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NEW Y ORK Central LINES Superfluous Hair Truths Do Y ou Know- Advice to the Lovelorn A Powerful Story of Ad venture, Intrigue andLove WITHIN THE LAW By MARVIN DANA, from the Play of BERNARD VEILLER Snared! With the Golden Apple of Love for Bait Copyright, 1913. by International News Service. By NELL BRINKLEY By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. WAIT A WHILE. PJEAR MISS FAIRFAX: I am 22, and have been keep ing company with a certain girl for six weeks. At first it seemed love at first sight, but lately she has grown cold. I buy her candy and flowers and try to please her. and her parents have taken a lik ing to me. Hut she now assumes an indifferent air. Do you think my proposal would be accepted? 1 # am madly in love with her. S. S. Has it occurred to you that she may tytve grown tired of seeing so much of you? Try an application of that old adage, "absence makes the heart grow fonder.' In any event, a proposal after an acquaintance of only six weeks is apt to he premature. 5 DON’T LET HIM KNOW. HKARMISS FAIRFAX: I am a girl of 18 years and in love with a man of 30 years. This man is a friend of my folks. He has never taken me out and he is very nice to me. and always talks of getting married. He doesn’t know I love him. Please tell me how I could win his love. A SPANISH GIRL. Suppose I were to tell you to let him know of your love. You are only 18, and girls of that age transfer their hearts easily. If you let him know of your love to-day. the chances are you will love , another man to morrow. Spare yourself humiliation by keeping your love a secret until he asks for It. NOT IMPROPER. FJEAR MISS FAIRFAX: Do you think it proper for a girl who is keeping steady com pany to ask the man when she will see him next? A. L. W. Their intimacy warrants such a | question from her. but I would not want her to be urgent or persist ent, and it is in better taste if she lets him take the initiative in making future engagements. MOTHERS SHOULD CALL FIRST. P)KAR MISS FAIRFAX: I am keeping company with a young lady and wish to know if it * is proper for the young lady's mother to call on my mother, or my mother to call on her, my mother being the elder. We will soon be engaged. S. S. L. Such overtures should come from the family of the man, never from the family of the girl. THE LADY FIRST. *■ HEAR MISS FAIRFAX: Which is proper: For a lady to greet a gentleman first, or a gentleman to greet a lady, while walking on the street? ARCO. The lady is the first always to give some sign of recognition. The Manicure Lady By WILLIAM F. KIRK. “M E and brother Wilfred spent a week-end up in the coun try, and I have just cam} back," said the Manicure Lady. "1 would rather than not spend all my week-ends In the country. George, be cause the air is so restful up there, hut 1 guess Wilfred don't want to go back no more to the town where wo was. "You see, George, my poor, deluded brother had an Idea that he could sail into the little town where we was going and Just tell them that he was from New York. He thought that would make him an idol in said town. I didn't think so for a minute, George, because I know' how people is in small towns. They mind their own business and everybody else’s, but they don’t care a rap where they find out you came from. You might as well try to make a gorilla kiss your hand as to make a small tovvner re spect you because you are a New Yorker. They simply don’t care whers you are from, and the way they treat, ed my poor brother I guess the big ger the town you came from the less they care.” They Go to Europe. "1 don't blame them." said the Head Barber. "1 don't see why a man should figure himself a favorite .lust because he lives in a little New York flat and rides up and down town in the subway. How is that going to make a man wise? Most of the fel low's that was born In the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge—the kino that comes in here sometimes to get shaved—ain't got much idea of the great country they are living In. if they save up a little dough, they don't go out to the wonderful Pacific Coast. No; they go to Europe and g2t bnnked. They pay a guide a lot of dough to show them some place where an English king had his nephews choked to death in a tower, and th m they come back and tell about their travels.” "I hope you ain’t doing a mono logue. George." said the Manicure Lady. I was trying to tell you something about this week-end party, if you arc enough of a gent to listen Well, Wilfred and me reached the town all right, and the minute we got to the hotel and were seated'Vrlth our country friends around the table, poor brother pulls the very phrase that I asked him not to. ‘This is fair, he says to the company, but little old New York for mine.’ I knew right off that he had made a bonehead play, because I seen the folks look at each other kind of funny, but he doesn't gets wise, not Wilfred. ‘The reason I like Manhattan/ he babbles right on. Ms because Manhattan Is the mar ket for brains. I write, as perhaps some of you people know',’ says poor brother, and the brains of the coun try, in literature, all flock to New York. If I were a farmer, I would like it up here, but being a writer. I have to be In the heart of the literary world, little old New York.’ A Quiet Fellow. "There was a nice, quiet-looking fellow in the party, George, that I seen looking over my fool brother kind of sly and unobstructive like. H*» was dressed rough, because he was or a fishing trip, but I seen right away from his calm, well-bred misdemeanor that he was a gent. He listened a long time while Wilfred wa* telling them what a terrible strain it is on a writer to keep writing, and he even stood for my brother’s reciting some of his own poems right at the table with his mouth.full of chow-chow and new bread. Then he got up and wen* out with a smile at me. 1 seen then and there that him and m* would be good friends, because we both knew' Wilfred through and through. "Honest to goodness. George, do you know who he was? I asked one of the ladies and she told me. The gent that had been listening to Wil fred's hot air about writing and writ ers was George Ade. who wrote ‘Fables in Slang' and ‘Horgitlue it the Bridge’ and ‘David (‘oi>perfleld’ and a lot of other books and plays " "Did Wilfred find out w'ho he was?* asked the Head Barber. "Sure he did. but It didn’t fear,* him He said that the time would go swift for the party with two clever* writers at the same table!” NELL BRINKLEY SAYS- Some curious experiences seem to have befallen Mr. William Campbell, late of the Black Watch, who has .iust finished a 50,000-mile walk, in a kilt, through India, Ceylon, Australia and New Zealand. In Italy hi*- 1 dancing of a Highland fling in the street led to arrest, a New Zealand chief offered him a wife in exchange for his cos tume, and in Australia he lavished money on eau-de-cologne in order to keep the mosquitoes away from his knees. He was nearly murdered at a religious festival in Ceylon, being taken for a devil. The Quebec agency of the Canadian Marine Department has received word that a gas buoy which drifted from its position in the lower St. Lawrence River during the winter of 1912 has been picked up by the lightship at Hellewick, New South Wales. It is supposed that the buoy drifted round Cape Horn, a distance of 16,000 miles. The date of the buoy’s disappearance Js not given, but even if it took place ■early in the winter of 1911-12 the buoy would have to drift 30 miles a day or more to reach New South Wales in the time. I N this fashion is it dong! In the depths of a lovely forest, velveted underfoot in emerald- moss and sewn thick with flowers—forget- me-nots, heartease and such like soft names— hide certain wary wights with very fat cheeks and tummies! Over the runways they set their snares—a cunning loop of golden cord—thrown over a high tree-bough and down, as high from the ground as—a maid’s w'aist. On the green moss under tfie shining loop (which is so like a slanting sunbeam that a strolling lady would never catch it in her. bright eye in the world) they drop a golden apple. And on the golden apple the sun smites hard enough to enchant and blind a maid with its flame. One malicious wight, the coldest-blooded of all, shins up the tree into the leafy green shadow and lies there with his bow drawn and a keen-tipped arrow necked. The rest fall upon the other end of the cord. They hold their breath, their eyes harden and brighten. The feathery curl on the tip top of one’s head waves idly in the wind! One itches his pink heel with the toes of his other foot. One breathes too loud and gets a fat knee in his back for his stupidity. They WAIT—the cord a bit slack. Down the runway comes a maid, with soft black hair, primroses over her ears, a nar row slashed skirt (the better to dance the Tango in), silver buckles on her shoes and an unsus pecting sweet blue eye! And the sun on the golden apple smites into her eyes! The wights behind the tree-bole stiffen and dig their toes into the moss. With a little cry the maid pinches up her silken skirt between a forefinger and thumb and runs swiftly—in a soft rush—she dives down with a greedy hand for the apple in the moss. Her head hovers within the big gold en loop. She straightens—ah-h-h down slithers the noose over her shoulders—“Ileva”—the wights lean and pull like mad, and my lady’s body is twirling in midair, her little heels kick ing nothing! “Heya!”—the wight in the tree lets his arrow go singing straight to the cap tive’s heart—and another maid is snared 1 Copyright, 1913, by the H. K. Fly Com pany. The play "Within the Law” is copyrighted by Mr. Veiller and this novelization 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 in all languages. the Law” Stop Experimenting No matter what claims are made to the contrary, De Miracle is tho only preparation that will immediate ly, and without the slightest injury to the most delicate skin, remove superfluous hair. Insist cn Prool ■when makers of questionable depila tories make similar claims. The mere fa*t that such preparations are of fered on tho bare word of the makers should alone be sufficient warning to avoid their use. DyDll'.raefe The Only Safe Hear Remover leaves no clinging, tell-tale smell, and is the only depilatory you can use without experimenting, because it 13 acknowledged the world over by emi nent authorities as the one safe, per fected hair remover that instantly removes superfluous hair and retards and controls growths which have be come coarse and heavy through the use of worthless depilatories. Others Advertise “Guaranteed” but give no guarantee. De Miracle is the only depilatory that has a finding guarantee in each package. Avoid permanent disfigurement by refusing substitutes. If your dealer will not supply you. send $1.00 direct. information how to determine which depilatories are harmful and worthless sent in plain, sealed enve lope. New truths in next advt. De Miracle Chemical Co., New Yc-’ Sold and Recommend' d ■ Chamberlin-Johnson-DuBose Co. By MARVIN DANA from the Play by BAYARD VEILLER. TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT. The father was impressed of a sudden with the fact that, while this affair was of supreme import to himself, it was, after all, of still greater significance to his son. To himself, the chief concerns were of the worldly kind. To this boy, the vital thing was something deeper, something of the heart: for. however ab surd his feeling, the truth remained that he loved the woman. Yes, it was the son’s name that Mary Turner had taken, as well as that of his father. In the ease of the son. she had taken not only his name, but his very life. Yes. it was, Indeed, Dick’s tragedy Whatever he. the father, might feel, the son was, after all, more affected. He must suffer more, must lose more, must pay more with happiness for his folly. Gilder looked at his son with a strange, new respect, but he could not let the situation go without protest, protest most vehement "Dick.” he cried, and his big voice was shaken a little by the force of his emotion, "boy, you are all I have in the world. You will have to free yourself from this woman somehow." He stood very erect, staring steadfastly out of his clear gray eyes into those of his son. His heavy face was rigid with feeling; the coarse mouth bent slightly in a smile of troubled fondness, as he added more softly: "You owe me that much.” The son's eyes met his father's freely. There was respect in them, and affec tion. but there was something else, too, something the older man recognized as beyond his control. He spoke grave ly. with a deliberate conviction. Gilder’s Voice Rang; Out. "I owe something to her. too. Dad." ’But Gilder would not let the state ment go unchallenged. His heavy voice rang out rebukingly, overtoned with protest. "What can you owe her?" he de manded, indignantly. "She tricked you into the marriage. Why, legally, it’s not even that. There's been nothing more than a wedding ceremony The courts hold that is only a part of the marriage actually The fact that she doesn't re ceive you makes it simpler, too. It can be arranged. We must get you out of the scrape." He turned and went to, the desk, as if to sit, but he was halted by bis son’s answer, given very gently, yet with a note of finality that to the father's ear rang like the crack of doom. "I’m not sure that I want to get out of it, father." That was all. but those plain words summed the situation, made the issue a matter not of advice, but of the heart. Gilder persisted, however, In trying to evade the integral fact of his son’s feeling. Still he tried to fix the issue on the known unsavory reputation of the woman. "You want to stay married to this jail bird!” he stormed. “She Is Justified.” A gust'of fury swept over the boy. He loved the woman, iti spite of all: he re spected her. even reverenced her. To hear her thus named moved him to a rage almost beyond his control. But he mastered himself. He remembered that the man who spoke loved him: he re membered, too, that the word of oppro brium was no more than the truth, however offensive it might be to his sen sitiveness. He waited a moment until he could hold his voice even. Then his words were the sternest protest that could have been uttered, though they came from no exercise of thought, only out of the depths of his heart. "I'm very fond of her." That was all. But the simple sin cerity of the saying gripped the father's mood, as no argument could have done. There was a little silence. After all. what could meet such loving loyalty? When at last he spoke Gilder’s voice was subdued, a little husky. "Now that you know?" he questioned. There was no faltering in the answer. “Now that I know,” Dick said dis tinctly. Then abruptly the young man spoke with the energy of perfect faith in the woman. "Don’t you see, father? Why, she is justified in a way. in her own mind, anyhow, I mean. She was innocent when she was sent to prison. She feels that the world owes her—” But the older man would not permit the assertion to go uncontradicted. That reference to the woman’s innocence was an arraignment of himself, for it had been he who sent her to the term of imprisonment. "Don’t talk to me about her inno cence!" he said, and his voice was omi nous. "I suppose next you will argue that, because she's been clever enough to keep within the law since she's got out of State’s prison, she’s not a’crim inal. But let me tell you—crime is crime, whether the law touches it in the particular case or whether it does not." Gilder faced his son sternly for a mo ment, and then presently spoke again with deeper earnestness. "There’s only one course open to you, my boy. You must give this girl up." The son met his father's gaze with a level look in which there was no weak ness. ‘‘I’ve told you, Dari " he began. "You must, I tell you,” the father in sisted. Then he went on quickly, with a tone of utmost positiveness. "If you don’t, what are you going to do the day j your wife is thrown into a patrol wagon and carried to police headquarters—for | it’s sure to happen? The cleverest of people make mistakes, and some day she'll make one.” Dick threw out his hands in a ges ture of supreme denial He was furious at this supposition that she would con tinue in her irregular practices. But the father went on remorselessly "They will stand her up where the detectives will walk past her with masks on their faces. Her picture, of course, is already In the Rogues’ Gallery, but they will take another Yes, and the Imprints of her fingers, ami the meas urements of her body.” The son was writhing under the words. The woman of whom these things were said was the woman whom he loved. It was blasphemy to think of her in such case, subjected to the degradation of these processes. Yet. every word had in it the piercing horrible sting of truth. His face whitened. He raised a sup plicating hand. "Father!” "That's what they will do to your wife,” Gilder went on harshly, "to th** woman who bears your name and mine.” There was a little pause, and the father stood rigid, menacing. The final ques tion came rasping. "What are you go ing to do about it?" Dick went forward until he was close to his father. Then he spoke with profound conviction. "It will never happen. She will go straight, Dad. That I know You would know it if you only knew her as I do.” Gilder once again put his hand tender ly on his son's shoulder. His voice was modulated to an unaccustomed mildness as he spoke. "Be sensible, boy," he pleaded softly. "Be sensible!" Dick dropped down on the couch, and made his answer very gently, his eyes unseeing as he dwelt on the things he know of the woman he loved. To Be Continued To-morrow. T HERE is this difference: She Is an Old Maid if she is old fash ioned and resigned, and a Bache lor Girl if she fights hard. It must be dreary to be a Spin and have no husband coma home and growl all evening about the high cost of liv ing. When a Spin knows how to smooth a man’s plumage an ideal wife is lost to the world. No one can save money quite as fast as a Spin after she has put aside the curling iron with the conviction that no man is worth having. When all her friends unite in saying "What a good time she has.” you can bet “She's is either a Spin or a widow. It is easy to compliment the mother of children, but when a woman has become a real old Spin the only way to reach her is to appeal through what she learned at school. "The top of her voice” is a com j mon expression, but the top note de pends entirely on whether a woman I is married or a Spin. Mothers reach a high key through experience in screaming at the children, their bus- bands and the dog. but the top of a Spin's voice is a low pitch, and when she tries to raise it it becomes a squeal. The top of a mother’s voice would stop a fire engine, the top of a Spin's voice isn't loud enough to call the cat home from the next yard. Once Upon a Time there lived an Old Maid. She did not call herself a Spin. She was frank about it. and admitted she was an old Maid, despising such subterfuges as Spin and Bachelor Girl. 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