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One Woman's Story
By VIRGINIA TERHUNE VAN DE WATER
Chapter XII.
T HE day following the evening on
which Craig had taken her to
the opera seemed to Mary Dan-
forth different fiom any other day
she had ever passed. She had heard
much of dual personality, but she had
never before had the sensation of
possessing in her own being two dis
tinct persons. One, the sensible, cool-
headed working creature, went
through the usual routine of dally du
ties. The other—the true inner self—
found time between tasks requiring
thought and concentration to remem
ber the events of last night; the look
in Craig's eyes, the touch of his lips
upon her hand at parting. She no
longer chided herself for thinking of
this man. She knew now that she
could not help thinking of him. She
did not know that she loved him, but
she was su.e that he cared for her,
and the knowledge brought with it a
nefc- kind of happiness.
The evening meal in the Danfort h
home was served earlier than usual
to-day, and Mary ate it alone. It was
supper instead of dinner. It was the
cook’s “evening out,” so the waitress
prepared the repast. Mr. and Mrs.
Danforth were dining out with an
other elderly couple, and. as Mary
was to remain at home, she had sug
gested that Jennie, the waitress, serve
a simple early supper and then be al
lowed to have the evening to herself.
“Why should she stay at home when
her work is done Just because it is
not her regular “day out?” she asked
of her mother. “Girls of all classes
like recreation. I know that I do.”
Her mother smiled acquiescence of
the suggestion. “Certainly, dear.’’
she returned, “if you don’t mind hav
ing your supper at 6 o’clock, there is
no reason why Jennie may not he al
lowed the evening off.” j
Thus it came about that the sun
set was still shining through the liv
ing room windows when Mary, her
supper over, sat In an easy chair,
watching the western glow across the
river. She was vaguely happy, too
happy to try to analyze her feelings.
She vyas not lonely, for she had her
work to do, yet she felt a disinclina
tion to begin it just yet. She would
wait until darkness made it advisable
to turn on the lights. Meanwhile she
would have this quiet hour for think
ing. She sighed with content at the
idea. So engrossed was she in her
thoughts that she sprang to her feet
with a gasp when the telephone bell
rang, and she hurried to reply to its
summons. The boy at the switch
board downstairs announced:
“Mr. Craig's calling, please,
ma’am.”
"Send him upi,” Mary ordered in a
voice that was a little unsteady In
spite of her efforts to make it firm.
Why should he be coming at this
early hour of the evening? And why
had he not Informed her that he was
going to call? In the few moments
that elapsed before the ring at the
door told of the presence of her call
er. Mar)’ had time to congratulate
herself that she bad put on before
supper a pretty tea-gown. Few wom
en are so absorbed in soul struggles
or heart yearnings that they fail to
consider how they look when a guest
arrives. This girl glanced hastily in
the mirror as she went through the
hall to open the door for the young
man, who started in surprise in see
ing her instead of the maid who usu
ally admitted him.
“You expected to see Jennie, you
see me!” Mary laughed. Then she
hurried on to explain the maid’s ab
sence. and that her parents were also
out, talking against time of trifling
matters because of the consciousness
that the man was waiting for an op
portunity to say something of impor
tance. But at last he spoke.
“I am going West to-night,” he an
nounced without preamble. "A tele
gram from the firm calls me home.
There are some changes being made
In the office and I am wanted. I
could not go without tiling you good
bye. ”
The girl felt the color recede from
her face, and for a moment the only
words she could And were Going to
night?” She heard herself repeating
them dully, stupidly. She and Craig
were standing, for he had told his
new s as soon as he entered the hvlftg
room. She looked away from him
across the river at the hills on the
Jersey shore. The glory seemed to
have gone out of the sky.
Craig spoke again, this time more
softly. “Mary,” he said, laying his
hand on her clasped hands. “I am
^•oming back soon If you will let me.
Can't you tell me that you are sorry
I am going now?”
She said nothing, but she clasped
her hands together more closely in
an effort at self-control, and. seeing
this, the man drew' her to him with
a sudden gesture of tenderness.
“Dear," he said, “I love you very
dearlv. Won’t you try to love me a
lit11. ?”
“I don’t know," Mary whispered,
but as she dropped her head upon his
shoulder for a moment before dis
engaging herself from bis encircling
arm, the man was almost satisfied.
Before Gordon Craig left a half
hour later, he had told Mary Danforth
that he would return for her answer
in June. He had explained that it
would be several years befre his busi
ness would warrant his marrying, but
he wanted her permission to work and
wait for her.
“I am coming back to see you
graduate, dear,’’ he said with a whim
sical smile. “The firm w r ants me to
come East once more before mid
summer, and I will try to make it the
last week in June. Then you will tell
me what I want to know’—w’on't you,
Mary?”
He bent his head to catch her low
reply.
“Perhaps 1 will,” murmured the girl
But the look in her eyes as she raised
them to his said more than her w’ords.
Confessions of a Medium
(Spirit Transference in Clairvoyaney)
An Expose of Frauds Practiced in Spiritualism, Clairvoyance, Etc., Etc.
“Where did you go for your honeymoon, Major?”
“Went broke.”
a.
Snap- os
Shots
Friendship is to be valued for w’hat
there is in it. not for what can be got-
ten out of it.—Trumbull.
Let friendship creep gently to a
height; if it runs to it, it may run It
self out of breath.
The strength of friendship consists
more in liking the same things than
in liking each other.
There is no folly equal to throwing
away friendship in a world where
friendship is so rare.
It Is a fine thing to be yourself, and
a true friend loves you most when
you are?
Think less of your right to demand
service from friendsijip and more of
your sacred duty to give to it
To be a hero, trust yourself—to be
a martyr, trust the world—and if you
are an idealist, trust your friend.
When, your friend disappoints you
it hurts—but the agony is bitter when
you find yourself failing your own
ideal of friendship.
ON FRIENDSHIP.
He who has a thousand friends
Has not a friend to spare—
And he who has one ene/ny
Will meet him everywhere.
“You are my friend, for you have
dwelt with me
In gay or stormy weather;
l like you for the times you’ve smiled
with me—
I love you for the tears we’ve wept
together.”
Inviting Callers
By MRS. FRANK LEARNED.
Author of “The Etiquette of New York To-day."
M ANY little questions are coming
up constantly in the minds of
people w’ho are in search of
the correct thing in manners. Small
problems which are puzzling need to
be solved.
For instance, a young woman or
girl may be uncertain whether she
should ask a man to call or wait for
a request from him. Now, in social
life, the rule is w’ell understood that
a woman has the right to choose who
may be admitted to her house, and
this rule should be kept in mind in
a decision about asking a man to call
or withholding that privilege. A
woman does not, therefore, hasten to
ask a man to call who has just been
introduced to her, and certainly does
not ff she knows very little about
him. If she should do so she would
seem very eager for his society, as
well as rather injudicious in her se
lection of friends.
In the world of society a mother
would usually know' most of the
young men whom her daughter would
meet. They belong, for the most
part, to families know n to each oth
er. When it Is possible the invita
tion to call may be made by a girl’s
mother, who might say, informally,
“We are always at home on Thurs
day afternoons,” or “We like to have
our friends come in on Sunday after
noons, and shall be glad to see you.”
A remark of this sort gives ease in
every direction. *
A man therefore understands that
he should wait to be given the priv
ilege of calling. He should not ask
a girl if he may call to see her unless
he has some good reason to think
that the suggestion might come from
him, but he should know her quite
well before making it.
Another reason w’hy a girl should
not be in haste to ask a man to call
is that if he should prove Indifferent
to the privilege' granted she has the
unpleasant sensation that he Is not
anxious for her society.
If a man has been Introduced to a
girl at the house of Intimate friends,
and there is reason to believe that
he is a desirable acquaintance, an ex
ception may be made to the gen
eral rule of not asking him to call
after a first meeting or conversation.
In a case of this sort the young peo
ple may have heard much of each
other and may become on a friendly
footing quickly. The Important thing
is for a girl to be careful in her
selection of friends. Of course, it is
only respectful for a man to wish to
be introduced to a girl’s parents and
there should be no delay about this.
It is not correct for a girl to urge
a man to call who has failed to ap
preciate the courtesy offered, nor is
it advisable to seem so anxious for
his attentions as to name a time for
him to come when he has not even
inquired when he might find her at
home.
In large cities evening visits are
out of fashion.
/'
SEASHORE
EXCURSION
AUGUST 7.
Jacksonville, Brunswick,
St. Simon, Cumberland, At
lantic Beach, $6.00—Limit
ed 6 days. Tampa, Fla., $8
—Limited 8 days.
TWO SPECIAL TRAINS.
10 p. m. solid Pullman train.
10:15 p. m. Coach train.
Make Reservations Now.
SOUTHERN RAILWAY.
The Head Waitress
By HANK.
The Gold Com
“W H *
Every Woman
Is interested and should
know about the wonderful
Marvel ! r*’
Douche
Ask y?urdruggltt for
Jt If ha cannot sup-
ny the MARVEL.
•fccrept no other, but
send stamp for book.
Uarve! Ca„ 41 E. 23d St.. H.T.
HAT'S the manager looking
so chesty about, Louise?”
asked the Steady Customer
of the Head Waitress in the Cafe
d’Enfant.
“A little girl stranger slipped into
his home yesterday,” she replied, “and,
believe me, she was some cherub.
Nine and a quarter pounds.”
“Gee! No wonder Mr. Flakes is all
puffed up,” said the Steady Customer.
“And what are they going to name
little Miss Flakes?”
“Miss Snow Flakes would be a hit,”
said the Head Waitress.
The Steady Customer chuckled.
“My, but you’re getting facetious.
Louise,” he said.
“It’s Harmless.”
“I’m going to look that word up,”
she replied, “and If It m^ans what I
think it means, I’ll land you over the
head with a plate of steamed has-h."
“It’s harmless,” said the Steady
Customer, “but tell me more about
the manager's new arrival.”
“Well, when he came in this morn
ing.” she said, “the telephone started
ringing every five minutes with some
one of his friends on it, all wanting to
congratulate him. Later on he was
called down into the basement to in
spect the fresh baked pies and sink
ers, and the assistant manager had to
answer the phone. Every time he
went to it some voice would# say,
‘Hello, Pop!’ while some started to
sing. ‘Here Comes My Daddy Now,’
until the assistant manager got so
mad that he nearly bit a piece out of
the receiver.”
“Some folks can’t take a Joke,” said
the Steady Customer.
“No,” replied the Head Waitress.
“But, all joking aside, I do admire
Mr. Flakes. He's a home man. As
soon as he's through here he beats it
straight to the fireside and don’t make
any stops on the way, either. That’s
the kind of a bloke that could cop mv
young affections any time. But I
guess all of them guys is married,
because the only legible ones I ever
seen either had a permanent distillery
breath or chicken fever.”
“What does Marie think about it?”
asked the Steady Customer.
“She’s tickled to death, too,” said
the Head Waitress “She thinks Mr.
Flakes is great. He’s so kind to h j r
Any time she has a date he always
lets her off for an hour so she can
coll up and put on her glad rags.”
“Well, Marie." said the Steady Cus-
I toraer as he paid his check at the
cashier’s desk. “I h£ar Dame Fortune
j has knocked on the manager’s door.”
“Yes,” said Marie, “it’s great, but
' J f ’]i bet he’s glad she didn’t knock
more than once at a time.”
T IEY picked up his mangled body
at the foot of the cliff. In his
pocket was a letter.
“To-day I went to meet you, child,
when you came home from the office.
You like so much to have me come and
meet you these bright summer even
ings, when it is still daylight at 8
o'clock. But you do not like me to
call for you on dark winter evenings.
You are so full of loving care for n.e,
child.
“On the corner of Bergstrasse I stop
ped to wait for you. From this corner |
I can see the big office building in
which you are working. I stood look
ing toward the door anticipating the
moment when you came out.
“The clock in the church tower struck
8 and filled the air with the sound
of Its chimes and suddenly the thought
struck me: To-day Is the last day of
the month, when you receive your
month’s salary. This will make you
come a little later
“Then a stylishly dressed young lady
went by, tall and straight and hand
some. I recognized her face under the
big hat: It was Grete Allmers, your
former friend and schoolmate. Now
she Is Grete Allmers no longer, for she
has married a rich husband, whose
name I forget. Phe saw me, too, and
nodded her head with a friendly smile,
though she is a fine lady and I am
only a poor old man. I followed her
with my eyes. She looked so proud, so
young and vigorou sthat it was a
pleasure Just to look at her. And then
I saw you coming out of the door and
run almost Into the arms of your
friend. Grete Allmers laughed and
there was a happiness In her voice, and
you smiled as you often smile. And
then, quite suddenly I saw something
I had never seen before A mother,
perhaps, sees such things coming, a
father does not see them until they are
there. I saw that you are no longer
young, child, and that yo«j have dark
shadows underneath your e^?s and that
the eyes themselves are not as bright
as before. That your lips are no longer
red and that there are lines running
from your no6e to your mouth. Never,
child, did I see this before. I never
noticed that time put new lines Into
your face, but now I suddenly discov
ered though I saw how bitter was your
smile compared to your friend’s happy
young laughter. You and she are the
same age, still she looked the same as
always, while you had aged You came
toward me. You were happy and smil
ed. And I—I looked at your smile,
child, as I have never looked before.
The Coin.
“Was the evening long or did it pass
quickly? I do not know. Then we said
“Good night,” and when I came into
my room l found, what I have found
every month in all these years, your
gold coin. When you. seven years ago,
the same thing has happened every
month when I have come Into my lit
tle room 1 have found your little gold
coin. .You never wanted me to thank
you for it. My thanks were to be the
spending of the money. And I have
spent some of it, because you have
watched me too closely to put all aside,
but I spent far from all of it. Many of
your gold coins are still lying In a
drawer of my desk.
“When I looked at the gold coin to
night I suddenly understood what had
been struggling within me all night. It
was as if an iron gate were suddenly
opened and the whole pack of thoughts
that had been struggling inside as If In
a cage were suddenly released and
nushed at me.
His Return.
got your present good position and for
the first time brought home your sal
ary, you came to me, your eyes beam
ing with joy, and said: “Look, father,
what a lot of money I am making. I
won’t need nearly all of It. What does
your little housekeeper cost? We are
only two people. Now, please, take
this for yourself—for some little thing
you might want. Do take it for my
sake. And I took it, not for the sake
of the ten marks, but for the light of
happiness in your e> uo. And since then
“Golden coins-—that Is all you have
received In return for your youth, mis
erable gold coins. You have done things
in an office which scores of people
co^ild do just as well, your young life
was nothing but a small part of a dead
machine.
“You have not married. No husband
has enjoyed your youth. No children
have come to you to keep you young
“All that remains of your youth are
a heap of golden coins.
“Oh, my phild, this Is what has hap
pened and I have not seen it happen.
It is as if the seven years had sud
denly acquired volets that shout at me
l ntll now they have been silent, and
have hidden themselves *ln the dark
ness, but now they rush at me, a dread
ful host, and their shrieks resound in
my ears.
“A painter who understood to paint
pictures only, but not to sell them! A
pitiful, perhaps a heroic figure -then
came the paralytic stroke, and the hero
become a martyr. Was it then really
so? Was it perhaps not quite differ
ent. You have not only made the nec
essary money to provide for us both,
you have nursed me, you have kept our
ittle home neat and attractive without
any help, you have cooked our meals,
you have sewed and worked.
“Never in my life have I sold a paint
ing below my price. I could never
cheapen my art. And now a voice
within me shouts that I have always
valued myself too highly; far too highly.
I must die now. I have no right to live,
hild. You will suffer with me at first;
I know how you will suffer, because you
love me. But that suffering was bound
to come some time anyway, and there
are sufferings that come too late.
Your salary will be more than big
enough for you, now that you have no
body to share it. You will have no
money troubles. You will not have to
work like a slave before and after office
hours. You will travel and see things
that will make your eyes bright once
more and make your smile young again.
“You know that I love the path
across the Uttersberg Mountains. I go
there very seldom, because you are afraid
something might happen to me. It is a
dangerous path, with a deep abyss on
one side and no railing Several acci
dents have happened there.
“But It will be hard, veVy hard, at
the last moment. The gold coin I
found here in my room to-night I shah
take with me and look at it before
• • • Then 1 shall in turn he strong
enough to do it.”
THE MEMBERS OF THE
CIRCLE DREW SHRINKINGLY
AWAY AS IF AFRAID, UNTIL
SOMEONE ASKED, “WHAT IS
THE MATTER? IS THIS
CHARLES D. ISAACSON, OR IS
IT SOME OTHER COME IN
CLAIRVOYANT POSSESSION?”
THEN I BEGmN TO SPEAK.
SLOWLY AND SLIGHTLY
RASPING, AND AS IF WITH
GREAT DIFFICULTY, f SAID:
“THIS IS FORSTER—DAVID
FORSTER. DO YOU NOT
KNOW ME? LAWYER. ONCE
OF MANCHESTER, ENGLAND.
FINE FAMILY. FRIEND OF
"the nobility, handsomest
MAN OF MY TIME IN MY
YOUNGER DAYS AND POPU
LAR WITH THE LADIES. AH,
I HAD 1 HE LADIES. I PASSED
OUT AT NINETY YEARS—RE
SPECTED AND LOVED. HAVE
YOU NEVER HEARD CF ME?”
By Charles D. Isaacson.
(Copyright, 19IS, International A etc*
Service,)
O FTENTIMES a medium loses her
own personality and becomes
. for the time being another indi
vidual—so many arc^ led to believe.
That is to say, her spirit goes out of
her body, floats temporarily in the at
mosphere, goodness knows where,
while Borne long deceased person oc
cupies her material frame and dis
courses through her lip. Mrs. Piper, a
famous clairvoyant of the last cen
tury. often permitted a mythical “Dr.
Phinuit” this privilege, and Mrs. Pep.
per was very kindly to an Indian
maid, “Bright Eyes,” as many will
well remember, through the reports of
a recent lawsuit. At such times their
voices would completely change, and
to all intents and purposes they were
different people.
I have no opinions to offer on the
truth or falsity of such experiments. I
only know what I have done along the
very’ same lines. And I have been
told that some of the things that I
have accomplished have far outdone
any recorded of them, and were de
cidedly more convincing. (I am In
forming you that every so-called man
ifestation to my credit was founded
on nothing outside of my own imagi
nation and trickery.)
He Would Try.
I had often been asked by my fol
lowers If I bad ever permitted my
body to be occupied in clairvoyaney.
I had not. hut 1 would try—it was my
purpose to leave no field of mystery
untouched.
One night 1 was seated with m>
circle, talking quietly and slowly. It
was winter, and the faint moonllgtet
streaks on the snow outfhle looked
like vagrant ghosts of other days. A
low light glimmered from one end of
our room and reflected a ghastly yel-
low glare on my face. 1 had been
asked a question, which 1 was about
to answer, when 1 pressed my hand
suddenly to my heart with a quick,
short gasp. Instantly all were close
about me. "What'e the matter?"
“Aren't you well?" “SpCak out,
please.”
I answered not a word. My body
began to twitch and shake, my eyes
closed, and I lay back on the sofa
where they had taken me, motionless,
as if dead. Someone sprinkled my
forehead with water, others rubbed
my hands until finally my eyes
opened. Slowly I sat up, looked
queerlv about me. walked with sham
bling gait and bent shoulders like an
old man, to the mantelpiece, examin
ing uith eurlous manner the familiar
object!' In the room.
The members of the circle drew
shrinklngly away as if afraid, until
someone asked, “What is the matter?
Is this Charles D. Isaacson, or is It
some other, come In clairvoyant pos
session?”
Got Him At Last.
en, tickled her under the chin as I
chuckled.
“Ah, you’re a fine .«et here, you are
Fine women, fine women. Smart men.
Clever medium, that Ieaacson—I
caught him this time, though, didn’t
I? He’s been keeping me out for the
damuest time. I got ’im this time, all
right.”
So I went on, conversing with my
friends, talking about Forster, his
pavt life, his friends, his present ex
istence; about myself, how I had been'
fighting him and how he had finally
succeeded in beating me; about th>
members of the circle and intimate
points about the private life of each,
which he claimed to have witnessed
himself.
Then I was taken again with a
spasm—coming to—as myself.
’ What did you think of that experi
ment?” I was asked.
“Don’t know anything about It,” I
replied, to the growing astonishment
of all.
Since that time David Forster has
returned many times—in fact, he has
been what might be called the coun
terpart of “Dr. Phinuit” and "Bright
Eyes.” He has come at every call a. d
told us marvelous Merles « f the pas:,
of the present beyc^d the grave, and
f the future.
Nor has he been the only one whom
they thought, ousted me from my body
in clairvoyant trance. On Washing
ton's birthdty, the, father of his coun
try delivered a long speech. Charles
Dickens gave us the synopsis of a
novel. A crazy Indian frightened
everyone with his native war-whoops
and dance.’ Dr. Johnson gave a very
masterly discussion on decadent lit
erature. One gentleman gave a long
message in French, and «»till another
amused us with a curious English de.
soription mingled with a conglomera
tion of Italian and Spanish. Paganini,
the great violinist of ghoulish mem
ory, came in and asked for a vjolin.
He played what he called a new mel
ody, but if anyone listening had been
a student of music he would have
recognized it as the famous “Devil's
Trill,” which, I had carefully studied
for several weeks previous to making
the experiment.
Several women had “taken posses
sion” and my voice had been very
carefully changed to suit each case.
But perhaps the greatest sensation of
all was when there came Sir Henry
Irving, the English actor, most artis
tic of all his time, who recited hie fa-
vorite number, “The Dream of Eu
gene Aram,” bringing tears to the
eyes of many of my listeners.
Very Impressive.
At another time I described in de
tail a place far distant, giving names
and dates, providing a very jmpres-
slve example of clairvoyaney:
“I am in a cemetery,” I began in
the person of an old Dutch settler of
New Amsterdam. “There are many
tombstones and many beautiful trees.
Come with me and I will show you
where my body lien. We go In the
main entrance by a church.* Here is
my grave and on It the name. Von
Glahn. Farther 1 on, within a plot
where many lie, we look over the rail
ing. and there is a small headstone,
on which appears the name, Washing
ton Irving.”
The message extended over a full
evening, telling everything about the
old Dutch cemetery of Tarry town—
the estates nearby—the bridge—the
streets and stores. Several members
of the circle traveled up there to cor
roborate or disprove what they had
heard.
Oh, It’s a shame that people will be
• s njch ninnies. Hadn't I been there a
week before to make sure that noth
ing wus said that wasn’t right to the
finest detail!
Then I begun to speak. Slowly and
slightly rapping, and as if with great
difficulty, I said: “This Is Forster—
David Forster. Do you not know me?
Lawyer. Once of Manchester, Eng
land. Fine family. Friend of the
nobility. Handsomest man of my tlma
in my younger days and popular with
the ladies. Ah. I had the ladies. I
passed out at 90 years—respet ted and
loved. Have you never heard of me?”
And I advanced to one of the worn-
10c Package ft Equals 4 lbs.
of Beef inMFood Value
You spend too much moneyon meat—it’s the one big
item in your high cost ot living. Cut your meat
bill two-thirds and substitute Faust Spaghetti
for awhile. A 10-cent package contains as
much nutrition as 4 lbs. ot beef.
SPAGHETTI
to made from Durum wheat, the cereal that is ex
tremely rich in gluten, the protein that makes
muscle. bone and flesh. Faust Spaghetti
makes a savory, relishable. nutritious
meal. Free recipe book tells how
Spaghetti can be cooked to tickle
the palate.
At all grocart’ — Sc and 10c package*.
MALILL UUOS, SI. Lout*. Mo.
KODAKS
Thfl But Finishing and Enlarg-
Inrj That Can Be Produced.’ 1
l ns'men Film* tod com-
jilni - stork amateur aupoltaa.
'f -of t -n n
and Price List.
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