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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.