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1 t a Are Children a Duty? A Romance oj Great Wealth and the Game of Finance as Played by Money Kings THE FIVE FRANKFORTERS A Nocelization oj the Successful Play of the Same Name Now Running in New York By Virginia T. Van De Water. M. S INCE parent* do not have sons and daughters because they feel that In doing so they are fulfill ing a duty to their children, la It not somewhat ridiculous for fathers and mothers to keep up the fiction that • hlldren c hould be grateful to them for the gift of birth? There are many things for which one should feel tremendous gratitude to parents—for all that they have done for one over and above one’s food, lodging, clothing and education. The number of these works of super erogation is In many cases so great that no spoken thanks could ever ex press what one feels, or should feel, and years of loving service on the grown child’s part would not cancel the debt But 'f one asks if that child owes thanks to his forbears be cause, to quote the old hymn, they— "Rescued him from nothingness And placed him on life’s happy shore.” The answer may be emphatically 1n ♦ he negative. Destined to Be Mothers. To look beyond graceful phrases and century-old expressions to the real reason for our desiring children, we can bring the matter down in the last analysis to selfishness, pure and simple. The man gloried in his man hood and wants a child to kee<p up his family. A father loves his daugh ters tenderly and they help make the home sweet to him; he thrills with pride in a son to bear his name and arr.v it down to future generations. He is proud, of that name and of all j that it stands for. and he likes to think of it aR continuing indefinitely, so that long after he is dead he will live In grandsons and great-grand sons. The woman’s longing for a child has been the subject of story and Verse for many centuries, but the plain truth is that women want chil dren because it will make them hap- rv to have them. Thev were destined to be mothers, and their whole nature craves that for which they were cre ated. The mother instinct is. with the average woman, the strongest she knows. Even in dumb animals we see how love for their young is instinctive be fore the mother has seen the living creature that is soon to need her care and protection. The bird will wait through long days and nights, in storm and sunshine, sitting upon her eggs, refusing to be tempted by hun ger or thirst to remain away a mo ment longer than is entirely safe to the budding life within the shell. All animals show' the satisfaction and pride In their young thrt. to a greater degree. Is evinced by the hu man mother. It is hut a port of the great and beautiful plan of Nature to perpetuate the race. To bring about the perfection of this great scheme there must be maternal devotion. Add to this the yearning that most women have for the possession of something to love and to return love, n creature that shall be all one’s own. and dependent upon one, and the de sire for children Is intensified. When, as is frequently the case, even in this materialistlc age, a marriage is one in which the wMfe loves her husband de votedly, the thought that her child shall partake of his nature and bear his name makes her happy. More over. if a woman takes her mother hood seriously, reverently, as a gift of God, shq may exclaim with Eve, "I have gotten a man fj*om the Lord!” But. to revert to our original state ment, she did not have the child be- CftilM she thought he wanted to be born! Nor did she bring him into the world because she thought it was her duty to do so. She followed instinct, affection, ambition. Each of these feelings was a part of herself, and the satisfaction of them a form of per sonal joy. Justice to Childhood. ”T wish.” said a physician, as he walked through the slums And pushed aside the children crowding the pave ments—"I wish that the advocates of an increased birth rate could go down this street once on a hurry call!*’ There are a-plenty of babies born; unfortunately they are not of the right sort. I know that the argument Is that those who can give birth to the right sort should do so. and to that one we may agree, with limita- wrong. but to my way of thinking it is better to have a few children and be able to do justice to each than to have a half dozen or more and deny them that to which they are entiled. Wire From the Cage. Not every victim of over-minute in structions has the Joyful opportunity of such revenge as did the husband of a certain masterful New' England woman. She had left the house In charge of her husband, with careful Instructions about ventilation, care of furniture, wa tering plants, and so forth. While passing through New York the woman remembered with remorse that she said nothing about her bird. So she Telegraphed husband. ’’Feed the bird.” Several days later, when the owner of the bird reached her destination, in lx>s Angeles, she found a telegram from her husband: “Bird fed. Hungry again. Wire In structions." What Has Gone Before. Having backed heavily the peace of Europe Nathan RothHchlld is discon certed to find that Napoleon has burst forth again, and all the bank er’s outpouring <*! gold for national development In England will be en dangered. The bunker 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 bat tle Rothschild sees the whole of it. Rothschild sees that the wealth of the world lies In I»ndon, Ills for the taking if he can l>e 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’ l.ane, In Krankfort-am-Maln. It was a gathering of the house of Rothschild. Perhaps some king was very hard pressed for money. Now Go on With the Story. By KATHRYN KEY. Copyright, 1912, by the New York Even ing Journal Publishing Company. His mother smiled. “Now, you are boasting of your grand acquaintances to make us feel humble. “That’s all very well,” said Jacob seriously, “but Uncle Amschel Is right, grandmother. Paris, at least, has taught me this—that every hand shake with a prince means money.” "That's true—you understand,” nodded Uncle Ainschel, so energetic ally that he nearly choked and spilled his coffee. “You’re your .:n- cle’s nephew, my boy,” He paused and gazed lovingly at the last mouth ful of roll he held in his hand. "I don't know' how It is—my wife's bread is not as good as this.” Jacob laughed. “IX) you mean to say. uncle, that at your age you can still find pleasure in food?” His uncle turned to face hime fully and bent upon him a look of the deepest solemnity. “My dear nephew',’’ he said, "when you are my age you will know that It is the one pleasure. You may have other Interest—but not pleasures.” From this he worked up to a lec ture on the Joy of eating and the ex cellence of his grandmother’s table, which his mother heard with smiling j pride and the nephew' with open amusement until it was cut short by the return of Nathan. The London banker was the direct antithesis of his older brother. An outside might have noted w'lth inter est as these five men gathered how\ though the four were brothers and the fifth a nephew, and all Jew's, yet each had unconsciously moulded himself to his environment—each had taken on something of the character of the people among whom he dwelt. Thus, while Amschel had remained the pro vincial German, Nathan was the Lon don banker in every line of his face and costume. His coat, with the high rolling collar of the first quar ter of the last century, fitted him wdthout crease or blemish. His man ner was reserved, even cold at times, among his own kin. His face was pale, but not like Nathan’s—set nnd immoble. He never raised his voice, and it seldom betrayed the slighter emotion. His curly black hair was cut somewhat short. Carl, on the other hand, was quite the Neapolitan dandy. He dressed in the latest mode of the South and carried a quizzing glass, with which he gesticulated constantly, and his manner wn* effervescent. Solomon, possibly the ptrongest personality ot the five, was a burly, massive, heavy- headed man, with mutton-chop whis kers and a habit of domineering that might have come from association with the "Royal and Imperial” throne No Reason Given. Nathan kissed his mother, shook hands cordially with his nephew and nodded to his brothers. “Have any letters come for me. mother?” he inquired. "No—nothing.” “H’m!” he frowned and turned to Jacob. "When were you instructed to he in Frankfort?” "On the wventeenth without fall. Do you know* what it is for?” "No,” replied his uncle shortly “And I suppose you do not, Amschel?” Amschel made a gesture indicating that as soon as his mouth w’as free of yn* m s&ij ST pi i * M > n . . V ■■ V'.h-; mmm mm ■ fife ‘Jacob,” she cried, ‘‘Little Jacob! How you startled me.” the remnant of the third roll he would reply. Nathan waited patiently’. “No,” said Amschel. "But Solomon must have something really big on hand.” “It is reasonable to think so,” re turned Nathan, with faint irony, "or he would not have summoned the family in this way. But he is a little inclined to be masterful,” he added in a tone that his mother caught up in a flash. "If he takes the lead,” she put in sharply, "he always has shown the way to success.” “Oh, be is an excellent business man.” hastily agreed the Ixmdoner “However, it was highly Inconvenient for me to leave London Just now. I have business pending with the East India Company. How are you pro gressing in Paris, Jacob?” "Slowly, uncle,” replied the young man, in a tone that did not invite discussion. His uncle’s arrogant Eng lish manner Jarred on his sensitive Parisian nerves. "Better so, nephew,” his uncle nod ded, in a superior way that increased the young man’s irritation. “What you have to do is gain a firm footing by unimpeachable reliability. Be con tent with small transactions for years —wait. Give the impression of being indifferent, but keep a keen eye on all chances! And when the moment comes, as it will, concentrate—con centrate nil your energies! Act with determination—be bold!—we all sup port you. Grasp your opportunity in grand style—and then—” “I understand, T think,” interrupted Jacob, with a touch of impatience. Nathan understood and patted him on the shoulder, smiling. “You must forgive me for speaking so to you,” he began with a modifi cation of tone, “I am so much older and—” “You have had great experience— and success,” broke in Jacob, resent fully'. "But you have forgotten one thing necessary for my equipment.” “What is that?” asked his uncle, while even Amschel stopped chewing to listen. "Luck! ’’ Amschel grunted, the Frau shook her head and Nathan laughed silently. "My dear boy,” he said, "good luck and bad luck are phrases for small shopkeepers. When you have had bad luck, remember you have mis calculated. What terms are you on w'ith the Government?” he inquired, with interest. Jacob's irritation—always a matter of a moment—vanished and he smiled. "Well, the minister of finance calls me his ’wonderful young friend.’ ” “Ah!” remarked Amschel, suspi ciously. “He has been very polite to me from the beginning,” continued the young man. Nathan’s lip curled slightly. “Min isters of finance always show great politeness to members of our family.” "Lately he has been growing more cordial every day',” added Jacob. “I think I am beginning to scent a new Government loan." Amschel wagged a fourth roll at him impressively. Went Out Together. "You be careful.” he warned. “Times are uncertain in France. Every minute there may be a new King.” "A loan—a French loan,” mused Nathan. "I’m thinking it might be possible to make it popular on ’Change. H’m! Well, that reminds me—we must go on ’Change now. Come on. Jacob.” He started for the door and Jacob rose, but did not follow at once. "There is nothing to be done,” he said. “I think it will stay here, un cle.” "Come—for a few minutes,” com manded the older man. “It will be a good thing to show* ourselves—togeth er! We should never miss an oppor tunity of reminding people that we hold together. "Good-bye, mother—for a little while.” Amschel swallowed the last of the rolls and rose hastily, taking Jacob’s arm. ,”A w'hole hour in Frankfort—and not yet on 'Change!” he exclaimed. “That won’t do—that won’t do!” And the three bankers went out to gether. Frau Gudula summoned Rose when theV had gone and gave her particu lar orders as to the favorite dish of each of the five men, and how the same was to be prepared. This took a good deal of time and patient in struction, and at the end of It the frau felt ready' for a nice nap before din ner, w'hen her only other servant, a pert young maid, recently hired to aid the aging Rose, announced that a young lady at the door requested to see Frau Gudula and declined to give any name. “We know what that means,” said the old lady, sadly, and fumbled in her bag. "Well, my sons will be around me to-day—you can give her thi”? gold piece.” The maid opened her eyes and drew back. “Please, madsm,” she said, “she’s not that sort! A big coach is waiting for her at the corner. She looks like a princess.” “Well, show her in,” said the frau. putting the coin back in her bag. “Rose, put my scarf straight.” Presently there entered to the old lady a girl who, indeed, looked like a princess. She might have been 20 years old. Little wMsps of gold strayed out from under a big travel ing hat that framed a sweet, delicate ly carved girlish face and two great dark blue eyes. Frau Gudula, hastily estimating that only a woman of high degree could wear such clothes with such grace, roca to receive with gen tle dignity that told of respect for herself and a finer shade of respect for her visitor. The habit of feudal ism clings long after the substance has been destroyed. She Smiled. The young lady smiled on her and looked more ravishingly beautiful than ever. “It is very kind of a beautiful young lady to call on an old woman in this narrow lane,” she daid with soft hu mility. A little gleam of mischief appeared In the girl’s eyes. “I have been here once before, but w'hen I w’as a little girl of three,” she said in a rich, creamy voice. The frau stared at her hard and the girl looked smilingly into her face. “I do not remember,” said the old woman, gravely, at last. “I remember you,” exclaimed the girl, w’ith a little tremor of emotion in her voice. “I have never forgot ten. You were sitting just w’here you are now. And there, on that chair” —she pointed to the one lately re lieved of the weight of Amschel— “sat my grandfather.” “And who was he?” asked Frau Gudula, still p zled. The girl laugned, but her eyes grew misty. “Old Maier Amschel!” she exclaimed —and held out her arms. The old woman took a step forward and caught her breath. Then, almo'st timidly, she opened her arms. “Are you—are you my Solomon’s little Charlotte?” she cried. “Yes, Grannie, dear.” And the next instant they were kissing and crying In each other’s arms. It was some time before Frau Gudula reached a point of coherence whore she could a:-k questions, w’hich whs simple testimony of her emotion. “How did you get here, child?” she asked, when they had done embrac ing for the time being and were com fortably seated. "Father brought me with him.” “Is he in Frankfort?” "Yes. He has* gone on 'Change for a while,” explained the girl with a smile Frau Gudula shook her head gravely. "He couldn’t wait to see his mother first?” she said, soberly. The girl hastened to explain that her father had been out of touch with the market ever since they had left Vienna, and he could not rest until he had gone to the Exchange. Then the talk turned to other things. It was arranged that she should stay with her grandmother, and her trunks were brought in from the coach. She did not know what her father’s business was jhat had brought about the family conference, but she was sure it was most important. Also he had bought her a wonderful court gown—she did not know w'hy he had bought her the court gown, but he had taken care to see that she had great quantities of new and fine clothes for the journey. Would Gran nie like to see them? (grannie would love to later on. but she must see that her little Charlotte’s* room was ready for her Charlotte would amuse herself until she returned. “Pray Go On.” Left to herself Charlotte stroller about the room, humming, and pat ting her hair and pulling her dress this way and that after the fashion of women in all ages, and finally sat at an old spinet in the corner by the fireplace and began playing softly to herself. It was a little air that she loved—from “The Barber of Seville"— and in her absorption she did not hear a young man w'ho came to the door, stopped suddenly, and stood list ening. At last he began to hum the air and his music rose above the touch of the girl’s slender fingers. She sprang up and turned on him with a little exclamation. "Pray go on playing, mademoiselle, ’ he begged, with • smile. “This old house has not heard music for a long time.” The girl regarded him gravely, hav ing recovered from the surprise. He was undeniably good-looking and in teresting-looking. Doubtless he could talk and he certainly had a right there or he wouldn’t be there, talk ing with such familiarity of the "old house.” “Yet I think music belongs to this old house.” she said softly. He nodded tow'ard the spinet with a tender look of reminiscence. “I be lieve I was the last to play on that old instrument,” he said. “You are a musician—and you lis tened to me!” exclaimed the girl, smiling. “Please go on,” he begged. "Music is the more delightful after the noise on 'Change—where I have been. Do you care for that opera?” he asked. “It is too difficult for me to play,” she returned modestly. If she thought him Interesting looking, he evidently thought her a great deal more than that, Judging from the manner in which he leaned toward her across the back of old Maier Amschel’s arm-chair. “You like Rossini?” he inquired again. The girl smiled at him with de light. “Could you recognize him from my strumming?” she cried. "I wondered at a young lady being so modern as to play him,” he re sponded. “I adore him!” breathed the girl, fervently. ”1 shall tell him.” he smiled. Char lotte uttered a little cry of amaze ment and delight. “Do you know him?” she asked. “Yes, he is a friend of mine,” an swered Jacob, modestly. “He often stays with me in Paris.” Charlotte looked him over with new interest. She had placed him now and the little fun-lights began to dance in her eyes. To Be Continued To-morrow. Advice to the Lovelorn By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. WHAT’S THE DIFFERENCE? D EAR MISS FAIRFAX; I am a young man, 21 year* of age. and deeply in love with one of the best and noblest of women, some years my senior. She not only tells me she loves me, but proves It in many beauti ful ways, by making my comfort, happiness and pleasure her first consideration. We are perfectly happy while together now' and I feel sure we would continue to ,be if married, though I am the younger. Don’t you agree? * HONEY BOY. > “Some years my senior” may mean five years; it may mean twenty. Hon ey Boy can not expect a reply unless he is more definite. GO TO HER EMPLOYER. D ear miss Fairfax: I have an only daughter wJio refuses to live at home. She gVs .» $25 a week where she is en\ ployed. She refuses to let m$ know- where she. is living. How can I find out without any pub licity? A DISTRESSED MOTHER. If. you can not get the information from her girl associates, go to het employer. I am sure he can not re fuse his assistance after hearing you* plea. Hiring a private detective il another plan, but this is not advisa ble, for the girl’s sake, so long as any other plan has been untried. C ANADA Is taking the lead In tha matter of prison reform. A prison farm has been establish ed at Guelph, in the Province of On tario, which wears the semblance of a prosperous agricultural settlement. The prisoners wear ordinary clothes. They are merely confined within a prescribed area, being otherwise free. The foreman carries no arms. Games are provided and allowed. Even the sleeping apartments are without bolts and bars. The discipline ap peals to the better nature of the pris-* oners, and so far with striking sue-* cess. It is stated that a similar pris on farm is about to be established \by the government of the Province Alberta, near Big Island, on the Rive*? Saskatchewan. There is a curious belief attaching to the tombstone of Pope Sylvester II, in St. John Lateran, Rome, Thi« stone Is said to become covered with moisture like dew shortly before the death of every Pope. It is reported that the marble, usually dry J is “sweating” in this way now', and \he populace regard it as a sinister om*n. The phenomenon is believed to have continued through the past ten cen turies. In Ipoh (Malay peninsula) one of the pioneer motor cars In the country is now In almost constant use as a funeral hearse. Hauled by coolies, the proud old pioneer wends Its fre quent, slow, laborious way to the cemetery. Too Talkative. It was a beautiful evening, and Ole* who screwed up courage to take Anna for a ride, was carried away by the magic of the night. “Anna,” he asked, “will you marry me?’’ “Yes, Ole,” she answered softly. Ole lapsed into a silence that at las* became painful to hie fiance. “Ole,” she asked desperately, "why don’t you say something?” “Ay tank,” Ole replied, “they bane to<» much said already.” ] iPhone Phobia ^ Popular Malady--Have You Got II? By 1 Dorot iy Dix Styles in Hats. “I can t see the hats.” complained the American lady in Ixmdon. "Why not?” inquired her husband. “All the shop windows are boarded up on account of the militant suffragettes.'' "Wei!, ;st’s pike alosg We may find a board with a knothole In It.” A MAN whose wife had the cheery habit of calling him up by tele phone from tw'enty to twenty - flve times a day has petitioned the court to commit the lady to an insane asylum on the ground that she is afflicted with the phonophobia. A waiting w’orld will hang breath lessly on this Judge's decision, hoping and praying that the law will tak« cognizance of the sufferings of those w’ho are the victims of people with the telephone mania and set a prece dent whereby individuals may be con signed to padded cells who have been shown to have an incurable case of telephonitls. For of all the w’oes and burdens of modern life there is none equal to the telephone. If there is a shatterer of our peace, a destroyer of our pri vacy, an enemy to our repose, it is the telephone. If ever there was a blessing turned into a curse, it is the telephone, and there are times when even the most patient and long suf fering of us are tempted to call down curses upon it and its inventor, and 1 to wish that instead of telephone cabs being reduced to 5 cents they would' be put up to $5 for the first minute. I a million dollars for the second, and that there could be some sort of j Lot’s-wlfe attachment rigged to the j Infernal machine that would strike V. MR. D. BERKO WITZ Room Clark of the Atlantic Beach Hotel Formerly Continental Hotel Ib at the Piedmont Hotel for a few days and ■will be glad to make Reservations or give full Information about the South’s moet delightful Resort Hotel, located st Atlantic Beach, near Jacksonville, Fla the individual dumb who convers°d over the wire for more than five minutes. Of course, on the face of it, the tel ephone looks a marvelous conven ience nnd a w’onderful labor-saving and time-saving device. How con venient to be able to call up the man with w’hom you are doing business, and thrash the trade out by w’ord or mouth! IIow nice to be able to speak to your loved ones, and hear their dear voices It sounds perfectly love ly, but that is Just part of the de ceitfulness of the telephone. A Time Waster. In reality it is the greatest time waster on earth, for more hours are throw’n away uselessly chatting over the phone than any other w’ay. It is a robber, and an Inciter of ex travagance. for people order dozens of purchases over the phone that they wouldn’t take the trouble to dress and go downtown to buy. And over .and beyond anything else In the way of iniquities. It Is the staff and prop and stay of the long-winded bore who Is ten times as tiresome over the phone as he or she is face to face. But the worse ofTense of the tele phone Is that you are absolutely st its mercy. There’s no way to defend yourself against it. It used to be that you could lock yourself In your room for an undisturbed morning’s work, or go to bed at night assured of a night’s repose. Alas, no such lux ury is possible now. You are engaged In a piece of work that requires every particle of con centration of which you are capable. Ting-a-ling-ling goes the telephone. fe KODAKS ti>« That Oaa B* Produced Fuautu riuM and iva* Plefe etock nmatfMT euprVken Quiet mail wirtt* for out-af-town rastemort. 8»rxJ for Catalog and Prtoe List. A. K. HAWKES CO. •Sgif 14 Whitehall SI, AtUntu G*. With aurRlng thoughts that maXa your voice sound like a load of Ice you answer It. It Is some casual ac quaintance who ch-erfully says that he thought that he would Just cal! you up and ask you how you felt this perfectly charming morning. Tf you said how you really felt the So ciety for the Suppression of Profan ity would get you, so you keep a studied silence. You go back to work and try to collect your scattred Ideas, and about the time you’ve got Into trim, ting-a-llng-llng goes the phone again. This time It Is a fool friend telling you some fool gossip, and she talks on and on until you think the crack of doom will pound. Finally you saw her off and return to your labors again: but not once, but a dozen times or more, you are Inter rupted by the ting-a-ltng-ling of the phone that Is fatal to your labors. At Night the Same. And at night it’s the same way. Nobody gets a night of undisturbed slumber any more. Sleep is shivered into fragments by the telephone bell, for none of us is so fortunate as not to possess one of those near-witty friends w’ho esteem it humorous to call us up at 3 or 4 o’clock in the morning to tell us a Joke or about w'hat a good time he Is having. Un doubtedly the great increase In ner vous prostration and the reason why no great literature is being written nowadays is because the human mind reels under the ceaseless persecution* of the telephone fiend. The moral effect of the telephone is even more baleful than Its physical, and it’s nothing short of shocking to realize its demoralizing influence on women. It robs them of reserve and modesty, for they say things over the telephone that they would never 1 dream of saying to a man In propria | persona. A girl, for instance, w’ho couldn’t bring herself to entreat a : man w’ho was calling upon her to come back, will call him up over the 1 phone and shamelessly demand that : he shall com© to see her. ‘ Also it is the habit of girls to call up young men during business hours nnd hold long conversations regardless of the fact that the youth 1? hired to work, and not to spoor over the phone, and that jvery time he is dragged from his desk or his customer to engage in such a talk- fest he Jeopardizes his Job. Girls are not the only offenders, how'ever. Older women are also guilty, and there is no other pest in society more to be dreaded than the aimless woman, with a comfortable chair and a desk phone, w’ho spends three or four hours of every day babbling inanities over the wire to her innocent and unoffending; friends. These people are ’afflicted wdth telephone madness. They are crazy, bug house. They have phones in their belfry, and it’s time that science recognized this terrible form of insanity and locked up the unfortunates who are afflicted with it. for that's the only way to save the balance of us from going stark, staring mad, too. At present we have no protection, and we can only envy the villain of the “Pinafore” of whom It was said “and no telephone connects with his dungeon cell.” Lucky, lucky man! Chocolate Fudge H capful Red Vulva Symp, 2 epuaree bitter chocolate, H cupful cream or milh, 2 cup- fule granulated eugar, 1 cup ful chopped nut meate, I tea- epoonful ginger extract, 2 heaping t ab le epoonfu le of butter. Melt chocolate in eaacepan, atfS Velma, batter, eugar and milh or cream. Stir over firm till they boil tor four minutme. Teet in cold water and remove from the fire when it forme u eoft ball or regietere 240°F. on the thermometer. Add ex tract and nute and beat until amooth. Pour into buttered pan and cut in epuaree when cold. Here, Madam, is the Better Syrup Your family will enjoy Velvi; more than any other syrup, on griddle cakes, waffles, biscuits and mnfftns. You can make better cakes and candles, better fudge, better cookies with Velva. tbe better syrup, In tbe red can. You’ll get tbe very top notch of. flavor Into your goodies because Called Him Pirate. A Congressman, whose winning smile and highly ornate neckties make him a marked man, called a cab in New York the other day to rids a short block and a half, because it was raining. The man charged a half dollar. The Congress man thought that was too much. •Til pay you,” said the Congressman, handing him a coin, “but I think you’re an Infernal pirate. You ought to be in Jail." The cabman looked at the coin and laughed. “You’re all right!” he exclaimed, with more cordiality than the Congressman thought the occasion warranted. It was an hour later before he dis covered he had handed the man a $10 gold instead of a half dollar. Is made to satisfy you and to beep you sattsHed. It la doing that In countless thousands ol homes and we want your borne to be on* more. We want your syrup trade and we know that one can of Velva will bring you back again and again. Ten cents and np, according to size —at your grocer’s. Velva In the green cans, too, 11 you prefer It. Send lor book ol Velva Recipes. No charge. PENICK & FORD, Ltd. NEW ORLEANS, LA.