Newspaper Page Text
NIL.
The Manicure
Lady
By WILLIAM F. KIRK
^ GUESS there ain’t many real
I human beings that goes to the
boarding houses at the sea
shore, George,” said the Manicure
Lady. "I was down to Tybee for a
week-end, and I was entertained
beautiful by a friend of mine that
always does everything right. She
and her husband is perfect darlings,
George. He always takes her wher
ever she wants to go, and she thinks
he is the only man on this globe. She
is one of them kind of wives, George,
that thinks when she hears about
Julius Caesar that her husband would
have had Julius’ jo) if he had beer,
living then.
“But they was the only tw r o regulai
guys on that porch after we had ate
our dinner and went out to let it
digest in the shade. There was four
married women there about forty
years old or so, and two young chaps
that had traveled extensively on the
trolley cars. They were setting there
talking to the old gals, showing how
brown their arms was from swim
ming and how much muscle they had,
and the old gals was fine to them,
beaming on them Just as if the^ was
grown-up men. After the two chaps
had went for their third swim that
day, the old gals began telling what
divine waltzers the kids was, and how-
one of them was very witjty.
‘‘But oh, dear doctor! * When the
name of one of the younger married
ladies came up, a lady that didn’t
happen to be there at the time, there
was sure some scandal.
“ ‘They say her husband drinks
something brutal!’ says one of the
old hens.
‘‘‘I wouldn’t be surnrised.’ says an
other. ‘She would drive any man to
drink with that temper of hers.’ "
“What else do you expect from that
kind of folks?’ asked the Head Bar
ber. “I never sat on a boarding
house porch in my life, unless it was
with some of the old Romans, long
after the women folks had went to
bed. I never could stand all the cruel
things they said about the other wo
men. Many a young married lady
has been kissed and called ‘dearie’ hy
the old fat and forty girls, only to be
hammered into pulp when they mov
ed fifty feet away. I was up in the
country not long ago and heard some
of those rocking-chair dames work
ing. Two of the young chaps thera
happened to be live ones, and went
to the village to get a few steins on
a hot day. They mentioned it when
they got back home, and the next
morning when they started out one
of the dames says ‘I>ook at Mr. Doo-
nan and Mr. McSherry!’ and another
says, ‘Yes, there they go!’ I suppose
when the young fellow got back in the
evening every one of the ancients
says ‘Here they come!’”
‘‘That’s the trouble, George,’ said
the Manicure Lady. “This would be
a whole lot different world in which
to live in if it wasn’t for the ‘There
they go!’ and ‘Here they come!’ peo
ple. If they see a young fellow
throwing himself away and going so
the dogs, you don’t hear many folks
shouting ‘Come back and get wise!'
They all say ‘There he goes!’ and
they say it as cheerful as a kid say
ing ‘Oh Mamma, here cpmes the cir
cus parade!’
“This is too hot a day to do much
demoralising, George, but I do wish
that folks -would be kinder to each
other and bury the hammer. It ain’t
hatchets that needs burying in this
world, George, It’s hammer.”
Hints For the
Household
When about to make a pudding,
well flour your board and rolling-pin
and roll the suet oqt to a thin sheet.
Take betw-een your hands and rub
down, when you will And the suet as
line as breadcrumbs.
Before putting curtain hooks in cur
tains in damp weather, rub the pins
with a clean, oily rag. It prevents
them rusting and tearing the curtain,
and they can be taken in and out
more easily.
Save all old bits of tw r lne, knot
them together, then knit with steel
needles into pieces about a foot or
more square. These make excellent
dish clothes for saucepans and pie-
dishes.
When washing pudding cloths,
throw' some orange peelings into the
water. This collects the grease and
helps to make the cloths white and
clean looking.
If great care is not taken flatirons
easily become rusted. The following
is a good way to clean them when
this occurs: Tie a lump of beeswax in
a piece of rag, and w-hen theirons are
hot rub them with this. Then rub
them well with salt on a cloth, and
they will be quite smooth and clean.
Before arranging maidenhair fern
in vases, soak it for two hours in cold
water; then singe the ends of the
stems with a match. Ferns thus
treated will last three times as long
and keep quite green and fresh for
several days.
Hot-water marks may be removed
from japanned trays by the simple
process of rubbing them over well
with sweet oil, and then polishing
with a little dry flour on a toft dus
ter.
Palmer's
Skin Whitener
For Dark Cemplexions
[TS EFFECT la mu ; velous
upon a dark or sallow skin.
You cannot realize what it will
do until you have used it.
Guaranteed pure and harmless.
Postpaid^ 5C Anywhere
All Jacobs’ Stores
And Druggists Generally.
SURE! ONE GOOD TURN
DESERVES ANOTHER
Their Married Life
By MABEL HERBERT URNER.
We’re looking back to see if they
Are looking back to see if we
Are looking back to see if they
Are looking back at us.
One Woman’s Story .
By VIRGINIA TERHUNE VAN DE WATER
M
CHAPTER XIV.
ARY DANFORTH awoke early
on the morning of her grad
uation day. She lifted her
watch from the table at the head of
her bed and glanced at it sleepily,
noting with satisfaction that it still
lacked more than an hour to break
fast time.
She lay half awake and let happy
thoughts drift through her mind—
light, girlish thoughts of the beauty
of her graduation gown; affectionate
thoughts of her father, speeding
home from a business trip in the far
West to be with his daughter on this
important day; tender, timid thoughts
of Gordon Craig.
In a letter written a week ago her
lover had repeated his assurance that
he would see her graduate. This
epistle had reached her only the day
before yesterday, and since then she
had heard nothing from him. yet she
was sure that he would be true to his
word. She smiled now as she lay in
her darkened room, a smile that was
full of pure joy. She knew that Craig
would have a question to ask when
they met, and she also knew what
her answer would be. She had no
doubt now that she loved him dearly
and was proud and happy in her
love. The smile faded slowly from
her lips, and she slept again.
Her mother’s gentle knock on the
door awakened her a haJf hour later.
“It's time to get up, girlie!” she
announced, entering the room.
“Breakfast will be ready soon and
father has telephoned from the Grand
Central to say that he will be up to
eat it with us, as his train is just
in. So try to be ready when he
comes.”
She kissed Mary as she had done
each morning since the girl's birth
then hurried away on household tasks
intent.
The trio had a happy breakfast to
gether in the sunlit dining room. Mr.
Danforth. haggard and pale—“from
a sleepless night on the cars,” as he
explained—was once more at the head
of the table, cheery and happy in
spite of his evident weariness.
The morning meal over, he pushed
his chair back from the table and,
drawing Mary down upon his knees,
questioned her with affection and In
terest about her plans for the day.
He did not mention Craig’s name. An
unusual reticence had kept the Tex
an from his conversation ever since
the young man had returned home,
and w-hen Mary had mentioned with
studied indifference the fact that "Mr.
Craig might possibly happen to be in
New York on Commencement Day,”
her father let the statement pass
without comment. t ,
After a few- minutes rhat this
morning he declared that he must
go to his office for a part of the day.
At the front door he paused and
came back to the dining room to kiss
Mary, although he had already bade
her an affectionate goodby.
“This is just to kiss my little girl
once more,” he explained, patting
her cheek fondly. “She will be a
grownup lady when I sec her again.
It was late in the afternoon that
Mary left the house to go down to
her school. Her class were to have
an early farewell supper in the gym
nasium and would go directly from
that to their graduation exercise 3
At 8 o’clock she and the rest of
her class look their places in the
great school auditorium, which was
already crowded. Mary looked vain
ly among the sea of fqces for the
three persons who made her smai*
world. Of course, her parents were
here, she mused, although 9he could
not discern them—but was Craig
here, too?
The white-haired principal arose to
speak, and a hush fell on the house.
Suddenly Mary knew that her lover
had come. She felt his eyes upon
her, and, looking up, saw him in the
gallery above her. Their glances
met and he smiled, but the girl
blushed hotly and dropped her eyes.
Her heart throbbed wildly. She had
been eager to see him, but now she
wished to evade his steady gaze and
hide herself, yet she was happy to
be in his presence. She raised her
hand to her throat, and, caressingly,
touched the hidden silver trinket he
had sent her.
Those who knew her said Mary
Danforth had never looked sweeter
and fairer than w-hen she rose at
the calling of her name and went
forward to receive her diploma. She
did not think of the thousands of
glances resting upon her, but only of
the look of the man she loved. She
longed to lift her eyes and gaze into
his face, but she could not. Through
the valedictory she sat silent, un-
hearing, her eyes upon her diploma
and the mass of flowers which had
been handed her. She knew some of
them were sent by Craig, the rest by
her parents.
At last she became aware that it
was all over, that people were rising
and that everybody about her was
talking. A gray-haired, sweet-faced
teacher accosted her.
“May 1 speak to you a moment,
dear child?” she said quietly. “Come
with me.”
Puzzled and vaguely alarmed the
girl obeyed the older woman’s bid
ding and followed her into a small
anteroom adjoining the auditorium.
As Mary noted the woman's grave
demeanor a dread clutched at her
heart, and she held her breath to
listen.
“I have had news for you,” said
her teacher simply. “You must go
right home to your mother. She has
sent for you. Your father”
She paused, and the girl clasped
her hands in an agony of fear.
“Oh, w-hat is it?” she gasped. “Tell
me quickly! Is he hurt, or ill, or’’—
Her voice failed her suddenly, for
Gordon Craig stood beside her. S^.e
had not seen him enter, and he took
her trembling hands in his firm
grasp.
“Dear,” he said quickly, but softly,
while his body shielded her from the
glances of persons passing the door,
“your father will never be hurt or ill
again. Be brave, dear. He died an
hour ago.”
An Impossible Post.
With tense, eager faces, the great
audience of women leaned forward :n
their seats, eagerly drinking in the
noted speaker's every word.
“Mere man,” she was saying, “is
w-ont to belittle woman’s ability to
enter the fields already usurped by
him. As a matter of fact, she is capa
ble of filling any post of public or
private office now held by man. and,
if appointed to it, could even perform
man’s tasks with greater faithfulness
and greater daring.
“Name, if you can, one post for
which she can not fit herself! Name
one office to which she would not,
could not, give the greatest measure
of capability, the highest degree of
courage, the- ”
A mere man, who had slipped, un
noticed, into a back seat, rose at this
point, and the light of sudden inspira
tion gleamed in his eye.
•Rat catcher!” he shouted. And
then^he fled.
HAT must be the landing dowm
there! I can’t see- that sign,
but I’m sure that’s where you
get the St. Cloud boats.”
“Hadn’t you better ask some one,”
ventured Helen. “It’s so far to go
way down there and find it isn’t the
place.”
”1 tell you it IS the place,” scowled
Warren, who always hated to ask his
way, and often wore Helen out trying
to find a place without guidance.
Already they had walked across the
Alexandre bridge, and Helen w-as
tired and hot. Her feet ached, too,
for she had foolishly started out in a
pair of white canvas pumps which
she had bought the day before.
A gravel path and s|one steps led
down to what Warren thought was
the boat landing. But evidently U
was not in use this season, for the
place was deserted except for a man
who was shearing a dog In an empty
shed.
He was sitting on the ground hold
ing on his knees a King Charles
spaniel, w-hose sleek body he was
clipping close, leaving only the lion-
like ruff of neck and tail. The dog.
grateful to be rid of his heavy coat
this hot day, lay patiently on his
back.
“I’ll be darned!” muttered Warren
looking around the deserted landing.
“I know those boats used to start
from here.”
‘‘But it’s been seven years since
you were in Paris,” protested Helen.
“You can’t expect to find everything
Just the same! Do ask that man.
where the right landing is—I CAN'T
walk much farther!”
“Well, 1f it’s along here we'll And
It,” obstinately ignoring her sugges
tion. “There, T see it now-! Isn't that
a boat just pulling in?”
Helen Inquires.
Helen’s heart sank, for the landing
Warren pointed to was back beyond
the bridge And it might not be the
right one! Detei ilnedlv she ap
proached the man with the dog. If
Warren w-ould not ask. she would
Not know-ing the French for “boat
landing.” she repeated “St. Cloud. St.
Cloud?” and pointed to the landing
beyond.
“Oui, out, madame. nodded tho
man, understanding!*', while the dog,
in spite of his inverted position,
wagged a friendly tail.
Warren w-as already striding back
up the stone steps. “Hope you’re
satisfied,” he grumbled, as HeK-n
breathlessly caught up with him.
•That‘s the St. Cloud boat there now.
■f you hurry we’ll get it.”
Helen, her shoes hurting her at
♦very step, kept up with Warren**
long strides as best -he could. As
thev drew near they could see “St.
Cloud” ffuttertng on a red flag over
the boat.
“May have to wait another hour
if we don’t catch this!” called back
Warren, running ahead to get the
tickets.
The boat gave a warning whistle.
A man was loosening the chain. Were
they going to miss it after all? War
ren had the tickets now' and was
w'aving them at her! Helen, flushed
and breathless, reached the boat only
a second before It moved off.
"Wheel That was close,” and War
ren wiped the inside of his hat wifch
his handkerchief. “Pretty good sprint
for a hot day.”
“Oh, can’t you And me a place to
sit dowm?” panted Helen. “My feet
hurt so!”
“Don’t see any place, do you?” look
ing around the crowded boat, on
w’hich every seat was taken. “What’s
the matter with your feet, anyway?
You’ve been hobbling ever since we
started.”
“It’s these shoes I bought yester
day. They’re plenty big,“ defiantly,
“but they’re too stiff. They hurt in
the back at the heel.”
“Humph, you ought to know you
couldn’t get a decent shoe In this
country. Why on earth didn’t you
bring enough with you?”
“I did, dear, all except w-hite ones.”
“Well, serves you right. They
ought to hurt you. if you haven’t
more sense than to start out on a
trip like this with a new pair of
shoes.”
Paris had been hot, but the Seine
was hotter. The sun glittered on the
w'ater that was not even rippled by a
breath of air. The iron rail, against
which Helen was leaning, almost
burnt through her gloves. Would she
have to stand on her aching feet in
this blazing sun all the way to St.
Cloud?
Warren Compares.
“They talk so blamed much about
the beauty of the Seine—well I don’t
see it! Can’t hold a candle to our
Palisades along the Hudson. ,v
“None too clean, either,” went on
Warren. “Hope they don’t drink thifc
water. But that’s so—Frenchmen
don’t drink any w-ater. There’s a
seat, if you want one,” as a man rose
to get out at the next landing.
lielen sank into the seat, and with
a sigh of relief drew off her slipper
under her dress. , Warren did not
trouble to come and stand by her, but
stood where he was, leaning on his
cane by the railing.
As they left the outskirts of Paris,
the river grew cleaner and the scen
ery more attractive. But Helen was
too hot and much too uncomforta
ble to enjoy or appreciate the sail.
At last they reached St. Cloud. On
the hillside above was a big white
hotel, with fluttering flags and white-
clothed tables on the green hedged
veranda and terrace.
“Well, what do you want to do?
Walk around and take a look at the
village—or get a cab here and drive
through the park first?”
Helen, whose feet still hurt her,
suggested the drive.
Several cabmen, spotting the Amer
icans, were already urging them to
their vehicles. Warren put Helen
into one uf the cabs and told the
driver to take them through the park
“What’s that?” as the man began
to chatter excitedly. “What in the
devil’s he trying to say?” For War
ren’s restaurant French was not equal
to this conversation.
The driver finally made them un
derstand they were to pay in advance
—two francs, for which he presented
them with a ticket, which Helen
thought was a sort of receipt.
“Why, dear, that’s awfully cheap.”
as t^ey drove off.
“Oh, all cab* are much cheaper over
here,” explained Warren easily.
They entered the park by a massive
gateway, sentinelled by a uniformed
soldier. Helen had read in her Bae
deker of the beauty of the park at
St. Cloud, but the terraced groves,
the statuary, the fountains, the vistas
through arched trees, the cascades
and grottoes surpassed any guide
book description.
Pay In Advance.
“I say, this is great!” approved
Warren. “Look through there! The
fellow who laid out these grounds
knew his job.”
Thed river now’ fdow*ed up, to give
them a better view' of a magnificent
fountain at the top of a terraced
mound.
“Dear, that must be the fountain
which plays every other Sunday. Why
didn’t I bring the Baedeker?”
“Oh, forget your blamed old guide
book and enjoy what you see. By
| Jove, just look up there!”
In the distance was another foun-
I tain center with marble nymphs and
flaming flower beds. Helen, with her
; slipper off. now leaned back and gave
| herself up to silent enjoyment of it all
—the cool shaded groves, the smell of
the woods, and the wonderful vistas
| through the tre^s. The whole park
I wa« a triumph of landscape art.
Every now' and then they passed a
i festive picnic party with lunch
spread in some secluded grove. And
there w'ere many courts of lawn-
teunis and other field games, the
w-hlte outing costumes of the players
gleaming conspicuously against the
green background.
“Well, we’re getting our two francs’
worth in this drive, all right. Tills
man’s got a pretty big tip coming to
him.”
When they had driven entirely
around the great park, thev again
drew up before the impressive iron
gate, which the soldier swung open.
“We don’t w-ant to go back to the
station yet. Let’s get out of here and
go up to the hotel and have a drink
How- about having dinner there?” and
Warren motioned to the driver to let
them out.
“Eh? What’s that? Now what's
he after?” as the driver stared at
| his -tip, climbed down from his seat,
j and excitedly pointed to a taximeter
: in front, which they had not seen
i befrra.
“Well, what in thunder did w-e nay
that two francs for?” demanded War
ren, glaring at the taximeter which
■ registered over seven francs. “Tf you
think you’ve got a sucker here, you’re
! wrong. You made us pay in advance,
I and that’s all you’ll get?”
Here the soldier at the gate, over
hearing the dispute, came out and
explained to Warren, in halting Eng
lish. that the two francs was the ad
mission charged hy the park, and
that the taximeter charges was for
the drive.
j Explanations.
“Oh. If that’s the way of It, all
right,” as Warren paid the Seven
francs, fifty. “But why In the devil
didn’t he say so?”
“Why, that’s exorbitant,” protest
ed Helen indignantly, as they started
up the hill to the hotel. “That makes
the drive almost ten francs.”
“If that’s their regular rate—that’s
nil right. All I want to know is that
I’m not being held up. Now what?
Want to go to the hotel for dinner
now? Or take a walk around the
village first?”
“I’m afraid I can’t walk very far,”
faltered Helen.
“By George, you’re a fine traveler,
you are.” in a tone of disgust. “Not
much Measure going anywhere with
you. You’re either too tired, or too
hot, or your feet hurt—or some
blamed thing’s the matter. Pome on
then, we’ll have dinner. Think you
can sit up and take nourishment?”
There’s Many a Slip.
Smithson had been really a power
in ills day. At any rate, he had held
a Job bringing him in some thou
sands a year—that is to say, until
the smash came. After that he failed
to hold any job he got, and became
permanently out of luck.
His old friend Jenkins w r as a bit
surprised, therefore, when Smithson
stopped him in the street one day
and angrily exclaimed:
“D’you know, I’ve Just received the
prize insult of my life! A chap down
in the city offered me a job this
morning!”
“Offered you a job?” replied Jen-
-ii'is. “Y’ou call that an insult? I
thought you were looking for a job!”
“Yes, but not at ten dollars a w'eek.
Hang it all, I can borrow more than
that from you!”
The Mistakes of Jennie By hal coffman
Being a Series of Chapters in the Life of a Southern Girl in the Big City
“Cheer up little girl.”
CHAPTER XXIII.
A FTER the weue in the office, when Jennie’s
new employer tried to kiss her. Jennie real
ised if she demanded her salary—so she
eouhl leave—he would not pay her, so she resolved
to work the week out tf iHissihle ami lx- on her
guard in the meantime against any outbursts on
his part.
The man saw there was nothing to lie gained hy
forcing his attentions on Jennie, so thought he
would play a "waiting game” and be as nice us
possible.
He apologized profusely, saying if he had not
been drinking it wouldn’t have happened, hut that
Jennie was so pretty he just couldn’t help it. Jen
nie was determined to leave at t lie end of the
week, though, for she could see he was only wait
ing a more favorable chance.
When Jennie got home that night she found her
aunt, the boarding-house keeper, very 111—so sick,
in fact, that they had to get a doctor. “Goodness
only knows where we can gel the money to pay
him,” thought Jennie.
The only thing the doctor could proscribe was a
good rest, change of scene and good, wholesome food.
Quite simple to prescribe, but bow could Jennie's
aunt have these tilings when they had barely
enough to live on us It was? After the doctor had
gone Jennie’s aunt called her to the liedstde and
told her: "1 know what Is the matter with me,
Jennie girl; it was useless for you to have called
the doctor, for ho could not help me and It was
just an added expense that we can not afford. I’ve
had these spells for years, but never one before aa
laid as this—but cheer up, my little girl, every
thing will be all right and I’ll be out of bed soon."
But in her heart she KNEW she never would.
—HAL COFFMAN.
(To Be Continued.)
Snap- dts
Shots
T HE common problem—yours,
mine, every one’s—
Is not to fancy what were fair
in life,
Provided it could be; but finding fir*^
What may be, then how to make it
fair—
Up to our means—a very different
thing.
—ROBERT BROWNING.
• • •
Beware of desperate steps. The dark
est day,
Live till to-morrow’, will have passed
away. —SELECTED.
• • •
There is a pity in forgotten things.
Banished the heart they can no
longer fill,
Since restless Fancy spreading swal
low* wings
Must seek new pleasures still!
* * *
There is a patience, too. in things
forgot;
They wait—they find the portal
long unused.
And, knocking there, it shall refuse
them not.
Nor aught nor aught shall be re
fused.
—EDITH M. THOMAS.
life is a play in which we do not
choose our parts. They are chosen
for us by the author of the play. But
we do decide whether we will play
them well or ill. —OVID.
No Cause for Fear.
“That circus man does not seem
to be in the least bit afraid of the
effects of a spree.”
“Why should he be? Didn’t he
marry the snake charmer?”
Why He Worried.
Morton—Hello, Jones. Why the
troubled look?
Jones—I’m afraid I’ll be making so
much money next year I’U have to pay
an income tax.
THE STATE NORMAL SCHOOL, ATHENS, GA.
Named by a United State* Commissioner of Education as being among
the beet fitted State Normal BohooU In the United Stales. Fifty six officers
and teachers, ten buildings, eighteen departments of Instruction, full certlfl-
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enC *The Home-Life oourses are among the strongest In the South Dome*-
tb Arts and Sciences, Manual Arts, Agriculture, Gardening Home Nursing,
Fnynlcal Culture, Vocal and Instrumental Music, 8lght Singing Diploma
license to teach. Two Practice Schools. Education for fitness^ and
ness In the home. Total expenses for a year less than
JERE M. PC
Catalogue.
happl-
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says:
“It gives me the greateet pleasure to say that I regard Tate
Spring water as the best remedy for all disorders of the stomach,
bowels, liver and kidneys of which I have knowledge."
Enjoy the healthful water at the spring or have it ahipped to your
home. For sale by all druggist^ in sterilised bottles, filled and sealed
at the spring.
Send postal to-day for illustrated booklet, giving rates, location and
description of this ideal place for the summer outing. Address
TATE SPRING HOTEL CO.
S. B. ALLEN, MANAGING DIRECTOR,
TATE SPRI NG, TENN.
ATLANTA MINERAL WATER CO, LOCAL DISTRIBUTORS.
A TYPEWRITER
COSTS OVER
$3000.00
x S a busriness man you know that the price you
\ pay for a typewriter is a negligible sum,
•* compared with what it really costs.
If you pay your operator fifty dollars per month
and she runs the machine five years, the operating
cost is $3,000.00. This, plus what you paid for the
machine, represents your investment.
The vital question is, “What do I get for that
$3,000.001”
On the
L. C. Smith & Bros. Typewriter
you get ten to twenty per cent more work than on
any other typewriter made.
The original cost of the machine, therefore,
fades into nothingness.
We can prove that our typewriter will do more
and better work and do it longer than any other
typewriter.
Our branch office in Atlanta Is always at your service
and we will demonstrate our machine in your office, with
out cost or obligation to you.
Our free employment department furnishes office help
without expense to either party.
L. C. SMITH & BROS. TYPEWRITER CO.
Home Office and Factory at Syracuse, N. Y.
121 N. Pryor Street, ATLANTA, GA.
Phone Ivy 1949