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U T •* m Hr o i, : One of the Samnles | A Romance of Great Wealth and the Came J | ' FT T\ / 17 PQ A \ j J/' TT f^\ D 'T’ E7 D Q A NoCelizalion °) the Successful Play of the j ! of Finance as Played by Money Kings J. A 1 l i 1 A 1 a X l\/ll 1 J^L V-/A\. A 1 Same Name Now Running in New York. Little Bobbie’s Pa ' r ■' — " ■ ■■■ ■■ ■ - ■ Nathan filled in the hiatus with a By BEATRICE FAIRFAX rpHF, little Kiri of this atory was one of the Sample Kiris, a large family of which you doubtless have heard many timea. Her baptis mal name is immaterial, but we will call her Grace, that helm? Just the sort of name for a Kiri who was so sweet and pretty In the beginning. She awakened one morninR feelinK strangely depressed and irritable. She hadn’t slept well; the morninR had come too soon, a habit It has under such circumstances, and she crawled out of bed without her customary feeling of gratitude for health, strength and a ple-arant home. She dressed quickly and nervously, her irritation finding vent in the man ner in which she Jerked on one gar ment after another, snapping off a button here and tearing a rent where a hook had caught in another place, each little accident adding fuel to her wrath till, by the time she had dress ed and was ready for breakfast, It had burst into full flame. Mother always understands, and the mother of Grace understood. Indeed she had been expecting Just such a scene for many days. But she said nothing, knowing among the many things that are revealed only to motherhood when silence is best The girl was moody and snappy to the girl friends she met on her way to work, and w r hen she reached the office she opened her typewriter desk with the same resentful hang she had given the door w'hen she left home. She took her dictation carelessly and Indifferently, mistakes resulted, and he*' employer spoke to her so sharply that when she returned from luncheon there were traces of tears around her eyes. Just the Same. The afternoon was a duplicate of the morning, and her manner toward the girls she met on the way home was so much worse that they formed little groups on the cars and shunned her. Not that she cared at all' If Grace had eared, her manner would have been less reprehensible. It made no difference to her, she argued, looking sullenly out of the window. She didn’t care for them any way, and she didn’t have any use for friends, and hoped she never would have any. She hated every body; she hated her position down town; she neared her home with a growing dislike for every one in it She knew just how the family would look, what they would say and what there would be for supper; every familiar detail of the home appeared in memory as something unbearably hideous. She was tired, she was bored, she even, as she opened tfye door of her home, wished she were dead, and the sullen tones in which she gave a curt ‘ Yes’’ to her mother’s cheerful in quiry of “Is that you. Grace?” bore out her mother’s mental diagnosis of her case in the morning. It is a very good thing for every one to occasionally take a thought bath, and had Grace taken one that day she would have found that the fault lay not with others, but with herself. Her temper, her morbidness and her selfishness all had their ori gin in overtaxed nerves And this thought bath might have revealed to Ijer that she hadn’t over taxed her nerves in giving pleasure to others, but in seeking it for herself. A Mistaken Thought. She was confined In an office all day, and with the blindness of youth thought that pursuit of pleasure at night meant rest. The evenings she spent at home were devoted to read ing highly seasoned fiction till a late hour instead of good, wholesome books till a reasonable hour and then going to bed. Or she invited In a few friends who came at 9 instead of at S. and stayed till midnight instead of till 10, and she made fudge and filled her stomach with all that Is unholy. Sometimes she went to a dance and •layed till 2, because she was too young to know 12 was late enough, and on other occasions she went to a theater and tortured her stomach wLh a supper at midnight. She was paying the penalty fo>- overtaxing her strength. She was burning the candle at both ends, an illumination that is the funeral pv.\ of the grace, the charm, the strength the freshness of youth. Are you. my dear, like Grace? rc you one of the Sample girls? Use Cottolene for cooking Having backed heavily the peace of Europe Nathan Rothschild is discon certed to find that Napoleon has burst forth again, and all the bank er’s outpouring of gold for national development In England will be en dangered. The banker hastens to Waterloo. There are the English, who have guaranteed to him that the peace of Europe shall he maintained From a height above the field of bat tle Rothschild sees the whole of 11 Rothschild sees that the wealth of the world lies in London, his for the taking if he can he first on the ground with the news of the battle He hurries to London, and next morning appeared on the Exchange That night he went to bed $10,000 000 richer. Seven years later a great banker left Vienna, another Naples, another Paris and another London, and trav eled to a little old house in Jews’ Lane, In Frankfort-arn-Main. It was a gathering of the bouse of Rothschild. Perhaps some king was very hard pressed for money. Now Go on With the Story, By KATHRYN KEY, Copyright, 1913, by the New York Even ing Journal Publishing Company. “Do you live in Paris?” she in quired. He nodded. “My business keeps me there.’’ “And you are a friend of famous composers: “Shall I introduce myself for mally?" he smiled. The girl held up an imperative finger. “Wait—-I will guess. Are you little Jacob?” Little Jacob's laugh rang through the house and the girl's silvery voice Joined In so that Prau Oudula heard them afar and smiled. "Now. it is your turn to guess.” cried the girl, putting up her glow ing face as if to give him plenty of opportunity for inspection. Jacob thought it an excellent opportunity for a number of things that he had considered somewhat frivolous up to this time, but which now assumed an entirely disproportionate import ance. He felt unwonted stirrings in his chest, a phenomenon that he dis covered to be due to certain remark able performances on the part of hi6 heart. "You don't belong to Frankfort," he said with a conviction that was not complimentary to the staid old city. “Well—no,” admitted the girl “Who—and what—do you think I am?” Heard His Grandmother. The “Who" might have stumped him, hut Jacob felt that he would tell her with much fervor what she was—the loveliest and most fascin ating human being he had even seen. Hut all he said, with a subdued thoughtful air, was: “You might be—an actress?” The girl clapped her hands and loaned back. “How flattering. ' she bubbled. “Or a lady of title,” he suggested hastily. “A countess, perhaps or a princess?” She leaned toward him with a grave little smile. “Or one of the family,” she sug gested softly. “No, no,” declared Jacob, with a conviction that placed the Roth schilds in the same category with Frankfort. The girl made a little moue at him. “Ought I say, ‘Thank you?’” she in quired. Before Jacob could make up bis mind to tell her what he thought she ought to say he heard his grand mother behind him. Well, Jacob. have you made friends?" she asked, beaming upon him. “He doesn’t know, quite, whether m a fit person for his friendship.” put in Charlotte, wickedly. Why, Jacob!” exclaimed his grand mother with Indignation. "This is Solomon’s Charlotte—from Vienna!" Charlotte, watching his face, burst into another merry peal of laughter, but his moment of revenge was at hand. “Goodness knows whnt he might have thought of me if you hadn’t •ome in. Grannie!” she laughed, as Jacob’s confusion grew. “Give your cousin a kiss. Jacob,” ■ommanded the old lady. And never was a grandmother obeyed with greater alacrity. But Charlotte drew >ack and got the table between them* \11 the confusion on her side now. “Do cousins kiss in Paris’.”' she sked, doubtfully. •What an idea!” exclaimed the 4 U wm Wi mm Jilii Presently There Entered a Girl Who Looked Like a Princess. frau. “In my time we held out our cheek and blushed." Charlotte could not be found guilty of disobedleV.^ on the score of blush ing, and for tv rest her cousin came to her rescue. “At least, I may kiss your hand,” he pleaded, gently. And with a quick, grateful smile she held it out. * • ♦ * * • “To-morrow I am going to take you for a drive—all of you. This was Solomon's opening of the family conference that evening. Am- schel, ponderous, uncrossed and crossed his legs. “Have you collected the family to give them a day in the country?” he inquired, mildly. “You will sec what’s at the end of the drive,” returned Solomon, mean ingly. Carl tapped the arm of his chair with his quizzing glass. “Have 1 been summoned from Na ples to engage in a guessing con test ?” he asked. Solomon gazed about the circle of solemn and frowning faces and chuckled. "1 believe you are getting impa tient!” he cried, good-naturedly. “Yes. of course.” retorted Nathan, from the edge of his lip. Solomon fished a large envelope out of his poeket and held It up. "Do you wonder why 1 brought all of you here?” he cried. “Well, here is one of the reasons. What do you think of it?” They Get a Title. Nathan stirred with impatience. “Need we waste any more time?” he asked coldly. "No. not a moment," declared Sol omon, dramatically. “This is a pres ent for all of us”—he turned to his mother with a bow and added: “Bar oness!” The men started forward in their chairs and stared at his. “Baroness,” he went on in a loud tone, “I have the honor to hand you a patent of nobility from the Chan- eery of State in Vienna—which raises us all to the rank of baron. The old frau took the paper with trembling fingers, entirely uncon scious of what she was doing. A dead silence followed the announcement, ,v 1 then it was broken by an explo sive: pon my word!” “Children, children." faltered the old woman. “I can not see clearly — read it for me—one of you.” “I Must Laugh.” Nathan sprang up and took the pa per. “Yes," he said, solemnly, while Carl peered over his shoulder and Amschel stared stupidly, "the Emperor has be stowed on us the rank of baron.” Carl snatched the paper and Nathan held OUt his hand to the master of the gift. "Solomon, you did that well,” he said, generously. "Well, mother, what have you to say?” cried Solomon, with a proud and happy laugh. The old lady was almost overcome by emotion. “I feel 1 must laugh!" she cried, un certainly. Then suddenly she re gained control of herself and her voice grew grave and solemn. “I am very proud—very glad for all your sakes. Your dear father would have been so pleased—only—you must not get conceited.” The paper was passed around again and again and the brothers slapped each other on the back and called each other by title to their hearts’ content. Jacob and Charlotte, alone, did not seem greatly impressed by the honor done them. “I am wondering if it really makes any difference,” said Jacob, slowly, when his grandmother chided him. “Listen to him—the spoilt child!” laughed Solomon. Then he added, soberly: “No. we are not changed— but we now have a sign of our suc cess which every one will recognize.” It was characteristic of Solomon that he dismissed his daughter from the conference before he took up even the matter of the price of the title. This, it developed, was in the shape of a loan which would never be re paid. It was suggested that each of the five pay an equal share, but Frau Gudula insisted that it be divided into six shares. “1 pay for my own,” she declared. “So be it, then,” said Solomon. “There is another matter that I want to discuss with you. You all know’ the young Duke of Taunus—at least by reputation.” “By reputation—or the want of it,” remarked Carl. “I know- his signature," said Am- schel grimly. “I saw him once as a child—a handsome boy,” the frau remember ed. “He is often in Paris.” contributed Jacob. “I have seen him sometimes —and one often hears of him. He enjoys life." "He has been to my house in Vien na," said Solomon, with a little swell of pride in his tone. “He has charm ing manners. He was very polite to Charlotte." When you shorten or fry your food with butter it is needless extravagance. Butter is too ex pensive for use anywhere but on your table. If butter were really better, would produce better results in cooking, you would be Justified in using it, but it won’t. Cottolene is fully the equal of butter for shorten ing; it is better for frying. It makes food rich, but not greasy, because it heats to a higher tem perature than lard or butter, and cooks so quickly that the fat has no chance to ‘‘soak in.’’ Cottolene is more healthful than lard, and you only need to use i-Wo-thirds as much as you would of either butter or lard. When you stop to consider that the price of Cottolene is no more than price of you can readily figure out what a sav ing its use in your kitchen means. THEN.K. FAIRBANK COMPANY Unhappy Outsiders in Conjugal Spats the lard By Virginia T. Van De Water. T HIS Is a plea for the outsider— the unfortunate person who mu«t hear the disagreeable things that some husbands and wives say to each other. I wonder if the man who snubs his wife or the woman who nags her hus band has the least idea of how in tensely uncomfortable each makes the unwilling listener. Surely the parties to a conjugal spat can hardly appre ciate the sensations of the bystander who, through no fault of his own, Is compelled to be present during their petty squabbles. “It can’t be helped," said a bach elor to whom I mentioned this matter, "and all the etTorts at reform won’t make married people ditYerent from what they are. They will quarrel, so you may as well reconcile yourself to that fact.” I am not disputing his statement— at least not just now. Whether he is right or not is, as Kipling would sav, "another story.” and one with which we may deal at some other time. The matter against which 1 wish to pro test at present is not that husband and wife say disagreeable things to each other, but that they say them where others have to hear them. It is. perhaps, none of my business if they quarrel when alone; it is my business if they quarrel in my pres ence. But they sometimes do! And there are many other people who are forced to be witnesses to many a con jugal interchange of discourtesies. Embarrassed Guests. "You’re late, as usual!” exclaimed a man, as his wife hurried into the drawing room, where one of the guest* whom she had invited to her home for that evening was already waiting. "And you call attention to it, as usual!” was the sharp retort. “The fact that I frequently do so does not seem to move you to change the habit," sneered the husband. “And long as you take satisfac tion In nagging me about it l shall not change it!" the wife snapped back bitterly. Is it any wonder that the one guest wished from the depths of a sinking heart that he, too. had been late? The fact that he was an Intimate friend of the host may have made the wedded pair feel that they could say what they pleased in his presence. They were unconscious that they were guilty of a breach of one of the first rules of hospitality, namely, that one should be kind to the guest under one’s roof. They Were truly more un kind to the visitor than to each other They were used to their altercations. He was not. Both Sorry and Vexed. A certain husband has strict notions and disapproves of decollete gowns— nor does he admire trains. His wife wears both. I was present last week when, in crossing the room, he trod NO COMPETITION. When it comes to bad handwriting, says the Popular Magazine, the two men who have beaten all others ip this regard in the entire United States for the last twenty years are Joaquin Miller, the poet, and Samuel G. Blythe, the humorist. And only Blythe sur vives. A LIFTED LOAD. Just after Governor B. B. Comer, of Alabama, had won his election, fol lowing a long, hard struggle for the job, his friends were congratulating him and one remarked: “I suppose this is the happiest day of your life. Governor." "No.” replied the Governor, who is said to be worth more than a mil lion dollars. “I shall never forget the happiest moment of my life. I’ll tell you about it. For five years af ter my marriage Mrs. Comer and I had a hard time making a living. We were trying to buy a little home and it was a tough fight. The day she and I went to pay the last note on that small house was the happiest of my life. I never expect to have an other like it.” BANK CLERKS. W. J. Burns, the famous detective, says that in more than twenty years of his connection with the Govern ment secret service he has not “turned up” a single counterfeit. "All the credit for discovering counterfeit money," says Mr. Burns, “belongs to the bank clerks of this country. There is not a person, young or old, who does not owe a debt of gratitude to the indefatigable bank clerks who are always on their job,’ and whose keen discernment keeps our currency clear of counterfeits.” on her dress. She started angrily. “Look out!” she exclaimed. “You’re treading on my gown! Don’t be so clumsy!” “Well," exclaimed her lord and mas ter (?), “if you would take some of that dress up off the floor and put it around your shoulders, where it would do some good, it would be less in the way of sensible people!” I tried to look as if I were not un comfortable. as if I were not listening and as if I were not lots of things that I was. For I was wretched and painfully embarrassed. I have a fatal facility for seeing any quarrel from the standpoint of both contestants, and in this case I was sorry for the woman and for her husband, and at the same time vexed with both of them. Moreover. I felt that they were lacking in consideration for me and my feelings—in fact, that they were selfish. Unhappy Outsiders, Selfishness becomes cruelty when the outsider is dragged into a conju gal spat and the husband or wife ap peals to her for confirmation or refu tation of some statement which has caused dispute. What can the un happy outsider do? If she agrees* with either person she "gets in wrong” with the other. Moreover, she may see that both are in error (for was there ever a quarrel in which either person was absolutely right (?), but if she dares to suggest this both will con demn her as lacking the courage to tell the truth or declare herself on the side of justice. Lo there she stands, a miserable victim of a wrangle between married people—and she not one of them. This last reflection may be the one comfort £*he has. Yet it is rather hard to suffer for the quarrels of matri mony when the matrimony has been none of one’s own making. He looked keenly at the others as he spoke, but there was no answering gleam to show that they caught the drift of his thoughts. The old lady shook her head sadly. “You are all so grand,” she com plained. “He is very deeply in debt,” re sumed Solomon. Amschel nodded feelingly. They say he has more creditors than sub jects.” “When he came home after Napo leon’s abduction," went on Solomon, “he rode through triumphal arches— to an empty treasury. Perhaps, too, he has been foolish as well as un fortunate. Now* he is anxious to put his house in order. He has ap proached me with regard to a loan.” A Big Loan Requested. “For how much?” asked the oldest brother. Solomon hesitated, then threw a quick look about the circle. “Twelve million florins,” he re plied quietly. None spoke until Nathan asked, in his weary manner: “How will he pay ?” “I have thought out a scheme of payments to extend over 40 years.” "And if the payments are not kept up?" suggested Carl. “Solomon waved his hand. “Of course I should insure against that. I can explain my plan.” Amschel stared thoughtfully at the floor. “If he is a spendthrift, as they say ” . „ “It is surely too risky—too risky,” put in Carl, decidedly. “With a man to whom extrava gance has become second nature”— Advice to the Lovelorn “Guarantees must be made that he changes his habits,” insisted Solo mon. “How?” inquired the Londoner. “By his marriage,” was the prompt reply. “To whom?” Solomon again gave each face in the circle a quick glance. Then he stepped forward as if inviting the storm, and said in a cool, steady voice: Jacob Sprang Up. "With my daughter, Charlotte." Jacob sprang up and gripped the back of his grandmother’s chair. The old lady’s jaw fairly dropped and she stared at her son as at a maniac. Nathan and Carl merely sat motion less—and looked. Amschel, the most truly phlegmatic of all, was first to speak. “The Duke of Taunus marry Char lotte?” he said with placid scorn. “It is absurd.” Solomon winced slightly. “I am aware of difficulties,” he said with grim hardihood. “If it w*ere possible,” remarked Nathan, in his coldest and most dis passionate tone, “if it were possible, it would go against us. We would be thought too ambitious.” Solomon sprang at the word. “We are ambitious,’’ he cried. “Remember —we are Jews! I am ambitious for the family. What do you say?” He appealed to the others, but there was no reply. These sons of an ob scure German money-lender, greatly as they had grown, could adjust themselves to such a possibility on the spur of the moment. As for Ja cob. his thoughts were In a wild tu mult. Frau Gudula, for the first time of her life, sat stunned and speech less. “Listen to me!” exclaimed Solo mon, a flush of impatience on his dark face. “Thirty years ago the son of an obscure lawyer came from a little island of which nobody had ever heard. He came to Paris. What did he do? He took Paris, then France, then half Europe! Everything is pos sible to a man who’s made up his mind!” •He paused, and Amschel spoke gravely. “We will think the matter over.” “I have thought it over,” retorted Solomon, grimly, thrusting out his chin. “To-morrow I am going to take Charlotte for a drive—to Neu- stadt Castle. I should like one of you to come with me.” “We must think—we must think it over,” said Nathan, evasively, as the appeal seemed directed to h\m. “Carl —Amschel, let us talk It over.” Little Jacob Is Right. The others rose and followed him slowly toward the door. Solomon, frowning and hiting his lips, stopped Jacob with a gesture. “Stay with me, will you?” he asked. “Let's play a game of chess, I’m wor ried—I want to distract my thoughts." “Uncle,” said the young man. sol emnly, “you have forgotten some thing. You’ve left one very impor tant thing out of your calculations.” “What Is that?” demanded his un cle Instantly. “Charlotte’s happiness—her life's happiness,” replied the young man, looking straight into his eyes It seems to me that any girl at her age would wish to choose for herself.” “Nonsense!” exclaimed Solomon. “She likes him, Jacob. He is a charm ing fellow. She met him and was charmed with him at once. Why should she not be happy with him? —because he is a prince? How ab surd! Why, she might marry a bank clerk and be just as miserable! Don’t you agree with me, mother?” “No, I don’t!” was the unexpected reply, with unexpected violence. The three brothers halted at the door and came hack a step or two. "Mother!” exclaimed Solomon. “Little Jacob's right!" The old woman rose slowly and faced them. Her face was pale and her eyes burn ed with a strange fire. They could hear her breathing In the stillness. "Children, you terrify me,” she cried, but she did not look terrified- only stern and immovable. "My grandfather came from Neustadt in the Taunus, where he lived in the simplest way. And now you—my sons—declare that my grandchild shall ride in a coach and be called a Duchess where he, my grandfather, was once of such low degree! No! We live in an'age of miracles. You boys, with your wealth and influence, may accomplish even this—hut not with my consent! It is Impossible,” She walked slowly to the door and turned again. “For the first time In this old house of ours T withdraw from a family conference. I’ll have no hand In this affair. Do as you please—but keep me out of it!” V By WILLIAM F. KIRK. P OOR Pa, he got pinched yester day by a gaim warden. It is the first time that Pa ewer got •arrested, & he felt vary bad about It. He was hanging his hed all the morn ing ar brekfust to-day, & wen he started for the littel postoffice to see if thare was any mall for him or Mil or me, he sed: Deer wife, look long upon ■ my countenance, for you may newer see me aggen. I feel as if sumthing terribul was going to hap pen to me aggen to-day. Oh, I doant think so, sed Ma. Sure ly, after beeing arrested one day B'ate wuddent be so unkind as to hand you anything raw the next day. It can not be. Now, go to the postofflee, deer, brave man that you are, & see if you got any checks with extra money In them, as I need a cuppel of plain, simpel frocks to ware wile Ae are rusti-kating here In this butiflil littel hamlet. I doant see what you want of two plain, simpel frocks, sed Pa. to ware up here. Why doant you ware sum of yure old frocks? Your plain, sim pel frocks will cost as much as the fancy one you ware in the city. Look at me & littel Bobble, sed Pa. About all that we ware up here is a pair of plain, simpel overalls & sum shoes. But newer mind, we shall see. Good bye, deer, & reemember what I tell you—I have a premonishun. Then Pa went. The way Pa happened to get pinched was kind of funny after all. It was a good joak on him, & after he had paid his fine Ma toald him' that it served him rite for trying to be a boy comic. It was like this. How It Was. Pa & me started out erly in the morning to catch sum moar trouts. We went to a littel stream called Horse Brook, neer Bob Hardie’s farm. This is a grate morning. Bobbie, sed Pa; the wind is from the southwest & thare is a sort of haze in the. air, al most as if it was Injun summer. The condishuns are Ideel for trouts to bite, sed Pa. I anticipate sum rare sport. We started to fish, & all the fore noon Pa had all the luck. I fished in sum of the saim places that he did, but the trouts dident seem to care for the worms wich was on my hook, or else thay was afrade thay wud drag a littel boy like me into the water. Anyhow, thay dident bit for me at all, & then Pa wud cum along & throw into the saim place cc catch three or four nice big ones. ^ Doant be down harted, littel boy; sed Pa. Much moar expeerienced anglers than you are have tried to catch fish with me, & in the end I have forced all of them to bow thare heds in shaim & walk slowly away. Few men indeed can hope to vie with me in luring the finny tribe from thare lair. Pa sed, & then he kep on bragging & catching moar fish. After a long while I got a gratis big trout on my line & I was gittinfe him out all rite by mlself, but Pa had to butt in with his landin’net to help me wen I dident need any help, & he knocked the fish off my line. I was so mad I cud almost sware but I dident say anything. The fish was gone & that was all thare was to it. He Gets One. Jest befoar we quit fishing t caught a littel three inch trout. I was going to put It back in the water, hut Pa sed Wait a mtnnit, Bobbie, I have a plan. Put the littel fish in yure littel basket. I will explain the plan wen we git neer hoam. Wen we got neer hoam Pa gaiv me his big basket to carry with all his big trouts, & he took my littel basket with the one littel trout in it. We will walk into the village & to the hotel this way & I will show the littel trout to yure mother & you show her all the big ones & tell her that you caught them. That will be a good joak on her, Pa sed. Just then a man caim up to Pa & sed Any luck? Indifferent, sed Pa, & he kep walk ing. Let me look in that basket, he sed to Pa, & he looked & saw the littel three inch trout & he sed That will cost you $25 dollars. No angler is allowed to keep a trout under six inches in length. Why dident you throw him hack in the stream? I wanted him to, I toald the man. but he sed he wuddent. Look at all the nice big ones I caught, I sed to the man, he was a game warden. 1 threw all my littel ones back. Pa looked at me like spanking sounds & feels. But he dident have the $25 with him, so he had to be arrested till I cud go to the hotel to git it. \ Ma made lots of fun of Pa. She sed she wud maik him a striped fish ing sute. By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. TAKE THE ONE YOU LOVE. D ear miss Fairfax: I am 20 and have been meeting a young man three years my senior about two years. He teils me he loves me very much and if I would ever meet another man It would break his heart. Three months ago I fell in love with another man who wants me to marry him. I love him more than the first man. Do you think I am doing right if I .marry the second man, whom I have .known only three months? VIOLET. You will be doing wrong if you marry the first man. loving the sec ond one better. 1 am sorry for the first lover, who deserves better re turns for his devotion, but you must not marry him loving another man more. SEND HIM AWAY. D ear miss Fairfax: A young man loved a girl, but was too bashful to tell her so. She loved him also, but act ed very coldly to him. So he told her chum everything, and she told the girl, who was de lighted. As she is coming back in three weeks, would you ad vise her to speak to him or send him away? She loves him very dearly, but is only 17, while he is 19. You are both too young—so young there is e\ery prospect that when the three weeks are up you both will have changed your minds.