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The Manicure
Lady
A Charming Midsummer Hat
♦ ♦
♦ ♦
REMEMBERING
By WILLIAM F. KIRK.
♦ ♦
♦ ♦
By WILLIAM F. KIRK.
J F I could just remember, when the pest in on parade.
HAT must be some Interest
ing. that novel you are read
ing there.” remarked the
Head Barber. "You ain’t had your
ncse out of it all the forenoon.”
it is a beautiful ■torv, George. I
• lmost cry in some parts of it, and
when the laughs come they are sure
great. I didn't skip a line of it. either,
and 1 have just finished the last page
The title of it is Starflower,’ and it
was wrote by Mrs. Eleanor Shirley
1 )«-wflicker. And then they say that
women can’t write! Maybe some
v imcn writes stories that is kind of
punk and then gets made fun of by
the critics, but this woman that wrote
Starflower’ is some queen of a wrlt-
- Gee, there i* some love passages
that is simply superfluous and almost
Miblimate. ‘Starflower’ is the name of
the heroine, a little girl that always,
lived in the northern part of Pennsyl-
\nnia. She is so pretty and sweet
that she has lovers come from ever> -
where to try to win her hand, hut
-ue loves only one, a young man who
ik doing Scientific farming near her
father’s home. Of course science Is
great thing, George, and I suppose
r it helps raise big crops it must help
t man to make love, too. Anyhow,
she loves him and some day they ar«
to wed. Just listen to this part, where
they are engaged:
Very Pathetic.
"•Starflower.' whispered Hubert,
1,luring lift little trembling paint in
ni.. MrnnR right hnnd. ‘Little Kiri, I
am plain and direct in my speech, as
. ,,u know I can't write poetry for
vou, little Kill, like (he Byron poems
\ OU l ead to me out in I he orchard,
and I ain't no Tennyson, but 1 am a
man with a man s heart und two will
ing: hands. 1 love you!'
" And I love you, Boh,' murmured
Starflower. bewildered by the won
derful rush of happiness mat swept
over her lithe form and suffused her
cheeks with the first flush of girlish
love.
Alt oriole flnshed brlKhtly through
the crimson sumac and the brook rip-
pied alonK like some soft accompani
ment lo the oldest, sweetest story In
I lie world."
"Gee, George; ain't that somo writ
ing?"
••Did he marry her and make a lot
of kale?" asked the practical Head j
Barber.
"No. George." replied the Manicure
Lady. "That Is tin pitiful iwrt of it.
\ young bridge builder named Walter
C.r'r came to the little town where
Starflower dwelt, and lie kind of daz
zled her with Ills fine Kngllsh and his
wonderful piano playing. He was a
allege man. and her Robert didn't
I,now nothing about Virgil or Horace
or Rameaes or any of them old-timers.
Orr knew all about thai% ail. and he
could change his voice until It got as
soft as tlic rustling of the breeze
through the autumn leaves When
hi was talking to Ids men he spoke
kind of commanding, hut when lie
spoke to iter he always spoke with
the sofi pedal. One night, George.
In agreed to run away with him. and
l ie next morning they were gone.
.Hist after they eloped Orr got tired
end had lo take a imsition that paid
him about one-quarter as much mon-
as her former sweetheart made
e\ er\ week out of ills registered milk
It mu his registered cows.
It Sounds All Right.
"When she s;i\n poverty staring: her
:n the face she took some kind of a
powder and they found her still in
death with a note to Robert pinned
mi her night robe. j^ien Robert
hoard about it and w6nt so insane
that he called all his cows Starflow-
£ome little deed of merit for each big mistake I’ve made
The other da>«, long vanished, would be glad days to retail.
But Memory leans toward wilder scenes—and I can see them a! 1
If I could Just remember, counting back a score of years.
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 errors 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.
How to Manage a Husband
By DOROTHY DIX
The Girl With the Monocle
Ao, This Isn’t English, Y Know; It's the Rage in Paris
By OLIVETTE
A DAINTY little* model this for wear with the lacy gowns of .July
and August. Ail in pure white, it tones well with the bright
eyes and softly flushed cheeks of midsummer days. Draw folds
of voft chiffon or mousselaine de sole over the crown and brim of a
small milk-white straw shape- * hip will do, though milan is better
and "horsehair” best of all. Around the crown draw taffeta ribbon
finishing in a "pump bow” directly In front. From under this bow. in
cither 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 has a decided upward roll.
Sister’s Engagement
TO-DAY’S COMPLETE STORY
"It sounds all right,” said the Head
Barber, “but I wouldn’t go nuts over
no girl that threw me down!”
William Jennings Bryan once visit-
id Cornell University, and while being
♦■nteriained to dinner by a prominent
» mb* r of the legal fraternity he told
the following story:
Once out in Nebraska 1 went to
pro • -t against my real estate assess
ment, and one of the things of which
I particularly complained was assess
ing a goat at $25. 1 claimed that a
gnat was not real property iu the le
gal sense of the word, and should not
h. ass ..■••*! One of the assessors, a
vetv plea- nit-faced old man. very
obligingly said that 1 could go up-,
stairs with him. and together we
would look over the rules and regula
tors and see what coulvl be done. We
looked over the rules, and finally the
old man asked:
" ‘Does your goat run loose on this
road?’
‘Well, sometimes.’ said I. wonder
ing what the penalty was for that
dreadful offense.
" ho* ^ h« hint?* again queried the
old man.
" ’Yes.' 1 answered, ‘he butt.«*
‘Well.’ said the old man. looking
•t me. ‘this rule says tax all property
running and abutting on the highway.
1 don’t see that I can do anything for
you. Good day. sir.’ ”
Drink-
Maxwell
House
Blend
**The Quality Coffee
More sold and more
enjoyed than any
other high grade cof
fee in the South.
Sealed cant at grocert
Cheek-Neal Coflee Co.,
Kasbvdle. Hosatoa. JacksMvftl*.
T HE daughter of the household, aged
It, looked up from her book as the
man caller came into the library.
‘‘How do you do, Mr. Deermore,” she
saiil, getting up politely. “You might
as well take a comfortable choir be
cause sister won't be down for ages.
She is always slow' about getting dress
ed ami 1 supposed now she’ll he slower
than ever because she won’t care If she
does keep you waiting.”
"Well, w 1# shouldn’t she care. I’d
like to know?” Inquired the caller with
an assumption of surprise designed to
he 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
might have done better If you’d had
more ambition, but, thank 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 me,” said the caller,
with Interest.
Very Exciting.
The young person nodded her head
"It's awfully exciting to have an en
gager! person in the family. We never
had one before I held my hand over
my mouth to keep from asking right
out who it was, but I knew If 1 spoke
they’d make in a go away and then all!
they said, was that where the trooser j
whs coming front if dad didn't make a
killing goodness only knew What's a j
trooser?"
to Aunt ("Mara's for a month.
“I'm surprised at Iter getting engag
ed, because she'll have to have a house
and meals then and she says picking
out things to eat is simply awful and
site wouldn't wear her life away keep
ing down the grocery bills for any man
and he might as w’ell make up his mind
to it. Anyhow, sister never loses her
head, because mother says so, and
she'll make him* 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* black if you saw it?”
“I used to think I was able 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 uny 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. I was
never so sur-r-p-prised in my 1-1-life!
And you never petted the dog once! My,
but > ou're quiet!"
nnHEY had admired all of the little
I bride's wedding finery, and had
finally drifted over to where
the tea table was «et by an open
window.
"Well, my dear,” said the woman
in the soft white gown. "1 hope you
are going to be as happy ns the days
are long, and I am sure you will, for
Jack is a fine fellow, and he is well
to do. and an orphan, so you arc
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 find
everything plain sailing. There are
a good many storms on even the
calmest sea of wedlock, and you are
going to find oui that lots of things
that you expected to happen won't
happen, and a lot of things that you
were positive couldn't occur, do occur
with amazing frequency.
"Also, you are going to discover,
and it will give you the jar of your
life, 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
never suspected concealed about his
pefson.
"Now you take it from me. that the
gr/at thing in married life is for the
wife to begin right, to get off on the
right foot, so to speak, for every nrji
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, "I can’t do better
than relate to you the experiences of
two friends of mine, both of whom
married good men. but men who wore
high tempered, and tyrannical, and
cross—the sort of men you know who
possess 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, hut who
leave her bruised and bleeding, and
wounded to death In spirit after they
have stabbed her with their tongues.
"There are lots of men like that, my
dear, and when I get elected to the
Legislature the very first thing 1 am
going to do is to bring in a bill to
make a man's disposition, instead of
his morals, a .caus'C 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
a Jolt in the domestic machinery hurts
her to the very core of her being.
She isn’t weak. Oh, dear no. She
would hang on to a principle, or a
conviction, to eternity, and be loyal
to one she loved to the death itself,
and if you pushed her o the wa 1 .
Mhe’d fight until there wasn't an en
emy left alive, but she would never!
argue a question with you, or say i
thing ihat would hurt your feeling?,
or do anything to make the slighter:
unpleasantness.
"Well, when the rosy mists of the
honeymoon rolled up and she discov
ered that she was married to a man
who was twin brother to the fretful
porcupine, and whose prejudices sim
ply strewed the ground around him.
she undertook to manage him by !
tact.
What She Did.
"She only conversed upon the sub- j
jects that she knew he agreed with I
her upon. She devoted her days to
rubbing his fur down the right way.
She kept everything that was un
pleasant, and that could possibly ruf-
i fie him. hidden out of sight, and spent
her life tip-toeing on eggs for fear
of rousing him and exploding his in
fernal machine of a temper. In short, ;
in order to keep the peace and make
her home happy, she went througli
a Very martyrdom of sacrifice of ail !
of her desires and inclinations.
"H’m,” said the little bride, "and !
how’ did the other woman manage !
her husband?”
"The other woman,” replied the
woman of the soft, white dress, “was
of a different type. She had a red- j
headed temper of her own that was
a dead ringer for her husband’s, be
sides which she loved a scrap for the
pure fun of the thing. She didn’t
dodge the issue w’hen her husband
flung a debatable subject into the
family arena. She simply rolled up
her sleeves and sailed in. and when
the domestic mix-up was over she
wasn't always the one who was on
the mat.
“She was a good woman, and a
good wife and mother, who did her
full duty by her family, and she stood
pat on her record. She didn't waste
any time trying to jolly or cajole her
luisbfftid as poor Bertha did. If he
didn’t like the way she did things,
and her opinions, why he could lump
it, that was all. She was an inde
pendent, free spoken woman, and she
didn’t see why she should wear her
self out flattering any o\d husband
into doing the things he ought to do,
anyway.
"And she didn't mind expressing
these sentiments, hut 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.
S URPRISING 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, hut it is a novelty taken
up by “smart” Parisiennes.
Advice to the
Lovelorn
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
DON'T GIVE IT.
HEAR MISS FAIRFAX:
Is It proper for a young man
of 18 to present his lady friend
with a diamond ring on her six-A
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 give dia
mond rings till you are older, and
know'.
THE OUTSIDE.
DEAR MISS FAIRFAX:
“A” said that when a man i»
walking with tw'o 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. Li. M.
A gentleman should always take tiie
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
left ma tobacco at hame." \
"Then,” said Sandy, after a silence,
"ye rnich’ gie me back ma match.'’
From Innocence of Thought
By Virginia TerhuneVan De Water
Snap Shots
By LILLIAN LAUFERTY.
Flying Men’s Mascots
CURIOUS SUPERSTITIONS OF AVIATORS.
M UCH- haM been written and said
within the past few years in
commendation of the broad
lines on which the training and edu
cation of tiie modern girl is conduct
ed. To add further approval to this
twentieth century method would lie
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
ioned.
It h* a sin in the minds of most
people of this generation to be ald-
fashioned or behind the times in
ideals and theories. Y r et some of us
conservatives still cling to certain of
the tenets that were instilled into us
!0 and 30 years ago. Tiie memory of
RECIPE FOR WRITING.
"A sort of feminine delirium. 1 be
lieve," the young man told lie?
Wouldn’t you like tQ read out loud to
me from your book?”
"Not when I can talk,” the young
person assured him. promptly. "I'd
th»nk dt was Bob Samson, onI> he
hasn't been here for ages. lie’s rid
ing around a ranch out West now and
he always brought me chocolates and
petted the dog and waited hours ami
hours for sister Mother told her one
day for goodness sake when she got
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, hut l 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 1 sup
pose Bob did it I always liked his
chocolates—he bought me just as good
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 j
patted my head and he had bronchitis
and always coughed before he spoke.!
and sister said fthe didn’t care if he i
was rich, but she couldn't endure a I
man who wore brown ties and a’e j
grapefruit with a fork and anyhow he j
gave Ter th« shivers That was the j
limt scolded so wind sister went
f 11K one w ny to w rite is to do it
j Sit down to your typing ina
bine and rattle the keys t
poem slips out whore mere space has
just been. Sounds simple—well, lis
ten; it i>n't. It's only the way you
should write. Do I do it? Well. no.
I’m confessing that it’s not thus my
songs 1 indite. But I 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 1 had
to erase. Each "1 just dashed >ff”
chap really drudges. He denies" Then
he’s paid for his "space!"
ENVOI.
A tittle work, a liftle play
To keep us going—and- so.
Good-day!
A little warmth, a little light
Of love's bestowing—and so,
Good-night!
A little fun to match the sorrow
Of eaut day's growing—and so.
Good-morrow!
A little trust that when we die
We reap our sowing! And so-—
Good-bye!
George DuMaurier.
•MAIDEN MUSINGS.
The man a girl can influence doe;
i.ot need it.
Men generally give us what we ex
pect of them. Think well of u scamp
: nd his natural conceit will make him
work to keep on tooling >ou.
L UCK Plays a big part in the life of
an aviator, and for this reason most
airmen are very superstitious. The
majority of aviators carry mascots
w hen they fly, and the cleverer the pilot
the mofe the luck-bringing emblems
he seems to possess. Vedrir.es. the
crack French flyer, always has a min
iaturc of the famous picture "Mona
Lisa" fastened to the side cf his aero
plane when he starts on a flight. He
carried this picture on his racing mon
oplane recently when he won the cup
ai a record speed of 105 miles an hour.
Crahame-White does not trouble about
mascots to any great extent, but he in
variably wears a pair of check riding
breeches under his flying overalls when
hr makes a flight These garments
are popularly supposed to be lucky, and
many xithrr aviators have adopted a
similar flying garb. Notable among
these is Biolovoucic, the young Peru
vian airman, who 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
naval flying circles a lion's tooth is
considered to be a lucky mascot for
airmen a fashion create*! 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 Caudron biplanes, has so many mas-
c» ts that he is generally in doubt as
to which lie shall take up with him.
lie 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 afar 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 fly ing in bright sunshine.
But there is a substratum of common
sense running through this belief. The
hot rays of thA sun when shining on a
damp ground cause heat eduiee in the
air, which are very dangerous to flying
men. These are known as air pockets,
which are holes in the air that contain I
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 I
on this date. Last year ten pilots
were killed whilst flying on the thir- ]
teenth of the different months and ?I-
read.v this year three, airmen have been
killed, two on the thirteenth of Jan- |
nary and one on the thirteenth of Feb
ruary.
Airmen are also influenced by rhe
behavior of animals on tiie.ground when
they are flying over them. If horses
or rattle appear terrified at a pilot’s
approach, and utter warning cries, then
this is regarded as an omen of ill-luck.
But if the animals over which lie is
passing are not alarmed lo any extent
by his approach, then he has little fear
that his flight w ill 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
pose*! to ensure the success of an areo-
plane flight. One of the most consist-
tent luck-brirgers in this respect, is
Miss Trehaw’ke 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.
our own girlhood sometimes leads us'
to compare the girl 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
Bv FRANCES L. GARSIDE.
L
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 tor breakfast food."
YSANDER JOHN APPLETON
has an affectionate disposition.
Unless her mouth full of pins
or hairpins, he never loaves the
house without kissing his wife good
bye.
On rare occasions he has given her
money as lie was leaving, and when
in lie' 1 alacrity 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 on 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 man and the tyr
anny of fashion! He couldn’t
find it!
He stepped back and looked at her
in a puzzled way. Then lie followed
the line laid out by the dressmaker
and slid his arm gently around under
her armpits.
The next evening, still tender and
loving, this being the springtime of
the year, he again put his arm under
his wife's armpits, but ki r waist was
not there!
Hi 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, the dress
maker having located her waist there
in the dress she was then wearing.
The following evening Lysander
John looked before he attempted to
embrace, and found her waist was
no; at her ankles! It had been moved
up to her knees!
It was then that he was overcome
with o. 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, boating his hands on his
breast, ’’for a man to put his arms
around the waist <>f the woman he
loved, but alas! it is a simple matter
no longe-!
“It has become a movable sacra-*
ment of love!” ^
to tiie 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 pociety 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 absorbed by her
without a radical alteration taking
place in her character.
Our girl has lost much of the senti
mental appeal that belonged to her
aunt’s or mother’s girlhood days. I
do not mean by sentiment the mawk
ish .‘’jperconsciousness 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 1 do mean
that she has lost much of her one
time ability to call forth the highest
and best in young mankind by her
fresh, untarnished view of the world.
Shrugged His Shoulders.
A youth of my acquaintance called
recently on *a girl with whom he was
much smitten—after the fashion of
the male young of the species. The
gir l was college-bre J 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
aired all her ideas and opinions on the
white slave question. When the young
man mentioned the conversation
me my face must have betrayed soma
surprise, for he shrugged his shoul
ders and laughed a little bitterly.
."Girls have changed since your day,
T guers,” he remarked—"more’s the
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 it seemi
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 some
of us are so narrow as to deplore are
doubtless only Indications of the ad
vance in the 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. leK the Young Person of
To-day should hear—and censure—us.
No Fail for Recipe.
GO TO AN ARTIST.
T)EAR MISS FAIRFAX:
Not a day that goes by that T
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 T should like
to avail myself of the opportu
nity. MISS R.
Have- your mother go with you to
the studio of some reputable artiit
and ask his opinion. f
1 am sure, however, that there are
many wavs more lucrative and enno
bling by which your hands can earn
you a living. Have you tried them?
i
She—I sent a dollar to a young
woman for a recipe to make me look
young.” ^ i
"What did you get ?” , W
“A card saying. ‘Always associates
with women twenty years older than
yourself.”
A
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 soid in clean, sanitary cans—
never from barrels or casks. It is made
for particular folk —for you. Buy it to
try and you’ll buy it again. You can
get Velva in the green can from 'our
grocer if you prefer it. Ten centj 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 cupful
sugar, 1-2 cupful milk. 1-2 cupful
butter. 1-4 pound bitter chocolate,
1 1-2 teaspoonfuls almond extract.
Put Syrup into a pan. add chocolate,
butter, milk and sugar: boil steadily
20 minutes, stirring now and then.
Add extract, pour into a buttered tin.
trains