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Advice to the Lovelorn
fey BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
3RING (OUR FiLMIS TO US
and we will d evelop them free. We are film specialists
and give you perfect results and quiCiv ueli\er>. Mall
as negative for free sample print. Enlargements made
and colored. Pictures framed Chemicals. Cameras.
*3.00 to $85.00.
r re eh films to fit any camera—guaranteed not to sticK
::e for catalogue. Quick m ail order service
H. CONE, Inc., “A Good Drug Store”— 'Two Stores’* — Atlanta.
The Mistakes of Jennie B y hal coffman
Being a Series of Chapters in the Life of a Southern Girl in the Big City
The Folly of
My Sex
: Beauty Secrets of Beautiful Women
Chrystal Herne's Idea of True Loveliness and Hou) lo Attain It.
fey BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
N INETY women gathered in the
garden of the old Schwab es
tate adjoining the Hall of
Fame the other afternoon to receive
the first instruction of the spring
garden course by Henry Griscom Par
sons. director of Department School
Gardens. New York University.
Of the ninety women only two were
prepared to do practical gardening, as
there were only two women who had
brought their aprons. The women
wore tight skirts, high-heeled shoes
and white kid gloves, and when given
seeds found they could not kneel down
or bend low to plant them, as their
skirts were too narrow. When they
tried to bend as low as their skirts
and corsets permitted they could not
obtain sound footing with their high-
heeled shoes.
• They took off their kid gloves, dis
closing hands that were burdened
, with rings, and were as helpless be
fore the simple little task before them
as if they had been so many babies.
They had not dressed suitably for
the occasion. Do any of my sex these
mad days make any pretense of
dressing to suit the occasion?
To Regulate Dresses.
A Chicago alderman has introduced
an ordinance to regulate the dresses
worn by women on the streets, solely
on moral grounds. The costliness of
the attire, its unfitness so far as serv
ice and endurance are concerned, he
waives. He considers only the moral
aspect of the dresses, garments so
vulgar in conception and suggestion
as to cause some explanation for the
calling of a vice commission.
The girl on her way to her work
behind a counter, or bending over a
typewriter, wears a garment as near
a duplicate as her purse will permit
of the garment worn by some woman
of wealth and fashion who rides in
her automobile to a pink tea. The
business woman’s dress is as low in
the neck, her heels are as high, her
pumps as low. her stockings as thin.
There is no element of vulgarity
which the woman of wealth intro
duces in her attire that is not aped by
her sister with the flatter purse.
The blame lies not with the girl on
her way to work, but with the woman
of wealth and leisure.
The eighty-eight women who gath
ered to learn gardening In matinee
clothes were women of wealth and
high social standing, women who aro
supposedly intelligent, yet they were
as silly, and* with less excuse, as the
\ working girl who wears a . dress on
the street, that should not be worn
outside one’s home, and then when
women only are present.
Not So Divine.
The "female form divine” is not so
divine as the silly women think. Few
firms are just plump and shapely
. enough to look well bared from the
♦ hand to the elbow. Not one neck in
five hundred would cause an artist in
search of a model to take a second
look. Feet and ankles and the display
many women make above them are
suggestive more often of vulgarity
than of beauty.
The woman who dresses modestly .s
credited with charms she may or may
ot possess, but the woman who
resses immodestly proves by the ex
ists made that she does not possess
them.
"That is immodest” restrains no one
in these days of fashionable indecen
cy. "Your neck is scrawny. “You
have an ugly arm,” “You are flat-
footed and your ankles are thick may
verve as more effective weapons :n
the war that must be waged against
the foolish of my sex. , ,
\n appeal to decency and modesty
having failed, the same results may
he obtained by appealing to vanity.
Household Saggestions
U GLY cracks in furniture may be eas
ily filled in with beeswax, so that
the marks will hardly show. Slightly
soften the beeswax until it becomes pli
able; then press It firmly into the
cracks and smooth the surface over with
a thin knife. Sandpaper the surround
ing wood, and work some dust into the
beeswax.' This gives a finish to the
wood, and when it is varnished the
cracks will have disappeared.
fit vour skirt has got splashed with
.mud hang it before a (lre-but not too
close—so that the mud may dry quickly.
When dry the mud spots should be
loosened by rubbing with the edge of a
penny, and the dust should be gently
brushed off with a brush of moderate
firmness. If after this brushing the
mud marks are still visible sponge the
spots with alcohol or methylated spirit.
' to remove smoke marks from ceilings
i mix u thick paste of starch and water,
and with a clean flannel spread it over
the mark. Allow it to get thoroughly
dry, then brush off with a soft brush
and the marks will have disappeared.
Before sweeping the carpets take an
ohlVtund tin. pierce holes in the bottom
and till with common salt. Sprinkle this
over- the carpet. It prevents the dust
from rising, brightens the colors and
prevents moths.
To prevent an oven from smelling
when cooking a joint, clean it out thor
oughly once a month with white chalk,
dt will take all smell away and it will
-Ike kn enameled oven.
WITHIN THE
LAW
/CURS IONS
ETY
| \ Personally conducted
AA tour July 19. August 16.
Canada. Great Lakes, Atlantic ocean,
Eastern cities. Intensely Interesting
Features. Low rates. Write for book
let, maps, etc. J. E- McFarland. Box
1624. Atlanta, Ga.
By LILLIAN LAUFERTY.
NCE upon a time,” began
Chrystal Herne, in the most
approved fashion of our be
loved fairy tales "I saw real beauty
—so I know what it is. It is a spirit,
the spirit that flares up within and
lights the face. Spirit makes a plain
face lovely, and without it perfect
features are not beautiful.”
It was between the‘acts of the star
revival of our good old friend, “Ari
zona.” at the* Lyric Theater, in New
York, and I had been admitted to that
fascinating realm behind "the aid !
stage door."
“Won't you tell me about that ‘once ;
upon a time’ when you saw real
beauty?” I asked.
Miss Herne has wonderful gray
eyes—deep, tender, and set in the
wide oval of a face so delicately love
ly that not half its beauty cart 'be!
guessed across the barrier of the foot
lights. A brooding mist came over
those eyes and into her soft voice.
“It was my father’s face.” she saiti
gently. “I was a very young girl, and
we were cruising about Peconic Bay j
in our little yawl, when a storm cap
sized us. I thought that cold gray
water was going to hold me forever—
but suddenly my father’s face came j
between me and horror. He had j
righted the boat somehow, and he got ;
me into it. And the wonderful light
shining in his face as he saved me I
was beauty. Yet, except for his rare
ly fine expression, my father was not j
a handsome man.
"That was absolute beauty. It ga /e
me an ideal: Live on a high, fin-* |
plane; be so splendid that spirit will
illuminate your face.”
The spirit of her own fineness—her
high ambitions -always shines back
of Chrystal Herne’s flower-like love- [
liness. But as she spoke, her love
and veneration made her beauty one
of the most exquisite things I have
ever seen.
Wants To Be Fat!
“Now, you want the work-a-day.
practical ideals of beauty, don’t you?"
she asked.
"My first one is fat! I can’t see any
beauty in bones and angles. I ha”e
struggled and struggled to get fat!”
• Think of that, you who bant and
swallow unpleasant doses, and im- ;
merse yourselves in baths of salts, so i
that the curves and grace may disap
pear and the cubist angles an 1
squares betray your bony structure.
"Well, 1 can’t get fat. I have found
out the hopelessness of that ambi
tion.” went on Miss Herne in a prac
tical tone, “so 1 do the next best
thing—I make the best of what I am.
I find the styles I can wear: I find a
dressmaker who understands me and
will help me develop my own type, in
stead of a few pet theories of her own.
"I arrange my hair to frame my i
face, instead of straining it into the ;
latest cry in unbecomingness.”
“Of course, you learn by acting how
to accent beauty—to bring out
points,” I remarked.
"Yes, indeed, you learn to empha
size natural beauty to bring out hid
den loveliness, and, best of all, not o
overemphasize, not to be conspicuous
— just to be narl of the picture.
“Now. 1 truly admire the chic type
the girl who is trim and smart,
whose clothes fit smoothly and whose
hats are set at the sharp, fashionable
angle. But I can nol bo that type
at all: I can not imitate her to ad
vantage. so I am not silly enough
to try.' If drapery and droop
ing lines suit you. wear them. I cay
only adapt them to the styles of the
times, so you won't be different
enough to he noticeable."
True Beauty.
"You disapprove of conspicuous
clothes?” I asked.
“Of conspicuous cl-d lies- -and faces,”
replied Miss do so lon F to
see more prettff uirls- tot pretty ar
rangements and blendings of paint
and powder, but girls who are nat
Miss Chrystal Herne’s Beautiful Profile.
urally sweet and pretty. To chal
lenge attention in face or clothes is
not my ideal of attractiveness, but to
be so fine and dainty that you hold
attention: to have such a spirit illu
minating the text of your face that
the eye returns lovingly to your rest
ful charm -that is to be beautiful.
“And I do love beauty I can sym
pathize with the women who long for
it, because to be absolutely beautiful
is a supreme gift. There is only one
thing I lohg for more, and that is to
he a great actress—to express beauty
by the art of the drama.”
And beauty as Chrystal Herne vis
ions it will illuminate the "text of a
face," and the text of life as well.
GO. BY ALL MEANS.
rjEAR MISS FAIRFAX:
I expect to go to a dance ac
companied by a young man with
whom I have quite an understand
ing. This young man does not
dance. Will it be proper for me to
dance with other young men. or
would yon deem it advisable for us
not to go to this dance at all?
E. K. E.
The young man Is taking you for your
pleasure, and knows that means you
will want to dance.
If his experience as a wallflower
proyes distasteful to him he will not
repeat it Could you not persuade
him to learn to dance? I a*n afraid
this difference in your chqice of enter
tainment may otherwise make trouble
LET IT DROP.
T~X EAR MISS FAIRFAX :
1 am eighteen and have been
keeping company with a man four
years my senior, last week 1 was
out of town for a few days, and the
evening I returned a girl friend
asked me to go to a dance. My
friend was there and escorted an
other girl home, but did not take.
her to this dance. Should I ask for
an explanation, or should I let the
matter drop unnoticed? B. R.
You were out of town, and he did
not know you would be at the dance.
This is sufficient excuse for him if he
needs one, hut I don’t think he does.
You are not engaged and he is not
bound to you by any promise.
TELL HIM YOU HAVE NONE.
TAKAR MISS FAIRFAX:
1 am a rich young girl eighteen
years old and am deeply In love
with a young man one year my
senior. 1 am alone in the world
with no mother to guide me. He
has asked me to marry him, but
1 do not know if he wants mo for
love of me alone or for money. How
ran I find out?
MARGARET.
“All's fair in love and war," and
you might try the plan w'orn thread
bare fn fiction by telling him you have
lest your money.
But a better plan would be to refuse
him. He is only nineteen, and a boy
of that age is too young to love se-
riausl y.
LOSE NO TIME MAKING UP.
r\ E A Pv MIS S FAIR F A X:
* I have boon keeping company
with a girl for one year. We had a
quarrel over some simple thing and
she got angry . I love her. Tell me
what to do. J. w. S.
Go to her and tell her you are sorry.
You may not feel that you are in the
wrong, but that makes no difference.
Unless you are willing to humiliate
yourself, you care more for self than for
her.
D 1
CERTAINLY.
EAR MISS FAIRFAX:
Is it proper for a young lady to
ask a gentleman to call when he has
I hinted at it, or wait until l\e posi
tive!' asks to call?
M A DELON.
She has the privilege of asking a man
io «all on her. and a hint between
i friends should be unnecessary.
Copyright. 1918, by the H. K Fly Com
pany The play “Within the Law" is
copyrighted by Mr. Vetller and this
novellzatlon of It is published by his
permission. The American Play Com
pany is the sole proprietor of the ex
clusive rights of the representation
and performance of "Within the Law”
in ail languages
By MARVIN DANA from the
Play by BAYARD VEILLER.
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
Garson. with the keen perspicacity ;
that had made him a successful crim
inal without a single conviction to
mar his record, had seized the im - j
plication in her statement, and now
put It In words.
"Then, you won’t leave us? We’re |
going on as we were before?” Trie
hint of dejection in his manner had 1
vanished. "And you won’t live with |
him?”
“Live with him?” Mary exclaimed
emphatically. "Certainly not!”
Aggie's neatly rounded jaw- dro r ' r >e2
In a gape of surprise that was most
unladylike.
"You are going to live on In this
joint with us?" she questioned,
aghast.
"Of course." The reply was given
with the utmost of certainty.
But the confident tone brought no re
sponse of agreement from Mary. On the
contrary, her voice was, if anything, even 1
colder as she replied to his sugges
tion. She spoke with an emphasis that j
brooked no evasion.
“What wa9 your promise? I told you
that 1 wouldn’t go with you until you
had brought your father to me. and he
had wished us happiness.” Dick placed
his hands gently on his wife's shoul
ders and regarded her with a touch of
indignation in his gaze
“Mary.” he said reproachfully, “you
are not going to hold me to that prom
ise?”
The answer was given with a decis
iveness that admitted of no question, and
there was a hardness on her face that
emphasized the words.
“I am going to hold you to that prom
ise. Dick.”
For a few second* the young man
stared at her with troubled eyes. Then
he moved impatiently and dropped his
hands from her shoulders. But his usu
al cheery smile came again, and he
shrugged resignedly.
“All right, Mrs. Glider,” he said gay-
ly. The sound of the name provoked
him to new pleasure. “Sounds fine,
doesn’t it?” he demanded with an uxo
rious air.
“Yes,” Mary said, but there was no
enthusiasm in her tone
The husband went on speaking with
no apparent heed of his wife's indif
ference.
Mary Answered Quickly.
“You pack up what things you need
girlie,” he directed. “Just a few—be- ,
cause they sell clothes In Paris. And i
they are some class, believe me! And
meantime. I’ll run down to dad's office
and have him back here In half an hour.
You will be all ready, won’t you?”
Mary answered quickly, with a little
catching of her breath, but still coldly.
“Yes, yes. I'll be reedy. Go and bring .
your father.”
“You bet I will," Dick cried heartily.
He would have takqn her In his arms
again, but she evaded the caress.
“What's the matter?” he demanded,
plainly at a loss to understand this re
pulse.
“Nothing,” was the ambiguous an
swer.
“Just one!” Dick pleaded.
“No,” the bride replied, and there was
determination in the monosyllable.
It was evident that Dick perceived
the futility of argument.
‘.‘For a married woman you certainly
are shy,” he replied, with a sly glance
toward Aggie, who beamed back sym
pathy. "You’ll excuse me, won’t you,
Miss Lynch? * * * Good-bye, Mrs. Gil
der.” He made a formal bow io his
wife. As he hurried to the door he ex
pressed again his admiration for the
name. “Mrs. Gilder! Doesn’t that sound
immense?” And with that he was gone.
There was silence In the drawing room
until the two women heard the closing
of the outer door of the apartment.
Then at last Aggie relieved her pentup
emotions in a huge sigh that was near
a groan.
“Oh. Gawd!” she gasped. “The poor
simp!”
CHAPTER Xin.
The Advent of Griggs.
Later on Garson, learning from the
maid that Dick Gilder had left, returned
just as Mary was glancing over the re
lease with which General Hastings was
to be compensated along with the re
turn of his letters for his payment of
$10,000 to Miss Agnes Lynch.
"Hello, Joe," Mary said graciously as
the forger entered. Then she spoke
crisply to Agnes. “And now you must
get ready. You are to be at Harris’
office with this document at 4 o’clock
and remember that you are to let the
lawyer manage everything.
Aggie twisted her doll-like face Into
a grimace.
“It gets my angora that I'll have to
miss Pa Gilder's being led like a lamb
to the slaughter house.” And that was
the nearest the little adventuress ever
came to making a Biblical quotation.
“Anyhow.” she protested. "I don’t see
the use of all this monkey business
here. All 1 want Is the coin." But she
hurried obediently, nevertheless, to get
ready for the start.
Garson regarded Mary quizzically^
“It's lucky for her that she met you,"
he said. “She’s got no more brains
than a gnat.”
“And brains are mighty useful things,
even in our business." Mary replied
seriously; “particularly in our business "
•I should say they were.” Garson
agreed. “You have proved that.”
Aggie came back, puling on her gloves
and cocking her small head very prim
ly under the enormous hat that was
garnished with costliest pAumes. It was
thus that she consoled herself in a
measure for the business of the occasion
—in lieu of cracked ice from Tiffany’s
at one hundred and fifty a carat Mary
gave over the release, and Aggie, still
grumbling, deposited it in her handbag j
To Be Continued Monday. •
“It never occurred to Jennie how they got the good clothes.”
CHAPTER IV.
W HEN Jennie’s friend, the
motherly boarding house
keeper, came in to call her
the next morning she sat down on
the edge of Jennie’s little white
bed and took hold of the girl's
hand—for she knew that some
thing was on Jennie’s mind, and
all was not quite right.
Jennie, however, assured her
that everything was fine and
dandy and that she was only tired
the night before. But they have
a way of knowing when all is not
quite right with children, and It
hur* her the way Jennie acted —
for never before bad she failed
to confide all her little troubles
and secrets to her.
Jennie ate a hurried breakfast
and felt all through it as if she
were choking and was impatient
to be out of the house. On the
way to work in the stupid old
street car she couldn’t help but
think how dull and sordid it
seemed after the “taxi” the night
before.
Another thing bothered her al
so. that she had forgotten in the
excitement of the night before—
what about Tom? Tom, whom it
seemed‘she had ALWAYS known.
Tom. whom the other girls al
ways referred to as Jennie's
"steady.” What would HE say
when he saw her w ith THE MAN.
Huh! “she should worry” about
Tom—guess she could put him in
his place and besides, what busi
ness was it of his? Tom never
took her to a swell restaurant
like she was in last night or took
her home in a "taxi.” Poor! Torn
didn’t make much money even if
he did work hard.
THE MAN had asked her to
ring him up. and she decided she
would do so that very day at
lunch time. That morning at the
office she heard two of the other
girls talking—girls that always
seemed to have good clothes and
were always talking about the
good times they had
It never occurred, to Jennie be
fore where or how they GOT the
good clothes or the good times
they had. She knew they were
each making $7 a week, while
Jennie, who was a faster stenog
rapher and paid more attention
to her work, got a week.
Still she couldn't afford to dress
the way they did. and they didn’t
live at home either. This Jen
nie wondered about all that
morning ’til lunch time when she
hurried out to a public phone and
rang up THE MAN. That being
Saturday and wouldn't she go
for an auto ride with him the
next day. They would start early
Sunday morning and go way,
'way out in the country and stop
at some little inn for a dandy
chicken dinner. She was to make
gome excuse at home and not tell
her friend, the boarding house
keeper where she was going—but
to meet him several blocks from
her house and they would jlist
have LOTS of fun.
Indeed she WOULD meet him
and she could say she was going
out to spend the day with Tom.
Jennie was so excited she could
hardly wait for the next morning,
and. j list think! an AUTO ride
in the country.
Ah. wasn’t it a dandy old world
after all, and lots more fun than
going down to the beach or walk
ing in the old pokey park with
Tom.
HAL COFFMAN.
kTo h* Continued.)
]
Littl
e Bobbie’s J
By WILLIAM F. KIRK.
Pa
W EN we cairn to this little town
ware Pa Is fishing he toald Ma
that it was different from
other small towns. The peepul here are
as broad as the peepul that live in a
city, sed I’a, and you will find none
of the petty gossip & skandal that is so
common in other small places.
I doant know, se<j Ma, you will have
to show me. There Is gossip & skandal
eeven in Atlanta, but in a small
place, at Ieeste in any of the small
places I have ewer been in, thare is sure
to be a good deal of talk.
But this is a different kind of town,
sed Pa. You wait & see. So we waited
& saw.
The first thing after dinner last nite
two married ladies cairn to call on Ma.
Pa & me was there, too. We dident
want to stay, but we had to be polite.
You have a nice little village here, sed
Ma to the two ladies. One of them was
Missus Jenkins & the other was naimed
Missus Jones.
Oh, we do git so tired of it, sed Missus
Jenkins. Thare are so few of our kind
of peepul here that we always like to
meet peepul of reetinement. Moast of
the peepul here are so common, ain't
thay, Missus Jones?
He Drank.
Hevlngs, yes. sed Missus Jones. The
only other peepul here besides Missus
Jenkins and myself is the Browns, &
Mister Brown drinks appeljack.
I can’t say that T blame him much,
sed Missus Jenkins, heekaus his wife
powders her face & is all the time nag
ging at him. She goes to New York
pritty often, too. I wuddent think so
much of It if her husband went with her.
but she goe3 alone.
That Isent very reemarkable, is It?
sed Ma. I dare say she goes there to
shop.
That's what she says, sed Missus
Jenkins, but we think what we please
up here. Besides, it seems like she puts
on an awful lot of airs going to the city
to shop. If her husband paid his bills
here it would look a whole lot better,
wuddent it, Missus Jones.
Yes, indeed, sed Missus Jones. Don’t
you think so yourself? she asked Ma.
I am sure I am not interested, sed Ma.
She was beeginning to act kind of cool,
the way she acts sumtlmes at brekfast
the morning after Pa has went to the
Elks. Pa looked kind of cheep, too.
after the way he had talked about the
peepul in this little town beeing so
broad.
Doant you think this lady’s son looks
like Harry Baker? Missus Jenkins asked
Missus Jones.
More Scandal.
He is better looking than * Missus
Baker’s boy, sed Missus Jones & I can
see he has been fetched up different.
Harry Baker newer had no fetching up
to speak of He ^on all my boy’s mar.
bles playing that awful gaim of "keeps”
last week, but I can't blame him for
wanting to gamble. Mister Baker, hi*
father, plays poker and they say he
cheats.
Then Ma got busy. She waited till
Pa had left the room & she sed Ladles,
pity me’. The reason my husband left
the room is beekaus he doesn’t pay his
bills and he drinks three quarts of whis
ky a day & he plays poker so much
that he is beeginning to git a curled
mustache like the King of Clubs. He
beats me, too, said Ma.
He does’? exclaimed the two ladies.
Ho certainly does, doesent he, Bob
bie?
Almost every nlte wen he cums hoam,
I sed, & he beats me, too.
The village ladies dident stay long
after that.
Not Talkative
Lady Dorothy Nevill in her “rem
iniscences” has told a story of the
third Duke of Devonshire and his
brother. Lord Cavendish.
Both were very silent men. Stop
ping once at an inn in Germany they
were told that they could be accom
modated only with a chamber con
taining three beds, one of which was
occupied. They made no reply, but
quietly retired to the apartment.
Feeling some little curiosity about
the third bed, however, each took a
momentary peep through the cur
tains. They then immediately got
into their own beds and slept soundly
Next morning, after they had
breakfasted and paid their bill, the
duke said to his brother:
"George, did you see the dead
body?”
“Yes,” was the reply: and they both
got into their chaise and proceeded on
their journey without another word.
Lous
St.