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T
he F
inger of Deatf
1
A SPY has to take many risks, and
if he is caught at the game dur
ing war time his career as a rule
is then and there closed promptly, and
in most cases in ignominious fashion.
It was the money aspect of the busi
ness which appealed to Morris Tyler,
and Induced him to engage in the work.
He was a born spy. A good linguist,
and cunning beyond belief, he was
never one to assay a dangerous task for
the sheer excitement of it. He did not
like taking risks, though, of course, he
had to take them occasionally; but al
ways at these junctures he kept in
mind the big pay and extras. It needed
these to tune him up to concert pitch.
He was always cautious and success
ful. Having found it advisable to quit
Europe for a time, he made his way to
the South American Republic of Caldera
which, at the date of his arrival, was
just in the throes of one of its periodi
cal revolutions.
He offered his services to the Gov
ernment party a/' a rate of pay some
what in excess of what he had been re
ceiving in Europe, and President Biance
having heard of him, and finding that
he could speak Spanish fluently, en
gaged him at once.
But in Caldera. Morris Tyler had to
work under new and unfamiliar condi
tions. Hitherto, his spying had been
carried on during times of peace. There
1 had been no war in Europe since he
had come to the front. Now he found
himself in the thick of fighting of a sav
age character. When the insurgents
took any prisoners, they gave them the
option of changing sides or being shot.
But when the Government troops cap
tured any rebels, they did not permit
them ahy choice. They were placed in
a row with their backs against a wall
and promptly finished off by a firing
party. By the time he had been three
weeks at the “great game" as played
in this explosive South American State,
Morris Tyler was inclined to regret that
he had not remained a passive specta
tor of the revolution, instead of taking
part in It. However, he fortified his
courage with the thought of the pile of
dollars he would add to his banking ac
count when the fighting was over and
the rebels beaten. He had seen enough
to feel pretty certain they had no real
chance of winning. And so far he had
not encountered any special danger; his
cunning always enabled him to evade it.
No Avail.
But the day came when he discovered j
that cunning was of no avail, and that |
courage would have been a far more j
desirable possession.
He had been sent for by Colonel j
Voruba, the chief of the Intelligence De
partment, to whom he usually made his
reports.
“Some rare work for you, Senor
Tyler," observed the Colonel cheerfully, i
•and it may be the last service we j
shall require you to perform, for the rev- j
olution must end soon. Still, much will j
depend on the informtaion you are able
to obtain for us."
Morris Tyler nodded, and waited for
his chief to go on.
“The rebels are massed In some force
on the Hill of San Stefano,” pursued
the Colonel, “where it seems they are
going to make a last desperate stand.
They hold the old fort up there. That
much we know. But we do not know
the number of their guns, nor how they
are placed. It Is Important that we have
this information before we storm the
position, and we look to you to obtain
it for us."
"Can you give me any further particu
lars, Colonel?"
"There are no further particulars to
give you," replied Colonel Yoruba. "You
know the road. The rest lies with you.
I am instructed, however, to inform you
that if you succeed in bringing us cor
rect information, you will receive five
hundred dollars over and above your
pay. You must start at once.
By a curious freak of fate, there ar
rived at the headquarters of the Cal-
deran army, twenty-four hours, later, a
deserter from the rebel ranks, who was
able to furnish the exact information
which Colonel Voruba required.
Thereupon, an order was given for an
immediate advance. This movement
taking place so nr’ch sooner than was
expected, would very likely put Morris
Tyler in an extremely tight corner. But
the life of one man was of small moment
when so much was at stake. And a
spy! Well, n<} one bothered much about
fi spy when he was not required. In the
\ meantime. Tyler had contrived to get to
the top of the Hill of San Stefano with
out being observed by the enemy's out
posts or sentries.
He was, Indeed, well within the cir
cles of outposts when he reached an
abandoned building, which at one time
had been the boiler house of a sugar
plantation. It seemed a safe hiding
place, from the security of which he
could observe what was going on in the
rebels’ camp without himself being seen.
He crept inside and laid fiat down upon
the floor. About half a mile away he
could see the camp fires glowing in the
darkness, and nearer still the squat
shape of the fort showing black against
the night sky. Picturesque insurgents
were passing to and fro, and a few were
seated by the fires playing cards.
No Sleep.
After a time the camp became silent,
even the card players giving up their
games and stretching themselves out on
the ground to sleep. Only sentries re
mained on the alert, but between him
and the fort there were three. By no
possibility could he get past them un
seen, for it was open ground.
The night wore on. He was tired,
but he dared not sleep. If he could only
snatch a few minutes—just to rest his
eyes
He awoke with a start, and was about
to spring to his feet when a harsh voice
commanded him to remain still. At the
other side of the chamber he saw an
armed man—one of the rebels—standing
with his rifle at the “ready."
“So! A' spy!" exclaimed the man.
“Bueno! It will be promotion for me
for having discovered you. Don’t
move!" The rifle was raised threaten
ingly. “If you so much as move a hand
or a foot I will put a bullet through
your brain. Yet I do not wish to waste
ammunition. A rope is good enough for
such as you.”
He spat on the floor to typify his con
tempt for all spies. Then he called to
the nearest sentry, telling him of his
"find,” and asking him to bring a rope.
But the words had barely left his lips
when there was a terrific crash over
head, a blinding flash of flame, the split
ting of wood and the rattle of falling
masonry.
A twelve-pound shell from a field gun
had struck the building and reduced it
to a ruin. It was the first shot fired by
the Government artillery In their at
tack on the hill of San Stafano. The
rebels were taken by surprise, became
panic-stricken, and instead of shaping
up to defend the position began a hasty
retreat.
Moris Tyler was not immediately
concerned with the running fight be
tween the loyal troops and the rebels,
for the sounds of strife drifted farther-
away each minute from the ruined boil
er house. No other shot or shell came
near it. But he was much concerned
about himself. He could not move. He
was pinned down by some timber from
the fallen roof, and all around him was
a wreck of shattered walls, broken
planks and beams and debris which
bore no likeness to anything in particu
lar.
Fear!
“Luck’s with me, after all,” he mur
mured. “I am not hurt, and this beam
is not too heavy for me to lift. I can
raise it up and crawl.”
He paused with a sort of gasp, for
his eyes, roving around the place, had
rested on a gleaming rifle barrel. It was
pointed straight at his head, and there
was a man’s forefinger resting on the
trigger. The man was the rebel who
had captured him. He was lying on his
face amidst the wreckage, and there
was blood streaming from a terrible
wound at the side of his head. A splin
ter of the bursting shell had killed him
The spy gave a sigh of relief. For a
moment he had thought that the man
was alive, and was taking aim at him
But his relief was of short duration
He did not like that rifle pointing so
steadily at him, even though it was
only held in a dead man’s hand; and
when he saw that the lower end of the
beam which was lying across his own
body rested against the man’s right
forearm, he liked it still less. He could
not move the beam upwards; he could
only move it downwards or sideways
If he shifted It ever so little, It was
bound to press more heavily on the
dead rebel’s arm, and that would cause
his stiffened finger to press on the trig
ger, which would fire the rifle. The
bullet would enter his—Tyler’s—brain,
because his head was so wedged that he
could not move it to one side or the
other. He could raise it a little, but
that would be of no advantage. The
bullet would take him then somewhere
about the mouth and pass upwards
through the base of his skull.
He shook with fear, like a man with
the ague/ and the sweat streamed down
his face.
It was borne in upon the spy’s mind
that he might lie there until he died of
starvation. There was the alternative
of pushing the beam a little more, so
that the dead man’s finger should press
harder on the trigger and thus end his
misery with a bullet from the menacing
rifle.
Then all at once something In his
brain seemed to snap. A red curtain
dropped before his eyes. The noise of a
rushing wind howled in his ears—and
then came black oblivion.
Early the next morning two mounted
men reined up close by the ruined boil
er house. They were Colonel Voruba
and an orderly. The fight was over,
and the rebels were beaten.
“Two men in there," said the Colonel.
“They may have some life in them."
The orderly dismounted and peered
in among the wreckage.
"One is a rebel,” he reported. “The
other is Senor Tyler. Both dead."
The Answer.
“The spy!” exclaimed th# Colonel
“It is strange,” said Voruba, bend
ing over Tyler’s body, “there is not a
mark upon him. He has received no
wohnd. no hurt. He could easily have
lifted this beam and extricated himself.’’
“Look at the expression on lf4s face
even now," repiled the orderly. “It
was sheer terror that killed him. I
have heard of such a thing. Perhaps
he had a weak heart.”
“Terror!" Voruba raised his eye
brows. "Ah, yes, 1 perceive. The load
ed rifle pointing at his head, which, at
the slightest movement on his part
would ’’
Captain Berwick interrupted him. He
bad picked the rifle up and opened the
breech.
“He was in no danger at any time
from this weapon," he said. “It is not
loaded!"
Lady Constance Stewart Richardson «»
IIow to Acquire a Beautiful
Figure Through Dancing
Written Exclusively
for the Readers of
This Page.
Figure 1,
shown in the
topmost picture,
shows the body
poised on one
foot.
A swaying ex
ercise fully de
scribed by Lady
Richardson’s
article brings
In Poses Especially
Adapted for the Ac
companying Article.
One Woman’s Story .
By VIRGINIA TERHUNE VAN DE WATT3R
about an easy
control of
the waist
muscles.
Practice in
this lesson will
do more to re
duce the waist
line than
any other
fat-reducing
method known
to Lady Rich
ardson.
Incidentally it
produces natu
rally graceful
movements
when walking
or running.
7 HIS is the fourth of Lady
Richardson’s valuable arti
cles on dancing as an aid
to natural beauty.
Another will appear on this page
next week, in which the student
is carried along a little further,
and into a trifle more difficult
exercises.
By Lady Constance Stewart Richardson
Copyright, 1913, by International News Service.
D ANCING Is one of the most characteristic and
characterful things I know. It expresses the
individual and the nation in perfect accord
with the feelings and customs that characterize him
or it.
Take, for instance, the Hungarian Czardas, the
Italian Tarantelle, or the Tango of Argentina—each
is characteristic of its place and dime, and however
w«U the peoples of another nation do the dance that
is not their own they still must modify it to suit
their own temperament.
A Perfect Outline.
If we take the best of the moderns and add to It
the finest steps of the ancients and teach our result
we will get as many variations as we have individual
temperaments expressing the dance we have made.
If people will stop to think what a wonderful mode
of expression the dance offers them, and will study it,
Its music and the effect of thiR expression on their
own temperaments, they will no longer consider the
dance and the body that expresses it us something
to be despised, but they will give to the body, which •
Is capable of beauty, its due of admiration and its
right to beautiful expression, which will mean that
one step toward lifting instead of degrading the hu
man body will be definitely taken through the wor
ship of loveliness.
To help you ull make your bodies so perfect In
outline, in strength and in power to respond to your
desire to express emotion through the great safety
valve of movement is my desire.
When dancing, look happy and as if you were danc
ing because you love to, and ns if you were dancing
because you love the particular step you are taking—
not doing the fashionable thing some dancing teacher
had assured you was the “proper way.” Make one
or two steps your own. and through them teach your
body to express itself without shame or consciousness
in perfect happiness and rhythm.
Figure One.
Dancing is a safe and sane form of self-expression,
and it is good for body as well as soul.
In Figure 1 the body is poised on the ball of one
foot, while the other is raised with the leg thrown
slightly backward from the knee and the toes point
ing downward. ’ A straight line from flexed kuee to
This is the first time that any
newspaper has presented a series
of articles in, which such expert
instruction and advice are given
on the value of practicing natural
movements for the preservation
of human grace and beauty.-
Figure 2 is a
walking exer
cise that has a
wonderfully
beneficial effect
upon the whole
body.
Constant
practice in this
exercise makes
it become as
easy and natural
to you as when
a child skipping
along the street.
It is Lady
Richardson’s
claim that all
these move
ments are but
normal, simple,
human expres
sions.
This style of
dancing, says
Lady Richard
son, is good for
the soul as well
as the body.
the tip of the toes seems to be a favorite idea of
grace, as depicted by the sculpture of the ancients,
and as it adds to beauty of line the l>enefit of
strengthening instep and ankle, it is one of the little
separate movements that I often incorporate in my
dancing steps.
To return to Figure 1—Bend slightly at the waist
toward the uplifted leg and raise the arm above
the head so there will be a continuous curve from
elbow to toes. A flexible waist waits upon the earnest
practice of this exercise.
From elbow to wrist the arm is bent above and
toward the head, while the other arm. stretched
lightly out from the shoulder and parallel with it,
terminates in loosely flexed wrist and hand. Sway
lightly from foot to foot, and see what easily con
trolled muscles of the waist result.
Figure Two.
Figure 2 pictures for you a walking exercise that
has a wonderfully beneficial effect on the whole.body.
It Is a natural bodily expression such as you have
often seen little children drop into quite uncon
sciously.
Tiptoe along from foot to foot, with the raised
limb flexed at the knee and held with down-pointing
toe. *
Bend the body well forward from the waist, and
sway it toward the lifted foot, stretching the arm
over this foot back and down and the other arm
forward and as you would do in feeling your way
along a solid surface in the dark.
Deg. arm and waist muscles are here brought into
play—and when such simple, pretty, little exercises
as this beeothe indeed play you may feel sure that
you are on yutir way to a body beautiful and grace
ful.
After all. just such dance movements as this are
normal, simple, human expression, and out of them
we can evolve natural grace of body and movement.
Handsome Mr. Slatte :: a short story complete
ON HER KITCHEN STOVE
It Is interesting to note that the
most successful remedy for woman’s
ills was originally prepared nearly
forty years ago by Mrs. Lydia E.
Pinkham, of Lynn. Mass, by steep
ing roots and herbs on her kitchen
stove and supplied to friends and
neighbors without cost. Its fame
spread; the demand grew; until now
many tons of roots and herbs are
used each year in order to supply
this famous remedy which has
proved such a marvelous success in
controlling diseases of women. Merit
alone could have stood this test of
time.
‘T
Did the Vicar Stop?
It was too much. Every Sunday
old Adams who blew the organ, would
continue blowing after the music had
stopped, thereby producing most un
desirable sounds.
Time and again had the organist
taken him to task for it.
•Right, mister," had been old Ad
ams’ Invariable reply. "I forgits, you
know." ..
One Sunday the organist could stand
it no longer.
The congregation had been set tit
tering by the old man’s forgetful
ness. and during the sermon the or
ganist seized the opportunity to write
him a note on the matter, and handed
it to a choir boy to deliver.
Misunderstanding the whispered
directions, the lad handed the note
straight up to the vicar, who astound-
edly read the following;
• Will you stop when I tell you to?
People come here to listen to my mu
sic, not to your horrible noise."
SHOULD think you would read
more," suggested the girl in
the grass green linen gown at
she came upon the porch.
"Oh, I don’t know," responded* the
young woman in the wicker chair,
who was busy embroidering. “This
is just ap satisfactory as most of the
popular novels."
"It’s every woman’s duty to im
prove her mind." declared the girl in
the green linen. “I feel that I have
done so much since the corner drug
store put In its circulating library.
Mr. Slatte has been such a help!"
"Mr. Slatte?" queried her friend.
"What has he to do with it?”
The girl in the green linen sighed
faintly. “You know.” she said, “I am
not the sort of girl to rave over a
man’s good looks 1 prefer brains* any
time. But, reaHy, you never in your
life saw any one who looked like Mr.
Slatte! He ”
“He might look like anything with
that name,” commented the young
woman who was embroidering. “Do
you mean to say he is handsome?”
“More than that,” said her friend.
“He has the sort of eyes that pierce
with their brilliance, and such a chin!
My dear, every time I see him I am
reminded of that stunning portrait of
Lord Byron! I am certain there is a
mystery about him! He haa the most
perfect manner*#!’’
A Shock.
“Where <*’
“Why, he's recently take® charge
of the drug store,” explained the girl
in the green linen “I had just picked
out a book whei^ ho came up and said
he couldn’t bear to see me waste my
time on such a tiresome story. He
said he’d be only too glad to help me
find something worth while that he
knew I ^ould appreciate. I thought
it so kind "
“Kind!" suid the girl who was em
broidering. “I think he was imperti
nent. I guesf if I wanted a book I'd
want what I wanted."
“You don’t understand at all," ex
claimed the girl in green linen, pa
tiently. “Mr. Slatte Is writing a
novel himself, so of course he knows
perfectly what—”
“My goodness! A drug clerk and a
novelist!" said the girl who was em
broidering.
Her friend bristled at this. “He’s
not a clerk!” she said. “He’s a sort
of—er—manager. People generally
don’t know he is so literary You
don’t suppose that he wastes time on
everybody who comes to get a book,
do you? Not that he is especially In
terested in me, of course—only I sup
pose he realizes that I have more
than average intelligence. I never
saw such eyes in my life! Sometimes
when he smiles In that slow, sad sort
of way of his I "
“Who puts up prescriptions while
he is engaged in smiling sadly?” in
quired the young woman who was
embroidering.
“You are perfectly horrid!” said her
friend. “If you knew Mr. Slatte you’d
think differently. We have had some
of the most inspiring talks since we
met. He always drops whatever he is
doing and helps me select my books.
I’m a rapid reader and have to ex
change books so often.
"I'm on my way there now to get
another book. I do wish X could
make you see what an opportunity it
is. now that Mr. Slatte is there. He
has such a cultivated mind—many
times he has remarked what a treat it
is to him to have someone come in
who is different from the average
careless reader."
A Rival,
"There comes Dorothy Maye,” said
the girl who was embroidering. “Come
in. Dorothy,” she called across the
railing.
“I can’t just now." said the girl In
question, pausing at the steps. “I’m
An my way to the drug store to take
back a book. There’s suchyi nice man
in charge there now—perfectly stun
ning, and so kind. He’s writing a
book himself, too. He always stops
whatever he Is doing to come and
help me pick out something good. He
says it is a treat ■“
“How nice!’’ enthusiastically inter
rupted the girl who was embroidering.
“Alicia is here and she is going there,
“No,” said the girl in grass green
linen shortly. "I am not going to the
drug store! I am too busy to waste
time over those trashy books and to
hang around a silly <lerk."
Untested.
“Yes. sir," said the successful man
ufacturer. “no man can .«ell his fac
tory* products these days unless they
have been thoroughly tested."
"Oh, I don’t know,” replied an
other equally successful manufactur
er. “We manage to sejl our product
withput testing it."
“You do? What U your line?"
“Dynamite,”
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
LET YOUR HEART DECIDE.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am a girl of twenty. About
two years ago I met a young man,
and from I hat time until a month
ago I loved him, but be did not re
turn my love in the way I wanted,
so I thought It would be best to
forget him. I am now keeping
company W'ith anotner young man
who is very serious. Two weeks
ago the first young man wrote and
told me hf> had found no girl he
could love like me. DOROTHY.
You must take the one you love
most, but before you make that de-
ci#*lon be very fair with yourself. I
know nothing of the merits of the two
men. but it seems to me that the first
is somewhat like the dog in the
manger
He did not seek your love till some
other man’s attentions made It de
sirable.
HE IS NOT SINCERE.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am nineteen, and in love with
a man three years my senior. I
am really crazy over him. I think
the world of him, as I think he
does the same of me.
It Is nearly a year since we met
and fell in love with each other.
He aeked me to be his bride. We
were to be married In a short
time, but now he has excuses for
not getting married. He does not
write as usual, but comes up as
usual. P. G. Z.
The indications are he is trying to
get out of it. Pave your self-respect
by breaking the engagement, for. be
lieve me. it will never end in mar
riage. T am sorry, dear, but this
course will save you greater pain la
ter on.
THAT IS HIS PRIVILEGE.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am a young girl of •evrnteen
and considered good looking. I
have been keeping company with
a young man for several months
and at a dance one night I intro
duced a girl to him to w hom he
pays more attention than to me.
NORAH
There was no engagement. He
was merely your friend. I hope, un
der the circumstances, you will be
big enough, and broad enough, to be
glad you were the means of Intro
ducing him to a girl whose company
delights him. That’s the way to look
at it, my dear.
CHAPTER IX.
M ARY smiled reassuringly into
the anxious faces of her parents
bending over her as she opened
her eyes after a brief period of un
consciousness She found herself ly
ing upon the living room couch, her
forehead wet from the water which her
mother had applied In the effort to
“bring her around.” She struggled to a
sitting posture, beginning at once to ex
plain the attack of faintness which had
seized her.
“I have been working a little too hard
In this warm weather," she said. “I
have not felt well lately, anyway, and
this is but the culmination of the wear
iness and strain—nothing else."
She spoke no word of the news that
had held her eyes waking far into the
night, nor of the blessed relief of the
knowledge that the man whom she had
feared was injured or dead was alive
and well.
"You won’t try to go to school to-day,
will you?" pleaded her mother.
The girl smiled.
“It is Saturday, mother,” she re
minded her. “But I must go down to
the Public Library to. look up some mat
ters I want to be sure of before Monday.
But I will take a cup of coffee first."
She drank this when her mother
brought it to her, then arose with de
cision.
“I am ashamed of myself to be so
weak and foolish,” she exclaimed.
“Please, dear people, try to forget it.”
“Would you like to look over the
morning paper?” asked her father, eye
ing her keenly.
“No, thank you!" she said quickly.
“Thank you, mother, for waiting so
sweetly on your silly daughter. I will
go to bed early to-night and not repeat
this performance of fainting. I never
did such a thing quite so causelessly
and suddenly before in my life."
When she had left the living room,
the father and mother gazed again Into
each other’s faces
“The fa*ct that she avoids the subject
that made her faint shows that she
cares for this young man," declared the
mother. "Well, he Is a nice fellow, I
guess."
“I don’t care how nice he is," re
torted the father, "he is not half good
enough for my girl. Before I consent
to any serious attentions from him I
am going to write to his firm and find
what his record is."
“That’s all right, dear,” agreed the
wife indulgently. "I approve of your
doing that But if the Angel Gabriel
—trumpet and all—were to ask you for
Mary yqu would not think him good
enough for her.”
“And he wouldn’t be!" asserted the
father, without a smile.
The most tender mother is willing—
! even, at times, glad—to have her daugh-
j ter marry en honorable, well-to-do gen
tleman; a fond father seldom looks with
( favor upon any suitor for his daughter’s
!hand.
An hour later Mary appeared in her
mother's room, her hat and gloves on,
ready to go out. Mrs. Danforth looked
solicitously at her, but, seeing that the
j color had returned to her lips, she for-
j bore to utter any protest. If the child
waa restless it was better to let ’-er go.
In the library she might find the books
she needed for her work, they might
quiet her nerves, turning her thoughts
from agitating subjects.
Mrs. Danforth would have been sur
prised could she have seen her daugh
ter when she reached her destination.
Instead of going at once in search of
the volumes in which sl»e was to “look
up" certain important subjects, she
went direct to tne reading room of the
library and was in a few minutes im
mersed In the morning papers. A cloae
observer would have noticed that the
only columns she read were those deal
ing with the recent railroad wrack and
the deeds of heroism of the varkKH un
injured passengers—the roost active and
bravest of whom had evidently been
“the young Texan, Gordon Craftg by
name." As the girl read, her cheeks
glowed and a soft light came to her
eyes. So absorbed was she in her
dreams, that she was leaving the build
ing before she remembered that In her
wrist-bag she carried a Hat of books of
reference which she must, find this
morning, and, with a start, went in
search of these. Somehow all literature
except the newspaper* seemed very dull
to-day.
As it was Saturday, Mr. Danforth
came home at noontime, and we* there
when his daughter returned a little be
fore the luncheon hour. He greeted her
brightly.
“Well!" she said Joooeety, saw our
hero this morning! Craig was at my
office. He ran in to tell me that he
was all right and to ask. if we had seen
the account of the wreck- I toki him
that we had. but I did not flatter him
by telling him we had bean badly
scared about him."
Mary drew a sigh of relief. She had
feared her father might mention her
evident anxiety, then she reminded her
self that she might have known he
would not. She waited for hda next re
mark. Although she had read and re
read the newspaper account* of Craig’s
heroism, she hoped to hear more about
it by word of mouth. Her father an
swered her unspoken thought.
"He said little about himself," ha
went on, “and I liked him better far
that. When I said Must I understood
he had done some pretty line work he
turned as red as a lobster and said—‘It
was only what any man would have
done under the o4*owm*ti«neea.’ and
changed the subject. So I let it drop.
I asked him to come up and see u*
before he goes back so Texas, and he
■«ald he would try to. -
"Probably he win not find time to,’*
said Mary with atudled Indifference.
She began to talk wivactoualy of her
work, of the approaching achool com
mencement, of anything and everything
except of Gordon Craig. And her father
and mother, watching her, understood.
That afternoon a messenger left at
her door a note for her. It was short:
"Dear Miss Danfcwth: Will you give
me the happiness of your company to
the opera next Wednesday night? I
will call for you at a quarter before
eight. The performance is ‘Alda.’
"Faithfully youro,
“GORDON CRAIG.”
The reply that the messenger carried
back to Craig was even more brief than
the note he had brought:
“My Dear Mr. Craig. Thank you. I
will be ready at 7:46 Wednesday night.
“Sincerely yours.
“MARY DANFORTH."
u mi mi mm to women iMiHuimii:
1 N™ If T^e |
S those pains and aches resulting Z
B from weakness or derangement 5
2 of the organs distinctly feminine £jj
S sooner or later leave their mark. Z
m Beauty soon fades away. Now S
g is the time to restore health j*
Z and retain beauty.
DR. PIERCE’S
| Favorite Prescription §
2 That great, potent. atrength-glTlng 2
5 restorative will help yeu. Start t*4ay. 2
nilllU Tur Drafiiit will itypb YsaHIIIIR
>0
til
►KODAKS™-
4*1
Hittag First Class Finishing and En
larging A oomplete stock 11ms.
plates, papers, chemicals, eta
Special Mail Order Department for
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6snd for Catalogue end Price List.
A. K. HAWKtS a. Kefs* 0tj>srf»«n'
14 Whitehall 8t. ATLANTA, OA
A Frank Talk
on Typewriters^!
The L. C. Smith & Bros. ball
bearing typewriter
Somehow, the impression has grained ground that
there isn’t much difference between the various makes of
typewriters on the market.
You may think the same thing. It would take <
SOUND, LOGICAL argument to convince you that
typewriters do not have the same efficiency and that a
stenographer cannot secure the same results on every ma
chine.
We are ready to make that argument and to- show you
by actual demonstration that
The L. C. Smith & Bros. Typewriter
will do more work, better work, with less fatigue to the
stenographer, than any writing machine ever made.
How is this possible?
Here are a few reasons: /
1. It is ball bearing throughout—others are not.
All operations are controlled from the keyboard.
It Is the lightest touch machine made.
It does not "smut" the carbon.
The ribbon reverses automatically.
The type is so protected that it Is not battered by
collision.
One motion of the hand returns the carriage and
operates‘the line space.
It has an Inbuilt biller and tabulator.
No trouble to write on paper as small as a postage
stamp.
It is built for service.
2.
3.
4.
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Mail this coupon checking the kind of work you ha veto do:
Gentlemen:—1 am interested In
General Correspondence
Billing Tabulating
Name
a Typewriter for
Card Writing
Label Writing
1
Address
To L. C. SMITH & BROS. TYPEWRITER COMPANY
121 N. Pryor St., Atlanta, Ga.
•