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One of the Samples By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. T r^HR little g:iii of this story was one of thr* Sample girls. a lar^e family of which you doubtless liave heard many limes. Her baptis mal name is immaierial, but we will call her Grade, that beta# .lust th sort of name for a Kiri who was so sweet and pretty in the beginning. She awakened one morning feeling strangely depressed and irritable. She hadn't Slept well; the morning had cone loo 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 plaanant home. She dressed quickly and nervously, her irritation finding vent in the man ner in which she jerked on one gar- "'f"‘ 8 n«»ther. 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. Hut 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 t<» work, and when she reached the "ttice she opened her typewriter desk with the same resentful hang-she had given the door when she left home. She took her dictation carelessly and indifferently, mistakes resulted, and ht*** 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 'he 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 cared, 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 jfven, as she opened the door of her home, wished she were dead, and the sullen tones in which she gave a cunt "Yes” to her mother's cheerful in- uuiry 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 wit a yierself. Her temper, her morbidness and her selfishness all had their ori gin in overtaxed nerves. And tliis thought bath might have revealed to her that she hadn’t over taxed her nerves in giving pleasure *o others, but in seeking it for herself. A Mistaken Thought. She was confined in an office a'! 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 th-n 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 hrr stomach with all that is unholy. Sometimes she went to a dance and stayed till 2. because she was ' >c young to know 12 was late enough, and on oth°r occasions she went to a theater and tortured her stomach w i h 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 p\ of the grace, the charm, the strong* i the freshness of youth. Are you, my dear, like Grace? - r< you one of the Sample girls? Use Cottolem for cooking t iazs>z When you shorten or fry your food with butter it is needless extravagance. Butter is too ex pensive for use anywhere but an your table. If butter were really better, would produce better results in cooking, you would be justified in using it, lmt 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 /-.vo-thirds as much as you j would of either'bi'i I ■'• laid | When you stop to consider that the price of Cottolene is no more than the price of lard you can readily figure out what a sav ing its use in your kitchen means. THEN.K. FAIRBANKCOMPANY AZINE PUI^E SI LA GLOVES When you buy silk gloves, buy the best. silk gloves cost no more but wear best. The finger tips are double, and each pair contains a guarantee ticket which in sures you satisfaction. I£ your dealer cannot supply you, send us his name. We will supply you through him. Niagara Silk Mills North Tonewanda, N. . New York Boston Chicago San Franctaco A Romance of Great Wealth and the Game of Finance as Played by Money Kings THE FIVE FRANKFORTERS A Novclizaiion of the Successful Play of the Same Name Now Running in New York What Has Gone Before. Having barked heavily the peace of Europe Nathan Rothschild is discon certed to find that Napoleon has bur*l forth, nga n, and all the bank er's outpouring of gold for national development in England will be en-' ('angered. The banker hastens to Waterloo. There are the English, who have guaranteed to him that the peace of Europe shall be maintained. From a height above the field of but tle Rothschild stes the whole of It. Rothschild sees that the wealth of the world lies In London, his for the taking if he can be first on the ground with the news of the battle. He hurries to London, and next morning apptared on tiip Exchange. hat night he went to bed $10,000 000 richer. Seven years later a great banker '• ft Vienna, another Naples, another Haris and another London, and trav eled to a little old house in Jews’ lane, in Frank fort-am-Main. It was a gathering of the house of Roilischilti. Perhaps some king was very hard pressed for money. Now Go on With the Story. By KATHRYN KEY. 'op.vright, 1913, by the New York Even ing Journal Publishing Company. “Do you live in Paris?” she in quired. lie nodded. "My business keeps me there.” "And you are a friend of famous composers ; “Shall f introduce myself for mally?" he smiled. The girl held up an imperative finger. "Wait— 1 will guess. Are you little Jacob?” Little Jacob’s laugh rang through the house and the girl's silvery voice joined in so that Erau Gudula 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-" ar.ee. 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 his heart. “You don’t belong to Frankfort.” he said with a conviction that was not complimentary to the staid old city. "Wellr—no,” admitted the girl. “Who—and what do you think I am ?” Heard His Grandmother. The "Who” might have stumped him, but 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. But all he said, with a subdued thoughtful air. was; "You might be—an actress?" The girl clapped her hands and leaned 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 h l ariki’ort. The girl made a little moite at him. “Ought 1 say, Thank you?’” she in quired. Before Jacob could make up his mind to tell her what be thought she ought to say lie beard his grand mother behind him. "Well. Jacob, have you made friends?” she asked, beaming upon tn. • "Ho doesn't know, quite, whether I'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, hut his moment of revenge was at hand. •Goodness knows what 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,” oinmanded the old lady. And never as a grandmother obeyed with outer alacrity. But Charlotte drew u-k and got the-table between them. 11 the confusion on her side now. Do cousins kiss—in Paris?” she >ked. doubtfully. “What an idea!” exclaimed the Nathan filled in the hiatus with u shake of the head. “Guarantees must be made that be changes his habits,” insisted Solo mon. “How?" inquired the Londoner. "By Ills 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: Little Bobbie’s Pa Jacob Sprang Up. Presently There Entered ? Girl Who Looked Like a Princess. frau. "In my time we held out our cheek and blushed.” Charlotte could not be found guilty of disobediev*^ 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 see what’s at the end of the drive," returned Solomon, mean ingly. Carl tapped the arm of his chair with his quizzing glass. "Have I 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. "I 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 pocket and held it up. “Do you wonder w h.v I 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 ti patent of nobility from the Chan cery 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, then it was broken by an explo sive: non my word!” "Children, children,” faltered the old woman. "I can not sec clearly - read it for me—one of you.” “I Must Laugh.” Nathan sprang up and took the pa per. "Yes," lie said, solemnly, while Carl peered over his shoulder and Amsch d 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, -ou did that well,” he said, generously. "Well, mother, what have you to say?” cried oolomon, with a. proud and happy laugh. The old lady was almost overcome by emotion. "1 feel I 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’ c-citent. 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 j even the matter of the price of the title. | This, it developed, was in the shape I of a loan which would never he re- | paid. It was suggested that each of j the five pay an equal share, but Frau Gudula insisted that it be divided into j six shares. ”1 pay for my own.” she | declared. “So he it, then,” said Solomon, j “There is another matter that 1 want l to discuss with you. You all know j the young Luke of Taunus at least j by reputation)” “By reputation- or the want of it," ! remarked Carl. "I know his signature,' sohel grimly. I “I saw him once as | handsome boy,” the frau ! 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. "lie has ('harm ing manners. He was very polite to ^Charlotte.” said Am- a child a re rh ember - He looked keenly at the others as he spoke, hut there w;fs 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 pa y 7” T 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 lias become second nature Unhappy Outsiders in Conjugal Spats i By Virginia T. Van De Water. T HIS is a plea for the outsider— the unfortunate person who must hear the disagreeable things that some husbands and wives say to each other. f 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 efforts at reform won't make married people different 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- -st at present Is not that husband ,ind wife say disagreeable things to each other, but that they say them where others have to hear them. It .. 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!” exr'.AmeJ a man, as his wife hurried into the drawing room, where one of the , guests whom she had invited to her home for that evening was already waiting. “And you call attention Jo it, as usual!” was the sharp retort. “The fact that I frequently * do so joes not aeem to move you to change the habit.” sneered the husband. "And i*o long as you take satisfac tion iu nagging me about it I shall not change it!" the wife snapped back bitterly. Is it any wonder that the one gursl wished from ttfe 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 «r a breach of one of the first rules of hospitality, namely, that one should he kind to the guest under one’s roof. They were truly more un kind to the visitor than to each other They wwp used to their altercations. He was not. Both Sorry and Vexed. A certain husband has strict notions and disapproves of decollete v \ - - nor does ne admire trains. His if.- wears both. I was present last week when, in crossing the room, he trod Some Worth While Stories NO COMPETITION. When it comes to bad handwriting, says the Popular Magazine, the two men who have beaten all others in 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, bad 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 dollar*. "I shall never forget the happiest moment of my life. I’ll tell you about it. For five year*.’ af ter inf/ 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 wa$ 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, "beloft»s 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, w here it would do some good, it would be less in thi 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 thing* 1 that I was. For I w?rs wretched and pajnfully embarrassed. 1 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. 1 felt that they were lacking in consideration for me and m. 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 agreo* wit a either person she “gets in wrong” with the other. Moreover, she may see that both arc 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 th* 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 l ist reflection may be the one cornier s*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. Advice to the Lovelorn “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 were possible," remarked Nathan, in hi* 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 —Wo are Jews! 1 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 3pur“bf 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. "Liston 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 dir* ted to h\m. “Carl —Amschel, let us talk it over.” Little Jacob Is Right. The othefs rose and followed him slowly, toward the door. Solomon, frowning and biting his lips, stopped Jacob with a ge-ture. “Stay with me, will you?” he asked. “Let's play a game of chess, I’m wor ried—I want to distract my thoughts.” “Fnele,” 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 “No, i don’t'” v. is tie- unexpecti d reply, with unexpected violence. The three brothers halted at the door and came back 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—mv 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—but not with mv consent! U is impossible.” She walked slowly to the door and turned again. “For the first time in this old house of ours I withdraw from a family conference. I'll have no hand in this affair. Do as you please-—but keep me out of it!” To Be Continued To-morrow. By WILLIAM F. KIRK. P OOR Pa, he get pinched yester day by a gaim warden. It is the first time that Pa ewer got arrested, Sc he felt vary bad about it. He was hanging his hed all the morn ing at brekfust to-day, & wen he started for the littel post office to see if thare was any mail for him or Ma 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, 1 doant think so, sed Ma. Sure ly, after beeing arrested one day Kate wuddent be so unkind as to hand you anything raw the next day. It can not be. Now’, go to the postoffie w 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 we are rusti-kating here In this butiful littel hamlet. I doant see what you want of tw r o plain, simpel frocks, sed Pa. to ware up here. Why doant you ware sum of yore old frocks? Your plain, slm- pel frocks will cost as much as tn© fancy one you ware in the city. Look at me & littel Bobbie, 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 te'.l you—I have a premonishun. Then Pa went. The way Fa happened co get pinched was kind of funny after all. It was a good joak on him, & after he had paid his fine Ma toald htm that it served him rite for trying to be a boy comic. It was Situ • hit. How It Was. Pa Sc me started out erl.v in the morning to catch sum rfioar trouts. We went to a littel stream called Horse Brook, neer Boh Hardie s fam. This is a grate morning, Bobble, 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. 1 fished in sum of the saim places that he did, but the trouts dident seem to care for the worms wtch was on my hook, or else thay was afrade thay wud drag a littel hoy like me into ihe water. Anyhow, thay dident bit for me at all, Sc ther Pa wud cum along & throw into :he saim place iv . ci.en t nree or four nice big ones. Doant be down harted littel boy, sed Pa. Much moar expeerienced anglers than you ar“ have tried to catch fish with me, At in the end I have forced all oi them to bow thare beds 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 <»n bragging & catching moar fish. After a long while I got a grate big trout on my line & \ was gitting him out all rite by nilself. but Pa had to butt in with his landin net t«* heli) me wen I dident need any help & he knocked the fish off my line. 1 was so mad l cud almost sware but L dident say anything. The fish was gone Sc that was all thare was to it. He Gets One. .Jest befoar we quit fishing I caught a littel three inch trout. I was going to put it back in the water, but Pa sed Wait a minnit, Bobbie. I have a plan. Put the littel fish in vine littel basket. F 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 th“ village Sc 'o the hotel this way & I will show the littel trout to yure mother Sc 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 cairn up to Pa & sed Any luck? Indifferent, sed Pa, & he kep walk ing. / Let me look in that basket, he sed to Pa. S’ 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 back in the stream? I wanted him to, l 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. [ threw all my littel ones back. Pa looked at me like spanking sounds S- 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 m&ue 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 fair fax: I am 29 and have been meeting a young man three years my senior about, two years. He tells me he loves me very much and if 1 would ever meet another man it would break his heart. Three months ago 1 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 1 marry the second man, whom I have known only tlfree months? VIOLET. You will be doing wrong if you marry the first man, loving the sec ond one better. I 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 (very prospect that when the three weeks are up you both will have changed your minds. •