Newspaper Page Text
4
(
The Manicure
Lady
By WILLIAM F. KIRK.
H
** ing there,”
Barber. “Yot
icse out of It all the
“It la a beautiful
most cry in some
vhcn
A Charming Midsummer Hat
t story ir
ome writ
\H AT must be some Interest-
r. that novel you are read-
remarked the
i ain’t had your
forenoon.”
story. George. J
parts of it. and
the laughs come they are sure
great. I didn’t skip a line of it, either,
and 1 have just finished the lust page.
The title of it is ‘Ftarflower,’ and it
xvas wrote by Mrs. Eleanor Shirley
DswfUcker. And then they say that
women can't write! Maybe some
women writes stories thHt is kind of
punk and then gets made fun of by
the critics, but this woman that wrote
’Starflower’ is some queen of a writ
er. Gee. there is some love passages
that is simply superfluous and almost
sublimate. ’Starflower’ is the name of
the heroine, a little girl that always
lived In the northern part of Pennsyl-
\ania. She Is so pretty and sweet j
that she has lovers come from every
where to try to win her hand, but j
she loves only one, a young man who
is doing scientific farming near her J
father’s home. Of course science is i
a great thing. George, and 1 suppose
if it helps raise big crops It must help j
a man to make love. too. Anyhow. |
she loves him and some day they are
to wed. Just listen to this part, where
they are engaged:
Very Pathetic.
“'Starflower,’ whispered Robert,
placing her little trembling palm in j
hb< strong right band. ‘Little girl. 1 j
Hin plain and direct in my speech, as
you know. I can’t write poetry- for
you. little girl, like the Bvron poems
you read to me out in the orchard,
and I ain’t no Tennyson, but 1 am a,
man with a man s heart and two will- j
ing hands. I love* you!’
• And-1 love you. Bob.’ murmured
Starflower, bewildered by the won
derful rush of happines> T**.at sw» pt
over her lithe form and suffused her
c heeks with the first flush of girlish |
love.
"An oriole flashed brightly through,
the crimson sumac and the brook rip-
pled along like some soft accompani
ment to the oldest, sw^fitei
the world."
"Gee, George; ain’t that *
ing - ’"
“Did he marry her and make a lot
of kale?".asked the practical Head
Barber.
“No, George," replied the Manicure
Lady. "That is the pitiful part of l!
A young bridge builder named Walter
Orr came to the Uttle town where
Starflower dwelt, and he kind of daz
zled her with his fine English and his
wohderful piano playing. He was a
college man, and her Robert didn t
know' nothing about Virgil or Horace
or Raineses or any of them old-timers,
orr knew all about tht \ all, and he
could change his voice until It py>t as
• soft as the rustling of the breeze
through the autumn leaves. When
he was talking to his men he spoke
kind of commanding, but when he
spoke to her he always spoke with
the soft pedal. One night, George,
she agreed to run away with him. and
the next morning they were gone
Just after they eioped Orr got fired
and had to take a position thut paid
him about one-quarter as much mon
ey as her former sweetheart'made
every week out*of his registered milk
fiom his registered cows.
It Sounds All Right.
“When she saw poverty staring her I
in the face she took some kind of a j
powder and they found her still in j
death with a note to Robert pinned |
on her night robe. Tfien Robert
heard about It and went so insane said, getting up politely “You might
that he called all his cows Starflow- as well take a comfortable chair be
er.” cause sister won't be down for ages.
"It sounds all right, . said the Head j she Is always slow about getting dress-
Barber. "but I wouldn t go nuts over j e ,j an< j j aupposed now she’ll be slower
no girl that threw me down. [than ever because she won’t care If she
does keep you watting.”
“Well, why shouldn't she care*, I’d
like to know?" inquired the caller with
an assumption of surprise designed to
be comic.
The young person hitched a little
closer to him in her eagerness. “I
just found out." she told him, “to
night. I guess they weren’t going to
tell me, but sister was so interested
in brushing out her switch that she
didn't notice me, and mother said. 'You
Plight have done better If‘you'd hud
more ambition, but, thunk heaven,
you're engaged at last!' And sister
said yes. it was time and she'd have
to make the best of it. Why, she's
engaged! Don't you understand?”
“You surprise nte," said the caller,
with interest.
Very Exciting-.
~ V
H
By OLIVETTE
A DA1NTY little model this for wear with the lacy gowns of July
and August. All in pure white. It tones well with the bright
• yes and softly flushed cheeks of midsummer days. Draw folds
of voft chiffon or mousselaine do soie over the crown and brim of a
small milk-white straw shape-chip will do, though milan is better
and “horsehair" best of all. Around the crown draw taffeta ribbon
finishing in a “pump bo\v" directly in front, from under this bow. in
either direction, lay sheafs of wheat in the prevailing tone of white.
And now the final touch is given by the coquettish ruches of soft
chiffon that face the entire under brim and appear softly at the back
where the brim lias a decided upward roll.
Sister’s Engagement
TO-DAY'S COMPLETE STORY.
T
11E daughter of the household, aged
11. looked up from her book as the
man caller came Into the library.
How do you do, Mr. Dearmore,” she
Quite Taxable
tvillia: « JenpiTig-> Bryan on< « visit
ed Cornell University, and while being
entertained to dinner by a prominent
member of the legal fraternity he told
the following story:
"Once out in Nebraska 1 went to
protect against my real estate assess
ment. and one of the things of which
I particularly complained was assets*
Ing a goat at $25. I cla Imed t ha i a
goat was not real property In the le
gal sense of the word, and should not
be assessed. One of the assessors, a
ver\ plea ant-faced old man, very
obligingly said that i could go up
stairs with him. and together we
would look over the rules and regula
tions and see what could be done. We
' looked over the rules, and finally the
old man asked:
“ ‘Does your goat run loose on this
road ?'
“ ‘Well, sometimes.' said 1. wonder
ing what the penalty was for that
dreadful offense.
“‘Does he butt*.’’ again queried the
old man.
" Yes.’ 1 answered, ‘he butts*.'
“ ‘Well,’ said the old man. looking
at me, ’this rule says tax all property
running and abutting on the highway.
I don’t see that 1 can do anything for
vou. Good day. sir.’
Drink-
Maxwell
House
Blend
“The Quaiity Coffee"
More sold and more
enjoyed than any ■
other high grade cof
fee in the South.,
Staled cam* at tracer a
Cheek-Neal Coffee Co.,
KasfeUlc, Hoostoc. Jacktoanlie
The young person nodded her head.’
‘It's awfully exciting to have an en-
»aged person in the family. \Y» never
had one before.
I held my hand
my mouth to keep from asking right
out who it was, but I knew if I spoke
they’d make me go away and then all
they said was that where the yooser
was coming from if dad didn’t make a
killing goodness only knew % What's a
trooser?"
I
be-
d her.
loud to
oung
“I’d
he
rid-
and
and
and
A sort of feminine delirium,
lieve," the young man tolc
Wouldn’t you like to read
me from your book?”
“Not when I can taik." th«
person assured him, promptly
think it was Bob Samson, only
hasn't been here for ages. He's
ing around a ranch out West now
he always brought me chocolates
petted the dog and waited hours
hours for sister. Mother told her one
day for goodness sake when she gof
her hands on that huge old Samson
house to burn it down and put up an
other one with a French gray drawing
room and other things, but 1 guess Bob
slipped a cog somehow"
"Hr what?"
“Well, Aunt Clara said to mother that
a cog in the wheels must have slipped
somehow, and how did he ever get
away, and wasn't it a pity! So I sup
pose Bob did it l always liked his
chocolates—he bought me just as go<xl
ones as he bought sister. Sometimes
they try to pass off cheap candy on
me, but I know! Then 1 feed it to the
dog.
“I’m glad it wasn't that Siddens man
He always called me ‘little one* and
patted my head and he had bronchitis
and always coughed before he ftpok<>.
and sister said she didn't care if he
le couldn't endure a
brown ties anti ate
a fork and anyhow lie
hi vers That was the
lded so and sister went
to Aunt Clara’s for a month.
"I'm surprised at her getting engag
ed, because she'll have to have a house
and meals then and she says picking
out things to oat is simply awful and
site wouldn’t wear her life away keep
ing down the grocery hills for any man
and he might as well make up his mind
to it. Anyhow, sister never loses her
head, because mother says so, and
she'll make hint toe the mark. Mother
says that with her sweet smile sister
could make a man believe white was
black, but that seems foolish. Wouldn’t
you know blaek if you saw it?"
“I used to think 1 was al»le to dis
tinguish colors," admitted the caller.
A Surprise.
"But you’re different," said the young
person. “It isn't as though you were
one of sister's trailers that's what dad
calls 'em. It doesn’t make any differ
ence to you. Only I thought If I told
you about it you’d understand why she
didn’t hurry to get down here, now
she's interested in one particular man.”
“Well," said the caller, “I'll tell you
a secret. I'm the particular man!"
The young person’s eyes bulged
"Honest?" she squealed. “Why, 1 was ,
never so sur-r-p-prised In my 1-1-life!
And you never petted the dog once! My,
but you’re quiet!"
Snap Shots
Bv LILLIAN LAUFERTY.
RECIPE FOR WRITING.
ttaHE one way to write is to do it
I Sit down to your typing ma
chine and rattle the keys till a
poem slips out where mere space has
just been. Sounds simple—well, lis
ten: it isn't; it’s only the way you
should write. Do 1 do it? Well, no.
I’m confessing that it’s not thus my
stings I indite. But 1 take up my lit
tle tan Faber, and cudgel my little
gray brain, and 1 cover great sheets
of white paper right over’ and over
again with lead marks of black and
with smudges which mean that I had
to erase. Each "1 just dashed off'
chap really drudges. He denies? Then
he’s paid for his "space!”
* • •
ENVOI.
A little work, a little play
To keep us going—and so.
Good-day!
A little warmth, a little light
Of love’s bestow ing—and so,
Good-night!
A little fun to match the sorrow
Of each day’s growing—and so,
Good-morrow!
A little trust that when we die
We reap our sowing! And so—
v Good-bye!
George DuMaurier.
• • •
MAIDEN MUSINGS.
The man a girl can influence does
rich, but e
who wore
ifrult with i
uuc moth
ot need
Men generally give us what we ex
it of them. Think well of a scamp
his natural conceit will make him
cik to keep on fooling you.
REMEMBERING
By WILLIAM F. KIRK.
I K 1 could Just remember, when the past is on parade.
Some little deed of merit for each big mistake I’ve made,
The other days, long vanished, would be glad days to recall,
But Memory leans toward wilder scenes—and l can see them
all,
If f could Just remember, counting back .i score of yearr.
One act that made a loved one smile—not ten that prompted tears—
I’d dream the past dreams over and forget the wasted wine,
But Memory loves to taunt me with the error* that were mine.
If I could Just remember, in the twilight of my life,
One speech that made for peace and love—not ten that hastened
strife—
The future might seem dreary and the present might be bare,
But the past would be an orchard with a thousand songbirds there.
The Girl With the Monocle
No, This Isn’t English, Y Know; It’s the Rage in Paris
mmm
How to Manage a Husband
By DOROTHY DIX.
ci^HEY had admired all of the little | conviction, to eternity, and be loyal
| bride’s wedding finery, and had lo one loved to the death itself.
X finally drifted over to’ where aDd - lf - t ou »’ ufihe(J her to the wal1
the tea table was set by an open
window.
nd If
Mhe’d fight until there wasn’t an
emy left alive, but She would never
... ,, , ,. . . , 1 argue /i question with vou. or say “
Well, my dear, said the woman ■ ■ - - ' -
in the soft white gown, "I hope you
ar " f° ,n * "* 'T h “PPy ““ ,h ?„ da / s i unpieaRantnes!
are long, and I am sure you will, for “Well wrt,pn
Jack is a fine fellow, and he Is well
to do. and an orphan, so you are
going to escape hard times and moth
ers-in-law. two of the principal snags
that are most apt to make a big dent
in the barque of matrimony, even
when they don’t wreck it.
"Still, you must not expect to And,
everything plain sailing. There are What She Did.
■' ">“">• 0,1 «“* •She only conversed upon the sub-!
calmest sea of wedlock, and you arc- v
going to find out that lots of things '-loots that she knew he agreed with
that you expected to happen won’t her upon. She devoted her days to
thing that would hurt your feeling,'-.
' or do anything to make the stlghtes:
vhen the rosy mists of the
honeymoon rolled up and she discov
ered that she was married to a man 1
who was twin brother to the fretful j
porcupine, and whose prejudices sim- ;
ply strewed the ground around him, j
she undertook to manage him by J
1 tact.
happen, and a lot of tilings that you
wt re positive couldn’t oedur, do occur
with amazing frequency.
"Also, you are going to discover,
and it will give you the jar of your
Ilf**, that the noble Ideal of perfect
manhood that you are tying up with
has got faults, and peculiarities, and
whims, and crochets that you have
ro ver suspected concealed about hi
rubbing his fur down the right way.
Sin- kept everything that was un
pleasant, and that could possibly ruf
fle* him, hidden out of sight, and spent ,
her life tip-toeing on eggs for* fear ;
of rousing him and exploding his in- '
fernai machine of a temper. In short, [
in order to keep the peace and make
person. I her home happy, she w ent through
"Now you take it from me. that the j a very martyrdom of sacrifice of ail i
great thing in married life is for the of her desires and inclinations.
wife- to begin right, to get off on the
right foot, so to speak, for every nvj i
can be managed, and brought to eat
out of his wife’s hand, if only she
goes about it In the proper manner."
"What is the best way of managing
a husband?" anxiously inquired the
little bride.*
The Best Way.
"Well,” replied the woman in the
soft white gown. “1 can’t do better
than relate to you the experiences of
two friends of mine, both of whom
married good men. hut men who were
high tempered, and tyrannical, and
cross —the sort of men you know who
ponses* all of the virtues and none of
the lovable qualities of life. They are
the kind of husbands who are too
much gentlemen ever to strike a
woman with their hand, but who
leave her bruised and bleeding, and
wounded to death in spirit after they
I14V0 stabbed her with their tongues.
•There are lots of men like that, my
dear, and when I get elected to th»
Legislature the very first thing I am
going to do is to bring in a bill to
make a man's disposition, instead of
hl« morals 1 , a caus-'e for divorce.
’But back to my story. One of
these women whom I am telling you
is named Bertha, and she is one of
those gentle, suave women who are
born salve spreaders. Anything like
jolt In the domestic machinery hurts
jier to tiie very core of her being.
She isn’t weak. Oh. dear no. She
would hang on to a principle, or a
"H’m," said the little bride, “and j
how did the other woman manag-
her husband?"
"The other woman." replied the
woman of the soft, white dress, "was 1
of a different type. She had a red
headed temper of her own that was j
a dead ringer for her husband’s, be- j
sides which she loved a scrap for the
pure fun of the thing. She didn’t j
dodge the issue when her husband i
flung a debatable subject into the |
family arena. She simply rolled up
her sleeves and sailed in, and when 1
the domestic mix-up was over she
wasn’t always the one who was on j
the mat.
“She was jp good woman, and a
good wife and mother, who did her 1
full duty by her family, and she stood !
pat on her record. She didn’t waste
any time trying to jolly or cajole per
husband as poor Bertha did. If he j
didn’t like the way she did things, j
and her opinions, why he'could lump lines on which the training and edu
S r UPRISING as it may seem, this is not an English fad at
all, although London society is always given the credit
—or discredit—for styles in monocles, but it is a novelty taken
up by “smart" Parisiennes.
Advice to the
Lovelorn
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
GO TO AN ARTIST.
HEAR MISS FAIRFAX:
^ Not a day that goes by that I /
am not told of the wonderfully
beautiful hand I have. Artists
have, stopped me and apologized
in the cars and commented on my
beautiful hand. Of course, I paid
no attention to these comments,
but it seems that if I could ob
tain some revenue through hav
ing my hand posed i should'like
to avail myselfAof the opportu
nity. MISS R.
Have your mother go with you to
the studio of some reputable artist
and ask his opinion.
I am sure, however, that there aro
many ways 'more lucrative and enno
bling by which your hands can earn
you a living. Have you tried them?
DON’T GIVE IT.
D ear miss Fairfax:
Is it proper for a young man
of 18 to present his lady friend
with a diamond ring on her six
teenth birthday? We are not en
gaged, but the love between us
could not be broken, as we have
known each other for four years.
V. A. H. F.
Eighteen and sixteen often decide
their “bond of love can’t be broken, *
and change their minds ten times be
fore they are old enough to marry.
Your love may develop into a senti
ment more lasting, but don’t givg dia
mond rings till you are older, and
know.
THE OUTSIDE.
TAEAR MISS FAIRFAX:
“A” said that when a man i9
walking with two girl friends he
must walk in the center. “B” said
when a man is walkinw with two
girls he must walk on the outside.
H. N. L. M.
A gentleman should always take ti»o
outside of the walk.
Wouldn’t Be Done
Robbie met a neighbor who was
smoking some fine, fragrant tobacco
sent by his son in America. He took
out his own pipe ostentatiously.
"Hae you a match, Sandy?” he in
quired.
The match was forthcoming, but
nothing more.
“I do believe,” said Robbie, “I hae
left ma tobacco at hame./
“Then.” said Sandy, after a silence,
“ye mich' gie me back ma match.”
From Innocence of Thought
By Virginia TcrhuneVan De Water
M
ITCH has* been written and said
within the past few years in
commendation of the broad
It. that was all. She was an inde
pendent, free spoken woman, and she
didn’t see why she should wear her
self out fiattering any old husband
into doing the things he ought fo do,
anyway.
And she didn’t mind expressing
these sentiments, but the result was
that their house was a dark and
bloody battle ground, with no day
without its spat. But that was her
way of managing a husband."
“Which one of the systems work?"
asked the little bride with a troubled
air.
“Neither," replied the woman in the
soft, white gown.
Flying Men’s Mascots
CURIOUS SUPERSTITIONS OF AVIATORS.
L rei: plays a big pain in the life of
an aviator, and for this reason most
airmen are very superstitious. The
majority of aviators carry jnascots
when they fly, and the cleverer the pilot
the more the luck-bringing emblems
he seems to possess. Vedrines, 1 the
crack French flyer, always has a min
iature of the famous picture “Mona
Lisa” fastened to the side of his aero
plane when he starts on a flight. He
carried this picture on his racing mon
oplane recently when he won the cup
at a record speed of 105 miles an hour.
Grahame- White doefe not trouble about
mascots to any great extent, but he in
variably wears a pair of check riding
breeches under his flying overalls when
he makes a flight. These garments
are popularly supposed to be lucky, and
many other aviators have adopted a
similar flying garb. Notable among
these is Blolovoucic, the young Peru
vian airman, fcho recently flew over
the Alps.
A Lion’s Tooth.
Another favorite mascot is a little
Teddy bear which is strapped to one
of the wing stays on the machine. In
uaval flying circles a lion’s tooth is
considered to be a lucky mascot for
airmen a fashion created by the late
Lieutenant Parke, for with such an em
blem he came out of many serious
smashes unscathed. Lewis Turner, the
well-known pilot instructor, who flies
the t’audron biplanes, has so many mas
cots that he is generally in doubt as
to which he shall take up With him.
He recently remarked that were he to
wear all his mascots at once he would
be mistaken for a toy dealer.
There are many quaint superstitions
in vogue at the aerodromes. Chief among
these is that should a pilot have one
smash he will have two others on the
same day if he continues flying. This
belief is so firmly rooted in the minds
of most aviators that after a mishap
they seldom again trust themselves on
a machine until twenty-four hours have
passed
Unlucky Thirteen.
Many airmen also .have a supersti
tious dislike of flying in bright sunshine.
But there is a substratum of common
sense running through this belief. The
hot ra> s of the sun w hen shining on a
damp ground cause heat eddies in the
air. which are very dangerous to flying
men. These are known as air pockets,
which are holes in the air that contain
no support for machine or man.
Flying on the thirteenth day of the
month Is in great disfavor amongst
many airmen. And this superstition is
largely due to the fact that so many
fatal accidents have occurred to airmen
on this date. Last year ten pilots
were killed whilst flying on the thir
teenth of the different* months and al
ready this year three airmen have been
killed, two on the thirteenth of Jan
uary and one on the thirteenth of Feb
ruary.
Airmen are also influenced by the
behavior of animals on the ground when
they are flying over them. If horses
or cattle appear terrified at a pilot’s
approach, and utter warning cries, then
this is regarded as an omen of ill-luck.
But if the animal over which he is
passing are not alarmed to any extent
by his approach, then he has little fear
that h’s flight will be anything but suc
cessful.
Another bad omen is the stopping of
a watch on an aeroplane when it is
aloft.
Lady passengers are popularly sup
posed to ensure the success of an areo-
plane flight. One of the most eonsist-
tent luck-bringers in this respect, is
Miss Trehawke Davies. She invaria
bly brings luck to the pilot who takes
her on a flight. She recently accom-
panied Hammel in the Aerial Flying
Derby round London when he obtained
the second place after a magnificent
flight. Miss Davies flew on several
occasions with the late Mr. Astley. A
few days before his death this airman,
whilst flying with Miss Davies, fell in
his monoplane from a height of nearly
a hundred feet. Both pilot and pas
senger escaped with a shaking. A few-
days later Mr. Astley, when flying alone
on a similar machine in Ireland, side
slipped in the air at a low* altitude and
was killed on the spot.
Got It Regular Then.
Mrs. Subbub: “I wonder what’s
come over, your master this morning.
Sarah? Instead of being cross, as
usual, he started off happy and whis
tling like a bird.”
Sarah (the new "general"): “I’m
afraid it’s my fault, mum. 1 got the
wrong package, and gave him bird
seed for breakfast food.”
cation of the modern girl is conduct
ed. To add further approval to this
twentieth century method would be
platitudinous. To cast a slur upon it,
or to hint that the latest ideal in the
upbringing of women has its attend
ant drawbacks, is to lay one’s self
open to the onus of being old-fash-
loned.
It ic a sin in the piinds of most
people of this generation to be old-
fashioned or behind the times in
ideals and theories. Yet some of us
conservatives still cling to certain of
the tenets that were instilled into us
20 and 30 years ago. The memory of
our own girlhood sometimes leads us
to compare the giri of the period with
the “young person” of our early days,
and the modern product does not
emerge unscathed from the compari
son.
It would be carrying conservatism
Daysey Mayme
And Her Folks
By FRANCES L. GARSIDE.
L’
Y SANDER JOHN APPLETON
has an affectionate disposition.
Unless her mouth is full of pins
or hairpins, he never leaves the
house without kissing his wife good
bye.
On rare, occasions he has given her
money as'he was leaving, and when
in her alaurity to accept it she has
forgotten to kiss him he has been
grievously pained. He has never ex
perienced that feeling of momentary
reprieve which comes to colder-heart
ed husbands oh such occasions.
He was in a tender mood the other
evening, and sought to put his arm
around his wife’s waist. Alas for
the ignorance of rhan and the tyr
anny of fashion! He couldn’t
find it!
He stepped back and looked at her
in a puzzled way. Then he followed
the line laid out by the dressmaker
and slid his'arm gently ground under
her armpits. V
The next evening, still tender and
loving, this being the springtime of j
the year, he again put his arm under |
his wife’s armpits, but her waist was
not there!
He scratched his head in a puzzled
fashion and felt a momentary rebuff.
But his love is not of the kind that
brooks discouragement, and, after a
moment’s survey of her form divine,
he got down on the floor and put his
arm around her ankle, th4 dress
maker having located her waist there j
in the dress she was then Iwearing.
The following evening fLysander I
John looked before he attempted to
embrace, and found her Kvaist was 1
not at her ankles! It had been moved j
up to her knees!
It was then that he wafc overcome
with a sense of the helplessness of
man when opposed to the tyranny
of fashion, and he bowed his head
in anguish and cried aloud.
“It used to be so simple (a matter,”
he cried, beating his harAJs on his
breast, “for a man to pun his arms
around the waist of the \Voman he
loved, but alas! it is a simple matter!
no longer!
“It has become a movable sacra
ment of love!”
to the limits of folly not to admit the
tremendous value of the broader, and
deeper, and franker training which
the modern girl receives over that of
her prototype of a quarter century
ago. It would be the height of bigot
ry not to admit that by her twentieth
century education, she has become a
clearer thinking, more self-reliant,
more useful member of society than
her parent was. Yet there are some
things missing in the character of the
“young person" of to-day which make
her elders regret that a modern edu
cation could not be ikbsorbed by her
without a radical alteration taking
place in her character.
Our girl has lost much of the sent!
mental appeal that belonged to her
aunt’s or mother’s girlhood days. I
do not mean by sentiment the mawk
ish s'upcrconsciousness of sex which
sometimes masquerades under that
name and which can not be too soon
stamped out as a menace to all that
is best in womanhood. But I do mean
that she nas lost much of her one
time ability to rail forth the highest
and best in young mankind by her
fresh, untarnished view of the world.
j Shrugged His Shoulders.
A youth of my acquaintance called
I recently on a girl with whom he was
| much smitten—after the fashion of
J the male young of the species. The
girl was college-bred and had the
! sophistication of her type. The young
man was fond of reading, and the
talk drifted into literature. The girl
advanced her own theories concerning
; BrieuX and other constructive Euro
pean writers with absolute frankness,
and before the evening ended had
I aired all her ideas and opinions on the
white slave question. When the young l
man mentioned the conversation to
me my face must have betrayed soma
surprise, for he'’ shrugged his should
ders and laughed a little bitterly.
"Girls have changed since your day,
I guess/’ he remarked—"more’s tho
pity! ”
They have changed since that day.
They have changed for the better in
many things. To a person with en
tirely modern views they may have
Improved in all things. Yet ft seems
a pity that in her intellectual advance
our girl should have failed to retain
much of the grace and sweetness that
served as an inspiration to the men
who were youths 20 and 30 years ago.
The Exchange.
In the course of her evolution the
“young person" of to-day has ex
changed innocence of thought for
consciousness of morality. She no
longer has manners—she has Man
ner. She had transformed what was
once poise into Pose.
Yet the characteristics which soma
of us are so narrow as to deplore are
doubtless only Indications of the ad
vance in th<* evolution of a woman far
broader and better than her predeces
sors were. Yet, as old-fashioned folk,
some of us recall the girls we knew
when we were young, and sigh—but
very softly, lest the Young Person of
To-day should hear—and censure—us.
No Fail for Recipe.
She— T sent a dollar to a young
woman for a recipe to make me look
young."
“What did you get?”
“A card saying. ‘Always associate /
with women twenty years older than
yourself.”
Here’s
the
Sweet
for
YOU
The sweet for you is Velva Syrup in
the red can. It is never equalled on
griddle cakes, waffles, muffins or bis
cuits. Besides, you can make so many
other sweets with it—candies, cakes and
fudge, dainty desserts and sugarplums.
is always sold in clean, sanitary cans—
never from barrels or casks. It is made
for particular folk—for you, Buy it to
t*y and you’ll buy it again. You can
get Velva in the green can from your
grocer if you prefer it. Ten cents up,
according to size. Send for the book
of Velva recipes. No charge.
PENICK & FORD, Ltd.
New Orleans, La.
CHOCOLATE TAFFY
1 -2 cupful Red Velva Syrup, 1 cupfui
sugar, 1-2 cupful milk, 1-2 cupful
butter, 1-4 pound bitter chocolate,
2 1-2 tcasooonfuls almond extract.
Put Syrup into a pan. add chocolate,
butter, milk and sugar; boil steadily
20 minutes, stirring noxv and then.
Add extract, pour into a buttered tin.