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T Making Mother Over BEAUTY SECRETS OF BEAUTIFUL WOMEN j WITHIN THE LAW By BEATRICE FAIRFAX Little Viola Dana, “The Poor Little Rich Girl," Talks to Girls in Their Teens A Powerful Story of Adventure, Intringe and Love W HEN a girl reaches 16, And her head Is turned as easily as thistledown, for the reason thAt It Ik almost as light, she becomes possessed with the belief that she is superior to her family, a delusion In which her foolishly fond parents un consciously encourage her. She is her parents’ own child; that is a stubborn fact that even romantic theories of being the stolen offspring of royalty, of which she has read in the fairy tales, can't conquer. She is a rare blossom on a parent stem that looks like n weed, and she wonde r; i that there Is no explanation of such • phenomenon. s She learns a* an earlier age than one would guess that she can’t change her father. She can rule him, and does. but. being a man, he is satisfied to be what he is. He admits his off spring is a rare blossom, but does not for a moment think that the father stern is a weed. Mother is different. One reason is that, she is a woman and knows not that self-content that is wrapped around a man like the bandages around a mummy. And a greater reason is that «he is Mother, and, 'therefore, humble. She also recog nizes that her offspring Is a rare blos som. the quick eyes of her love mak ing this discovery the moment her baby daughter was first laid in her arms. Because of her love she makes humble comparison, and knows als » that she is a weed. She doesn't resent her daughter's air of superiority, but weakly and foolishly encourages it. thereby turn ing that little thistledown head a little further out of place. She Is Displeased. Naturally the conditions that exist in a home where a girl has been permitted to think she is a princess c'o not please her. and she begins, the process of making over, alternating her work of reformation between the parlor and mother, the former receiv ing serious attention when she x- pects company and the latter engag ing her energies all the time. Mother’s methods of pronunciation are not those In use how. and she is corrected and called old-fashioned, a term that loses its sweetness when a princess daughter applies it. Mother is too tired when night cornea to put on more becoming clothes, and dough' ter begins at the wrone end of the reformation by complaining about her mother’s appearance Instead of at taining the same end by making the work lighter. The family purse will not support more than one peacock. Mother i» glad to give daughter that ro'ya 1 plumage, and the girl accepts, and later complains when she struts around that her mother Is not dresse'i as well as other mothers she knows, forgetting that in those families thefe arc* no Reacocks and the sum alloted for royal plumage is more Justly di vided. I do not want girls to cease in this reform of making mother over, but I want them to go at It in a better way. One can't change a mother's old-style clothes into new by complaining, but the change can be wrought by buying mother new clothes. If $10 is given a girl for a new hat and mother says she will make last season’s do. the daughter can make mother over by giving her the new hat and wearing the old herself. Another Way. If mother shows the unbecoming traces of hard labor, another way Is offered for making her over by taking the burden of the home off her shoul ders. If the latest whim In a ribbon. :■ tie. hat. gloves, dress or shoes will improve daughter, wouldn't they nls. Improve mother, and Isn’t her need of improvement greater? One has the adornment of youth and needs little; the other is showing all the disfigur ing marks of time and needs eveiv assistance pretty clothes may give. Make mother over by making her think more of herself and less of oth ers! Such a reformation will be gooi for the whole family, but don't, girls. 1 implore, go at this reformation In a high-handed, selfish way. Have pride in her and she will begin to have the pride in herself of which many years of monotonous and unappreciated household work have robbed her. Make her over! Make her young and pretty and carefree again, and use In working the transformation the fairy wand of Love! Seeing the Pictures W DM AN with Cerise Hat (em bracing woman with headgear of bright violet)—Oh, aren't the pictures too dear? I'm crazy about them. Agnes! Just a little bit of powder on the side of your nose, dear There— it's off. but you rubbed off the rouge, , too. Such atmosphere, don't you think? No, of course. I can't make out *what that one means that looks like a mud puddle stirred up with a stick, but I am sure it is something perfectly won derful if only I could comprehend it!” Woman with Bright Violet Hat—It certainly makes one feel so advanced to see things like these! Why, I can 'remember when I used to think a pic- should really he a picture of some thing instead of merely a symbol of a thought., Goodness! Will you look at that dress—the one just coming in! Such things ought to he restricted by * Sweet Young Thing (in a flimsy floppy suit)—Perfectly beautiful! I simply love that picture! Second Sweet Young Thing -So do I Isn't it glorious to think there is an artist living who can paint a bale of shingles? If you look at it hard enough with your head tilted you get the queer est sort of feeling! Something like be ing seasick and falling out of a window- at the same time! The man who did that is a genius. Wouldn’t you simply love to know him?” On His Nerves. Square Shouldered Man (wUh an ex pression of pain on his face) l^ct s get out of here, Genevieve. If I stay any longer I’ll say things, and then the long haired freaks sprinkled about would hang me to one of the staircase pillars and put a frame around me and call the result an impressionistic study of an apple pie. I expect I’d look just as much like a pie as a human being. Oh, help! See that one in the corner—the purple woman with blue spots on her against a scrambled background." Genevieve—"For goodness’ sake, hush! Don’t let people know you're so abso lutely Ignorant. George! You’ve got to see this exhibit, because you’ve got to be able to talk about it, and the sooner you do so the quicker you'll be through! 'You don’t suppose any one really likes these pictures, do you? You’re not the only one that’s suffering! Come on!" Square Shouldered Man—"I’ll bet that purple woman is suffering. Gosh!" Angel Child—"Ma, 1 want a drink, I want a drink, ma! Say. ma. why can’t 1 have a dr” His Mother (Jerking him along)— "Willie, if I hear another word out of ‘ you T’ll take you into a corner and whip you good! Here, I left all that sewing and brought you just for your own good, so you’d love pictures, and then you act this wav! Look at the pictures and”— Angel Child—"Aw, I’d rather go to a nickel show! Say, T want a drink" Confiding Young Creature (attended by pale youth in extreme garb) "But when your pictures are exhibited, Ar thur, is the time we’ll see orowds! If they only knew what a genius you are! The idea of these daubs, when you have done such marvelous things!” Pale Youth (modestly)—"Well, it’d be kind of tough on these chaps if I spring them now. l/et them have their day— I can afford to wait!" Confiding Young Creature—"Arthur, you are the noblest man alive! You need some one to push you forward— you never do justice to yourself or to your art!" It Was Plenty. Woman with Cerise Hat—"There, I’ve made the rounds. My head aches, but I don’t see why. Do you know, there are three pictures back there which I am sure hung upside down?" Woman with Bright Violet Hat—"I don’t care if they are—my shoe hurts awfully. I don’t mind saying that I think the pictures are crazy, and we are all geese for wasting time look ing at ’em!” Woman with Cerise Hat—"And you the president of our culture club! My dear! I think it's just your shoe." Woman with Bright Velvet Hat— "Well, it’s something—and whatever it is. it’s plenty!" Up-to-Date Jokes A wealthy gentleman who owns a country seat on one occasion nearly lost his mother-in-law, who fell into a river which flows through his es tate. He announced the narrow es cape to his friends, expecting their congratulations. One of them—an old bachelor— wrote as follows: "I always told you that river was too shallow.” * * Visitor—I understand that you had an amateur dramatic performance in the town hall last night? Native-Yes; the Sock and Buskin Club played "Little Mae, or the Mountain Mystery." ' Ah! And what was the mystery?’’ "As near as I could make out, the mystery was how the audience stood it till the last act was over." • * * Maud—I've just heard of a case where a man married a girl on his deathbed, so that she could have his millions when he was gone. Could you love a girl like that? Jack—That's just the kind of a girl I could love. What's the girl’s ad dress? * * • Bill—He used to be a lawbreaker, hut he’s changed now. Jim—Keeps within the law now’, does he? Bill—Oh, yes; and keeps within the jail, too. "NEW HOME”===1018-S See this latest expression of present-day requirements and BUY it. Also NEEDLES, our make, for all machines. We RENT—sale rebate—and repair. Try us. Call, write, or use either phone. The New Home Sewing Machine Co. 10 Equitable Bldg. (Hall and Edgewood Ave. Entrances! By LILIAN LAUFERTY. I F you were only fifteen and had already begun climbing the high ladder that lead* to succena, would you be simple and natural and truly sweet? Little Viola Dana has not come to the lofty estate of "Sweet Sixteen” yet. but she has already worked her way from music hall dancing and "movies” and vaudeville skits to the enviable position of "A regular Broadway star." And the earnest little girl means to climb higher and higher, and be right at the top of her chosen profession some day if hard work can win her way to the top. In her dainty pink dressing room at the Hudson Theater in New York the 15-year-old star of "The Poor Little Rich Girl" looks like a real little rose bud of a girl—just as real a little girl as the Gwendolyn whose life she has stepped out of after living it for three hours. She was pulling black silk stock ing* over little bare feet and ankles as I came in, and with the sweetest, unself-consciousness she shook back her soft brown curls and rose to greet me with a mixture of childish en- things. Girls who are willing to just stand still aren’t ever truly pretty, are they?” The little star’s eyes glowed with earnestness. Yes, those wonderful, deep eyes are green, and she frankly confesses it "Maybe that's Jealousy/' she laughed. "1 am Jeelous if the people 1 love don’t love me enough and show it. You have to be worthy of it. or you don’t get it. And some day everj girl wants to be found worthy of the biggest love. She wants to marry. 1 do!" She believes in simple clothes for young girls- thuaiasm and w-omanly grace. "Did Gwenny make you cry?” she asked. "YOU did,” I answered, deliberately. "Oh. that was Gwenny,” said little Miss Dana. "It isn’t Viola Dana out there in the play—she Just gets to be Gwendolyn.” « Not Self-Conscious. "Then, of course, you aren't self- conscious if you are living your part?” I questioned with assurance. “Oh, no. Children on the stage have to be so careful about that,” said this naive child. ‘ Some of them do well, and they are told so, and think about it all the time, and get to be such stilted little things They just MINCE through their parts and act affected everywhere you meet them. That Isn’t a bit attractive—do you think so?” “What do you think of simplicity and sweetness and naturalness as prime necessities for attractiveness? That takes in your 'unself-conscious- nese," I said. Miss Viola gave the matter her earnest consideration. She is to all intents and purposes a dear child— but ten years of stage experience— ten years of work with growing ideals and ambitions have given her a serious quality bespeaking delight fully the woman she will be in a few years. 'T think they are all very important, and if you keep busy and live sen sibly and think nice thoughts perhaps you can get to be simple and sweet —for, of course, no girl who is un natural is a bit attractive " "Then you believe in simple clothes for voung "iris?” "Yes, indeed—but I do like pretty SYNOPSIS. Mary Turner, becoming an orphan, is thrown on her own resources. She finds work at the Emporium, a de partment store owned by Edward Gilder; Is accused of the theft of silks and sent to prison, though In nocent. She tells George Demareat. Gilder's bead lawyer, that the way to stop thievery is to pay a living wage In prison she learned from fellow convicts why girls go wrong. She understands their point of view and sympathises with them. Aggie Lynch, a convict friend of Mary’s at Bumsing, sees good "possibilities" for her in the world of crime. Upon Mary’s release the slogan "once a criminal always one," prevents her from securing work She is contin ually hounded and In desperation throws herself Into the North River. Joe Garson, a forger, rescues her and keeps her add Aggie in luxury, though living chaste lives. Mary reads that a famous financier escapes prison through keeping within the letter of the law. She follows his ex ample and becomes the leader of a band of swindlers, roffbing only the unscrupulous Qll^r ton Dick meets and loves Mary, who seeks to wreak vengeance on the father through the son. Aggie poses as her cousin, and they pretend to be re spectabl*. They are visited by De tective Cassidy, who tries to scare Mary Into leaving town through threats He Is laughed at for his pains, because sho was "within the law " The detective, before leaving again, fells Aggie and Joe Oarson that "there'll he trouble" for them unless they get out of town. Now go on with the story Items of Interest As an illustration of w hat the Bible output of the Oxford University Press involves, it might be mentioned that the skins of 100,000 animals are used every year for the covers of Oxford Bibles alone, and 400,000 sheets of gold are required for the gilt lettering A stock of handkerchiefs has been purchased for the use of French dep uties. Whenever a member has for gotten h1s handkerchief he will only- have to ask an usher for one. There will be no fee, and if the deputy for gets to return the handkerchief noth ing will be said. A wild boar’s tusk, on which the Lord’s Prayer and the Apostles’ Creed had been cut with a krls, or Malayan dagger, was presented as a wedding gift to hi* American teacher by a young Igorrote Filipino at Dagu- pan, Luzon In France the army death rate is nearly six times as high as our own. clothes—clothes that suit you. Are mine simple enough, do you think?" pointing to a dainty little green frock and a soft greatcoat of brown that just matched her own chestnut curls. A very girly leghorn hat w’ent with it—and 1 could fancy Miss Viola looking like the dear little girl she is. instead of the silly, near-young-lady that some girls fancy they c»n ape more successfully than they can real ize the flowerlike sweetness of their own precious never-to-come-again- youth. “Girls have to be serious about the qualities they want to cultivate," 1 said, after I had paid due tribute to the embryo woman wanting sartorial praise. "Does keeping well and strong require constant attention and sacri fice?” 'Well, I think you can’t have every thing. You can’t have all the fun you want end do well the thing you want to do, too. Now, I have to have lots of sleep, and if I go along to a party after the theater my voice Voices need such a lot of care to keep them in good condition. I take a sounds strained and horrid next day. glass of malted milk before the the ater and another afterward and give up the things I like—chocolate frap- pes. and foolish combjnations, like lobster salad and lemonade, won’t do for the girl who wants to accomplish things." "Do you call late suppers and choc olate frappes a great sacrificeI in quired. "Well, I like things that aren’t good for me," was the frank answer; "but I think it’s worth while giving up all the little separate pleasures that only stay a minute in order to have a cletr complexion, and a clear Voice and a well body. "You see. I truly want to be great some day; T want to go on and on and be some one who counts. And I’m dreaming of that sometimes even when T’m with my books or playing my violin. "I know that if I truly want to get on I shall have to DO It. Just wishing about It. won’t work.” Deep Philosophy. Deep philosophy for fifteen; and ye: the girls who are soon to be women must all choose whether they will live for the Joy of a fleeting second or for the "durable satisfactions" that make life worth while. * "Have you set some one as your model?” I asked. "Are you working toward a goal, or have you a live ideal whose success you want o equal ?” "Not a bit of it.” said Viola Dam "I’ve got to be myself, anyway—and I'd lots rather be truly myself. I don't want to imitate. I just want to mak** my own self do bigger and bigger things all the time. "People ought to express themselves all the time. I think. Instead of imi Miss Dana as she looks on and off the stage. tating some one else—in clothes and voices and thoughts. Thoughts are so wonderful, I think—nice ones give such a sweet expression to the eyes —they Just shine through them. I love strong. interesting faces—the kind that belong to people who do and fuller life, aren’t you? Work — great sucres*—and marriage?”I asked. "Oh, yes," said this rich little wise girl. "I want to keep my body well and strong, and to train my mind to get a great deal out of life—and to put something into it. too.” The Tyranny of Criticism By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. T HE Kingdom of Childhood is peopled with wicked elves, ghosts, ogres and hobgoblins, and we hide our heads under the bed covers and long to be grown up that we may vanquish them, little know ing that the Land of Grow r n-Ups has a greater terror. It is the tyranny of criticism, and its name is "What Will Folks Say?" "No,” a girl says, "1 ftm not going to the party. I w r ant to go. but I would have to wear my last season’s party dress, and what would folks say ?’’ "We can not afford to give that dinner," a woman will frankly con fess, “but if I don’t pay my social obligations what will folks say?" The sickness had been long, painful and costly, and when at last (he suf ferer was mercifully released the fam ily realized that the long siege had materially diminished the bank ac count. There were doctors’, drug gists'. undertaker’s and nurses' bills to pay, leaving scant protection against want. "Rut we must buy mourning," the family declares, "for if we don’t, what will folks say?" Once Again. A girl realizes that her lover has grown cold. Perhaps, down in her heart, she also realizes that she is not so fond of him. but she refuses t»> give him up as long as cajolery and tears will hold him. "I don’t want any one to think I have been jilted," she says, "and if he stops coming here what will* folks say?” It is this tyranny of criticism that is the hobgoblin of the grown-ups, as fearful and real as the ghosts that clanked their chains about our heels in childhood. We hide our trembling heads under the covers, just as wt did then, and lose all sense of reason because of the great ogre we have fooli’shly conjured to torment us. ’ We are not honest, we are not nat ural. wc are distressingly self-con scious, we are not kind, we are cow ardly hypocrites in the presence of a hobgoblin that has no real exist ence. "What will folks say?” you plead in defense of foolishness. Did you ever realize that you arc of the "folks" to whom you credit such powers of condemnation? And do you, as one of the "folks,” despise and condemn the woman who wears an old garment because she can not af ford a new? Do you look with an air of superiority at any honesty that dares to be honest? Don’t you really envy the spirit of the woman who can rise above ail consciousness of clothes? Your Reply. You will reply that you don’t con demn such a person, but that others do. And in saying this, you declare you are better than others. My dear, you are not. We are all very much alike. No one who is worth knowing puts the outward show above the in ward worth. If your friends are more friendly when you are a coward, a hypocrite, and extravagant, then they are not the kind of friends worth hav ing, and it is cheapening a very pre cious word to call them so. If you meet a woman you like, and whom you would enjoy knowing bet ter, and hesitate to invite that woman to your house because hers Is finer, then you do not give her credit for being broad-minded, and are narrow- gauged yourself. It is the personal ity that counts; not Its background or adornment. And unless you can show yourself so strong, so broad, so big. that your test question Is "Is it right?" and not “What will folks say?” you are no further advanced mentally than the child that hides its head under the covers at every unusual sound. Copyright. 1913, by the H K Fly Com pany. The play "Within the I^aw” Is I copyrighted by Mr. Veiller and this ! noveMzatlon of it is published by his permission. The American Play Com- i pany is the sole proprietor of the ex clusive rights of the representation and performance of "Within the Law" In all languages. By MARVIN DANA from the Play of BAYARD VEILLER. TODAY’S INSTALLMENT. There wa* not the change of a fea- i ture in the face of the woman who listened to the accusation. Her eyes steadfastly retained their clear gaze into his; her voice was still coldly formal, as before. "If It’s blackmail. Mr. Irwin, why don’t you consult the police?" she inquired, with manifest disdain. Mary turned to the maid, who now entered in response to the bell she had sound ed a minute before. "Fanny, will you ask Miss Lynch to come in, please?" Then she faced the lawyer again, with an aloofness of manner that was con temptuous. "Really, Mr. Irwin,” she drawled, why don’t you take this matter to the police?” [ The reply was uttered with con- I spicuouR exasperation. Police Wouldn’t Keep It Secret. "You know perfectly well," the law yer said bitterly, "that General Hast ings can not afford such publicity. His position would be jeopardized.” "Oh, as for that,” Mary suggested evenly, and now there was a trace of flippancy in her fashion of speaking, "I am sure the police would keep your complaint a secret. Really, you know, Mr. Irwin, I think you had bet ter take your trouble to the police, rather than to me. You will get much more sympathy from them.” The lawyer sprang up, with an air of sudden determination. "Very well, I will then," he declared, sternly. "I will.” Mary, from her vantage point at the desk across from him, smiled a smile that would have been very en gaging to any man under more favor able circumstances, and she pushed in his direction the telephone that stood there. "3100 Spring," she remarked en couragingly. "will bring an officer al most immediately.” She leaned back in her chair and surveyed the baffled man amusedly. The lawyer was furious over the failure of his effort to intimidate this extraordinarily self-possessed young woman, who made a mock of his eveiw thrust. But he was by no means at the end of his resources. "Nevertheless." he rejoined, "you know perfectly well that General Hastings never promised to marry this girl. You know He broke off as Aggie entered the drawing reoirh Now. the girl was demure in seem ing almost beyond belief, a childish creature, very fair and dainty, guile less surely, with those untroubled eyes of blue, those softly curving lips of warmest red and the more del icate bloom in the rounded cheeks. There were the charms 6f innocence and simplicity in the manner of her as she stopped Just within the door way, whence she regarded Mary with a timid, pleading gaze, her slender little form poised lightly as if for flight. “Did you- want me, dear?" she asked. There was something half- plaintive in the modulated cadences of the query. "Agnes." Mary answered affection ately, "this is Mr. Irwin, who has come to see you in behalf of Gen eral Hastings.” "Oh!” the girl murmured, her voice quivering a little, as the law yer. after a short nod, dropped again into’his . c eat; "oh, I’m so frightened!" She hurried, fluttering, to a low stool behind the desk, beside Mary’s chair, and there she sank down, drooping slightly, and catching hold of one of Mary’s hands as if in mute pleading for protection against the fear that beset her chaste soul. "Nonsense!” Mary exclaimed sooth ingly. "There’* really nothing at all to be frightened about, my dear child." Her voice w r as that with which one seek* to cajole a terrified infant. "You mustn’t be afraid, Ag nes. Mr. Irwin says that General Hastings did not promise to marry you. Of course, you understand, my dear, that under no circumstances must you say anything that isn’t strictly true and that, if he did no: promise to marry you, you have no case—none at all. Now. Agnes, tell me; did General Hastings promise to marry you ?" "Oh, yes—oh, yes, indeed!” Aggie cried, faiteringly. "And I wish he w\>uld. He’s such a delightful old gentleman!'' As she spoke, the girl let go Mary’* hand and clasped her own together ecstatically. He Scowled Disgustedly. The legal representative of the de lightful old gentleman scowled dis gustedly at this outburst. His voice was portentous, as he put a ques tion. "Was that promise made in writ ing?” "No,” Aggie answered, gushingly. "But all his letters were in writing, you know. Such wonderful letters!” She raised her blue eysh toward the ceiling in a naive rapture. "So ten der and so—er—interesting!" Some how, the inflection on the last word did not altogether suggest the ingen uous. "Yes, yes. I dare say,” Irwin agreed, hastily, with some evidences of chagrin. He had no intention of dwelling on that feature of the let ters, concerning which he had no doubt whatsoever, since he knew the amorous general very well, indeed. They would be interesting, beyond shadow of questioning, horridly in teresting. Such was the confessed opinion of the swain himself who had written them in his folly—horriblv interesting to all the reading public of the country, since the general was a conspicuous figure. Alary intervened with a suavity that infuriated the lawyer almost be yond endurance. "But you’re quite sure, Agnes,” she questioned gently, "that Genera! Hastings did promise to marry you?" The candor of her manner was per fect. And the answer of Aggie was given with a like convincing emphasis. "Oh, yes!" she declared, tensely. "Why, I would swear to it.” The limpid eyes, so appealing in their soft lusters, went first to Mary, then gazed trustingly into those, of the routed at torney. "You see. Mr. Irwin, she would swear to that." emphasized Mary. "Were beaten,” he confessed, de jectedly, turning his glance toward Mary, whom, plainly, he regarded as his real adversary in the combat on his client’s behalf. "I’m going to be quite f*-ank with*you. Miss Turner, quite frank,” he stated with more gen iality, though with a very crestfallen air. Somehow, indeed, there was Just a shade too much of the crestfallen •in the fashion of his utterance, and the woman whom he addressed watched warily as he continued. "We can’t afford any scandal, so we re go ing to settle at your own terms.” He paused expectant v. but Mary offered no comment; only maintained her alert scrutiny of the man. The law yer, therefore, leaned forward with a semblance of frank eagerness. In stantly, Aggie had become agog with greedily blissful anticipations, and she uttered a slight ejaculation of joy; but Irwin paid no heed to her. He was occupied in taking from his pocket a thick bill case, and from this presently a sheaf of banknote*, which he laid on the desk before Mary, with a little laugh of discomfiture over having been beaten in the contest. As he did so, Aggie thrust forth an avaricious hand, but it was caught and held by Mary before it reached above the top of the desk, and the avaricious gesture passed unobserved by the attorney. "We can’t fight where ladles are concerned,” he went on, assuming, as best he might contrive, a chivalrous tone. "So, if you will just hand over General Hastings’ letters, why, here’s* your money.” Much to the speaker’s surprise, there followed an interval of silence, and his puzzlement showed in the knitting of his brows. "You have the letters, haven’t you?” he demanded, abruptly. Aggie coyly took a thick bundle from its resting place on her rounded bosom. "They never leate me,” she mur mured, with dulcet passion. There was in her voice a suggestion of deso lation—a desolation that ‘was ithe blighting effect of letting the cher ished missives go from her. To Be Continued To-morrow. WOMAN’S DANGER PERIOD is said to be from 45 to 5f). What ' should be a most natural change In a woman’s life, is, on account of < modern methods of living, fraught J with most annoying and painful symptoms. Women when passing J through this critical period should rely upon Lydia E. Pinkham’s Veg etable Compound, as it ha* proved wonderfuly successful in carry- , ing women safely through the change of life. ESTABL'^HED 23 YEARS DR.E.G. GRIFFIN’S GATE CITY DENTAL ROOMS BEST WORK AT LOWEST PRICES 4 All Work Guaranteed. Hours 8 to 6-Phone M. 1708-Sundays $-1 24'/;, Whitehall St. Over Brown & Aliena T Be Sure That You Read the First Installment of the New Story FTT^ri rp<\ o niernve K>C7Tj & raktorter Which Will Appear on The Georgian’s Magazine Page Next WEDNESDAY