Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

MAGAZINE, The Passing of Miss Tearful ; A Powerful Story of Ad- \\ / J- / venture, Intrigue andLocc y f £ irVltrt I OVI J B y MARVIN DANA ’from the ' The Girl Alone m New York Woman Is Ceasing to Weep—They Realize That No Man Wants to Be Salted Down in Brine as If He Were a L 1 1 11 1 HI 1 > W R l a y °f BERNARD VE1LLER She Loses Her Position, But Obtains Another in an Unusual Way. Dried Herring. Tells Sister All About It. By DOROTHY DIX. O NE of th© most Interesting and sig nificant phases of the evolution of woman Is that she 1s ceasing to weep. I don’t know how science ex plains It, but It 1s a self-evident fact rnat every observing person must have not%d that as women developed back bone their tear ducts have dried up. Time was. and not so long ago, when the very name of the feminine sex waa synonymous with crying. It was wo man's hereditary destiny to weep, Just ; s it was man’s to work, and she did what was expected of her by sitting down and bowling whenever she came up against any of the hard propositions of life. The modern woman has changed all of that. You hardly ever see a woman weep now. There are-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 were, 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 erno- tlon as it is to see. a man do so, and 1 can think of no other one thing that o emphatically marks the progress of my sex. 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 bo an unanswerable argument ho far as men were concerned. Unfortunately few’ women can weep effectively. In poetry a pearly drop that makes a blue eye look like a violet drowned in dew, gathers slowly and rolls guntly down the alabas 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- plectic, and the man gets up, and slams life door behind, and goes downtown un til the water spout Is over. In these pro saic and commonsense days weeping has played out as a fascination, and tears ure a failure. No man wants to be salt- id down in brine as if he were a dried herring. They Wept Too Much. The trouble with women’s tears In the pust has been that they wept too much, upd In the wrong way. A tear as a tear Is as effective as any other drop » f 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 woep over a starving fami ly until you shed an ocean of tears, yet it wouldn't keep them from j»erishing of hunger. It is only when you begin to, sob with your pocket book that you do any good, it isn’t the people who come to weep with us when we are unfortu nate and poor and downcast who help It is those who have learned to sympathise with their bunk book and personal interest and 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 tip In a fashionable church and sniffle Into a point lace handkerchief all through a charity ser mon and then drop a plugged nickel Into the contribution plate. Then there’© poverty. If all the tears woman 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 back no vanished dollars. Nobody ever heard of a woman lament ing herself Into a fortune, yet they go making themselvos perfect Nlobes over their split 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. Fhe never forgave me. People never do when you teJl them the truth, but It Is a fact nev ertheless, that the only tears that can conjure back prosperity are the Pars we weep with our hands at some good, hon est labor. Sometimes 1 amuse myself by specu lating on what an improvement If would be if mothers wept less over their way ward children and spanked more Shameful Tears. Sentimentalists have embalmed h mother’s tears in song and story, and made them sacred, but I tell you the tears a mother sheds over an illraised son or daughter are shameful. There should be 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 hit 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 he wept into ail the virtues of beatitude. When a woman bad 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 ho mistreated her, 'nit 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 Tic baby act. It was always weak and useless. We owe it to the world to give t smiles and sunshine, not showers, and we best do our part in It when we meet the misfortunes of life with that brave attitude that nothing can daunt. But wait a minute,” English Eddie expostulated, ‘‘you see this chap, Gilder, is SYNOPSIS. : Electing a New Pope : ONE OF THE WORLD’S MOST MOMENTOUS CEREMONIES T HE greatest secrecy, as well ns 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 buried there is a gathering together of the Onr- dInals, or conclave, as it Is'called. Inci dentally It might be mentioned that the word '‘Conclave"’ is derived from the Latin cum clave, and literally means an apartment which can bo closed with one key. Once gathered together, the Cardinals, like the Jury in a murder case, are not permitted to leave the Vatican until they I RADIANT HAIR Dry. Brittle. Scraggy Hair Made Soft—Fluffy—Radi ant—Abundant by Paris ian Sage. ) Who does not love a beautiful . i d a t You may think it is ■ a gift, that some women are born bttutlful j hair is largely a matter of eultiva- < tion, just as you would water the j plants in your garden and fertilize \ the soil. s Parisian Sage is a scientific S preparation which the hair and > scalp readily absorbs. It removes \ dandruff' at once. It puts a stop 1 to i v <}.:*! :.r scalp and makes your « whole head feel better as if your > hair had had a square meal. < One application will astonish you 5 —it will double the beauty of your ^ hair. If used daily for a week you t s will l><- simply delighted with the c result—you will want to tell all ( your friends that you have discov- t ered Parisian Sage. You should > see the number of enthusiastic let- < ter* we receive from delighted ) users. All doubts settled at one stroke > —your money back if you want it. s Parisian Sage is a tea-colored ^ liquid—not sticky or greasy—deli- j cutely perfumed, that comes in a - fifty-cent bottle. The “Girl with ' the Auburn Hair” on the package. (Jet a bottle to-day—-always keep s it v,there you can use it daily. ; For sale by Jacobs’ ten stores > ar.d mi drug: arid toilet counters have selected from among themselves a successor to the Papal chair. The cere mony of election observed to-day is the same ns that inaugurated by Gregory X, six hundred years ago. Communication Impossible. The Cardinals assemble In what Is snown as the Sistin© Chapel. All the entrances are walled up with the ex ception of one great door known us the "SaJa Regia." The greatest precautions are observed that no persons except the Cardinals remain in the building during ihe conclave, and a very careful search is made, not only hy 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 food is carefully examined to make sure that no communication enters the Vatican. The actual election ceremony is quite ample. Each Cardinal writes in a dis od hand on a ballot-paper the nalbe I of bis particular select ion for the high office, which he then deposits In a chal ice or urn placed upon a special altar. Before doing so. however, he turns to his colleagues and solemnly swears he j bas voted according to his firm belief, without fear or favor, and In the true interests of the Church of Rome only. First and Second Ballots. There arc 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 i ed. The number of votes required to Immediately the two-thirds majority has been recorded for any candidate a i bell is rung by the junior Cardinal l)eo- I con. In response the secretary' of the Sacred College enters with the master <>f 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 • Urinative, he next Inquires what name the new pontiff Intends to be known b\ It should be mentioned that the name usually selected is that of the Pope by whom the Pope-elect was created a I Cardinal, and as soon as this is un- 1 nounced the senior Cardinal Deacon g» es outside and thus addresses the waiting cro\v<i. "1 announce to you a great joy We have as Pope the Most Eminent anti Most Reverend , Cardinal of the Holy Roman Church, who has taken the name of Meanwhile the new dignitary has been conducted to the rear of the high altar, where Itp ;s speedily arrayed in ;he vest ments of the pontificate. He then takes tis place in the chair of state in front >f the high altar, and is ready to receive the greetings of the Sacred College. Each • *f 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 Camerlingo. i New York Dental Offices 28i/o and 32y 2 PEACHTRFk, STREET. Over the Bonita Theater and Zakas' Bakery. Gold Crowns , . . $3.00 Bridge Work . ■ . $4.00 All Other Work at Reasonable Prices. 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, valueble 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 Damarest, chief of Gilder’s J legal staff, that she can show the $ merchant how to stop thievery in ( his store if garnted a ten-minute in- > tervievv. The interview is granted, < and. handcuffed to a plain-clothes } man, she enters Gilder’s private 1 office. He enters immediately af terward. Without mincing of words, Mary tells him that hfe can stop stealing by paying bin employees a living } wage. , < Now go on with the story ' Copyright. 1913. by the IT. K. Fly Com pany. The play “Within the I>aw" is copyrighted by Mr. Vciller and this novelizatlon of it is published by his permission. The American Play Com pany is the sole proprietor of the ox- clur'.ve rights ol the representation and performance of "Within the Law” in all languages. TODAY’S INSTALI,MENT. Nevertheless Indomitable in her pur pose, she maintained the struggle. A third time she obtained work, ai d there, after a little, she told her employer, a candy manufacturer In a. .small way. the truth as to her buying been in prison. The man bad 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 greatneef 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 t!.< 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 Hev Strength. It was then that despair did come upon the girt. She had tried with all the strength of her to Uvo straight. Yet, despite her innocence, the world would rot let her live according to her own conscience. It demanded that she bo the criminal it had branded her if she wore 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 Jhe streets t.lteringly, 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 p 1, : autly, 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 rorimod the city .starving. * • • Came an hour whim she thought of the river, ami was glad! Mary remembered, with a wan smile, how, long ago, she had thought with amazed horror of suicide unable to imagine any trouble sufficient to drive one to death ns 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 so 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 River. Now, she quickened her pace, anxious for the plunge that should set the term to sor row. In her numbed brain was no dicker of thought as to whatever might come to her afterward. Her sole guide was that compelling j>assion of desire to bo done with this unbearable present. Nothing else mattered not in the least! In That Final Second. So, she came through the Jong 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 coll 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- e r> rson heard. On the south side • r the pier a man had just tied up a motorboat. He stood up in alarm at the < ty, 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. On the Instant, he threw off his coat and sprang far out after the drifting body. He r ime to it in a few furious strokes, irid caught it. Then began the savage struggle to save her and himself. The currents tore at him wrathfully, but 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 'iungr> 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, thcro in re faint light, within the grip of the waters, lie was moved to insensate lurv against the element that menaced. His rage mounted, and gave him new’ oower in the battle. Maniacal strength :rew out of supreme wrath. Under the «rim of it, he conquered- at last brought 'imc.olf and his charge to the shore. When, finally, the rescuer was able 1 > do something more than gasp chok- ng’y, he gave anxious attention to the voman whom he had brought out from ‘ie river. Yet, at the outset, he could cot he sure that she still lived. She ad shown no sign of life at any time once he had first seized her. That fact ul b« on of incalculable advantage to u in his efforts to reach the shore ith her. Now, however, it alarmed him .1;, Mil' , though it hardly seemed pos sible iluit she could have drowned. So . r as lie could determine, she had not even sunk once beneath the surface. Nevertheless, she displayed no evidence T Natality, though he chafed her hands r ;i long time. The shore here was vc* lonely, it would take precious time • summon aid. It seemed, nothwith- andirg, that this must be the only <>urre. Then just as the man was .bout to leave her. the girl sighed, very ;i icily, with an infinite weariness, and opened her eyes. The man echoed the rh. but his was of Joy, since now he knew that his strife in the girlNs 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. His 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 halm to her spirit in the very faot that some one was thus ministering to her. It was the first lime 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 '/hither. 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 )©en Jived since early boyhood outside the pale of respectability. To-night Joe Garson had performed, perhaps, Ills first iction with r.o thought of self at the back of It. He had risked his life o save that of a stranger. The fact astonished him, while it plqpsed him hugely. The sensation was at once novel 'in<l thrilling. Glow of Satisfaction. Since it w r as so agreeable, he meant “o prolong the glow f of self-satisfaction ny 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 «>f 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 :he 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, .Toe Garson, the noto rious forger, led the dripping girl east ward through the squalid streets, until it last they came to an adequately ighted avenue, and there a taxicab was found. It carried I hem farther north, and to the east still, until at last it *ame to a halt before an apartment nouse that was rather imposing, set in a dreet of humbler dwellings. Here, Gar- jon paid the fare, and then helped the girl to alight, and on into the hallway. Mary went with him quite unafraid hough 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 or with so much of tender kindliness. So, she waited patiently; only watched with intentness as he pressed the button >f the flat number. She observed with nterest the thick, wavy gray of his air. which contradicted pleasantly the youthfulness of his clean-shaven, reso- ute 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 ot stairs. On the landing beyond the third flight, the loor of a real fiat stood open, and in he doorway appeared the figure of a woman. “Well, Joe, who’s the skirt?" this per son demanded, as tlie man and his charge halted before her. Then, abrupt ly, the round, 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, add she stared astounded in her turn. “Aggie!" she cried. 4 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, his 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 tiian otherwise to learn that there was al ready an 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 las;, 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 now 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 striving?. 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. She 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 ed pages, kut 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 great triumphs tc come, though as yet she carefully avoided any suggestion to Mary of wrongdoing. To Ee Continued To-morrow. By LILLIAN LAUFFERTY. D arling kitty: Since I have been over here in the role of needle in the big New York haystack, 1 have had blue days and rose-colored days and just gra> days; but to-day is all a white glare, and I think the lights are pretty strong for my eyes. sis. Not the “Bright Lights." Iffit the glow and gleam of ex citement and having adventures follow themselves up as I didn’t think they ever could in really truly life. Your kind attention, sisterkln, and I will tell 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 T 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—but 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, 1 declare—I do seem to run into you! And on your way to my office * d is time. Now* what can I do for you?” I should have fled the spot I sup pose. Instead I said, "Your office?" And 1 wanted to add—“Who are YOU? ’ “Why yes,’’ I am Clarke—the one with the ‘E.’ Now what can I do for you?’’ “Give me a position; I have lost mine." Probably I should not have .id it—but X 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 twenty-five 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 that)! Mr. James T. Clarke, of whom “more anon,” and Clarks 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. He is the man who imped Into me so violently that day as I was comm;;' < at of Grund Central, and then invited me to tea to give me a* ‘lance to recover my equilibrium j 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 someone X 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 j first impact. Asked to Tea. But he was considerate and recom mended me to the attention of his partners in the most impersonal, hard- ly-knew-you-were-a-girl sort of a way. And yet the girl 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 want 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 tie 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 Your loving MADGE. : Good Discipline :: Putting Yourself in Your Wife’s Place HEARD a man talking about hi* | wife the other day -he began with i his wife and ho ende< .1 w ith all tht * women in the wo: rid. ‘What is the m attt r wi th 1 ;hom?” he s&ld bltt erly. *' Arc f they r all going cr£ lzy, or v hat? 1 I a m a goo il hus- ba nd, if I t jo have ? tc » say it rnyself to get any one to bel leve 1 work lik e a bond slave tei r my wi fe and family; I devote most of my waking hours and some of my sleeping ones to thinking of new ways to make mon money and more money and more money for her anil the little fellows. "My wife has a new hat whenever she wants one, and 1 never complain about the bill—even if it does make me feel blue to see it sometimes—a hat and a feather, * ' • Why, It's enough to take a man’s breath. And she goes away in the summer »tiiii takes tho children and has a fine time for three months, and qhe has a good home, and—yet is she happy? not mi. P< rtly miser- tore Me, •Who i tay b; FOR THAT TIRED FEELING Tdk* Hortfsrri’s Acid Phasahat ir that sohg I’m whistling?’ ’Who \va • the woman who stared at me so in th theater the other night?’ Why don’t I love her any more?’ “And she’s not the only one. My bro;her’s wife is the same—worse, if anything. My brother can’t spend an evening out to save his life without his wife wanting to know exactly where he went and whom he saw, and 11 about it -and she doesn’t believe him \vh n he tells her the truth." Nice little preachment, wasn’t It? Vnd the mar. meant it, too—every | word of it. You could see that by ! tin* look of irritated, puzzled misery :n his tired face What i* the matter with us, any* , tow. Kiris? 1 wonder if any one knows? Ft r one thing, it’s the mystery of j the thing that puzzles us. Did you ever think of that. Mr j M a n ? What If the person you loved best | in the world, the person you left ! ver\ one you ever cared for just to 1 he with, went away every day to a , mysterious place he called downtown i and stayed ill day. and came home ving with the speech of aliens, looking ith the look of strangers, al- j ways thinking, thinkirfg about some thing that you didn’t know a thing 1 about ? Wouldn’t f ’i you wonder sometimes j | "ha. it all was that made him so j absent-minded? Wouldn’t you wish he’d tell you something about it once in a while, just enough so you could visualize his day to some extent and have some sort of vague idea what 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 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 see. she’s in love with you; you’re fond of her, but you are not in love with her. That isn’t the way you acted when you were in love. Don’t tell rue! She may not know much, but no woman on earth is there who can’t tell when a man really loves her and when h? stops loving her. too—so you might as 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 now you used to feel about her. That will help you to realize that she 1s having rather a bail time of It herself just now. too. Morbid, unbalanced, irritating—of course it is—all of these things, bur so ‘.s the life the woman who loves leids 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, iittle. 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 dear y love to know. Tell them to her without her asking, and sec- 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 tho place of the poor little puzzled thing who’s been tied into a corset every morning of her life ami 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 got ready for you and for love, and then she finds out that love is just a pavt of life after all and not all of it, as she has been carefully taught to think, and she’s al. 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 ’c you’ve won the battle before it is fought. Try it and let’s hear from you— we’d like to know. you think any member of your I family needs a spiritual stimu- 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 direction* 1 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 sonre one take a good swift snapshot of you when you’re not looking. It can reveal and correct more beauty defects than 52 visits to the F'hop where 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 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 eff hypo in a half-ounce so^le—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 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 eanoers 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, 1 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—you were not in it. of course—and you try to get anvone else to observe tiles, 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 ‘I certainly can’t wear a soft collar!’ "Then you suddenly realize that your modest, 3elf-cffacing friend lias 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 wo generosity gentle art of snapshotting lias fro equal. Suppose in a rash moment you 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 draiii and a miniature Niagara is splashing down upon the floor, on which the water is already three inches deep. You try a mop, which Is t 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 ^ walk in the yard, and you think of I 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 wakin- your family and bringing down or. your unoffending head a chorus ‘I told you so’s.’ “After three hours of hard labor you close the door just before the milkman tears up the back stairs. And then, when you come to the breakfast tabic 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: I’m 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, Lydia E. Pinkham's •’ V egetable Compound. Elkhart, Ind.:—-"I suffered for fourteen .rears from organic inflam mation, female weakness, pain and irregularities. The fains in m.v sides "'ere increased b.v < "'Hiking or stand ing on my feet and I had such awful fearing down feel ings, was depressed in spirits and be- xame thin and pale with dull, heavy '.res. i had six doctors trom whom I received only temporary relief, i decided to give Lydia E. Pinkham’s tegetable Com pound a fair trial and also the Sana- tne Mash. I have Niow used the remedies for four months and can not express my thanks for what thev have done for me. “If these lines will tie of any bene fit you nave my pcrmi R, iish them.”—Mrs. Same Williams. 4oo James Street. Elkhart. Indiana* I.ydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound, made from native roots and herbs, contains no narcotic .r harmful drugs, and to-day holds the record of being the most successful remedy for female ills we know of. and thousands of voluntary testi menials on file in the Pinkliam lab oratory at r.ynn. Mass., seo,,, prove tiiis fact. If you have the slightest doubt that Lydia E. Pinkhann _ vege.„„.^ Compound will 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.