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k2Gi •5)/ o Advice to the Lovelorn <8 >$ Confessions of a Medium i 3 i 1 (Hypnotizing the Hypnotist.) Being an Expose of Frauds Practiced by Self-Styled Spiritualists, Clairvoyants. Etc. j By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. NOT THESE DAYS. Dear Minn Fairfax: I am 26 years old and have just received a proposal of marriage from a man one year my senior. Do you think 26 is too old to get married—In fact, I will be 27 be fore we are married? Do you think a woman of 26 should mar ry a man only one year her sen* lor? What I’m afraid of la that we might outgrow- one another. A man at 30 is young; a woman at 30 Is middle-aged. I love this man very much, but after a few years 1 wouldn't like to be laid aside for fairer and younger faces. R. F. I am confident you are worrying yourself needlessly. You will not oe middie-aged at 30 unless you continue to think you are old and make your self so. Get married and don’t let a gray hair to-morrow spoil the happiness of to-day. To me, It seems that your ages are Ideal. DON'T GIVE HER UP. Dear Miss Fairfax: I am in love with a girl and love her with all my heart, but there is one thing I have against her. and It Is that she swears oc casionally. I have asked her to stop this, but she won’t. Now, don’t you think tf she loved me. she would do It? What is your opinion of a girl who swears? WILLIE. It is a bad habit, but one which, I am sure, you can help her to break. You might find a su^estlon In you** method of reform in “The Taming >f the Shrew.” “IT TAKES TWO," ETC. Dear Miss Fairfax: I have been calling on a young lady for the last few months, but owing to her stubborn disposition we had frequent quarrels. Would you advise me to discontinue call ing on her? PERPLEXED. Certainly. For I do not like the way in which you speak of her, triklng to yourself no measure of the Llame for your disputes. If you married, and continued to quarrel. I am sure she would get the worst of It. The Restless Spirit By MRS. FRANK LEARNED. Author of “The Etiquette of New York To-day.” E ARLY in life It Is well to realize j that the spirit of restlessness must be resisted as an enemy to a normal condition of mind body. Many people think that to achieve results they must hurry, make a stir. Good work and hurry do not go together. Clear thought and flur ry can not dwell In the mind nt the Same time. The person who succeeds in life has steadiness of mind, self- discipline and quiet thinking. The mind that is not flurried by events <>r activities balances the person who achieves good results. The mind that Is clouded by flurry can not face op portunities or solve problems. Some persona think that they im- f tress others with their Importance bv Hiking about being terribly busy and telling of the rush in which they live There is fib time for any pleSsaht, friendly interchange of thought. They are “going on" somewhere and have hot a moment to stop. One feels, when talking with them, as though one were whirling along in a motor or on an express train. To live in a state of unrest and feverish excitement ls» not conducive to happiness. It Is better to try To do n few little things which are worth while than mafiy of the things which require a continual drive and are a waste of energy or time - and certain ly a waste of peace of mind. There are numberless little tasks of everyday life which need to be don« A good way to cure restlessness Is to do them, and to do them as well as w> can. It is a very pleasant thought that there is generally something that each one of us can do, some very lit tle thing perhaps, some small, lowly task or act. but which no one else can do; or there Is someone to whom no one can be quite as useful as wo may be Too often we neglect those lit tie things which are plainly before us. almost asking to be done A girl who Is on the watch for the little duties at home and does them Cheerfully and gladly will And that they help to make happiness. It may not seem a great thing to go on an errand for a mother, or to spend an hour in mending, or in ar ranging a room, or putting a desk In order, or making a delicious dessert to pleaee a father, but perhaps these an* some of the little daily things de manning to be done. Any form of work is worth doing, and if it is don-' in the right spirit, it is sure to bright en our own lives and the lives of oth ers. The trouble is that the spirit if restlessness creates a desire to do anything else but what is the affair of the moment. There is a discontent with present surroundings, a vision ary longing for occupations for w hich one may be totally unqualified A girl must try to see very clearly what are her duties at home and whether she is needed there befor? «he determines on an Independent ca reer away from home. A very old and sweet saying is a great help in time of doubt as to action—“Do the duty that is nearest. The second duty will already have become clear- NOT WELL ENOUGH TO WORK In these words is hidden the tragedy of many a wage-earning woman who supports herself and is often helping to support a fam ily on meager wages. Whether in ^office, factory, shop, store or kitch- woman should remember that *e is one tried and true reme- ^for the ills to which all w omen prone, and that is Lydia E. Pinkham's Vegetable Compound. It creates the vitality that makes work easy. THE YOUNG LADY NOW AROSE AT MY BIDDING. AND I EXCITEDLY THREW MY HANDS BEFORE HER EYES, RUBBED MY THUMB ON HER TEMPLES, SPOKE QUICKLY AND FORCIBLY AT HER, By Charles D. Isaacson. (Copyright, iff/;?. International Nows Service.) Y x J K will call the man Milton Jones. \/\/ You know him well by a far " * different name, which has often Appeared on the billboards. College men have listened to his scientific lectures. He has been the friend of noted psy chologists and mind experts. He has written books and conducted courses in hypnotism and helped medical men In peculiar, obstinate cases. He bus often gone after “bad” boys for church pur poses. His big, masterful eyes have stared out in black, silhouetted pictures In many a magazine advertisement, but there his name did not appear 1 am telling you all this about him because 1 want you to realize the Impor tant position he occupies In scientific circles. Then when I show you what I did to him you will understand why I beg you to “steer clear.” There Is a crew who are mulcting hundreds of ro mantic, ambitious people of their earn ings, making them believe they are get ting a course In hypnotism. Mr. Jones once asked me to be his “subject." A subject is a person j>er fectly willing to be made ridiculous be fore an audience, for their amusement and the hypnotist’s fame and profit. For the sake of experiment I consented to his proposal, “Very fine," said Mr. Jones, "only there are several things 1 must tell you beforehand, in strict confidence.” “But I thought you were going to hypnotize me,’’ 1 began. A Confession. “I am going to try to," he inter rupted. “But sometimes my experi ments do not work out just as I wish them to. Then you must pretend that I have you under my will, and do just as I say anyway —you see?" "But I thought you told your au dience that your subjects are hypno tized." 1 argued. “1 do. but don't you understand?” he asked, getting impatient. “No, 1 don't," 1 retorted stubbornly Well, we didn't get much further. In asmuch as 1 wanted to try out a scheme I had in mind, however, 1 pretended to be overwhelmed by bis argument and finally consented to assist him. The first sitting was held privately before a number of bis friends. When Jones—now "Professor” Jones said: “Will any ladies or gentlemen volun teer to come up here and permit me to mesmerize them?" I found 1 was not the only subject. About seven men responded. Then Mr, Jones proceeded with his work. Strange mesmeric passes before the eyes of all his subjects were made, and soon be had them under control. It was at the Juncture when things were grow ing most excited that 1 slipped, unob served, into an adjoining room. I at tached a bath spray to a faucet, gently playing a fine stream of water on the faces of the “hynotized” subjects. His Debut. A man “fishing" with a penknife be gan to rub his nose and stare about. Another whose neck was "stiff” sud denly found he could move It with alac rity. A fellow who couldn’t shut his mouth didn't wait to swallow much of the water before be closed his Jaws with a snap. One of the subjects was supposed to be unable to rise from the floor, but the liquid showed very soon how powerless he w’as. One who couldn't stop repeating “My name is Mary Smith my name is Mary Smith" ceased fo gurgle It was curious to watch the men immediately regain their senses, and my dear friend. “Professor" JoflM, became very much embarrassed. It was a little after this that I re gained the confidence and good will of Mrs. June* sufficiently for him to over- LOOKING FEARFULLY WAY DOWN DEEP IN HER EYES. “SLEEP,” I SAID, “SLEEP. YOU FEEL YOUR * EYES GET TING HEAVIER AND HEAVIER. YOUR HEAD NODS. YOU ARE SO VERY DROWSY. I WILL look my little "Joke ” lie explained-— to his rrwn satisfaction—that the sudden •-bock had aroused the subject from bis hypnotic trance, he being still unable to realize that I didn’t believe they had ever been mesmerized. Nevertheless, some months later Mr. Jones received an invitation to attend a private experiment arranged for my initial debut as a full-fledged hyp notist. I myself personally wrote Mr. Jones, saying that I had at last become fully convinced of the truth of his per formances and had succeeded In par tially* accomplishing some of his lesser wonders. Mr. Robley was the guest of honor. He was Introduced as the great and renow’ned scientist of two hemispheres, to which he replied with a short speech. In which he told us how proud he was to be with such a bright and intelli gent audience, etc., etc. I bowed. After a short preliminary talk I announced that I would be as sisted in the first test by a young lady. Would she kindly step up? She came, very pretty and blushing Would the pianist kindly strike a chord, for her to sing by? He did, but her response was tefrible. Off key, rasping, un musical—it sounded like a fog horn in distress. Would the pianist please try again? But this time everything was worse and the people began to shift in their scats. The young lady was motioned to a place, where she sat liown. “Mr. Haverman has r few words to say regarding rny assistant," I an nounced, and a gentleman arose to tell how utterly voiceless the lady was, and Mr Remington corroborated what ht SUPPORT YOU TO THIS CHAIR. REST NOW. SLEEPY AND SLEEPIER—YOU ARE SO VERY, VERY SLEEPY. YOU ARE ASLEEP!” HER HEAD DROPPED BACK AND SHE BREATHED LIKE ONE IN A DEEP SLUMBER. said, and Miss Lembler vouched for every word that Mr. R. had spoken—al though the audience as a whole did not need much evidence along that line. The young lady now arose at my bid ding and I excitedly threw my hands before her eyes, rubbed my thumbs on her temples, spoke quickly and forcibly at her, looking fearfully way down deep In her eyes. Put Her to Sleep. “Sleep," ! said, "fllevp. You fee! your eye* fretting heavier and heavier. Your head node. You are an very drowsy. I will support you to thla chair. Rest now Sleepy and sleepier—you are so very, very sleepy. You are asleep!" Ifer head dropped hack and she breathed like one In a deep slumber. “Rise,” l went on, "you are now asleep and yet awake—to do my bidding. I>o you understand? You are to sing sweetly and feeling and in perfect tune and time. You understand? The pian ist will play the accompaniment of ‘The Holy City' and you will join him. Now—" To the wonder of the audience and particularly Professor Robley, she feebly arose. Forth from her throat came a thrilling gush of full-voiced sweetness. Like a Patti or a Melba the girl gave us song after song of melting moledy. Then I passed my hand before her eyes again and cried: “Awake, awake.” as she was in the middle of a note. And the voice cracked and broke and fell into discordant chaos. Milton Robley shqok my hand enthu siastically. It is so easy to fake a faker The girl was in my scheme to i hypnotize the hypnotist! How to Kill Time Husband or Children? 1 ^ n j°] nng t ie Quiet .:. ( </~\-0-0-H!" sighed the feminine II member of the household, re laxing into a hammock. “If It isn’t heavenly to be here in the woods—and with the lake ’’ “Ah-h-h!" echoed the masculine end of the sketch, subsiding with a great slump into another hammock. “Tnis is .great! S« fresh and still!" "Yes,” said his wife; “it's the still ness that particularly appeals to me after the eternal racket of the city——*' She broke off with a jerk. Simul taneously she sat up In her hammock and stared with horrified eyes at her husband, who likewise had been gal vanized into anguished life. Each of them bent an ear toward the left for some seconds. Then, with a little shuddering groan, they subsided weakly. Borne on the clover-scented air from the third cottage down the road came the raucous tones of a phono graph. and a cheap ->ne at that. Some vaudeville queen with a nasal voice was singing about something that was “a beautiful dream.” singing with an energy that promised, no surcease throughout the succeeding months of summer. "1 suppose a lynching party really wouldn’t do," said the male listener, gruffly. “If I have, to listen to that all sum mer." said his wife, hysterically. I shall just die! Or go crazy! Why, all that bore me up while the people In the flat below and the people across the street used to play simul taneously was the reflection that soon I should go to the country, where there was no sound but the sound of the birds!" "Well, that's a bird, all Tight!" said her husband. “I don't believe 1 want to rest In this hammock! 1 want to take a walk, a long walk- about five miles in the opposite direction —and forget it! ’’ "She’s one, of the friendly sort.” re ported his wife later in the day, in tones of despair. "They’ve taken the Rigby cottage for the season and site stopped tell me how to weed the nasturtiums. She told me her hus band gave her the phonograph for her birthday and she wanted to know if i* wasn’t lovely of him. I suggested that she might spoil it by bringing it out in the damp air like this, but she said she wouldn't think of hurting Johns' feelings by leaving It at home.” "Did she mention that she had so licitude for our feelings?” asked the man. “She asked us to come down and listen to it.” replied his wife, sweetly. “She said they had some lovely rag time records and all the latest song hits.” With a gesture of despair her hus band warded off such a possibility The squeaky phonograph played'on from breakfast time till dusk. Some times a foot light favorite w'arbled about the lovely dream, again it was a “honev” song or a ragtime song. Robins lied the spot, thrushes vacat ed. Even the grasshoppers were grumpy. The very day that the man listener had enlivened luncheon by relating all the things he would like to do to the phonograph he came in from weed ing the garden to And it on his front porch. Sitting surveying It much as though it were a deadly cobra was his wife. "She just brought It down.” she told him, weakly. "She and one of the boys. They have to go to Chicago to a sister's wedding and she didn’t like to leave it at the cottage for fear something would happen to it. And she thought maybe we might enjoy using it while they were gone. George Arnold, stop looking at me like that! What could I do?” “You are a well, strong woman.” “aid her husband, in a hollow voice, “and you let her wish it onto you! Where is the Ax?” ‘.'There Is at least some satisfac tion." he said as he went to bed that night, 'in knowing that J hold my enemy in the hollow of my hand. I’ve got that phonograph where it can’t help itself. And think of all the things 1 might do to it!” That night the wind rose and the man got up to close the windows and j doors. Stumbling through the living! room in the dark, he hit an unfamiliar object, and there was a terrific crash ! When the wife arrived with lights, they found the phonograph in piece* all over the floor. It was beautifully 1 smashed. “Stop!’ cried his wife as the man danced insanely around the wreck.; chortling with Joy. “Don’t you real ize—that you've got to go and spend good money to buy her a new one7" I W ITH her small nose pressed against the screen door, the small neighbor looked wist fully into the grown-up neighbor’s kitchen. “Come out and play with me,” ehe coaxed. “There isn’t a soul of a per son to play with me at my house. My daddy's gone to town and my mother's gone to town and my grandmother's sewing me a dr* 1 as and Hilda’s mak ing bread. Can't you come out and play?” “I’m afraid I can’t Just now,” re sponded the grown-up neighbor. “I’m busy myself. But you nan come In and talk to me while I work.” The small neighbor opened the door and skipped in with alacrity. "Why aren’t you at school?” In quired the grown-up neighbor as the door slammed behind her visitor. The small neighbor gave an embar rassed wriggle. “Well,” she said, “this morning when I first got up—I mean when I first didn’t get up, you know— I didn’t feel very well. My head acbed something fierce. So my moth er she said tf I kept on not feeling well I didn’t need to go to school. I stayed in bed till she went to town and then I didn’t go to school.” “I’m glad you’re fpeling better.” said the grown-up neighbor, sympathet ically. “I suppose in a little while you’ll have entirely recovered.” “I shouldn't be surprised,” agreed the small neighbor. Her itew Piece. She meditatively dipped into the open flour box one small hand, over which there was a slightly brownish film, as though it might previously have been dipped into a mud pie. “I guess I’ll go into the other room and play my new piece,” she volun teered .after a moment’s pause. "Do," urged the grown-up neighbor, cordially. The small neighbor disappeared and presently the strains of the new “piece” could be heard from the liv ing room. In a few moments the mu sician returned. “Wasn’t that a beautiful piece, and don’t you think I play it nice?” she In quired with proper modesty. ‘Yes, It was beautiful,” replied the grown-up neighbor. "Now, suppose you run back and play It once more, and tfy that time I think I’ll be ready to play with you.” When the second musical feast was over and the artist had returned to the culinary regions, the grown-up neighbor asked* “What do you want to do now’?” The small neighbor reflected. “Do you remember,” she said finally, “that once w'hen I was here you made candy?” The grown-up neighbor admitted that she did remember the occasion. The small one thereupon smiled up at her sweetly and ingenuously. “Do you know,” she said, “that I can re member how good that candy tasted ?” “Am I to gather from that remark,” smiled the grown-up neighbor, “that you would like to make, some candy now?” “I think I would,” responded the other. “Rut you have a headache.” ven tured the grown-up neighbor, du biously. “I don’t suppose you would feel like eating any candy even if we made It.” The small neighbor looked up at her friend doubtfully. “Oh!”, she cried as she detected the Incipient twdnkle In the neighbor's eyes, “you’re mak ing fun You’ll let me have some candy, won’t you? My head feels per fectly good. I could eat a bushel of candy and it wouldn’t hurt me a bit.” It Was True. “I’m afraid,’’ said the grown-up neighbor, seriously, when the candy was on the stove and the small visi tor was standing on her tiptoes to watch It bubble, “that the awful ac cusation made against me is true.” The small neighbor’s eyes grew’ very large and round. “What?” she asked. “Well, you know there is a story going the rounds to the effect that you’re getting badly spoiled by me.” “Spoiled like apples?” Inquired the small neighbor. “All browm and wrinkled and soft so you can stick your finger into them?” "Well, you’re not brown and wrin kled, and I don’t believe I could stick my finger Into you.” “Well, then. I don’t mind being spoiled.” chirped the small one. “I guess I like it.” Then she threw’ her arms around her friend’s neck. “Do you know,” she whispered, “I’d rather stay here and play with you than go to any school I ever went to in all my whole life.” The grown-up neighbor gave her a severe hug. “I’m simply flattered to death,” she declared. By DOROTHY DIX. P ROBABLY the most difficult prob lem that a woman ever has to face Is W’hen she is required to hold the scales of justice between her husband and her children, and decide how much of her time and attention belongs to each. Of course, there are women w’ho are temperamentally all wives. There are other women who are, by nature, all mother. For these the question settles itself. There are also some women fortunate enough to be married to men who arc as Instinctively paternal as they are maternal. These also happily es cape having to try to unriddle the rid dle of whether It is best and wisest for a woman to spoil her littlest baby or her biggest baby. Much Is to be said on both sides of the question. On the one Is a moth er’s duty to her children, her responsi bility for them, the fact that they are better off with her than even with the most competent servants. On the other side is the difficulty that the woman w’ho ceases to be. a wife, for the sake of becoming a nurse maid to her children, is mighty apt to lose her hus band in the process, and that the wife who won’t go with her hnsband when he wants her to go Is left behind. Like wise It is true that little Johnnie can be safely left alone in hls crib with his bottle of sterilized milk, while if Big John Is left alone he Is apt to wander forth In search of bottles that are ster ilized. He Is Proud. On the things that women can never undestand is that, except in rare cases, a baby, even his own baby, is the most uninteresting little animal in existence to a man. He is proud of it, and he ir fond of It in a theoretical way, but he’s bored stiff If he has to spend more than five minutes at a time In the infant’s society. For the life of him, he couldn’t spend hour after hour as a woman does, palpitating and thrilling over the mere sight of a little red, squirmy, wriggly thing with no more expression on its countenance than a cream cheese, and with about as much intelligence as an angle worm. Therefore, when he comes home of an evening, after having paid his com pliments to Miss or Mr. Baby, he wants some rational amusement. He wants his wife to sit with him and talk to him after dinner, as has been their wont, or to go out with him to the places of amusement they have been In the habit of frequenting. On her part the woman is absolutely obsessed by the baby. She can get all the excitement, all the amusement, all DOROTHY DIX. the pleasures she wants by watching the cute way the baby breathes and the wonderful way It opens its eyes and shuts them again. She would, be per fectly blissful if her husband would sit on the other side of the cradle and rhap sodize with her; and if he won’t she leaves him to read his paper alone while she worships at the shrine of the cradle. As for going to a place of amusement, she wouldn’t think of doing such a thing. Something might happen to baby while she was gone. A Rare Breed. It Is literally true that there are many homes in which, after the com ing of the first baby, the man of the house simply exists as a purveyor of food, and clothes, and pleasures of the children. He doesn't even have an identity, nor a name. He is only “papa,” even to his wife. And she never thinks of consulting him pleasures or prefer ences, nor doing anything for his enjoy- men. He is supposed to get his reward in life from observing the children have everything done for them. Now and then we do observe one of By DOROTHY DIX these masculine angels, and see a man who has no life outside of his children; but the breed Is rare. The average man Is sufficiently fond of his off spring, but because he loves Johnnie, and Jamie, and Mary, It has not inocu lated him against a taste for a few other outside pleasures. He wants his wife’s society, if he loves her, and he wants to go about a bit, and he resents having his nose put so completely out of joint by the pink fists of a baby. Right here is where the wife’s prob lem comes in—shall she go with hus band, or stay with baby? If she’s of the ultra-maternal sort, all of her in stincts urged her to stay with the chil dren. She’d rather talk baby talk to a gurgling infant than to hear the most brilliant dinner partner converse at his most inspired moment. She’d prefer telling about Little Red Riding Hood to a round-eyed child to seeing a Belasco opening. She’d rather dance the baby after his bath than to be the belle of the finest ball in the city. The Wise Woman. But—and it’s a capital BUT—if ehe won’t go with hubby, hubby goes alone, and while she’s holding the children’s hands while they go to sleep and hear- ^ ing their prayers, hubby Is mighty apt to be holding some other woman's hands, and saying some things that aren’t his prayers to the other lady. And the result Is that by the time the children have gotten to the place where they don’t need mother, and mother be gins to feel the ned of a husband again, ^ she finds out that husband got lost, t strayed or stolen while she was neglect ing him. Women may resent this state of af fairs as much as they please, but tbeir resentment doesn’t alter human nature. Men are going to be men to the end of the chapter, and It’s going to be eter nally true that the woman who keeps her h’usband has got to keep her hands on him all the time, and she’s got to ^ pet him, and humor him, and go along with him, or else he’ll leave her. In reality, children will bear a little neglect better than a man, and they aren’t In half as much danger of being kidnapped as a husband is. Moreover, you can hire nurses to look after your children and keep them entertained, but a woman leaves her husband’s enter tainment to other people at her peril. Therefore, the woman who has to choose betw’een the two, sings her husband to sleep, and spends the evening telling him fairy tales rather than her baby. • The trouble Is that most women do too much for their children and too little for their husbands. This isn’t fair. The man who supports the fam ily Is entitled to a run for hls money, even from his own wife and children. Pipette To-day’s Complete Short Story A minister ifl a small country vil lage, who was noted for hls absent- mindedness, was once observed io stop suddenly In the middle of his sermon and heard to mutter: “I knew she would—I knew she would!” • After the service was over someone asked him the reason. “Dear me,” said he, “did I? Well, you know, from this pulnit I can Just see old Mrs. Rogers’ garden, and this morning she was out pulling up •» cabbage, and I thought to myself* ‘Now. If that cabbage comes up sud denly, she’ll go over;’ and just then it came up and over she went.” 0 0 0 American papers are not always complimentafy to political candidates. This is how The Petersburg (Va.) Index refers to the man It is op posing: "He is already a noted man in the community, and between keeping out of jail and getting into the Legisla ture he will be pretty busily engaged between now and the 8th of the month.” • * • Professor—You say they contested the will of the deceased? Student—Yes. sir: and the court held that he was suffering from hal lucinations. Professor—On what grounds? Student—It appears that he left three-fourths of hls property to hls mother-in-law. CHICHESTER S PILLS THE DIAflOXU HltA.ND. jT 0 M arcel puprez, the artist, was in search of inspiration When chance led him to the Moulin de la Galette. He was sitting over a glass of bock and watching the dancers through a trellis of painted green woodwork en twined with faded artificial wistaria, when the face of Pipette smiled out at him from the whirling crowd. It was a vivid, haunting smile, One which could not easily be forgotten, and before the night was old It flashed at him over the rim of a wine glass which she held gayly to her scarlet, curving lips. Three days later she came to hls studio as the model for his new picture, "The Brink of Folly.” Hour after hour, while the sunbeams danced and flickered upon the wall op posite and Marcel worked In all the zeal of a new and fascinating theme, she would sit as still as a woodland mouse, a wistful expression in the depths of her almond-shaped eyes, her dark hair tousled bewitchingly about her small head. The picture took three months to com plete—three months of hot. golden after noons under the sloping roof of a little Montmartroise atelier. It Was inevitable that they should fall In love. “When my picture has brought me success and I have become a great artist—a famous artist,” Marcel would sometimes begin, stepping back from the easel to slip an arm about the girl’s supple waist. And the latter would re tort: “Tes, my love; I know all that you are going to say. But for the present we are In love and together. What more can we ask?" And her little, warm lips would close passionately over her lover’s smiling mouth. Very Happy. They were as happy as two children in a field of buttercups. Sometimes they would make an ex cursion to St. Cloud and. climbing the hill behind the little river town, look down over Paris as it lay spread at their feet. One day as they wandered, with arms entwined, among the long avenues of emerald-tinted trees, Pipette made a confession: “Of course, I don’t love him any more. I don’t think I ever did love him— really,” she faltered In conclusion, a pink blush dyeing the tip of an averted chin. “I thought when he went away that he had gone forever, that he would never come back—and I was glad. I wanted to be free. He was so violent: he frightened me. And now he Is in Paris again. I saw him this morning on the Pont Neuf. Oh, I am afraid— {{yeafifW Ask for i ultW,EA.TFB1 ™" , » CRAN9 rn.K; W yelrs known as Best. Safest, Always Reliable SOLO BV DRLCGI5TS EV£KVMWR5 INDIGESTION? Btop it quickly; Have your grocer send you one do*, bottles of SHIVA R GINGER ALE Drink with meals, and if not prompt ly relieved, get your money back at our expense. Wholesome. deli cious. refreshing. IT era red with the ceSebrated Shivar Mineral Water and the purest flavoring materials. SHIVAR SPRING, Manufacturers SHELTON, S. C. R« L. ADAMS CO., Distributors, Atlanta, afraid that he will somehow take me away from you. And I love you so! I love you so! Don’t let him take me, Marcel!’’ She clung to him hysterically, her fin gers tightening upon his arm, tears fill ing her lashes with quivering liquid crystals. “Hush, hush, my love,” he whispered back soothingly. “No one shall take you from me—that I swear!” And bending his head he tilted her face to kiss the glistening drops from her troubled eyes. • • • “The Brink of Folly” was receiving the final touches of the brush by the fading light of a September afternoon. Suddenly the sound of a step along the passage outside sent Pipette-spring ing to her feet, the soft sunset dreams of the past half hour dropping about her like the folds of a gossamer veil. He Arrives. “What was that?" The thumping of a fist upon the wood en panels, accompanied by a demand for entrance in a man’s hoarse, drunken voice, broke sharply In upon them. “It's he—Paul. What shall I do? What can I do?’’ she pleaded wildly, an agony of fear in her voice, her eyes raised beseechingly to those of her lover. For one long paralyzing moment they stood facing each other in silence. Then, lifting her bodily In hls arms, the man carried her across the room to where the now finished canvas stood propped against the easel. "Hide, quickly—behind the picture!" he commanded, and stepped hurriedly back. The next instant the frail lock of the door gave way beneath the pressure of a heavy, lurching Shoulder and the tall figure of a man reeled unsteadily into the room. ’T’ve got you now. my pretty one tou II not escape rue this time—you pr £ ciou . s lover." he muttered thlckl>, as he stumbled forward over the uneven floor, a sinister gleam flash ing from some object which he held , ( clasped in his right hand. Then, catch- * ing sight of the painted life-like por trait of Pipette smiling whimsically across the' darkening room, he halted abruptly as though hypnotized. The next moment he had sprung for ward with the snarl of a wild beast and struck savagely at the canvas with the sharp blade of a stiletto. ^ ' There was a shrill, terrified shriek as the hidden girl sank wounded to the ground, one little white arm flung out upon the floor beyond the edge of the mutilated picture. For a While It lay quivering in a pool of pink sunlight, the same little while arm that Marcel had so often kissed. Then the fingers curied up like the petal of a flower and were still. test JBL This A TEA Maxwell Home Blend Tea in vites compari son with alloth- er kinds. Its rich full flavor and tempting fragrance set a new standard of tea quality. U-lb.. f-rb. and 1- Tight Canieti Ayour grocer Cbeek-Neal CoH Nathoille H Jacktonvilli ae- A Trip Abroad Only $15.95 From Chicago How, where? Our an swer—Canada. Get out of your own country for aw r hlle; cross the border; leave the good old United States behind; enjoy a complete change of manners'. customs, scenes and climate. Go up into the Highlands of Ontario, which comprise the noted Muskoka Lakes. Algonquin Park, French River, Georgian Bay, Tima- gaml. and Lake of Bays. Only a day’s Journey from Chicago with the lowest round trip summer rates. Your Name and Address, Pie free of cost, our comprehend Temperature cooler than even Chicago and an atmos phere far mofe bracing be cause of the nine forests and clear cold stre&mfc. Fish, hunt or Idle In quiet amid primitive aiinpllclt/. yet under living conditions which ere made comfortable, yea. even luxurious, by the comprehensive rwiort syatera provided by tha Grand Trunk Railway Fifth»tf east of the fh*hl«mJa of Ontario, aleo reached direct by the Grand Trunk dou hie tracks, are Montreal (Pt I.awreooe River en route), Quebec. Portland, Boston. Old Orchard Beach, and New London. Conn., while nn either an ineorpemiv* circle tour or direct an* New York, All an tie City, Niagara Falls and the AtlanUc acaehore. as©; we want to send to you, ve, Illustrated gulde-bnoks