Newspaper Page Text
A
i
Their Married Life
By MABEL HERBERT URNER.
Beauty Secrets of Beautiful Women BEHIND CLOSED DOORS
A Host of Vah able Hints from Pretty Carrie Reynolds
J UST ahead glittered the huge ele-
tric sign “Maxim’s.”
The six letters in the name of
this famous Paris cafe flashed out
and blazed into light one at a time.
As they drew nearer Helen was
Surprised to find the building itself
rather small and unpretentious, but
the waiting cabs, the lights and the
loitering crowd gave the place an air
of festivity.
“There, you’ve always wanted to
see a real bar—there’s your chance.”
commented Warren, as they entered
and were confronted by a large un
screened bar which ran half way
(utoss the room.
Helen gazed with astonished in
terest at the shining glasses, bottles
and all the paraphernalia of a bar.
which until now she had only
glimpsed behind swinging doors.
But even more astonishing than the
unscreened bar were the three young
women perched on high stools before
It. They were all in decollete gowns,
With their French heeled slippers
hooked over the rounds of the high
stools. Several men in evening dress
laughed and chatted with them, and
the white-coated attendants were
busy pouring out drinks.
“Now, if you want to sit up to a
bar, here’s the chance of your life,”
grinned Warren.
But Helen was toe absorbed in
^studying the place and the women to
make an indignant retort. A red-
jacketed boy, with an opera cloak
over bis arm and three silk hats car
ried aloft on as many canes, came by
now for Warren’s stick and hat, which
he hoisted up with the others.
"Guess that’s the liveliest room back
ftnere.” and Warren led the way
through to the main room beyond.
Although it was only half-past
eleven, which Warren said was “earlv
for Maxim’s,” the place was well
filled.
The arrangement of the tables was
curious, for they were placed along
the walls, and the people sat behind
them on leather-covered benches. In
this way the guests sat side by side,
and every one faced the center of the
room, which was cleared for dancing.
A large orchestra, in bright red uni
forms. clashed a lively air.
Only Champagne.
Next to Helen was a girl in a
flimsy pale, yellow gown, with a black
eigret in her hair. As she leaned to
wards the man beside her, Helen
could see only her bare, powdered
shoulders.
“Let’s get rid of this fellow first,”
frowned Warren, as a waiter hovered
In front of them,” and then size up
the place. “No prices here either,”
glancing over the menu. "Well, let's
gee,” musingly. "Welsh rarebit, Maxi-
mette? Guess that’ll about do for us.
What do you want to drink—claret
lemonade?
“Sorry, sir,” suavely Interrupted the
waiter in perfect English, for all the
waiters at Maxim’s speak several lan
guages, "but we serve only champagne
in this room. Other drinks you can
get out front.”
“So that’s your hold-up, is it? All
right, we’re here and we’ll have to
stand tor it,” taking up the wine card.
“We could have seen just as much
in the front room." protested Helen.
/“It’s a shame to pay for^ champagne
her a wine card, from hich she gave
an order, and then calmly opened a
cigarette case and lit a cigarette.
"Surely ahe isn’t alone?” whispered
Helen.
"Don’t see anyone with her, do you?
But don’t worry, she’ll not be alone
long. Watch her size up the crowd,”
as the girl under her penciled eye
brows made a leisurely, almost In
solent survey of the ro«>m.
"Oh, is she one of the—the ‘demi
monde’ you rea.d about?” asked Helen
with breathless interest.
“Wouldn’t be here alone-—If she
wasn’t. Ah. that’s more like it!” as i
couple now left their seat and waltzed
out on the polished floor.
The girl’s (dinging skirts wrapped
around her silken ankles as she
danced, and her satin slippers seemed
hardly to touch the floor. Now other
couples loft the tables and glided into
the waltz. And it WAS a waltz, a
graceful, swinging waltz, with none of
the vulgarities of the turkey trot and
bunny hug which one sees everywhere
in New York.
“Of course, the French dance well,”
agreed Warren. “They’re not going
to caper up and down and make mon
keys of themselves just to follow some
freakish fashion. Takes Americans to
do that.”
“Oh, do you suppose she knows
him?” whispered Helen, as a tall
Frenchman who now came in took a
seat beside the woman in the shim
mering spangled gown and began to
talk to her.
“Probably not,” shrugged Warren.
More Ladies.
It was getting late and more paint
ed ladies came trailing in. They were
all beautifully gowned and glittering
with jewels—good jewelry, too! Won
derful diamond pendants set in plati
num gleamed on almost every bar®
throat.
All the women smoked cigarettes,
most of them had jeweled cases cf
their own, but some borrowed from
the case of their escort.
"What on earth are you doing?”
scowled Warren. ‘‘Salt In cham
pagne?”
"But it’s so sickening sweet.” pro
tested Helen, putting down the salt
cellar. “You know I can’t bear cham
pagne.”
“Well, that’s a convenient, econom
ical predilection that I’ll not discour
age,” grinned Warren.
"But, dear, now that we’ve complied
with their rule and ordered cham
pagne—couldn’t I have a claret-lem
onade?” ,, .. .
"We’ll see. Here.” signaling their
waiter. "This lady doesn’t like cham
pagne and wants a claret-lemonade. ’
"Sorry. sir, but we serve only
champagne in this room. You can get
a claret lemonade in the front room,
sir.” - .
“Well, when we move from here—
it’ll not be into the front room, but
OUT the front door. Get that? You
can make a rule that everybody must
order champagne, if you choose. But
when they order it—it’s a blamed
outrage that they can’t have any oth
er drink they want. Get my check!”
The waiter started a mumbled
apology, but Warren cut him short.
"This place’s a blamed fake. What
have you got here to make people
buy champagne? It’s all right when
; place pu-ts up a good show or some
thing out of the ordinary. But you’ve
got nothing but a played-out name
Bring that check, I
One of the Greatest Mystery Stories
Ever Written
I By ANNA KATHARINE GREEN.
(Copyright,
1913, by Anna Katharine
Green.)
TO DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
— - „ and your nerve!
when neither of us like it. tell you •>
Well, you’re the one who was keen "Oh, Warren, I’m sorry! I wish 1
on coming lo Maxim’s. We re here hadn’t said anything about the cham-
now. and if there’s anything pagne," deplored Helen, who wanted
to stay longer.
vhlch I doubt, we’re going to see it!
We’ll not sit out in any front room to
save a few dollars.”
\t every place was a silver cham
ck . , . j mere s a uuztrn pnu.es in *
pagne holder with its na £ kl ?" you can get the worth of yt
bottle. Very few were having an>- j But you’ll not get it at ar
thing to
eat, but all were
sipping
As yet
“Well, there’s nothing to see here.
If you want this sort of thing—
there’s a dozen places in Paris where
r our money,
any of these
cut-and-dried joints—fixed up for the
wine and smoking cigarettes. As yet t ^ L „'
floor"space ‘was 1 dese’ned 1 except* fori Outside they were, greeted by the
s-jarwnt Ja«ar* ‘ !
nvs-d Warren as he reached for a| “Come on." putting Helen into the
match safe. “Told you Maxim’s VpuM nearest cab. “It's only half-past:
he mettv tame They’ve made f their I twelve— Pans doesn t wake up until
name fir wickedness—now ttfey’re | after one. I’ll take you to a place
living on that reputation." 1 *hat Wat.son told me about. He says
"But dear you said there’d be a : it s the real thing—hasn t been spoiled
lot of ’ American sightseers—I don t • by the guidebooks.”
Bee any Americans at all.
"You don’t? How about that couple
over there by the orchestra—that
■woman in the blue tailor-made. If
she isn't a New England school marm
seeing the 'sights of Paris,' I’ll eat my
"But I thought one had to dress for
the smart supper places here.’
laughed Helen, looking at the blue
tailor-made. . , T . , ,
"Oh Maxim's isn’t ‘smart. It only
has the name of being wicked—and it
even isn’t that any more. You can
wear anything here.”
“What wonderful peaches. ex
claimed Helen, as the waiter placed
before them a box of six hothouse
peaches packed in pink cotton.
All Alone.
“Um-m, wonderful price, too. Bet-
Middle Course Needed.
It was after dinner at the club,
when, after dining well, and seated
in the depths of an easy chair, con
fidences were exchanged with im
punity. Young Brown looked around
cautiously before remarking:
"My wife is so exceedingly nervous
at night, Jones, that she scarcely
I sleeps at all.”
j “What’s she af*aid of? Burglars?”
j answered Jones, laconically.
"Yes.”
"Well, you’ll have to expect that,
I my boy. My wife was like that,
i Every time she heard a noise down
stairs she’d rout me out and send me
at once to investigate, and it ended
with me getting no sleep, as well as
| herself. After a time, however, I con-
By LILIAN LAUFERTY.
D O you do your own houseworK,
milady, and despise yourself
for the doing? Do you loathe
the simple routine of daily tasks, and
feel sure that it will eventually net
you parboiled red hands, and thick-
lidded steamed eyes, and grimy dust
laden hair? No, stop, look and listen
to flaxen-haired Carrie Reynolds, who
appears on the various stages of the
Keith theaters under the management
of Mr. Richard Lambert—and who
still finds time to be the mistress anJ
housekeeper and maid of a daint>
four-room apartment out on River
side Drive, New York City.
From a long line of German an
cestors Miss Reynolds has inheritel
truly Teutonic flax-colored hair—an l
ability as a “haus-frau.” Thrown in
for good measure are sparkling tawny
brown eyes, clear skin, a good figure
and teeth that combine beauty and
strength. Of course, Providence sent
a few good fairies to the christening:
but one of the most important on's
was Good Dame Common Sense.
Housework, enthusiasm, hard work
and a goal ahead are Miss Reynolds’
sign posts to success in life and pul
chritude.
Splendid Exercise.
“Now, you can’t think that any
able-bodied woman would want a
maid around to bother her in a littl
four-room-and-bath apartment,” said
Miss Reyonlds. "Think of all the
splendid exercise going to waste in
these days when one pound added to
your weight just about means a gray
Miss Carrie Reynolds.
hair. Why, housework is wonderful
for the figure—sweeping and bed
making and basting a roast in th«
oven are as good exercise as any
gymnasium can offer you. Wield a
broom for the benefit of arms, shoul
ders and su-Ho waist muscles; go
down on- the floor and scrub to
strengthen your back; get in a glow
of stimulated brood circulation from
cleaning and sweeping and dusting
and running the countless little er
rands that the housekeeper knows.
Work up an appetite to enjoy vour
food and so ward off indigestion. Pre
pare sane, healthy dishes of whoso
benefit you are sure. And then look
—I have not eaten candy in five years.
It is not good for complexion or fig
ure or teeth. And all these things
are worth considering even at the
cost of a few sweetmeats.”
A Tooth Secret.
"You probably show your teeth a
little more consideration than just not
eating candy. Won’t you tell me
what separate benefits they have—
since they can scarcely get much help
from the housework?” said I.
“Oh, I have a tooth secret, and I’m
quite proud of it and quite as willing
to pass ft along. I use four tooth-
.... , j x j rrv» ♦ vmir n ,ri brushes! No, not a contortion act
with joy anti delight at your_ own, aI| a ’ t a tlme _ Kach hruHh
beauty of proud accomplishment, I am
a poor guesser—that’s all!”
"But, Miss Reynolds.” interposed
the girl who interviews, “after all
i HI C ilCAl uo.ifixr. i oiauu
your housework, are you not fairly front of a mirrnr to c i eanse my tee
ravenous and don t you have o 3 » and am an interested observer as
so heartily that you must o * vvork the brush up and down to ma
overtime to get the possible fata)
pound of flesh off again?”
“Well,” confessed Miss Reynolds,"!
do not eat three meals a day. When
I am out on tour or when l am liv-
teeth four times per diem, and each
brush works once in 24 hours and
has all thfc time between to air and
rest and grow sweet and clean be
fore its next usage. And I stand in
eeth
1
p and down to make
-ure that I am going over the ground
thoroughly. Housework and four
toothbrushes — was the interview
J worth while?” asked Miss Reynolds.
And when you have tried house-
ins in my own little home I have an ; wo rtan<i 7our too^hmshes I think
8 o’clock breakfast and a 5:30 dinner. |
and though I become fairly ravenous
in between I never indulge in any
thing more fat-producing that a glass
of grape juice. Th^it is my staff when
I am hungry between meals: but I
am now accustomed to hut two meal
a day. And at those meals, potatoes
gravies and white breads must b<
among those absent. And no sweets
that you will agree
was.
with me that It
And so another week went by.
But the next was not destined to
pass without an event. As Mr. Gryce
was deliberating at his own house one
morning a stranger entered, in whose
important air and courteous but myste
rious manner he read news.
‘ Are you the detective, Gryce?” this
person asked.
"That is my name and calling,” was
the ready answer.
- "I have a line or two here which I
will trouble you to read.” said the gen
tleman, handing him a note.
It was from the superintendent of po
lice, and ran thus:
"Listen to what the bearer of this has
to say. He will undoubtedly Interest
yoy."
"May I inquire your name?” inquired
Mr. Gryce.
The stranger nodded and gave it. It
was one well known In the Union
League, and Mr. Gryce, upon hearing
It. looked with renewed Interest at Its
owner, w’hose face and form were of a
marked elegance almost approaching
dandyism.
New Facts.
“Your huslness?’’ the detective now
asked, laconically, but not ungraciously.
This young scion of one of New York’s
oldesi families had never forfeited the
respect of any one. Indeed, he was
very favorably known as a young man
cf great good nature and unquestioned
honor.
The young gentleman posed himself-^
he was not above producing small ef
fects and then quietly remarked:
"There was an inquest held not long
ago over the remains of a young girl
who died from poison. Mildred Farley
was her name.”
Mr. Gryce nodded He had no diffi
culty In hiding his Intense and sudden
interest, for hit confidant at this junc
ture was the elegant seal which hung
from the watch chain of his visitor, and
that seal was a sphinx.
"I read the account of that inquest,"
continued the young man. "and one
statement made by the gentleman who
professed to know the most about the
matter was false”
"\h! let us hear.” returned Mr. Gryce.
"He said, if you remember, that he
found the young woman on a stoop in
Twenty-second street, and that he lifted
her up to carry her to his phaeton,
v hen a bottle fell from her hand to
the sidewalk and broke.”
"I remember.”
"As that bottle had held poison and
just the poison from W’hich the young
girl is known to have died, it is a mat
ter of some importance, I presume, to
know the exact truth about It."
"It certainly is, Mr. K .”
The young gentleman took another at
titude, less graceful but more Impressive
than the first.
"I can tell you something about It,”
he affirmed; "I w r as there."
“There?”
i "I had been—well, it does not matter
where, but in a place where I do not
smoke and where I should consider it
the height of ill manners to light a
cigar till I had shut the street door
behind me. I therefore prepared to do
this in the vestibule, and It being
rather a windy night, I had withdrawn
into a corner behind the partly closed
door when I heard the sound of wheels,
and the next moment the slight but un
mistakable noise of a small bottle shiv
ering to pieces on the pavement be
fore me. Not understanding the matter,
I felt curious, and, looking out, beheld
the doctor’s phaeton just beyond the I
house going in the direction of Broad j
way. It had not stopped in passing and
no young woman had been lifted from j
the steps. For I had glanced down them j
the moment before and they were en
tirely unoccupied. I stepped op some
of the pieces of that broken phial as
I went on my way, and I remember
the smell that arose from them dis
tinctly. It was that of bitter al
monds.” •
“I am sure I am verv much obliged to
you," rejoined Mr. Gryce. "It is cer
tainly an important piece of evidence
I will not ask why It was not given
us before.”
"But I will tell you." responded the
other frankly. "I am not much In the
habit of mixing In police matters and
1 had a natural disinclination to put
myself forward. So I let the affair go
by But conscience wois too much for
me at last. I took my Information to
the superintendent of police, and he
sent me here. That is the history of
the matter.”
"I accept it,” was Mr. Gryce’s re
sponse, "and 1 only ask you to be as
careful In the future as In the past
Let these facts be considered as ours
alone, sir."
"I would be very happy to do this,
hut unfortunately I was more ready to
speak to my friends than I was to the
officers of the law. Several members
of my club know what I have just told
you. and while this Is to be regretted,
perhaps, it is also the real cause of
my being here. For it was in my talk
to them that I was led to see the harm
which might ensue upon my silence. I
will talk no more about It in the fu
ture, however."
"And I will be much obliged.” re
marked Mr. Gryce.
As soon as possible after he Tiad dis
missed his visitor the detective went
^lown to police headquarters. He had a
talk with the superintendent and that
same day at an hour when he knew* he
should find Hr. Molesworth at home he
went to see him with a writ of arrest in
his pocket.
The Darkening Cloud.
A SQUARE, dull-looking room with
two^dlm windows facing a high
brick wall; a large table covered
with phials, boxes of Instruments,
writing materials and a fow r books; a
black hair-cloth sofa and two chairs; a
dingy carpet and a ceiling which has
been unwhitened for years: at the table
and confronting ihe only bright thing in
the room, a hard coal fire, the stern,
immovable figure of a man buried In
the deepest thought. Such is .Julius
Molesworth’s office and such the ap
pearance of Julius Molesworth himself
on the afternoon of this, his most mo
mentous day.
But first, what is he brooding over?
Such intentness and absorption argue
the existence of some heavy subject on.
his mind.
The opportunity of his life was be
fore him, and he felt bound to Improve
It. Was he meditating upon this case
and determining just what his course of
treatment should be as he sat there
before the fire? His gradually lighten
ing brow seemed to say yes, and the
startling fervor with which he sudden
ly broke the spell which bound him and
arose told of a secret found rather
than a secret buried.
"Yes, it is”—he cried—“In small but
oft-repeated doses. I would willingly
stake my life upon it.”
And raising his head, he suddenly dis
cerned in the looking glass which hung
opposite him over the mantelpiece a face
turned toward him from the open door,
which though quiet and composed in
every feature, had yet that something
in it which tells the observer that, ex
pected or unexpected, his hour has
come, and the hopes which he has cher
ished are vainer than the vainest show.
The Arrest.
He saw this face, I say, but he did
not at once turn. *11-2 ha<: a shock to
get over, a course to be resolved upon.
When he did turn, it was with cour
tesy and a slight show of surprise.
"Excuse me," said he, "I do not re
ceive patients at this hour.”
"1 am not a patient,” returned Mr.
Gryce.
The doctor gazed slowly round his
room. He did not love It, but It held
his all, and there was not an object
within it but spoke to his soul of some
cherished ambition or secret all-ab
sorbing wish.
"But you have some business’ I
recollect year face, but I can not place
you.”
"My face is of no account: my busi
ness is. Hr. Molesworth. you are a
physician of an unrelenting school: the
fewest words will answer with you. J
am an officer armed with a warrant
and I have come to arrest you as the
suspected murderer of Mildred Farley.”
The doctor, who had been standing
with his back to the table, turned
slightly and took up a paper lying
there. There were a few words writ
ten on it. ami he read them before he
gave the detective that slight bow
which was his only answer to this
dread announcement.
"I am charged with placing you in
custody,” continued the detective; but
if there Is anything you wish to do ”
“I would like a half-hour,” the doc
tor responded firmly. "I have a cas^*
—his voice broke; he turned to hfs
desk and sat down. "Don’t interrupt
me.” he said, laying down the paper
he held and taking up his pen. "I have
some memoranda to make. They are
important -a matter of life and death
to one poor woman.”
“Write,” said the detective: “I am
no gabbler.”
And Dr. Molesworth wrote, calmly,
thoughtfully, with entire absorption in
his subject, or so It seemed to the eye
who saw all. though it dwelt only on a
vial marked "Poison" that stood on
the doctor’s table. Nor did that same
eye detect any break in this extraor
dinary calmness when, the last word
written, the physician turned and hand
ing him the paper, said:
"It will probably prove unintelli
gible to you, but It can be easily read
bv any physician. Ke«*p~it till I ask
you for it.”
Then he turned again to his table
and wrote three or four letters, afl of
which he handed over to the other for
Inspection, before sealing and directing
them. When all this was done, he rose,
and confronting the detective, ob
served :
"Now I am ready to go with you.
The question is where will you take
me. You have arrested me on sus
picion of murder; for this you must
have good reasons, better reasons than
appeared at the Inquest, or you would
not have delayed this arrest. I will
not question them, I will only say that
your evidence against me Is circum
stantial, must be. since I did not do
this deed, and as circumstantial evi
dence Is never absolute proof, you are
doing me a great injustice by this ac
tion, and ,my patients an irreparable
harm. But you are not the principal
In this matter and I will not argue with
you concerning my innocence, but only
ask one favor in return for the possible
wrong you do me. This is the privilege
of a short interview with a person l
am willing to name and whom I only
desire to see in your presence and. if
you wish, in your hearing."
To Be Continued To-morrow.
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14 White hail St., Atlanta, G a. |
into tho house he wouldn’t make any
noise at all.”
"That’s rather a good idea!”' ex
claimed the young one. "I’ve a good
mind to try that myself.”
“Don’t do it." pleaded Jones. “Wom
en never listen to logic, for if your
wife’s anything like mine she’ll wor-
ter wait till we pass a fruitstand on v j nce( j h er that if a burglar did get
the w*ay home. You’ll pay from i o
10 francs for one of those. There’s a
Gtorv about a Chicago man who came
/over here, ate one of Maxim'S peaches
and had to cable home for money.’’
••Oh. look at that girl crushing those
strawberries in her champagne!"
•‘Hope that fellow’s pocketbook can m taiMS ollc
stand the bill,” commented ^arren. j ry every time she doesn’t hear a noise
for in the leaf-lined box which had « downstairs!”
evidently held six huge berries onlv |
two remained.
/. The crushing- of these expensive
fruits in champagne seemed a favorite
trick at Maxim’s, for strawberries and
peaches were being crushed into ma!)'.
glasses by jeweled fingers. A little [
flat-end stick was used, and one was j
laid suggestively by each box of fruit, j
Everyone turned tojlook^at^a strlk- N Mex | eo . not Ion(t a(fo
Have Mercy on Mother
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
Facts in Nature srs * ss !S|§|
Lj'OR centuries ; t has been known that Nature’s most valuable health giv- v
A . ing agents for the cure of disease are found in our American forests. ^
Over forty years ago Dr. R. V. Pierce, chief consulting phy*ician to the Invalids’ ’
Hotel and Surgical Institute at Buffalo, N.Y., used the powdered extracts as well as
the liquid extracts of native medicinal plants, auch as Bloodroot and Queen's root.
Golden Seal and Stone root, Cherry nark and Mandrake, for the cure of blood
diseases. This prescription as put up in liquid form was called
DR. PIERCE’S
I F someone did not occasionally
point to the burden on every
Mother’s shoulders, the world
would forget she carried one, for she
never complains. Could she have thur
longing of her heart gratified, her
burden would always remain invisible
j to those she loves.
She is happy so long as the burden
! rests on her back. It is when neg
work of Mother’s hands. Every cal!
made upon Mother from May till Sep
tember seems to carry a hot fire with
it. There is no one who can do these
things but Mother. No one will du
them hut Mother, and many girls
argue there is no one who SHOULD
do them but Mother.
It is to these girls the "lea is made;
have mercy on Mother! She will not
lect and inappreciation from her chii- ask for herself; she will not seek i
Qolden ]Vfedical fjiscovery
and has enjoyed a large sale for all these years in every drug store in the
land. You can now obtain the powdered extract in sugar-conf.ed tablet form of
Ji
rS
a
(J
$
s
a
n
r3
r5
a
9
a
your medicine dealer, or send 60c in one-cent postage stamps for trial box to'
Dr. Pierce’s Invalids’ Hotel, Buffalo, N.Y., and tablets will be mailed, postage prepaid.
The “Golden Medical Discovery” makes rich, red blood, invigorates the
stomach, liver and bowels and through them the whole system. Skin
affections, blotches, boils, pimples and eruptions—result of bad blood
—are eradicated by this alterative extract-'-as thousands have testified.
*Tf T??f * 17* lect and inappreciation from heremi- *' ‘ ’• ‘
The Mexican View >•• her heart that {‘br^r^ac!^ Z"l " .v;"
By MINNA IRVING.
ing woman in a shimmering spangled
gown. Who now swept in unescorted.
The waiter who seated
her hande
Palmer’s
Skin Whitener
Bleaches Dark Skin
Removes Freckles
Tans, Sallowness and
Skin Eruptions.
Postpaid0 5 C Anywhere
Ail Jacobs’ Stores
And Druggists Generally.
I We used to bait the bull,
With much beribboned little darts
We stuck his carcass full.
But now we have a grander sport—
The gringo is our game;
Such loads of fun we have with him,
It makes the bull-fight tame.
We take the bold American
And hit him on the head,
Or slice him up in little strips,
Or pepper him with lead,
Or shut him in a dungeon cell,
Pretend to set him free,
T^en stab him neatly in the back.
Or hang him from a tree.
The Yankee navy loafs around,
Their capitans talk big,
| But pooh! These gringoes only have
The spirit of a pig.
Si, Senor, they’re afraid of us
No matter what they say.
Our ccchero could snap his whip,
S And they would run away.
her sorrow begins.
Mother is in need of mercy all the
year, and her need is particularly
great in the hot days of summer. It
is then that husband and children
seek every bit of cool air in the house
and out, and Mother is left in the
kitchen. The steam from the cooking
vegetables, the wave of hot air from • they be of a fashion
the oven where the strawberry short-J and easy to launder
cake the family demands is turning
a delicate brown; the heat curling up
from the iron that is pressing oui
daughter’s dainty white dress—all
these, if Justice is done, are some
where. in a world not visible to mortal
eyes, turning into the smoke of in
cense before Mother's shrine.
There must be more garments in
summer, which means more making,
more mending and a larger pile for
the laundry, and Mother has only th?
two hands she has at other seasons,
and the strength poured into them is
not so great.
There are preserves, and jams. anJ
Jellies to be made, all labor that calls
for a hot fire; there are basting and
beating and stirring, all exertion thy:
quickens £he blood and adds to th ‘
heat, which is already intolerable.
The puddings and cakes and pD*
which Daughter spreads on a coni,
mossy picnic bank in the evening were
prepared in a hot, steamy kitchen in
the morning, and they represent the
that fiery furnace of love and serv
commonly called the kitchen, and suf
fer there all day that her family mav
have all the comforts of midsummer
without paying the price.
A girl must have wash dresses in
summer. She owes that to herself,
and she owes it to her mother that
asy to make
Fruits are a
summer joy and a necessity, but the
benefit gained is lost if the fruit is
smothered between rich rie crust that |
increases the heat of tire k'tchen in j
it? making, and the heat of the body
in i*s digestion.
The office downtown was hot all
day, and the girl who has no mercy
on Mother complains all evening be
cause she had to work in it, taking
into no account that the hottest office
in town is a delightfu"v cool sum
mer resort compared with the kitchen
at home.
And all Mother gets in pay is her
board and* clothes, a great deal of
compialnt, and an occasional scrap of
love which she glorifh s and hues to
her breast, and magnifies after the
manner of ah mothers.
Have mercy on Mother! Lessen h«r I
labors and Increase her wages. Pay
no heed to the foolish longing of t
fond heart that would be satisfied if
paid in love alone, but see that she
gets more. I
Sead 31 one-cent stamp* to pay cost of mailing only on a free copy of Dr.
^ Pieice’a Common Sense Medical Adviser, 1008 pages, clothbound
ADDRESS DR. R. V. PIERCE, BUFFALO, N. Y.
—■“T- - .i " ^ r ,
S-H5a5E5R525H5E5I’5E5R5-B5R7a5'c5Hi-^direg5H£jR5R5a£: : 2
The Call
of the
North Woods
WASHINGTON SEMINARY
1374 P>.At HTKEF, HOAD • ATLANTA
THE SOUTH’S MOST BEAUTIFUL SCHOOL
i uriTiACTi VE i
I Boarding Department limited >100,000.09 in Ground® and Buildings.
2. New School Building, modern In equipment, with provision for open-air
clas8 rooms.
3 Courser in Domestic Science and Physical Tn*lnlng a part of regular cur
riculum
\ Department®: Kindergarten. Primary, Academic. College Preparatory,
~~ Music Art, Expression.
TH • Session begins SEPTEMBER 11th. 1913
V.. ' vi t.ii iiiiniTMril^^in • -Principals.
*J Have you ever felt the thrill
of an out-of-doors vacation —
a few weeks of real life by the side of some
picturesque ’ake — away from everything that
savors of your daily toil ?
<| From the Great North Woods of Wisconsin and
Northern Michigan Wild Nature — innumerable beauti
ful lakes and streams — the breath of the pine — the
gamy bass — the vicious muskellunge — the ajple trout
and the toothsome pike—send out a call that “the man
who knows” finds hard to resist.
<J Each summer he returns to the scene of his last year’s
sport; each summer the appeal reaches many more who
have not known the charms of this region.
^1 Why don’t you arrange to go? Take a holiday in this wonderful
country• whtre a thousand 11 arkling lakes t
teeming with gamy fish await you.
For full particulars apply to ticket agents
or address
Chicago and North Western Ry.
N. M. BREEZE, G. A.
434 Walnut St., Cincinnati, Ohio (j Wm3S
.a5B5?-5R5E555S£R5B5 'E25a5agRSaki2.i?,5H5RSii^LJ25aS?l^
V
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