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♦ ■ ■ Daysey Mayme IS FASHION’S LATEST, THE “I. C. U.” WITHIN THE BACHELOR WHO WOULD BE A JILT And Her Folks [ WAIST, A DISAPPOINTMENT? LAW lie Thought He Was in Looe, Proposed, Was Accepted, and Now He Is Sorry By DOROTHY DIX. let her find It out afterward when It screwing money out of a tightwad By FRANCES L. GARSIDE. I T is not priv©n to th© grower mas culine sex to understand the full significance to the world when a class of girls step through the school door with diplomas in their hands. Of materialistic minds, they see only another batch of girls to hang around home till they are married off. They see only girls in white dresses; some pretty, some ugly, some serious and the majority giggly, but all Just girls who are great bores because thay know so much they don’t enow anything \ A Big Task. Th* editor, realizing that nuch a f*«at avant aa a commencement merited the -work of an appreciative mind, detailed Daysey Mavme Apple- ton to write up the graduation exer cises of the Parthenon High School, a task for which she felt wall-fitted having only recently delivered a com mencement address to a world that waited outside her school room door. "Therk were twenty-teven girls In the claaa that was graduated from Parthenon High School laat evening, (be wrote, "and the audience that sat epellhounri through twenty-seven •ration* and essays till 1:8C next morning regretted theta were not more. "Every problem to which mankind Is heir was solved from the tariff to eugenic*. Though a tunnel hae been eomploted through the Alps, making ft no longer nect ssary for the gradu •te to Inspire us to greater efforts by telling us that 'Beyond the Alps lies Italy.’ such encouragement was not lacking, and again we crossed the AJps, surmounting every obstacle that lav in our way. 'TJemoothenes was excelled; Socra tes ■wa* rolled into oblivion by the superior wisdom of the class; Eu- phrldes, Aristotle, Confucius, Solo mon, Lincoln and all who have left names that blazed in history were extinguished by the flood of wisdom that poured forth last night Had Napoleon been present he would have learned of his great mistake; Moses could have snt at the feet of last night’s class, and Atlas never again will have to bear the burden of the world alone. “They conquered the superstition of the ages; their souls soared supe rlor to mundane considerations, a perfect constellation of talent and ge nius, they shone in the heavenly firmament as guiding lights to a world groping in a labyrinth of dark ness. “They showed by the depth of their investigation, the eloquence of their delivery, the mastery of their style, and the intrepidity of their bearing that at laat the world has found a deliverer! Many Deliveries. “A deliverer. ,dld T sav? Nay. It has found twenty-seven of them!” With the report of the commence ment Daysey Mayme sent a personal note to the editor. “I regret," she wrote, “that T lack words in which to express the stu pendous Importance that last night’s commencement bears to the world.” \ / Served Him Right. T HE following story of an English nobleman now.deceased was re cently told In a West End club: "The Duke was once in church when a collection was announced for some charitable object. The plate began to go round, and the Duke carefully *put h1s hand Into his pocket and took out a florin, which he laid on the pew be fore him ready to be transferred to the plate "Reside him sat a little snob, who, noticing this action, imitated it by os tentatiously laving a sovereign alongside the ducal florin. This was too much for hie Grace. who dipped his hand Into his pocket again and pulled out another florin, which he laid by the side of the flrat The little snob followed suit by laying another sovereign beside the first His Grace quietly added a third florin. Which was capped by a third sovereign on the part of the little snob Out came a fourth florin to swell the Duke’s dona tion. and then the little snob triumph antlv laid three sovereigns at once upon the board The Duke, not to be beaten, produced three florins "Just at ihls moment the plate ar rived The little snob took up his hand ful of sovereigns, ostentatiously rattled them into the plate, and then turned defiantly toward his rival, as 1f he would mv 'I think that takes the rise out of you.* “Fancy his chagrin when the Duke, with a grim smile, put one florin Into the plate, and quietly swept the remain ing six back Into h1s pocket!” T HE “I C U" waist, the very latest In feminine apparel, has reached the United States from Paris. With it came the modified split-skirt—second cousin to the mod ified Marathon—because you can run in ’em. Both are Important, we are told, but neither Js anywhere near as I startling as the first descriptions from the French capital had led us to ahem- hope they might be. The cable dispatches had it that the new waist was a “diaphanous” — magic word—affair that had the old peek-a-boo so faded that even the "peek” was taken out of it. imagine the fame of the dressmaker that could claim the reputation as being the one that had taken the peek out of "peek-a-boo." We were told In the dispatches that the new waist "had a transparent body, generally made of the filmiest mousseline de sole, the only opaque material used being a silk sash around the waist; the rest, sleeves Included, being of absolutely trans parent material, In some cases so much so as to Indicate a wish on the part of the wearer to outdo the most daring fashion of the direotolre period." The real thing has come, but it is not at all startling in the way expected. There Is worn under the transpar ent waist, beside the girdle described, a delicately embroidered intimate garment, besides a heap of ribbons and such -a he-reporter Is doing this word daubing—so that the grand ensemble Is’artistic, sensible and a continual delight to the eye. As for the new skirt, it, also, will be disappointing to the “lookers." The lines of this garment are not changed In the new model. The nar-, row width at the knees 1s to be main-* tained. and therefore there must be some allowance made for my lady to do her Westoning. The allowance is there. Yes, it is a longer and wider Copyright, 1913. by the H. K. Fly Com pany. The play “Within the I.aw’’ Is copyrighted by Mr. Velller and this novellzation 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 Uw" in all languages. Thought Them Samples. A young man who had spent his life 1 a country village came to New York o seek his fortune. On the day of his arrival he walked Into a restaurant and ordered dinner The waiter brought the meal In all hose little side dishes sacred to restau rant keeping, and arranged them in tempting array around the young man’s nlate. For half an hour he sat and looked at e untouched dinner, until, overcome by hunger, he called the waiter, who had been watching him wonderingly, and aid: "Look here, mister, if you don't hurry ind bring my dinner I’ll eat up your am pies.” This costume Is decidedly noup" waist loses most of Its with the slit filled In with acc startling than its advance notices gave reason to believe. The “diapha- iplmnousnpss" by the wearing of much under-trimming, and the new skirt, ion-plaited silk, shows less of silken hosiery than the present modes Serve Velva On YOUR Table You can’t know how really good Velva Syrup is, unless you serve it to your family—not at any one meal—but at all three. There’s a use for Velva three times a day—on griddle cakes, muffins or biscuits in the morning, in dainty desserts at noon, in cakes and cookies at night. Besides that, you’ll find that Up-to-the-Mmute Jokes makes the best candies and fudge that you ever munched— chewy taffies, kisses, pulled candies and sugary sweets—and the fudge: you can’t beat it, try as you will. Nearly a hundred ways of using Velva, the syrup in the red can —clean, sanitary, delicious. Send for the book of Velva recipes. No charge. Velva in the green can, too, if you prefer it. Both kinds, ten cents according to size. Cranberry Sherbet 1 cupful Red Velva Syrup. 2 Quarts cranberries. 6 lemons. 2 egg whites, 1 1-2 capfuls sugar. 1 Quart voter Cover the cranberries with water and boil until soft Steam and add the syrup, sugar and lemon juice Freeze, and when partly frozen add the ^ whites of eggs and f eeze to the desired con Ufstency This is excellent with turice v up. 8-10 N NEAR UNIi •llent with turkey. MICK & FORD, Ltd. New Orleans, I,a. t- fclvt On one occasion a well-known man ager went to the theater for the ex- preps purpose of encouraging a young actor who had shown signs of ner vousness in a new part. When the promising young man made his exit into the wings perspiration was streaming down his face. The man ager looked at him for a moment and then said, in tones of intense admira tion :' “How well your skin acts!” A funny mistake occurred lately in printing labels for a meat preserving company. The printer had been in the habit of labeling tins of beef or mutton, as the cast' might be, with the words “without bone” prominently displayed. The company having add- i d kidney soup to its list, the new ar ticle was duly ticketed as "Kidney soup—without bone." Teacher—John, can you tell me what is meant by a steward? John—A steward is a man who dt" sn’t mind his own business. T.-acher—’Where did you get that Johr -Well, 1 looked it up in the dictionary and it said; "A man who attends to the affairs of others.” Mrs. Snooper—Men make me tired. Mrs. Sway back- What’s the matter now ? Mr- Sn : r My husband saw Airs Heedi- k yesterday, and I asked him what she had on. and he replied. A professor, whos* rupils made too much noise, let the following naivete slip out: “Gentlemen, if everybody will he silent we shall be better able to discover who makes the row." This reminds us of a medical re port, which began thus: "There exists a great number of families In Dublin who have died of cholera.” A.—You don’t seem to have any life in you. Is there nothing or nobody over which you can enthuse? R.—Nothing at all. I once became enthusiastic over somebody, and a short time afterward ahe became my wife. That w as a sad warning to me to avoid enthusiasm. Taken Literally. The parish tea was over, and the curate stood up to say a few words to the recipients before they dispersed. He spoke in eloquent terms of the lmpecunlosltv of curates In general, and then went on to say. in apparent ly touching tones: "Why, even as I stand before you now I have only half a shirt on my back." A few days later the reverend gen tleman received a parcel containing half a dozen new shirts, accompanied by a card bearing the name of one of hts fair (though, alas! no longer youngi parishioners At the earliest opportunity he called upon the lady and thanked her for the gift, and then proceeded to ask what had prompted the kind action. 'Why,” she replied, “you told us the other night that you had only half a shirt to your back. True," he answered, “but the other half was m front" By MARVIN DANA from the Play by BAYARD VEILLER. TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT. Hr would not believe that the girl did not liar© for him. Whatever had been her first purpose of using him only as an Instrument through which to strike against his father, whatever might be her present plan of elimi nating him from her life In the fu ture. he still was sure that she had growm to know’ a real and lasting af fection for himself. He remembered startled glances from the violet eyes, caught unawares, and the music of her voice In rare Instants, and these told tym that love for him stirred, even though it might as yet be but faintly, in her heart. Out of that fact he drew an Imme diate comfort in this period of his misery. Nevertheless, his anguish was a racking one. He grew older visibly in the night and the day. There crept suddenly lines of new feeling into his face, and, too lines of new strength. The boy dJea in that time; the man was bom. came forth In the full of h1s steadfastness and his cour age and his love The father suffered with the eon. He was a proud man, intensely gratified over the commanding position to which he had achieved In the com mercial world, proud of his business integrity, of his standing in the com munity as a leader, proud of his social position, proud most of all of the son whom he so loved. Realized His Son’s Love. Now. this hideous disaster threat ened his pride at every turn—worse. It threatened the one person In the world whom he really loved. Most fa thers would have stormed at the boy when pleading failed, would have given commands with harshness, would have menaced the recalcitrant with disinheritance. Edward Gilder did none of the»e things, though his heart was sorely wounded. He loved his son too much to contemplate making more evil for the lad by any estrangement between them. Yet he felt that the matter could not safely be left in the hands of Dick himself. He realized that his son loved the woman—nor oould he w onder much at that. His keen eyes had perceived Mary Turner’s graces of form, her loveliness of face. He had appre hended, too, in some measure at least, the fineness of her mental fiber and the capacities of her heart. Deep within him. denied any outlet, he knew there lurked a curious, subtle sympathy for the girl in her scheme of revenge against himself. Her per sistent striving toward the object of her ambition was something he could understand, since the like thing in different guise had been back of his own business success. He would not let the Idea rise to the surface of consciousness, for he still refused to believe that Mary Tur ner had suffered at h1s hand unjustly. He would think of her as nothing else than a vile creature, who had caught his son in the toils of her beauty and charm for the purpose of eventually making money out of the intrigue. Gilder, in his library thl* night, was pacing Impatiently to and fro, eagerly listening for the sound of his son s re turn to the house. He had been the guest of honor that night at an Impor tant meeting of the Civic Committee, and he had spoken with his usual clarity and earnestness In spite of the trouble that beset him. Now, however, the re generation of the city was far from his thought, and his sole concern was with the regeneration of a life, that of his son, which bade fair to be ruined by the wfie.T o' a wicked woman He was anx ious for the coming of Dick, to whom i he would make one more appeal If that should fall—well, he must use the i influences at his command to secure the forcible parting of the adventuress from hie son. ' ‘ Dick at Last*’ ’ He Muttered. j The room In which he paced to and 1 fro was of a solid dignity, well fitted to serve as an environment for Its owner. It was very large and lofty. There was massiveness In the desk that stood oppo site the hall door, near a window This particular window itself was huge, high. ! Jutting^ln octagonal, with leaded p«nee. In addition, there was a great fireplace set with tiles, around which was wood work, elaborately carved, the fruit of patient questioning abroad. On the walls were hung some piece* of tapestry, where there were not book cases. Over the octagonal window, too, such draperies fell in stately lines. Now, as the magnate paced back and forth, there waa only a gentle light in the room from a reading lamp on his desk. The huge chandelier was unlighted. . . . . It was even as Glider, In an Increasing irritation over the delay, had thrown himself down on a couch which stood Just a little way within an al cove, that he heard the outer door open and shut. He sprang up with an ejacu lation of satisfaction. “Dick at last!’’ he muttered. It was, in truth, the son. A moment later he entered the room and went at once to hie father, who was standing waiting, facing the door. "I’m awfully sorry Tm so late. Dad,” he said simply. “Where have you been?" the father demanded gravely. But there waa great affection in the flaeh of his gray eyes as he scanned the young man’s face, and the touch of the hand that he put on Dick’s shoulder was very tender “With that woman again?” The boy’s voice was disconsolate as he replied: “No, father, not with h$r She won’t see me.” The older man snorted a wrathful ap preciation. Glider Was Impressed. “Naturally?’’ he exclaimed with ex ceeding bitterness in the heavy voice. "She’s got all she wanted from you—my name!” He repeated the words, with a grimace of exasperation “My name!" There was a novel dignity in the son’s tone as he spoke "It’s mine. too. you know, sir," he said quietly. To Be Continued To-morrow. A N old bachelor, who in an un wary moment allowed himself to be captured by eome skill ful lady fisher of men. is wriggling on the hook and has appealed to me for assistance in getting free again. He w’riteg a doleful letter in which he says that although the girl to whom he is engaged la all that is nice and charming and would make some other man an admirable wife, he doesn’t want to marry her or any other woman, because it will Inter fere with all of his old bachelor ways. H© is settled In his habits and he doesn’t, feel that he could change them to please a wife. For Instance, it upsets him for the entire day to have anybody alter the position of his brushes on his chiffonier. And what h© should do if he found a long hair In his comb he trembles to con template. Also of an evening he likes to sit bv himself and smok© his pip© In silence, an amusement which in his opinion is a million times more pleasurable than listening to the chatter of any wife. He dreads to think of this unsociable custom be ing broken up, and he palpitates with horror lest he should not only get a wife who would want to talk and be talked to of an evening, but who might put the taboo on pipes al together. Wants Advioa. The poor fellow Is In a terrible dilemma, and he asks me what I think he should do under the circum stances. My advice to him Is to break off the engagement, not for his own sake, but in common humanity to the girl He has become fossilized, and fossils have no business getting mar ried. Their proper place Is on a shelf In a museum, or at a seat at a club window, and not In cluttering up the holy estate. What would a young and blooming girl, full of vitality and enthusiasm, brimming over with Interest In life, do with a man who was nothing but a bunch of peculiarities and cranki ness? A woman with “ways” Is bad enough, goodness knows, but heaven help the poor girl who marries a man with “ways.” There are many men who are hard to live with, but the sissy man with all sorts of little fln- nteky habits has gotten all the bal ance of them beaten a city block. However, I commend my corre spondent for one thing. He Is can did and honest with himself and with the girl. He knows he wouldn't make a good husband, and he warns the girl of his cantankerousness be fore marriage Instead of watting to Is too late This is, at least, playing the game squarely, and it’s a pity that more men don’t show the same sportsman like attitude toward matrimony. If they did, there would be fewer mar riages. but happier ones For example, the man who is stingy and who feels as If he were parting with his life blood every time he spends a nickel, know s very well that matrimony Isn’t going to work any DOROTHY DIX. miracle in him that will make him generous. He Is perfectly aware of how grudgingly he is going to pay his family expenses. Why shouldn't he emulate the example of my corre spondent and be frank with the wom an he asks to marry him? He might say to her when he popped the ques tion, "I love you, kid, but oh, my pooketbook!” That would give the girl a chance to know the difficulties she was sure to confront In matrimony, and If she thought she would not enjoy cork- husband, she could decline But the man never says a word to har concerning his miserly habits, and ao the poor, ignorant girl goaa blunder ing along Into a lifetime of begging and coaxing for pennies, and of get ting scolded because she can’t run a house on air. Certainly the man who doe* not Ilka to talk, or to be talked to, and who has the fixed habit of spending Ms evenings In solitude over pipe and pee per, Is In honor bound to warn th* woman he marries that that Is what she has got to expect If ahe becomes his wife. And. believe m*. there’would be a mighty falling olT In the ringing of wedding balls If girls knew how often they were getting a dummy in stead of a live husband. You see the poor things marry fee companionship. They dream at the jolly times they are going to have go ing about with their husbands, or th* dear heart-to-heart talks thay ara going to enjoy across their own drop light, and when they find out that hubby 1s always too tired to go eot to any place of amusement, and that his entire stock of domestic conversation consists of a few grunts, they gat the jar of their lives and wonder why they left their happy homes for this. Nor Is 1t very lively for a woman to spend the evening at home aloa* be cause her husband has the club habit and prefers to play poker With a let of men to making himself agreeable to his wife. Few girls have to merry in this day for support. They have a good home, or else they can make on* for themselves. Also, they have their friends and amusements, and there 1# nothing meaner, nor crueller, for a man to do than to take a young wom an out of her own gay and pleasant environment and dump har down In a strange place and leave her by her lonely. Unless be mean* to bear her company and to make her Iff* happy and cheerful he has no right to merry her. Another Don’t. Likewise, the man who knows him self to be fickle, and that his errant fancy is snared by every pretty faoe that passes, ehould give himself the benefit of the doubt and stay single. He shouldn’t marry to tear his wife's heart with Jealousy And no man ehoUM marry until he has finished sowing his wild oats crop. As long as jnan wants to run with the boys, and com«^ home at all hours of the night, he fAould be hu mane enough not to infifet on an In nocent woman the ea.d lot of the drunkard’s wife. In a word, unless a man can make up his mind to change his habits. If they are bad one*, and adapt his ways, to those of the woman He marries, he should stay single. THE FIVE FRANKFORTERS . A Romance of Great Wealth as Played by Money brings By KATHRYN KEY, Copyright, 1913, by the New York Even ing Journal Publishing Company. TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT. “Money? He can have as much money as he wants for all I care.” “Come, sit where Grannie and I wer© this morning. It Is so cosy talking across her dear little, round breakfast table—sugar and cream, sir?” She laughed at h©T merry fancy. “Don’t Charlotte—that hurts.” he said, In a voice that he tried to keep smooth and impassive. But the thought of pretty Charlotte in the gentle intimacy of the breakfast hour waa almost more than hls heart couiti bear. Charlotte dismissed her game, since it appeared, for some reason which she could not fathom, to be most un welcome. “Then If the Duke i* wel come to our money—’Which is most important, I should think—what Is It you object to?” There was a long pause—Jacob wondered dully ho v much a man might bear. "Oughtn’t I to ask? Dear Jacob, shall we forget I tried to pry into your private— and, no doubt, very good—reasons?” Jacob laughed roughly and uneven ly—a laugh In which there was no mirth. “ ‘My reasons.’ I must tell you—I must. Little Charlotte, your fate Is being sealed In that room up stairs. Now you know.” “My fate! But I do not understand How does it ooncern ms?” “The Duke will ask for you in mar riage—he Is to tnarry you as part jf the bargain—In return for the ser vices our family is rendering him. It is all your father’s clever idea. He i3 the cleverest of us all. He can turn almost anything to good account. Even hls own daughter.” So flowered the seed of bitterness Solomon had sown in Jacob’s heart. Charlotte answered with gentle ear nestness: “You must not speak liko that of my father. Remember that I love him—and although you and even I may not understand all he does—he loves me and he tries to do hls best for me.” “So you will marry the Duke?” Jacob in turn questioned gently— but he had not dreamed that her love for her father would carry, the girl so far—where, in truth, was her re sentment at being the puppet for for use in her father’s tremendous schemes? Charlotte did not an swer. Jacob spoke again: “You like him, don’t you ?” Masculine jealously sug gested a solution of Charlotte’s strange attitude. She must like the man, else how coud she so calmly take the great news of how her fate was being settled In the room above. "I like him—yes. He Is clever— more so than he pretends to be. And he has a kind heart, too—though he likes to appear bitter sometimes—but he ought to outgrow that. He is quite young.” Charlotte spoke her thoughts aloud, in calm consideration of this most unexpected turn of events. But, after all, she waa accustomed to her father’s wizardry. Life Had Been Easy. " ’Young’—'And handsome.' ’’ said Jacob. The arlrl continued in her train of thought. "Yes, He la handsome and he Is not conceited.’ "In fact, he has a perfect character —as well as a grand position. What more could a girl of my people—-of ANY people—want?" Charlotte answered dreamily—the bitterness of her cousin's tone had not yet echoed Its way Into her conscious ness. “It would be a very different life from what I hays always pie tured for myself." She pauead a me ment and looked at the man wit whom she was eo dispassionately At. ousalng her marriage to another mar In Ms face she beheld the fins of a: emotion far greater than aha had eye known—or seen. Life had been Mite and roses and violate In a garden fa Charlotte—of life’s governing foyosi of the roots from whloh the floorer*. - and we humane alike—spring she h*i known no real fact. Vaguely an. dimly she sensed now In Jacob's bum lngly tender eye* something Very bi( —very far and very real. Htomerrtal primitive love—the guardianship of i man for hi* mate. For a second th< girl looked Into Jacob's seal and that she spoke uneasily: “Why do-you die- like the Duke so?” "Because I am jealous of Watl- "Jealoue?” "Only because he le se e elf-pee sessed, and I am just the opposite He makes me feel trtnpld, awkward I know I am far beneath hhn. I hav< nothing against Mm, and Just be cause I haven’t I feel*' “What? asked Chariot** w gently. The boy's Iron self-control broke He burled hts face In shaking arms and breathed one word, "Miserable ’ A tender light broke over Ole gtrt’s race. Another second of weakness en Jacob’s part, and the course of Itves might have been ohanged—little Pt*) cess Evelyn In Neustadt Castle, who knows what a man's strong teattns of family one-neas and family honor did for your gentle fate? "What troubles you, Jaeobt Let me help." The woman’s tender heart spoke In the girl’s tones—and Jacob knew- that the victory lay with hhn, and hls to choose what th* vlotory must be. To Be Continued To-moprow. A stubborn backache that hangs on, week after week, is cause to suspect kidney trouble, for when the kidneys are inflamed and swollen, bending the back brings a sharp twinge that almost takes the breath away. It’s hard to work and just as hard to rest or sleep. Doan’s Kidney Pills re vive sluggish kidneys-— relieve congested, aching kidneys. The proof is an amazing collection nf backache testimonials. Here’s an Atlanta case. Oh! My A Back! A'' “Every Picture Tells a Story. Atlanta Proof Testimony of a. Resident of Cooper Street B. W. Brooks, 198 Cooper Street, Atlanta, Ga., says: “1 can recommend Doan’s Kid ney Pills. Sotme months ago I procured a box of Doan’s Kidney Pills at Jacobs’ Drug Store for one of my family who had been suffering with kidney disorders. T h »y quickly removed all traces of the trouble. I advise all gof fering from kidney dlsordars to give Doan 'n Kfdney trial.” Ions Tmi ’ ** sa*v\* v*y ****• —» —■ •• »j- —