Newspaper Page Text
i Monday
i ad com-
and now
er’s per-
February,
11 early in
her desk
i blacker
k against
made her
dr. Pear-
ome now
sign the
ler. She
m ploy er’s
she had
In” that
Lcher had
and was
Bowing
Tered her
the kind
►vershoes.
5 remem-
had left
ther had
s warmth
lgs for a
foolishly
t jacket,
nay have
her fea-
' he said,
ht. I am
I'm call-
r as the
u along.”
gain like
thought,
hurry to
her an
id to go
►ur cab.”
rd to be
quickly
rice of a
this girl,
he had
an. But
;d beside
that he
the way
th. You
ce. Now
:’s fierce
be taken
he found
of "just
pleasure
eeling as
r box at
to which
She hur-
*s to her
oor with
tray on
lid when
s empty.
wearily,
;hen and
g gaze,
to-day.”
□
> about
king my
logne to
a Cor-
; was so
he ants
e a cab
windows
couples,
g. Sud-
piercing
rushed
1 a man
, gentle-
over his
his way
» to look
on him.
ne a lit- 1
s bleed-
wounds
” I said
this fel-
d hurry
We had
the sta-
empt to
me him
id and I
t collar,
le word,
under a
lize me.’
his cap
face of
Even if
lars and
:ou still
stopped
horrified
nmered:
y harm,
sent to
d or go
under-
i. I felt
»rn,
eet
to
ev-
of
e catas-
fainting
calam-
spapers,
I do not
, but my
love of
ok the
d whis-
e.'
tgain. If
ope God
it, don’t
locked a
bbage.
Beauty Secrets of Beautiful Women
The Care of the Hair as Told by Evelyn Carleton
By LILIAN LAUFERTY.
a T 1,
1
F I had a million dollars," began
Evelyn Carleton, "I know ex
actly what I’d do ” Where
upon the mind of the Beauty Editor,
attuned unto lotions and garments of
rare texture, and "cures” and all the
adjuncts of beauty—which is so sel
dom unadorned—began to vision Jew
els rare, and creations from Parisian
artists. But Evelyn Carlton went on
seriously. "I would adopt all the poor,
dear little kiddies I could find, and
I would take ’em all out in the country
and let them kick up their heels in
the long cool grass, and pick posies
and get dirty and clean again and
grow up with some of God’s sunshine
in their little hearts.”
Ahem! ‘The Follies of 1913” were
being exploited down on the stage of
the New Amsterdam Theater in New
York. In a dressing room on the third
floor the beautiful girl who thrills you
with loveliness when she sits in a
gold-armored figure on the gold horse
of Jeanne d’Arc was telling me of
an ideal that is greater to her than
all the lure of loveliness. . Do you
wonder that Evelyn Carleton is a
beautiful girl? Most women w-ho ar<
normal, and sweet and sane—and
womanly with the full heritage of what
their Maker meant them to be—are
attractive with the sweetness qf ex
pression and the charm of the eternal
femininity that the Germans call
"Die ewige weibliche.”
A Pointed Question.
“But since you—supposedly—have
not a million dollars,” said I, "won’t
you please tell me how' you make life
and yourself as attractive as possible?
All the little means to the great end
of feminine humanity—Beauty."
"Oh, but I am not a beauty,” said
Miss Carleton with misguided en
thusiasm. Excuse me, Miss Evelyn,
for remarking it here In open meet
ing, and in such wise that you have
no chance to talk back—"You are a
beauty.”
• On with the conversation of the
evening. Said Miss Carleton: "I have
rather nice hair—no credit to me, it
runs in my family. It's long and
thick, you see. I shampoo it at leas«t
fortnightly, and sometimes once a
week. About a shampoo—if you can
not get some one who is an expert at
the art, wash your own hair. Buy a
bottle of liquid green soap and shak-
some of the liquid into the masses of
your hair, rubbing away till you get
a foamy white lather. Then wash and
wash ami wash some more until your
final rinsing water is clear as Croton
water ever can be. Just don’t leave a
bit of soap in yo*r hair if you mean
to have it pretty and fluffy and tract
able. Don’t wear false hair, don’t
jam your head full of combs and
hairpins, don’t burn your hair off in
search of a curl that the first damp
hour will steal from you. Sham
poo it as I have told you, brush
it faithfully, and often open it to th?
benefits of sun and wind as often
as you can. All growing things 1 ikd
sun and air as well as those little
kiddies of my million dollar dream,
you know. At night and in the morn
ing loosen your scalp by giving it a
“I shampoo
my hair fort
nightly.
“Don’t wear
false hair.
“At night
and in morn
ing loosen
your scalp.’’
MISS EVELYN
CARLETON
rotary massage with your finger-tips;
this will stimulate the flow’ of blood
to the scalp veins* and blood vessels
and feed the roots of the hair. For
a tonic my mother used to recommend
breaking a few quinine capsules into
bay rum. and applying this on alter
nate niehts.
"Tonic should always be applied
from a bottle with a shaker top, or
dropped into the partings of the hair
from a bottle with a shaker top, or
dropped into the partings of the hail
from a medicine dropper. The idea is
to get it into the skin from w’hich
the hair is deriving its nourishment—
and not to get the hair oily or greasy
and so ready to attract a coating of
dust. To sum it all up. keep your
hair and scalp clean, stimulate the
flow of blood to the scalp, and feed
the roots of the hair, and 1 am sure
the results will justify you for ‘tak
ing pains.’
"All I can add to my ‘beauty inter
view’’ is to go back to my beginning
again and recommend that grown
ups try my dream-for-ohildren—liv
ing out in the golden sunshine. It is
good for hair—and figure and dispo
sition.”
In Parting.
Whereto be it added that out
doors surely offers you some of th?
health and beauty with w’hich It has
so generously dowered Evelyn Car
leton. Next time you shampoo.your
hair, dry it out in the golden sun
light—and w hen you behold with Joy
the vital glowing mass into which
the sun has transmuted your locks,
just register a vow to try a little sun
shine tonic on your nature!
THE MIRACLE
A Startling Short Story Complete
T HREE men were sitting together
in a compartment of a train
speeding across the steppes of
Russia at 60 miles an hour.
The man who w r as sitting between
the other two w r as about 32, hand
some, with a high, intellectual fore
head and a very determined mouth.
He had been thinking so much dur
ing the last hour that it wa^5 impos
sible for him to think any more. He
felt as if he were facing a high wall,
w’hich, as far as he could see, was
quite insurmountable. Twenty-four
hours ago he had been a happy man,
possessing the best a man may pos
sess in this world—a beautiful wife,
who loved him as passionately as he
loved her; three lovely children—
Alex, Helena and Anna; a splendid
practice and good health.
Now everything was cnanged. He
had been seized by a hand whose grip
was as cruel as it was inexplicable. A
man may fight cruelty, but to fight
stupidity is hopeless, especially when
stupidity is protected bv power.
And Sergius Koltschin thought that
w’hen he had been singled out for ar
rest it was not only cruel, but also
stupid. He had done nothing, had
violated no law, no matter how anti
quated or unjust. He was wealthy
enough to be harmless. While he was
pondering over his lost happiness, he
suddenly broke the silence, asking.
"The truth is this, I suppose that I
shall be kept idle for a long time?”
The two men nodded assent,
“You see,” said the more intelligent
of them, "it is not wise to think too
deeply or be too smart. Neither is it
w’ise to speculate on what may hap
pen or not. You must take things as
they come.”
“Then you are a philosopher your
self.”
“It is better so.”
A Warning.
"No,” said Koltschin, sharply, “It Is
not better so. One should try to make
the future better than the present.”
‘Try to tell that when you are ex
amined, and see what you will get.”
‘I shall have nothing to say when I
am examined, but that I have done
nothing to justify any examination. I
do not want to make the case worse
than It is.”
A short silence followed.
"I suppose,” said the more intelli
gent of the two keepers, "that you
love Russia? All you revolutionists
have only the best intentions.”
I am no revolutionist,” said Kolt
schin.
“You are thought to be one, at any
rate.”
"But, strangely enough, I am not. 1
am merely an ordinary physician,
with no other interests but my pa
tients and my work. I may have some
sympathy with the revolutionists, hut
I take no part in their propaganda.”
"But perhaps you know somebody
who does?”
"Yes, I know several.”
"A man is known by his friends.
Perhaps you help your friends. Per
haps you have had a man under your
roof who may some day throw a
bomb.”
Suddenly Koltschin remembered
.Savarib. He had never been able to
understand why he was arrested, but
pow he understood everything, and
*iiso understood how exceedingly dif
ficult it would be to prove his inno
cence. Only a s»hort time ago Savarin
had spent several nights at his hoyse.
He was an old friend, and the daT * -
fore he left he had said he was
to Odessa, but would not tell.anytnlng
about his business there.
"Has anything happened in Odes
sa?” Koltschin as'ked, at the same
moment realizing the danger of ask
ing this question.
The Bomb.
"Nothing, except that a bomb has
been thrown with the result hoped
for.”
"Do you know who threw it?”
"A man named Savarin.”
The other keeper looked at him
significantly.
"Then you knew r that something
was going to happen in Odessa?”
Koltschin saw that he had placed
himself in an exceedingly dangerous
position. He knew in fact that he
was already sentenced and that he
should probably nevei see his wife
and children again.
• • *
The less intelligent of the keepers
invoked the help of one saint after
the other, and when at last he knew
the names of no more he began to
pray for the help of his little father
the Czar.
The other keeper sat pale as a
ghost while Koltschin was bandaging
his crushed leg with s»trips made from
his shirt, which he had taken off.
A few yards away was the wreck
of the train, which had caught fire
and the flames were creeping closer
to the place w’here the poor keeper.
Invoking the saints, was pinned down
by the wreckage.
Koltschin saw that the flames would
reach him sooner than the help of the
saints and at the same moment the
poor man looked up and perceived hie 1
great danger. Ho screamed with
anguish.
"Be quiet ” said Koltschin. "I will
save you if I can.” The keeper imme
diately forgot his saints and his Czar
and begged Koltschin hurry. Kolt-
scln had finished bandaging the
other’s leg, and was now struggling
wMth a strong temptation. He only
needed to leave this man who had
heard his words about Odessa to his
fate and he would be silent forever.
But a moment later he had released
the poor fellow, and. having bandaged
his wounds, he began to attend some
of the other wounded. It was a ter
rible scene. With the carelessness so
common in that country, a couple of
heavily loaded freight cars had been
left on the track near a sharp curve
the night before, the express had run
into them at full spe.‘d and the whole
train was now a burning pile of
wreckage.
When the wrecking train at last ar
rived, it brought tWO high officials,
sent out to investigate the fate of the
dangerous revolutionist. Dr. Koltschin.
They Walked ^along beside the
wrecked train trying to locate him,
entirely unaffecetd by the sight of the
sufferings of the wounded, Suddenly
they discovered Koltschin, who was
hard at work saving human lives.
In Danger.
They stopped and looked at him. It
was evident he was a surgeon and, as
he had attended many wounded, he
probably could give them some infor
mation. One of them touched his
shoulder and said:
“We are looking for a certain Ser
gius Koltschin, a dangerous revolu
tionist! He was in charge of two
keepers.”
"It Is none of my business to know
dangerous revolutionists, even w’hen
I see them. To me a broken leg is a
broken leg, whether It belongs to an
official < i a bombthrower.”
"That is true enough, but It does not
help u9."
"I have no time to help you. As you
see, I am busy setting this leg. But
if you will wait a moment I will show
you the two keepers, whom I have
just bandaged
The older official bowed courteously.
“We are exceedingly thankful to
you,” he said, politely.
A moment later Koltschin intro
duced the two officials to the helpless
keepers.
"These two gentlemen are looking
for a dangerous revolutionist named
Koltschin. but as far as I know he
was burned to death under the
wreckage of the 'ar that held him
down.”
Saved.
The less intelligent keeper, who
knew’ what it meant to be pinned
down under the car, which had now
been completely consumed by the fire,
stared at Koltschin with open mouth,
but did not utter a word. The other
keeper, however, said very calmly;
"That is quite correct. It was aw
ful. Koltschin was burned up alive
and we were helpless to save him.’
"Most deplorable,” said one of the
officials.
"He has received his sentence,” said
the keeper.
Koltschin drew a breath of relief, he
felt a free man once more. Officially
he was now dead. but. he had won
back his life, his children and every
thing that made life worth living, for
in the hearts of these two wounded
men he had found something you ma>
find in Russia as w’ell as anywhere
else.
• • •
Somewhere on a shelf In a Russian
office lies an official report of Ser
gius Koltsrhin’s death, hut the same
Sergius Koltschin is living in Paris,
happy and respected, with his wifi
and children.
A Joke on a Joker.
That Inveterate Joker, Sothern, had
made an appointment with Toole to
dine at a well-known restaurant. The
hour of meeting was fixed, and Soth
ern arrived some few minutes before
the appointed time. An elderly gen
tleman was dining at a table some lit
tle distance from that prepared for
the two actors. He was reading a
newspaper, which he had comfortably
arranged before him, as he was eat
ing his dinner. Sothern walked up to
him, and striking him a smart blow’
between the shoulders, said:
"Halloa, old fellow! Who would
have thought of seeing you here? I
thought you never ”
The assaulted diner turned round
angrily, when Sothern exclaimed:
"I beg you a thou.,and pardons, sir;
I thought you w’ere an old friend of
mine—a family man whom I never
suspected to see here. I hope you
will pardon me.”
The old gentleman erowled a reply,
and Sothern returned to his table,
where he was presently Joined by
Toole, to whom he said:
"See that old boy? I’ll bet you
half a dollar you daren’t go and give
him a slap on the bark and pretend
you have mistaken him for a friend."
"Done!” said Too’e; and done it
was immediately, v.ith a result that
may be imagined.
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
“D
O you think,” writes a young
girl, "that it is proper for a
girl to kiss a man when
they are merely friends?”
I once heard a girl describe a box
of candy an admirer had sent her.
"It was just sublime,” she gushed.
"I never saw a grander, more mag
nificent, more beautiful, more artistic
or finer box of candy in all my life.
Words can't describe It.”
"What words would you use,” I re
sponded dryly, "to describe the Grand
Canyon ?”
She had seen the Grand Canyon.
After a moment's thought she replied
that she would use the same; that she
knew no words that would express
more than grand, magnificent, beau
tiful, artistic and fine.
A girl asks if It is proper to kiss
a man who is merely a friend. Sup
pose. I say, "Entirely proper. He is a
good friend; no wrong is thought or
intended. Go ahead and kiss him."
She kisses him. She kisses him
often, for that is a pleasure that once
indulged in knows no limit. Some
day she has a lover.
It is a parallel case with the girl
who exhausted her adjectives on the
box of chocolates, and would have to
use the same on the Grand Canyon.
A Proof.
The lover asks for a kiss as a proof
of her love, and she gives this man
she loves with all her heart, and
w’ho loves her, the same proof of af
fection she gave a man who was
merely a friend; one who is here to
day and gone to-morrow, and kiss
ing all the girls who are foolish
enough to kiss when on his way.
One of the greatest offenses a man
can commit is to kiss and tell. He
coaxes a girl to kiss him. and the
kiss, which is sacred with her, is
only a passing incident with him.
He laughs about it afterward, as
one laughs at an easy conquest, and
TELLS.
It was given in all innocence. It
is not accepted as a proof of inno
cence in the more vulgar minds of
men. It cheapens a girl in the eyes
of the man she kissed, and degrades
her in the eyes of those who hear of
it. Not any man can kiss her, hut
they get that impression, and the
love of a girl whom any man can
kiss is not valued highly, nor eager
ly sought for.
It is a privilege with a price, nnd
the girl pays. She commits no crime;
she is guilty only of folly, but it is
an injustice for w’hich there is no
redress that one of her sex must al
ways pay a greater price for folly
than one of the other sex pays for
a crime.
There is a rule w r hich clever wives
heed. • It is this, "Always leave some
thing untold." Curiosity is the foun
dation of interest, and the man is al
ways interested in his wife if she
keeps him guessing.
There should be a rule somewhat
similar in the game of Love. "Don't
give all." The kiss should follow
the engagement ring. If it precedes
it, there is usually no engagement.
Long for More.
If there are few kisses, there is
always a longing for more. The
caress that is given grudgingly and
shyly is the caress most highly prized.
Love is all there Is in life, but it
becomes only a passing sentiment if
treated lightly. The love that is
greeted with a kiss that was given
the mere acquaintance of yesterday
never lingers long.
Don’t kiss this mere friend, my
dear. Somehow, I can’t believe that
he Is a real friend, or he would not
ask it.
I an
HERE’S a bear in the woods,’*
nnounced Mrs. Peavy, with
unction a.s she settled her
self on the porch among the unpacked
trunks and uncrated baggage that a
summer resorter always takes along.
"What?” stammered Mrs. Blggett,
unbelievingly. "In these woods?”
Mrs. Blggett might be pardoned for
her incredulity, for she had spent
.several summers in the mild little
forest bordering Blue Flag Lake and
nothing more ferocious than rabbits,
chipmunks and squirrels had been
visible in that time. "Why, I think
that’s dreadful!” she said when the
fact had wholly permeated her brain,
don’t contract to go big game
"I
hunting when I go away for the sum
mer! How can I manage a bear with
a crochet hook or a tennis racket?
How •”
"You can’t manage him, because
you can’t get near enough,” explained
Mrs. Peavy. "Still, I suppose that
when he gets desperate with hunger
he will break into our cottages and
attack us. They say he must have
wandered down from the North. The
rural postman saw him crossing the
road and. poor man! ,his horse
climbed one tree and he went up an
other and they never did collect all
the mail. His nervous system is com
pletely shattered, they s«ay.
He Saw Him.
"Several men have gone hunting
him, and the Thompson boy really
saw him, but Just in time he remem
bered that his gun had nothing but
bird shot In it—so he climbed a tree,
too. According to the stories told me
since I came, nearly all the trees In
the woods have been climbed by
about all the male population around
here. The exercise must be very
healthful. My husband is so fat that
I know it would be good for. him, but
he says he doesn’t hanker after bear
hunting as he did when he was a
hoy. He stole a pig from a farmer
the other night ”
"Your husband?” *
''Certainly not!” snapped Mrs
j Peavy, indignantly. “I refer to the
bear! Oh, it really is a tremendous
| animal! The postman said it was as
big as a Newfoundland dog, but the
Thompson boy had a longer look at it,
and he says it Is fully as big as their
cow. The game warden of this coun
ty has been after it and he is a very
reliable man. He was quite close to
the bear, because the tree he climbed
had only one strong branch, and it
was near the ground. He says that,
measured from tip to tip, the creature
must he twelve feet long. It is terri
bly exciting—nobody dares take any.
walks at all!”
"I think it is perfectly horrid!” in
sisted Mrs. Blggett, beginning to un
lock trunks energetically. "I’d go
j right bark to the city if I thought we
were to be haunted by wild animals
all summer! Why doesn’t somebody
shoot the beast or set a trap, or some
thing? My goodness—where do you
suppose my children are?”
"All the mothers on Blue Flag Lake
I are saying that,” commented Mrs.
Peavv cheerily. Mrs. Peavy had mg
I children.
The minute they are out of sight
the parents think they must be eaten
up by the bear. I should think l*
would be desperately hungry, because
there really is nothing in the wa^
for him to eat but roots. When we
had to walk to the chicken farm I
made my husband carry his bowle
knife that he bought to clean fish.
i John is a great friend of the game
i warden, and the game warden is very
indignant over the whole affair. He
says when a man takes office to see
that the fish and squirrels of a county
are protected it is a mean trick to
| shove a bear off on him. I believe
he is going to ask the ~ 'ty board
for a gatling gun for p»_.*«tton.
"I’m so nervous I can’t sleep nights.
I keep expecting the bear to climb In
at a window—and once when I acci
dentally got the woolen blanket
wrapped tightly around my neck. I
woke up, thinking all was over and
the bear had me!”
“I never heard of such a thing,”
said Mrs. Blggett, still indignant. 'It.
is no way to run a summer resort! I
am scared to death, because my chil
dren are so naturally reckless. I real
ly must go and look for Herbert at
once ”
"I’ll go with you,” said Mrs. Peavy,
with unction. "Not that I think any
thing has happened, but you never
can tel!—my goodness!”
Her voice rose in a crescendo shriek
as she grabbed Mrs. Biggett’s arm.
The Bear.
Before them the spectacle was pre
sented of Herbert Biggett, aged 12;
Genevieve Biggett, aged 9, and two
or three other children clustered In
terestedly around a small, shaggy ob
ject which was lapping milk grate
fully out of a pan.
"We found him in the woods!” Her
bert explained. "He followed when I
called, and he’s awfully hungry, and
he does tricks! Up, Bruno!”
The bear obediently stopped lap
ping milk and sat up on his little hind
legs. Then he gratefully licked his
finder's hand with a pink tongue.
'Kin we keep him?" chorused the
children. "He’s so cute!”
"I think I’ll be going now," said
Mrs. Peavy, weakly, to the still par
alysed Mrs. Blggett. "I'll never be
lieve a grown mart again as long as I
live!”
A teacher, Instructing her class on
the composition of sentences, wrote
two on the blackboard, one to exem
plify a misstatement of fact and the
other to illustrate bad grammar. The
sentences thus read as follows:
"The hen ha« three legs! Who
done It?”
The teacher then called to one of
the children.
"Harry,” she said, "go to the black
board and show where the fault lies
In those two sentences."
Harr/ slowly approached the black
board, evidently thinking hard. Then
he took the chalk and wrote;
"The hen never done it. God done
it.”
• • •
An old Scotch golfer was asked to
lay two to one on a match in which
he was likely to be much the bet
ter
“Na, na, my man," was his reply;
"gowf lsn’ a game to be degraded by
the vice of gambling, like your horse
racin', your pigeon shootln’, an’ the
rest. It is to be played for the pure
love o’ the game.
"Besides,” he concluded, "there’s nas
twa tae ane aboot It—but I'll lay ye
sax to fower."
to women iiiiimiinmnuniiiiitiimiio
THOSE HEADACHES
If accompanied with backache.
1
j dragging-down pain, do not hawe
lE to be. Nature newer intended that —
S women should suffer in this “
25 manner.
Dr. Pierre's
| FAVORITE PRESCRIPTION |
j I For forty yean has proved won- 3
j? derfully efficient as a remedy s
“ for woman's peculiar weaknesses “
Z and derangements.
nllllllllllllllll You Drofxist hat it ia Stodl
More Than He
Expected
Husband and wife had a little tiff.
He buried his nose In a morning
paper, while she gazed out of the
window with persistent intentness.
Thus an hour and thirty minutes
passed A lady passed by. Husband
dropped his paper and looked at her
admiringly.
“Ah!” he said, "that's a fine wo
man. And a widow, too. Don’t you
think she’s handsome?"
"Yes, rather. You seem to like
widows.”
"Indeed I do. They’re charming.”
Husband evidently thought this
would pique his partner. But it
didn't.
"Alfred,” said she. tenderly, plac
ing her hand softly on his arm
"Alfred, I was In the wrong a little
while ago. when I became angry with
you, and I’m sori^\ so sorry. Will
you forgive your little ,wlfey?”
"Certainly. Don’t say another word
about it.”
"And will you grant a little requesr I
I have to make of you, hubby, dear?” I
"Of course. Anything that lies in
my power.’ .
"You say you think widow's are |
charming?”
"Yes, I did say so, but ”
"Then mnke me one; that’s a good
husband. Oh. I shall be so hapnv?”
A 4-
Better Tea
Only rich, full flavor
ed teas, carefully
grown and properly
cured go into the pack
ing of
Maxwell
Haute Blend j[
Iced or Hot
It Hitt the Spot
K-fe. x-lb. »n<t 1-th. Air tight
Can in tors
A»h your grocmr for A.
Cheek-NraJ
Coflee Co.
|l,
Try Tins
With Your
Typewriter
If it is an L. C. Smith & Bros., the writing
will be in perfect alignment, even though the whole
machine is raised up by grasping the platen roll.
Tf it isn’t an L. C. Smith & Bros., you will
find that you will have to he an expert juggler to get an
impression of the type.
The
Ball-Bearing L. C. Smith
is so closely ad-
& Bros. Typewriter justed
carriage is firm during the entire travel from the be
ginning of the line to the end.
In printing capital letters, the carriage is not shifted,
either horizontally or perpendicularly, as on other ma
chines, but remains stationary. The type is shifted, not
the cylinder against which the paper rests—that moves
in only one direction and one space af a time, to receive
the next letter of the line.
Call ua up and tell us when we can give you a demonstration
of our typewriter.
L. C. SMITH & BROS.
TYPEWRITER COMPANY
121 N. Pryor St.,
Atlanta, Ga.
Phone Ivy 1949