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The Manicure
Lady
By WILLIAM F. KIRK.
I GITF3BS it’s all up with Wilfred,”
said the Manicure Lady som
berly. “Ever since he gave up
everything else for poetry I have felt
the day would come when we would
see him being dragged away between
two keepers to be put In some nice,
quiet place, where everybody thinks
he Is Julius Caesar or Wellington. It
ain’t quite come to that yet, George,
but it is earning, I guess. Dear broth
er won’t be with our happy house
hold much longer.”
“What makes you think he is going
ur&zy?** asked the Head Barber.
•'‘Maybe It’s just the hot weather.”
‘'No, It ain’t the hot w r eather,”
argued the Manicure Lady. “The
poem he wrote the other day and tried
\ to read to us was wrote on the cold
est day we have had this summer.
' He has been reading a lot about the
mysteries of India, and all them old
mystics that believe in a lot of junk
about having two bodies, one here
and one goodness knows where. Yo
gis, he calls them, or Bogis, or some
thing like that. Wilfred says they
.set in front of their huts for years,
♦'Sometimes, never going away and al
ways thinking, thinking. I guess It
» wouldn’t do my brother any harm if
he could find a nice hut and set in
front of it long enough to do a little
thinking. Anyhow, get this poem:
” ‘My soul Is now in India, beside
The soul of some grand Hindu long
since dead.
My soul holds converse with the soul
of him
And his soul smiles at mine as might
a seer
Smile at a toddling child. The Hin
du’s soul
Knows more and seness more than
ten such souls
As my poor soul which dares to speak
to his.’
“That does sound kind of nutty,”
admitted the Head Barber. “I can’t
make any sense out of it, anyway. Of
course, that ain’t no sign your brother
Is losing his mind, because there is a
lot of poetry that was wrote by sane
men and is beyond me just the same.”
‘‘This ain’t no real poem; this is
loony stuff,” insisted the Manicure
Lady. “Kindly listen some more,
George:
“ ‘Yet I am living, as my soul well
deems,
And thus my soul is not within a
ghost,
But in my living body. Is the soul
Of one long dead as good a soul
As one like mine while I am still
alive?
The Hindu’s soul stands baffled and
aghast
i\ At this grim question, and it swal-
* lows hard,
If any soul can swallow. But it an
swers not.’ ”
“Lay off on that!” exclaimed the
Head-Barber. “I don’t aek you to
stop gabbing very often, klddo-; but
you have went too far to-day. The
next time you start reciting poetry tG
me I am going to walk right away
k from this head chair and get a job
r in some other shop. I suppose there
will be a manicure girl there without
no more sense than you; but maybe
she won’t have a nut brother who
thinks he can write. Now. stop, and
remember what I say goes!”
“Gee, I hope you do go!” snapped
the Manicure Lady. “I like to see new
faces once in a while, and I think that
new barber which has went out to
lunch would fit in fine In your place.
I think he is a interesting talker, too.
He talks so soulful and has such fine
teeth. There is lots of worse pests in
the world than me, George, and may
be after you have went you will often
think of me with unrevailing sighs.”
A Matter of Doubt.
Two Irishmen, both members of the
building fraternity, were busily en
gaged recently in affixing slates to
the roof of a newly-erected house,
when suddenly a horrid mishap oc
curred.
Murphy slipped. In vain he sought
for something at which to clutch in
order to save himself from falling.
His hands grasped nothing but empty
air, and by their frantic exertions
caused Murphy completely to lose his
foothold.
So Murphy fell. Mike saw him fall,
and presently, after what seemed to
him hours of hideous suspense, heard 1
his friend’s body strike the ground
with a dull thud.
I Fearfully Mike leaned over the edge
of the roof.
"Are yex dead, Murphy?” he called
| in apprehensive tones.
"Oh, Oi’m aloive all right!” gasped
Murphy feebly.
Mike gazed at the prostrate bodj
wonderingly.
“Sure, I don’t know whether to be
lieve you or not,” he remarked. "You
always was a liar!”
fCv Painfully Murphy raised himself on
one elbow.
V “Then Oi’m dead!” he wailed.
“ “You’d never dare call me a liar were
I aloive!”
See Your Skin
Grow Lighter
Daily
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plexion? If you have a
very dark, sallow, coarse skin,
and you want to make it soft
and fair, use
Palmer’s
Skin Whitener
and watch the result It i«
marvelous and it works quickly.
You cannot realize what it will
do until you use it.
Postpaid2 5 C AnyU ’ here
All Jacbos’ Stores
And Druggists Gensrally.
SHOULD HAVE PLENTY OF WATER TO DRINK.
KEEP OFF FLIES WITH A SCREEN.
One Woman’s Story .
By VIRGINIA TERHUNE VAN DE WATER
They were talking about that terri
ble cry, “Man overboard!”
“Only those who have been roused
from midnight slumber on board ship
can comprehend its meaning,'’ said
the traveler. “The. .sudden alarm, the 1
fear and horror——”
“Oh. yes, they can!” replied a very
fittie shoemaker, who had no repute
as a traveler. “I heard it once *vhen
I wasn’t on a ship, and I realized the
horror of it more than anyone else.”
“You coilldn't,” said the great trav
eler. scornfully. And t!* - "Vassembled
company sided with him man.
“But I could,” persisted the cob
bler. “You map. I was the man who
* ’• ^vn-hoarU!”
“I don’t know whether to accept
this testimonial or not,” mused the
hair restorer man.
“What’s the matter with it?” de
manded the advertising munager.
"Well,” explained the boss, “the
man writes, ‘I used to have three bald
spots on the top of my head, but since
using one bottle of your hair restorer
I have only one.'
• • *
“What d<^ we want with gold and
precious s-tones?” said the proud
young mother, gazing fondly uj>on the
baby. “This is format- enou( h for
us.”
“Huh!” grunted th« father, w' lo had
been walking the floor neal^y all
night. "I'm glad *Wtune
K HIRODA, at the fag end of her
youth, woke up one morning to
find that her lover had depart
ed in the night, leaving her destitute.
She found that, in all the 38 years of
her life, she had not even made one
person her own, nor earned the right
even to the corner of a home in whicn
to live and die. She realized that life
had no pity upon her and would relax
none of its claims which must be at
tended to down to the smallest detail,
and she rolled on the floor, beating
its hardness with her forehead in an
agony of despair.
Evening came and it grew dark.
Khiroda had not the heart to tidy the
room, nor to light the lamp. Her
hungry child cried till it could cry no
longer, and fell asleep. A knock came
to the door and a man’s voice called
out, “Khiro, Khiro.” Khiroda flung
open the door and rushed out at him
who stood there with her broom put
ting the youth to precipitate flight.
Then, convulsively clutching the child
to her bosom, she went out of the
house and jumped into the well.
The splash brought the neighbors
hurrying to the spot and the bodies
were fished out. The mother was un
conscious. but the child was dead.
Khiroda was brought round in the
hospital and was committed to the
sessions by the magistrates.
II.
Mohit Datta was the Sessions
Judge. He sentenced Khiroda to death.
Her advocates tried their utmost to
get some mitigation of the sentence,
but without success.
There was some reason for this se
verity of his attitude toward feminine
frailty, as a glimpse into his earlier
history will disclose.
His Youth.
Mohit in his undergraduate days
lived near the house of an elderly
couple with a young widowed daugh
ter, Sasi. What little of the world
Sasi used to see from behind the bar
rier of her lonely widowhood seemed
to her like some golden land of mys
tery. where happiness stalked abroad.
Unsatisfied longing cramped the beat
ings of her heart.
In the intervals of her domestic du
ties Sasi sat at the window watching
the crowd on the public road. She
thought to herself how happy were
the pas«er*by, how free the tramps,
what gay characters were the hawk
ers in the comedy of life, and morn
ing and evening she saw the well-
groomed Mohit strutting past in tha
fullness of his self-conceit. To her
he was n demi-god, far above the
mortals she saw around her.
Perhaps Sasi could have cheerfully
spent all her life playing with her
demi-god in the heaven of her fancy
had not her evil star made the demi
god smile upon her and materialize
the heaven within her reach. It is
needless to relate at length when
Mohit’s covetous glance first fell upon
Sasi, how he began to write to her
under the false name of Binode, when
the first trembling, ill-spelt reply
reached him; how, at last, the whole
of the poor little widow’s world was
turned topsy-turvy In the whirlwind
of ecstatic surrender.
Late one night Sasi left her father
and mother and got into a carriage
brought by Mohit, alias Blnode. When
her demi-god. with all hi* tinsel
showing, got inside and sat close be
side her, a sudden inrush of remorse
bowed her to the dust. And when the
carriage actually began to move she
fell at his feet, crying, “For pity’s
sake, let me go back home.” But the
carriage rapidly drove away.
To narrate all the episodes of
Mohit’s early career would grow
monotonous. This will serve as a
sample.
Reformed.
To-day there was no one to remem
ber the escapades of young “Binode.”
Mohit Datta was quite a reformed
character. His reading of the sacred
books was incessant; he even prac
tised austerities.
A few r days after passing sentence
on Khiroda, Mohit happened to be in
the prison garden, with a view to se
curing some nice, fresh vegetables
for his own table. He heard from in
side the jail the sound of high words,
and entering, found KhirfMa In the
midst of a vigorous bickering with
the warder. Mohit smiled a superior
smile. This is what woman is! Death
at her door, and yet she must quar
rel. She would dispute, thought he,
amused at his conceit, even with the
doorkeepers of Hades!
As he drew nearer, Khiroda with
clasped hands, addressed him, saying.
“Mr. Judge, for mercy’s sake, tell him
to give me back my ring!”
On inquiry, he found that a ring
had been hidden in the loops of Khi-
roda’s hair, which the warder dis
covering. had appropriated. Mohit
was again amused. This desire for a
bauble on the steps of the gallows!
Oh. woman, woman!
“Let me see the ring,” said he to
the warder, who handed It over to
him.
Mohjt started as if it had been a
piece of live coal. In the ring was
set a miniature portrait on ivory of
gold rim was engraved the name
a young beardless youth. In its
gold rim was engraved the name
"Binoae.” He raised his eyes from
the ring, and for the first time
looked Khiroda keenly in the face.
Ho seemed to see there the fresh,
fond, tear-bedewed countenance of
twenty-four vears ago. But, ah! and
what a difference.
PLAYING WITH NO CLOTHES ON.
GIVE BABY A PAN OF WATER TO PLAY WITH—CANT GET COLD.
BE A WOMAN
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
T HE boy, a big, husky youth of 18.
had complained incessantly of
his troubles all day.
“Oh,” I said at last, in some impa
tience, “why can’t you be a little
braver? For pity’s sake, try to be a
man!”
The words had no sooner left my
lips than I fell to wondering. I had
urged him to be a man! If I could
take him by the arm and lead him to
some man who would be to him a
shining Example, where would I find
him?
Where could I find a man who
would bare his back to the rod and
make no complaint?
Was there a man who could teach
him patience, gentleness, forbearance,
charity, tenderness?
Was there a man whom he could
emulate, day after day, and increase
his strength in so doing?
I cast my eyes around all the men 1
knew In search of one who on all
occasions knew how to be a man.
One was quick of temper, irritable,
rash, headlong, ami though withal a
good man, the boy would find no in
structions there in the lesson of pa
tience everyone must learn.
Another blustered about his bravery
and fooled all but those who knew
that when there was a mysterious
noise at his house in the night, his
wife had to investigate.
Another had a reputation wide
spread for philanthropy, and only the
close-observing saw that his family
lacked the necessities of life in order
that he might enjoy seeing his name
on the billboards with an imposing
row of figures after it.
All cared more for their own crea
ture comforts than for the welUJping
of the wife who supplied thej All
complained loudjv of a little
there was not a man among
did not say often to his wife. “Look
what a burden our marriage has put
on my shoulders!” taking no note of
the greater burden bending her back.
All wore selfish, thinking only of
the gratification of their own desires
and showing a regard for others* 1 only
in the degree to which they supplied
them.
There were few wjio had both phys
ical and moral courage, and almost
none as good in their thoughts as the
law compelled them to be in their
actions.
Then there passed before my ^yes a
procession of women, patient under
CHAPTER X.
T O young people the commonplace
drudgery .of the workaday world
is accomplished swiftly and pleas
antly If they have some happiness in
anticipation as a sort of objective point
toward which they are progressing
Mary Danforth dirt not appreciate that,
from the time she received and ac
cepted Craig's invitation, each task
completed and ea^h hour pussed were
to her Inner consciousness but stepH
nearer to Wednesday night when she
would again be with the man who had
begun to mean much to her.
She did not oee the Texan in the
four days which intervened between
the receipt of hia note and the night
on which “Aida" was to be sung. On
Monday evening her father again men
tioned casually that Craig had once
more called at his office. "He dropped
in this morning,’’ he remarked “and I
asked him up to dinner to-night, but
he said he was going over to Phila
delphia for a day or two, so he could
not accept. He sent his kindest re
gards to you, my dear”—turning to
his wife—“and wished also to be re
membered to Mary.’’ As he spoke he
bestowed upon his daughter another
of the Searching looks with which he
regarded her frequently of late, but she
made no comment. She was at a loss
for something to say, and, under the
ircumstances, sought safety In silence.
On Wednesday afternoon, returning
from school earlier than usual, she
found that her mother had gone out,
but that, before leaving, she had laid
on her daughter's desk a penciled
memorandum. It ran: “Mr. Craig
telephoned this morning just after you
had left the house. He wished to re
mind you that he is to call for you at
a quarter before eight.”
The girl’s heart beat faster as she
read the few words. He must care
a great deal, she thought, to go to
the trouble of emphasizing by a tele
phone message an arrangement al
ready made by letter. As if she could
forget! She smiled happily an<i hum
med gayly to herself as she went about
her various tasks. Yet It was charac
teristic of her that later, when her pa
rents spoke of Craig and her plans for
the evening, her demeanor was cool
and almost indifferent. At dinner she
was quiet and demure, although the
glow of excitement burned on her
cheeks, and she lingered after she had
finished her dessert, chatting with her
father and mother while they drank
their coffee, always keeping the conver
sation upon commonplace matters.
“You have never looked prettier
than you do this evening, sweetheart,"
her father declared as she roae to go
to her room to don her wraps. "Upon
my word, mother,’’ he continued, ap
pealing to his wife, “does it seem pos
sible that this is our little girl all
grown up into a beautiful lady so
soon?”
The girl tunned impulsively and
threw her arms about the speaker's
neck.
“The ‘beautiful lady,’ as you call her,
is never going to grow up so far as
you are concerned, daddy dear,” she
whispered, clinging to him. “I always
want to be Just your little girl.”
He kissed her fondly. “Run alor*
and get ready, dearie,” he said huskily.
“I hear the Texan hero’s ring at the
door now." He laughed teasingly, but
there was a note of sadness In his
voice, and he looked wistfully after
the slight figure as the girl hurried
away.
Craig, handsome and distinguished In
bearing in his correct evening dress,
rose to greet Mary as she entered the
drawing room, cloaked, with a filmy
scarf thrown over her hair.
“Behold a wonder among women!”
he exclaimed smiling. “You are on
time to the minute.”
Mary’s greeting was cordial, but un
ruffled by any inward perturbation.
“My father is to be thanked for the
punctual habits of his daughter," she
said after salutations had been ex
changed. "It is he who has made me
a bit more careful in that matter than
girls usually are."
"I have already learned," the man
answered gravely, "that you are dif
ferent from all other girls In many
ways. If your father la responsible for
this fact, society In general, and I In
particular, owe him a debt of thanks ”
The entrance of Mr. and Mrs. Pan-
forth caused a diversion that Mary
found welcome, and soon she and her
escort bade the elderly pair good night
and took the elevator down to the
street dopr. Here a taxicab stood, its
engine throbbing with a clam disre
gard to the cents and dollars that were
being marked off on the dial at the
chauffeur’s side. Craig assisted the
girl into the semi-darkness of the
limousine, gave an order to the driver,
then followed her, sinking Into the
seat by her with a sigh of content.
" ‘Who knows but the world may end
to-night?" he quoted laughingly.
“In a taxicab that sounds more like
a grlsiy prophecy than a delicate com
pliment," retorted Mary. "Are you
fond of Browning?"
"If the note of surprise in your voice
Implies that you did not know that
Texans were capable of enjoying him,”
he responded, "I shall be forced to say
‘Yes’ to your question. Otherwise, I
will confess that I like only parts of
him. Yet I can appreciate the truly
beautiful just as well as a New Yorker
can—even if I am theoretically wild
and woolly.” He gazed admiringly at
her flushed face as he spoke. a;.d his
voice held a significance that Mary
recognized. But she pretended not to
notice it.
"Tell me about the wreck,” she com
manded hastily.
"It was hell," he said simply. "And
I am too nead the seventh heaven Just
now to want to think of it.”
"Who taught you to say such pretty
things?" asked the girl, laughing to
hide her embarrassment.
"Nobody taught me,’’ the man an
swered calmly. "If I say them at
present, they are but the result of re
flected radiance and the outcome of
my great happiness as being with you
again.”
And. as once before this evening, the
girl found refuge in silence.
ATHEN8 COLLEQE, ATHENS, ALABAMA.
Governed by Women, for Girls and Women.
Recognized by General Hoard of Education as an A-Grade College ofi 14
entrance unit basis. In the foothills of North Alabama, between 800 and I.OuO
feet above sea level Pure freestone water. On main Un© of L. & N. Rail- 1
road. Academy A Grade attached. Twenty-eight In Faculty. Beautiful new
School of Music, Art. Oratory, Domestic Science, Resident Oroduate Nurse. i
i certificate required of all students. Rates moderate—not cheap,
gn. Apply now Seventy-first session begins September IT.
Health
thorou_
MARY NORMAN MOORE, President.
References—Our patrons and the people of the State of Alabama.
but
long suffering, brave when everyone
around them faltered, denying them
selves that they might give to those
they loved, cheerful and smiling when
there wasn't a scrap of hope left, in
spiring, cheering, urging on the men
who walked beside them, and throw
ing arms of Wotecting tenderness
around husband and children!
It was a noble sight. It filled my
eyes with tears, and I felt an emotion
too deep, and somehow too sacred, to
find vent In cheering.
“I will take it hack,” I said to the |
young man. “Don’t be a man! Be u
woman!”
B l Id U A M CflUAAl *C central purpose for 120 years has been
inUnAm dLnUUi. 3 to make Men of Boye. Asheville climate
world renowned. Organisation Military. Two details from U. S. Army al
lowed to N. C. The A. &. M. College has one. Bingham the other. Target and
Gallery practice, with latest T\ S. Army Rifles. Lake for Swimming. Sum
mer Camp during July and August Tuition and Beard Slf>0 per Half Term
$300 a year. Address Col. R. Bingham, Box 6, Ashevilla, N. C.
THE STATE NORMAL SCHOOL, ATHENS, GA.
Named by a United States Commissioner of Education as being among
the best fitted State Normal Schools in the United States Fifty six officers
and teachers, ten buildings, eighteen departments of Instruction, full certifi
cate courses i*' Psychology. Pedagogy, English, Expression, Oratory. Mathe-
rnatica. Science, History, I*atin, German, Greek, French, Spanish, Correspond
ence.
The Home Life courses are among the strongest In the South. Domes
tic Arts and Sciences, Manual Arts, AgrLjlture, Gardening, Home Nursing,
Physical Culture, Vocal ami Instrumental Music, Sight Singing. Diploma a
license to teach. Two Practice Schools Education for fitness and happi
ness in the home. Total expensea for a year less than $150.00. Write for
Catalogue. JERE M. POUND. President.
thei All
le i, and
g tr*x.m who
INDIGESTION?
Stop it quickly; Have your grocer send
you one doz. bottles of
SHIVA R x—^
GINGER ALE
Drink with meals, fv
and if not prompt- wj ydJfcgJRgv V
your money back / \
at our expense. / ^ I
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Prepared with the y
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6HIVAR SPRING, Manufacturers
SHELTON, S. C.
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WASHINGTON SEMINARY
« - - ATLANTA
1374 PEACHTREE ROAD
SCHOOL
THE SOUTH’S MOST BEAUTIFUL
DibTLsCTiVE Ft.U L titih.
.. Boarding Department limited $100,000.00 in Grounds and Buildings.
!. New School Building, modem In equipment, with provision for open-air
olass rooms.
; Courses In Domestic Scianoe and Physical Tntlnlng a part of regular cur
riculum.
i. Departments: Kindergarten, Primary. Academic, College Preparatory,
Music, Art, Expression.
Thirty-sixth Session hrg'ns BEPTKM TR 11th. 1913
Wrli^ for illustrated catalogue ft. 1. P and EMMA B. SCUTT, Principals.
Yellowstone
National Park
typifies the Great West as it was
years ago. It is the one region
where man has not distorted the
natural beauty for commercial
gain. See the wonders of the
West as nature made them. • They
are all to be found in the Park.
Low Round Trip Fares
in effect now and excellent daily
train service from Omaha, Kansas
City, St. Louis or Chicago. Visit
Denver and Salt Lake City enroute.
Let us help you to plan your trip.
Write for booklets giving com
plete informa- ion about the Park
and the best way to see it.
Union Pacific
Standard Road of the Wed
The direct toute of heavy double
tracks, well ballasted roadbed and
Automatic Electric Block Safrtv Signals.
A. J. rtUTCHER, G. A.
90S Olive Street
St Louie, Mo.
C. M. ROLLINGS, T. P. A.
620 Woodward Bldg.
Birmingham, Ala.
m>
Up-to-the-Minute Jokes
The Judge