skiffle Into a point lace
handkerchief 411 tfliough a obgrlty ser
mon and then firop s plugg<*i nickel into .
the contribution plate. ^
Then there’?* poverty If all Lhg tears |
women have shed over being poor had
been brought h» account it would make
a water power that would ttiifjp the ;
wheels of the machinery of. tba world.!
Tears toll bfyck no vanished dollars
Nobody ever lipard of a woman lament- |
ing herself intp a fortune, yet they go
making thenjstlvee perfect NiubM over '
their split milk.
I had a friend once who lost her inoney
and who thereafter did nothing but
weep “What Hball I do?” alia demanded
“I shall starve,." "If you would put in j
as much time and energy mopping a
floor as you do in mopping your eye*,
you could nut too a fortune as a ohaiwu
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 lears that can
conjure back prosperity are the tears we
weep with our hands at some good, hon- j
est labor.
Sometimes I amuse myself by specu- |
luting on what gn improvement it would j
be if mothers wept less over their way
ward children and ap&pked more.
Shameful Tears.
Sentimentalists have embalmed a ;
mother's tears in song and story, and I
made them sacred, but I tel! you the I
tears a mother sheds over an ibraised :
son or daughter are shameful. There j
should be no cause for them, and there 1
would be no cause for them, opce In a |
million times, If she had done her duty.
Weep with strict authority, mothers, sob
With a wise up-bringing while your chll- j
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 lias also appeared to me that women I
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 j
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 wav you look 1 at ft, it is a hope
ful sign women have abandoned doing truth as to her having been In prison
he baby act. II was always weak and T j ie , uan p ttt j a kindly heart, and. in
useless. We owe It to the world to give I addition, he ran little risk in the matter,
so he allowed her to remain. When,
The Girl Alone in New York
She Loses Her Position, But Obtains Another in an Unusual Way.
Tells Sister All About It.
But wait a minute," English Eddie expostulated, ‘‘you see this chap, Gilder, is
SYNOPSIS.
Mary Turner, after the death of
her father and mother, is forced^
to make her own way in life. She
secures h 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 teljs
George Damareat, chief of Gilder's 1
legal staff, that she can show the |
merchant how to stop thievery in 1
Ills store if gam ted a ten-minute in- !
terview. The interview is granted. 1
and, handcuffed to a plain-clothe? !
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, 1918. by the H. K. Fly Com
pany The play "Within the law" is
copyrighted by Mr. Velller and this
novelizatIon of it is published by his
permission. The American play Com
pany is the sole proprietor of the ex
clusive rights or the representation
ami performance of "Within the Uw”
In all languages.
TODAY’S INSTALLMENT.
Nevertheless, indomitable In h^r pur
pose, she maintained the struggle A
third time she obtained work, and there,
after a little, she told iter employer, a
candy manufacturer in a small way. the
1 smiles and sunshine, not showers, and
we best do our part in It when we meet
the misfortunes of life with that brave
altitude that nothing can daunt.
: Electing a New Pope :
ONE OF the WORLD'S^ MOST MOMENTOUS CE REMONIES
T HE greatest secrecy,
utmost solemnity,
when the Cardinals
of Home arc called upon t
their number as pope
Immediately a/twr the Pope is buried
there ia a gat tiering 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
l4tiin cum clave, and literally means an
apartment which can he dosed with one
kfj.
Once gathered together, the Cardinals,
like the Jury in a murder case, are not
permitted to leave the Vatican until they
RADIANT HAIR
Dry. Brittle, Scraggy Hair
Made Soft—Fluffy—Radi
ant-Abundant by Paris
ian Sage.
Who does not love a beautiful |
head of hair? You may think it Is
a gift, that some women are horn
that way. The fact is, beaqtlful
hair is largely a matter of cultiva
tion. just as you would water the
plants in your garden and fertilize
the soil.
£ Parisian Sage is a scientific
\ preparation which the hair and
> scalp readily absorbs. It removes
l dandruff at once It puts a stop
j to itching scalp and makes your
• whole head feel better as if your
5, hair had had a square meal.
< One application will astonish you
> •—if will double the beauty of your
l hair. If used daily for a week you
. t ill be simply delighted with the
< result you will want to tell all
* your friends that you have discov-
1. ered Parisian Sage You should
\ see the number of enthusiastic let
v ter* we recent from delighted
l users.
j Ail doubts settled at one stroke
j your money back jf yon want it
< Parisian Sage is a tea-colored
$ liquid not stjeky or greas) deli -
s rateiy perfumed, that comes in a
J fifty-epnt bottle. The “Girl with
< tlm Auburn Hair ’ on the package.
> (Jet a bottle to-day—always keep
\ it where you can use it daily.
t For sale by .Jacobs ten stores
s’ and at drug and foilet counters
c everywhere.
s well as the 1 have selected from among themselves a
is observed j successor to the Papal chair. The cero-
f the Church ) mony of election observed to-day Is the
elect one or ( same as that inaugurated by Gregory X.
J six hundred years ago.
Communication Impossible.
The Cardinals assemble in what ia
known us the Sistine Chapel. All the
entrances are walled up with tHe ex
ception of one groat ddor known as (he
’Kaltt begia The greatest precautions
are observed that no ptirsonH except the
Cardinals remain in the building during
the concluvo, und a very cureful search
is made, not only by officials of the Va
tican. hut also by the Swiss guards, who
maintain a vigil over the only door lead
ing to the building. Kven the food
is carefully examined to make sure that
no communication enters the Vatican.
The actual election ceremopy is quite
j simple. Each Cardinal writes in a dia-
iM<i hand on a ballot-paper the name
j of his particular selection for the high
! office, which he then deposits in a chal-
or urn placed upon a suecial altar.
ic f
Before doing so, however, lie turns to
his colleagues and solemnly swears he
t voted according to his firm belief.
/ without four or favor, and 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 dm lice and read
aloud to the conclave the names record
ed. The number of votes required to
ltnmediatelj the two -thirds majority
has been recorded for any candidate a
bell is rung by the junior Cardinal Dea
con. rn response the secretary of the
Sacred Collage enters with the master
of ceremonies, after which the Cardinal
Dean approaches the Pone 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 by
It should be mentioned that the name
usually selected is that of the Pope b>
whom the Pope-elect was created a
Cardinal, and as soon as this is an
nounced the senior Cardinal Deacon goes
outside and thus addresses the yvaitbig
crowd: “I announce to you a gre»at joy
We havo as Pope the Moat Eminent and
Most Reverend , Cardiual of
the Holy Roman Church, who has taken
the name of - .
Meanwhile the new dignitary has been
conduct<8*1 to the rear of the high altar,
w here he is speedily arrayed in the vest
mentg fit the pontifical*. He then takes
s place in the chair of state in front
>f the high altar, ajxd 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,
is placed on his finger by the Cardinal
Camerlingo.
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 even called in
the assistance of Edward Gilder himself,
who obligingly wrote a very severe let
ter to the girl’s employer. In Uu end,
such tactics alarmed the man. For the
sake of his own interests, though un
willingly enough, he dismissed Mary
from his service.
With All Her Strength
It was then that despair did come
upon the girl. She had tried with all
the strength of her to livo straight. Yet.
despite her innocence, the world would
not let her live according to her ow’n
conscience It demanded that she be the
riminal it hud branded her If she were
to live at all. fc>o. it was despair! For
she would not turn to evil, and without
such turning she could not live. She
still walked the streets falterlngly,
•eking 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 poignautly.
that at last her emotions had grown
sluggish Bhe did not mind much even
when her tiny hoard of money wa* quite
gone, and she roamed the city starving,
♦ • • Game an hour when she thought
of the river, and was glad!
Mary remembered, with a wan smile,
how. long ago. $he had thought With
amazed horror of suicide, unable to
imagine any trouble sufficient lo drive
cue to death as the only relief. Now.
however, the thing was aimple to her.
Binet* there was nothing else, she must
turn to that to death. Indeed, it was
so very simple, so final, and so easy,
after the agonies she had endured,- that
shy mgxveleq over her own folly in not
having sought such escape before * * *
Even with the first wild fancy, she.,bad
unconsciously bent her steps westward
toward the North Klver. typw, sbp
quickened hqr pace, anxious for the
plunge that should set the term to sor
row. in her numbed brain wa,« no
flicker of thought as to whatever m|gbt
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 whiefi sh,e
hurried to the far end, where it pro
jected out to the fiercer currents of the
Hudson. There, without giving Jierself
a moment’s pause for reflection of hesi-.
tation, she leaped out as far as her
strength permitted into the coil of wa •
ter*. 1 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 ihat 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 sin
gle person heard. On the soyth side
of the pier a man had Just tied up a
motorboat. He stood lip in alarm at
the ory, and was just in time to gain
a glimpse of a white face under the
dim moonlight as it swept down with
the tide, two rods beyond him, , Oft
the instant, he threw off his egat and
sprang far out after the drifting btglj^
He cAnic to ’fV'in a few furious strokes,
ind caught IV*.‘ Then began Ihe savage
struggle to save her and himself. The
currents tore at him wrathfully, bu£
he fought against them with all the
fierceness of his nature. He had
strength a-plenty, but he needed all of
it, and more, to win out of the river’s
’lUBgrj clutch-. What saved the tw;u
of dliem was the violent temper of tfig
•nan. Always, it had been the demop.,
o set him aflame. To-night, there in
tlie faint light, within the grip of the
waters, he was moved to insensate
fury against the element that menaced.
His rage mounted, and gave him new
bower in the battle. Maniacal strength
grew out of supreme wrath. Hnder the
urge of it, he conquered at last brought
-limself and his charge to the shore
When, finally, the rescuer was able
to do something more than gasp chok-
’ngly, he gave anxious attention LIT Hie
woman whom he had brought out from
the river Yet. at the outset, he could
not he’ sure that she still lived She
md shown no sign of life at any time
since he had first seized her. That fact
hhd t»een 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
of vitality, ‘though he chafed her hands
for a U>n£ time The shore here was
very lonely ; it would take preeipps time
summon aid It seemed, npthwith-
•fanding, that, this must be the only
course Then just the man was
uljput to leave her, thp girl sighed, very
falntlv, with an infinite weariness, and
opened her eyes. The man echoed the
:h. but his was ©t Joy, sincp now he
knew that hp( strife in the girl’s be-
’iaJf 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 cansciousn^as, which was
at first Inclined toward hysteria, but
this phase yielded soon under the sym
pathetic ministrations of the man. His
rather low voice was soothing to her
tired squl, and his whole air was at
ftflee 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 tpe first time for many dread
ful years that any one had taken
thought for her welfare. The effect
of it 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 his side with
out so much even as a question of
vhifher.
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 seeds 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
(Jarson had performed, perhaps, his first
iction with no thought of self at the
back of it. He had risked his Ilf a
o save that of a stranger. The fact
astonished him, while it pleased him
hugely. The sensation was at once novel
•*nd thrHling.
Glow of Satisfaction.
Since it was so agreeable, he meant
*0 prolong the glow of self-satisfaction
by continuing to care for this waif of
the river. He must make his rescue
complete It did not occur to him to
luestion his fitness for the work. His
Introspection did not reach to a point
of suspecting that he. an habitual crim
inal. was necessarily of a sort to be most
objectionable as the protector of a young
girl. Indeed, had any one suggested
Jhe thought lo him. he would have met
t with a sneer, to the effect that a
wretch thus tired of life could hardly
pbject 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
■fit 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
«>ouse that was rather imposing, set in a
street of humbler dwellings. Here, Gpr-
son paid the fare, and then helped the
girl to alight, and on into the hallway.
Mary went with him quite unafraid,
though now r 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.
Bo, she waited patiently; only watched
with intentness as he pressed the button
of the flat number. She observed with
nterest the thick, wavy gray of his
nair, which contradicted pleasantly the
\outhfulness of his clean-shaven, rcso-
•ute face, and the spare, yet well-
muscled form.
The clicking of the door-latch sounded
soon, and Hie two entered and w’ent
Slowly up three flights of stairs. On
ihe landing beyond the third flight, the
'ioor of a real flat s.tood open, and in
die doorway appeared thje figure of a
woman.
“Well, Joe, who’s the sk|rt?" this per
son demanded, as the man and his
charge halted before her. Then, abrupt
ly. thw Found, baby-like face of the
woman puckered in amazement. Her
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 tlje time that followed, Mary
lived in the flat with Aggie Gynch
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 hjmself. But. as he cast about
for some woman to whom he might
take the hapless girl he had rescued,
his thoughts fell on Aggie, and forth
with his determination was made since
he knew thai she was respectable,
viewed according to his own peculiar
lights. He was relieved rather than
otherwise to learn that there was al
ready m acquaintance between the
two women, and the fact that his
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 seemed 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 part, 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 found
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.
?<he was clothed with the most deli
cate richness for the first time as to
those more mysterious garments
which women love, and she soon 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
mind, 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-
id pages. 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, ajid she
dared to dream ol* great triumphs tc
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 had blue days
and rose-colored days and just gra>
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 1 didn’t think they
'ever could in really truly life.
Your kind attention, sisterkin. and
1 will tell my little tale from its
beginning. Three days ago 1 lost my
Job—but don’t picture me starving on
the streets of New York, for I found
a new one this morning! Hard limes—
and cutting down the staff That is
why 1 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 adverUaements
yesterday—but 1 did not seem to an
swer any ones needs. When I got
dawn to No. 4 on my list to-day I had
arrived ai 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 colltsio^
. . lladge's hat takes a little list te
port, and Mil. I ye yearns for a port of
her own.
A voice speaks: "J BldG your par
don. Have I upset you completely?
Well, I declare—1 do seem to run into
you' And on your way to my ofrice
his time. Now what can I do for
youV"
1 should have fled the spot 1 sup
pose. Instead I said, Your office?"
And I wanted to add—"Who are SOU? ’
"Why yes,” I am Clarke—the one
with the 'E ' Now what can I do for
you?” , ,
"Give me a position: 1 have lost
mine." Probably 1 should not pave
aid it—but 1 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.
f am to get twenty-five dpllars a
Putting Yourself in Your Wife’s Place
New York Dental Offices
281/s and 32U PEACHTREE STREET.
Over the jBonita Theater and Zakas' Bakery.
. . $3.00
. . $4.00
All Other Work at Reasonable Prices.
Gold Crowns
Bridge Work
1 HEARD a man talking about hfs
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? 11 am a good hua-
bpjid. if 1 do have to say it myself
to get any one to believe it; 1 work
like a oond slave for my' wife and
family; l devote most of m> waking
hours and some of my sleeping ones
to thinking of new ways to make more
money and more money and more
inoney for her and the little fpliows
"My wife has a new bat whenever
she wains one, and l never complain
about the bill —even if it does make
me ice! blue to see it sometimes- a
hat and a feather. Why, it's
t nough 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 «s not.
-She is miserable, perfectly tniser-
! able an i she makes me miserable.
I too Wnare have 1 been ” Who
i gave me that play bill?* ‘Where did 1
FOR THAT TIRED FEELING
Tah* Hortf*r<r< A«H P*o»9h«tt
hxvcllent for Oi*> relief of •nhuvn.ivui dn<
mjturner . overwork or in^oacia..
hear that song I’m whistling’’ 'Who
was the vt'omao \yfio- stared at me so
ip the the.ai.er the* other night .’’ Why
don’t I love her afty more?’
“And hjie’s not the only one. My
brother's wife is the same—worse, if
anything My brother can't spend an
evening out' to’ stive his life without
his wife wanting to know exactly
where he.went and \vhom he saw. and
alj about it—and she doesn't believe
him when'he telle h^Y the truth."
Nice little preachment, wasn’t it?
And tfie man, meant it, too—every
word of it. You could sec that by
the look of irritated, puzzled misery
in his tired face
What the matter with us any
how. girls?
I w onder if any ©np know s?
For one thing. U's the mystery of
the thing that puzzles us.
Did you evar think of that. Mr
Man?
What if the person you loved beat
in the world, the person you left
every one you eveY cared tor fust to
be. with, went away every day‘to a
mysterious place he -catted downtown
aild stayed all. day, and came home,
speaking with the speech of
looking iih the look pf strang*
ways thinking, thinking about some
thing that you didn’t know a thinj
about? * ' r-r ( . ..
Wouldn't you wonder someliniis
what it all. was that made him so
absent-minded? Wouldn't you wish
he'd tell you something about it om
in a while, just enough so you could
visualize his day to some extent and
have some sort of vague idea w hat it
is that he does -down there in the
barred city where you mu»t 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 you 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 se^. she’s in love
with you; you're fond of her. but
you ate not in love with her. That
isn’t the way you acted when you
were iu love. Don’t tell me! She may
not know much, but no woman yi
earth is there who can’t tell when a
man really loves her and when ho
stops loving her. too—so you might as
well stop going over that fiction 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 hgr and you; sym
pathy, tpo. Just think back a year
or so and remember how you used
liic.is, | to feel about her. That will help you
s. -al- I to realize that she is having rather 3
bad time of it herself just now. too.
Morbid, unbalanced, irritating—of
course if is—all of these things, but so
is the life the woman who loves leads
nmrbid. unbalanced and irritating
from start to finish.
week in retufn for my seryices as "Pri-
yate Secretary" and Stenographer '(o
he firm, which constats of Clarke Sen
ior. fortjLfive or fifty, as. New York
gges gd—so he may he sixty or a grand
father at thatM Mr;'James T. Clarke,
of whom “more aJiun," and Clarke Jun
ior, who looks twenty-two or three, a fid'
|.hinks life is to be devoted fo getting
a cane with just ;he crook to fit his
arm to a nicety. * He is called Mr.
Tommy, and looks it!
And how fqr tfie “Anon" an^ more
of Mr. Clarke lie is the man who
tmped Into me so violently that day
as 1 was coming out of Grand Central,
and then invited m< id if a to give na ft
hanct to recover' rriy. equilibrium *
(hereby quite quitting it. 1 will never
do for tfi£ wife or. a J’r^sident! For
Mr. Clarke has a perfectly unforgetta
ble voice, priu all I could do about, re
membering it was feel‘that it belonged
to someone V had in all probability met
and forgotten—khd it was not until he
Was my employer, duly signed and seal- '
ad, that I realized Hie full forite of that'
first impact *
Asked to Tea. *
But he was considerate and recom
mended ms to the attention of hi*
partners In the mo^t impersonal, hard
jy-knew-you-w'ere-a-girl ford: 6t a way. 1
And yet the girl alone hga as her
“Bosh" a man who thought he might
venture to ask a little stranger—ihat
stranger being me—to tea:
Now, Little Miss Safe-at-Hom^, think
it over—I need work if 1 am to be a*
self-supporting person in New v 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
1 like Mr. James T. Clarke. Was I
silly t® go on the payroll of Olarke,
Clarke and Clark?
And Kitty, I want to know that man
—so that is a perfectly* good reason why
I shouldn't—since l am an employee irt
his office. Mr, Clarke is surely a
gentleman—even if ae is a. bit overly
friendly. I shill have to prove that
I am a lady, I suppose, by being overlv
unfriendly.
Or. I? Hurry up ancj give
your sage opinion to
Yotir loving
• * MADGE.
Good Disciph ne
T ou d go crazy.' in six months
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 scok| 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 thing*
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 haij dressing ever
since she can remember, just to get
ready for you and for love, and th< n
she finds out that love is just a part
of life after all and not all of it. js
she has been carefully taught to think,
and she’s all at sea. Put yourself iu
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 lo
you’ve won the battle before it is
fought.
Try it and let's hear from you—
we'd like to know.
y F TPd think any member of your
! family needs a spiritual stimu-
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 direction?' am? 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 swift snapshot of you when
you’re not looking. It can reveal and
correct more beauty defects than 62
visits to the shop wtyere they make
you beautiful while you wait. 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
ihe lily of the field had some advan
tages over Solomon.
“As for patience, amateur photog
raphv 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 twenty-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 wdth 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—yep j
were not in it, of course—and you try
to get anyone else to observe these
points and you say. ‘Don’t you think
the shadows are good?’ your friend
will invariably reply. ‘I didn't know I
had a double chin!’ or T certainly
can't wear a soft collar!’
“Then you suddenly realize that
your modest, self-effacing friend hag
a normal ego.
“For social popularity the snapshot
is an open sesame. If with your bread
and butter’ letter >ou 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 ra?h moment you
have promised each of eight friends
a full set of twelve prints. After a
preliminary struggle witji 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 miniature Niagara is
splashing down upon the floor, on
which the water is already, three
inches deep. You try a mop, whiqji is
no more effective than a hanfrkerdhif'f* *
in the Gulf of Mexico^ ’ . - *
“The heat has been off tw£ hours
and it’s 10 degrees helow zerct, apd
the kitchen has a west exposure, bpi
you open the floor ,a,nd sweep sfperil
ously and exhaustively. Anji you hear
the splash of the water on the porch,
on the landing below, then on the
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-soared
ceiling in the flat befpw 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.'
‘After three hours of hard labor
you close the door ju$L before the
milkman tears up the back stairs.
Arid then, when you come to the
breakfast table the next morning,
heavy lidded and sore of spirit, but
discreetly silent, another of your
household conies in and says iu a
convincing and appealing tone: Tm
dead tired! f didn’t sleep a wink last
night!’
"Then, if you oan restrain your
words of contradiction and offer
sympathy in soft and gentle tones,
with an invisible shade for the audi
ble slumbers to the rhythm of w'hich
you swished a broom half the night—
well, amateur photography has don$
more for you than Gideon Bibles and
long weeks of fasting and sacrifice? ’ 4
WOMAN SICK
FOURTEEN YEARS
Restored to Health by
Lydia E. Pinkham’s >
Vegetable Compound.
Klkhart. Ind.“I suffered' for
fourteen years from organic inflam
matlon, t e m a 1 e'
weakness, pain ami
irregularities. I^he
j! Pains In m* stiles
were increased tn
walking or stand
ing on my feet and
I had such awful
hearing down feel
digs, was depressed
in spirits and he
came thin and pale
vyilh dull, .heavy
-. 7-I f had six
doctors from whom 1 received onh
temporary relief, r decided to give
I.ydla E. Pinkham's Vegetable Com
pound a fair trial' arid also the Sami
five Wash. I have now used tl»
remedies for four months and can
not express my thanks for what tiun
have done for me.
“If these lines will be of any bene
tit you have my permission to pul. *'
iish them." Mas. Same Williams'
doe James Street. Elkhart. Indiana!
I.ydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable
Compound, made from native roots
and herbs, contains no narcotic or
harmful drngs. and to-day holds th-
record of being the most successful
remedy for female ills we know of
and thousands of voluntary testi
monials on flie in the Pinkham lab
oratory al Lynn. Mass seem to
prove this fact.
If you have the slightest doubt
that Lydia E. Pinkham s vege.auie
Compound will help you. writ* 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.