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J I ' } An Opportunity ToMake Money Inventor*, men of ideas end mvontrve ability. should write to day for our list of ivroaboat needed, and prize* ofered by leading manufacturer*. Patents secured or oor fee returned. ~WHv 5oao l»uonlor» Fail," “How to Got Your Patent and Ymt Money, tfd other valuable booklet* free to any >ddroM RANDOLPH & CO Patent Attorneys, 618 “F” Street, N. W„ WAIHIJIOTOII. D. O. Nutritious But Not Heating You get as much nutrition in a 10c package of Faust Spaghetti as you do in 4 tbs. of beef. Prove it by your doctor. And Faust Spaghetti does not heat the system as meat does. is a high glutinous food made from Durum wheat. It makes a savory, appetizing meal, is easily digested and easily cooked. Write for free recipe book— tells the many different ways Faust Spaghetti can be served to rouse up the palate. At atl grocers*—Sc and 10c packages gcj MAIJLI, BROS., St. Louis. Mo. Sgl to the Ad vice Lovelorn By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. HE SHOWS NO SIGN. Dear Mis^ Fairfax: I am 17, and about four months ago a girl friend introduced me to a young man about four years my senior. He la very good looking and has winning ways. From the fleet day I met him I adored him, and it was a case of love at first sight on my part. Every time we meet he is very pleasant, but never has asked me to go out with him. Now, what I would like to ask you is if you think he cares for me any, and what I should do to gain his affection. IONA. If he loves you, he doesn’t show ft, and I am sure any attempts to win his love will be to your disadvantage, f You can not force a man’s love. Be your own sweet, natural self, and if his love is to be yours it will develop all the surer if you do not frighten it away. And I want you to have It, for love is all there is to life. HE OVERDOES IT. Dear Miss Fairfax: # I am a girl of seventeen, and in love with a young man three months my senior. He goes to business with me every morning and seems very affectionate, but when I meet him on the street, and he is with other young men, | with whom I also am acquainted, he barely notices me. What would you do in a case like that? I love him dearly. M. A. I am sure he does not want his friends to know of the attachment, and in an effort to conceal his feel- | ings, he swings to the other extreme. You are only seventeen, and will love other men in time. Then you will be glad no one knew of this. Treat him as coolly as he treats you. IT IS FOOLISH. Dear Miss Fairfax: Do you think its right for a young man while having his own sweetheart, whb is the only one he loves, address her truest lady friend (also his friend) as “Dear est?” AN AMBITIOUS GIRL. It is bad taste, and, as girls’ hearts are impressionable, it may cause com plications. Perhaps he did it to tor ment you. The girl who gives her heart to a man must accept many characteristics with his love of which she does not really approve. This, for instance, may be his idea of humor. The Girl With Yellow Hair ) Surprising the Coachman. A practical joke was played the other day. A gentleman who has something of a reputation as a wag. was the writer’s companion, and we were passing a large shop. There, drawn up, were three or four vehicles, and among them was a closed broug ham with the driver fast asleep on the box. Evidently the mistress was inside the shop. Without a word the wag stol«» quickly up and. opening the carriage door carefully slammed it to. In « moment the Coachman straightened tip, and gazed down the street at the electric light which was fixed there a* if he had never seen anything so in teresting in his life. Then he stole a look over his shoulder, and saw the .wng standing hat in hand, apparently talking to some one inside the car riage. ( ’’Thank you; yes; good-day,” said the wag, and bowed himself grace fully away from the door, turning a» he did so to look at the driver and say. “Home!” “Yes, sir! tch! get up!” and off went the brougham “home.” . Where that “home” was, who the mistress of the carriage was, or what she did when she came out of the *hop, or what the coachman did when he stopped at the door of Jiome” and found the carriage empty, all that only the coachman and the lady know. WOMAN GOULD NOT WALK What Would YOU Do? By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. A Dainty Bathing Costume “D “You must come round and see what mother says,” Moira answered. She Was So Ill—Restored to Health by Lydia E. ’* Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound. Pentwater, Mich.—"A year ago I was very weak and the doctor said I had a serious displace m e n t. I had backache and bearing down pains so bad that I could not sit in a chair or walk ro9s the floor and I was In se vere pain all the time. I felt dis couraged, as I had taken every- thing I could think of and was no better. I Re taking Lydia E. Pinkham’s Veg- Compound and now I am, and healthy.”—MRS. ALICE R. F. D. No. 2, Box 77, ater, Mich. What Another Woman Says. Ill.—“I had such backaches t I could hardly stand on my feet. I would feel like crying out lots of times, and had such a heavy feeling in my right side. I had such terri ble dull headaches every day, and thov would make me feel so drowsy and sleepy all the time, yet I could not sleep at night. • "After I had taken Lydia E. Pink ham’s Vegetable Compound for a week I began to Improve. My back ache was less and that heavy feel ing in my side went away. I con tinued to take the Compound and am cured. , “You may publish this if you wish.'* -MISS CLARA L. GAUWTTZ. R. a o. 4. Box (12, Peoria. III. Such letters prove the value of Ly- a E ^i'-kham’s Vegetable Corn ua Oman's ill*. vVhy don’t i try Hi _ By MOLLIE KENNEDY. T HE first morning that Moira Gerraghty came into tnaiJ, Bond street tearoom all the girls stared. Her hair was yellow, startlingly yellow, reminding one of sunshine, of fields of corn, of mari golds blinking at the sun and of gold en daffodils. Miss Bates, the man ageress, said this; but Miss Bates was of a poetical turn of mind. Later on Oscar Henderson boasted that it was he who had discovered her. The Bond street tearoom was- a favorite haunt of several of the Academy students, of whom he was one, a little coterie of them gathering in one corner, where they talk an art jargon unintelligible to the ordinary listener, until one afternoon Moira chanced to serve them, and after th;*t they talked of nothing but her won derful yellow hair. That night Henderson burst in upon his friend Jack Mayne, who was smoking and painting, his eyes danc ing. "Old man.” he cried, “I’ve found her. I’ve discovered the poster girl at last.” Jack Mayne went on painting and shrugging his shoulders. “You’ve said that before,” he said calmly. “Remember the little Irish girl? You ijpld she’d do. Her hair was red.” But the next day when he saw Moira Gerraghty he was quite as en thusiastic as his friend and as eag^r to discover whether or not she would consent to sit to him for a picture ho wished to paint. Her soft accent, is she answered him, told him of her na tionality, and he asked at once if she were Irish. His Visit. “My father was Irish,” she an swered. “My mother is English. She is an invalid, and I am her only child, so I do not like to be away from her a moment longer-than I need. But ii you will come around and see her,” she added quickly, seeing the look of disappointment on his face, “we can see what she says about the sittings. You see,” she said With a smile, “I am only free on Sundays and every alter nate Saturday afternoon; but if you will come round and see what mother says, we might be able to arrange something.” The following Sunday he went round at her invitation, and found, ;.s he expected, that the mother was i lady, a gen tie-faced woman whose white hair showed signs of' having once been like her daughter’s. Then began a series of very pleas ant Sunday afternoons, for Moira had confessed to him that she could not give up the mornings, this being the only time in the week she had to de vote to her mother; and each after noon Jack Mayne would Join the rest of the little coteries who had tea in the Bond street tea shop, and who now sought the particular corner over which Moira presided. Bit by bit Jack Mayne learned som-' th>ng of their pasit life. Mrs. Ger raghty spoke but little of her own people, but he gathered that she had been well born and that her parents had never forgiven the match with the penniless author who had fallen in love with her face, and since her marriage she had had no communica tion whatever with her own kin. It was when the pictura was al most finished that Jack Mayne spoke of showing it. and wondered to see the sudden look of fear which leaped into Mrs. Gerraghty’s eyes. “Must you put it on exhibition?” she aaked. "Must it be shown.” The Ring. He explained to her how much de pended upon exhibitions, and Moira sat with quiet face listening; but after that Mrs. Gerraghty said nothing. Only when Moira had gone from the room to prepare tea. she turned wiUT a slightly flushed face to the young man. "You are obliged to sell your pic tures. is it not so?.” she asked, and he added: "How much do you expect to get for—for Moira’s portrait?” she asked. He named a sum, and she was si lent for a moment or two; thi n, look ins direct at the young man she asked him if he would do her a favor. “Certainly. If it is anything I can do, I am yours to command,” he as sured her. And she gave nim a tiny key, which she drew from a box on the table at her side. “Do you mind going to that cab inet?” she said, pointing to a ‘*mall oak cabinet which he had always ad mired, and which stood in one corner of the room. "This key will unlock the upper drawer, and if you look in side you will find a tiny sandalwood box. Please bring it to me.” He obeyed her directions, and brought the box, a tiny trifle, which seamed reminiscent of the East. She opened it and took jut a curious ring, which she laid in his palm. Ir wan fashioned of old silver, but held a great ruby gleaming like a drop of blood, and he exclaimed with pleasure at the beautiful thing. The Two Rubies... "Yes, it is very beautiful,” she agreed, “but its value is of the most importance now. . I do not wish Moira to know of this; but do you think you could dispose of the ring for me? I am in need of money, and I believe it will fetch a good deal.” It was not till a week later that Jack Mayne could spare the time to dispose of the ring, and in the mean time he had been very busy indeed, as the exhibition at which he intended to show several of his pictures was to be held a week earlier than first in tended. so that he was forced to make arrangements at once. The pictuie of Moira, which was far and away his best piece of work, stood in his studio complete, but he hesitated a little over sending it, since he felt sure it was this fact that had forced Mrs. Gerraghty to confide in him, though as he stood and looked at it he thrilled with pride, knowing it to be really good. Taking up the ring, he went out and made ills way toward a curio shop, the proprietor of which he knew very well. He had once sold him a set of carved ivory chessmen, and in the course of talk had gleaned the information that his invalid son was an artist, so that gradually he had struck up a kind of friendship. As he entered th e gloomy little shop he saw that a tall, well-dressed, elderly gen tleman was leaning over the counter talking to Levison, and waited his turn, though the proprietor looked up with a nod and a smile. By and by the other customer turn ed to examine some stones through a magnifying glass, and Levison turned. “What can I do for you to-day, Mr. Mayne?” he asked, and, taking out the little sandalwood box, Jack showed him the ring. But he was not prepared for the start of astonish ment the man gave, and the quick up ward stare showed him that some thing uncommon was here. “Where did you get this, Mr. Mayne?” he asked in a low voice. “This gentleman here”—and he mo tioned to the elderly man, who was still looking at the stones—“has one precisely like it. May I show him? Do you mind?” Jack Mayne hesitated. After all, the ring was not his, and he ex plained this to the other. “It's a most remarkable thing,” said the shopkeeper. “The stone is really valuable, you see. It’s what is termed a blood ruby.” At his last words the other man turned. "What’s that about a blood ruby?" he asked. Plainly his interest lay in precious stones. The shopkeeper was forced to explain, and again Jack Mayn e was astonished at the sudden stai t of the other man. He gripped his arm and bent down. “Where did you get this, sir?” he cried. “Answer me. I insist upon it. Where did you get this?” Jack Mayne was in a quandary, and hesitated. But the other grew in sistent, and at last h e conceived the idea of taking him back to his own studio, where they could talk without being overheard, the door opening just then to admit a new customer. "It is not mine,” he told him. “It was given me by a friend to sell for her.” “Who was she? What is she like?” he demanded, and again Jack Mayne hesitated. How much or how little should he tell? Then, as they entered the stu dio. the old gentleman suddenly came face to tfaee with the portrait of Moira and gave a cfy of triumph. i’lt is she!” he cried. “It is she! It is my daughter!” ISCOITRAGED” writes: ’*1 am in love with a young man whom I love dearly. He tells me he loves me, and I always tell him I don’t believe it, and sometimes he acts indifferent to me. Will you tell me how I can prove, that he is really in love with me, as I love him dearly?” What would you say to a girl who loves, and is loved, and who meets the messenger every girl longs for with skepticism and doubt? Wouldn't you, remembering the happiness that came to you through a love you accepted, or the dreariness of life where love was rejected, urge her to have faith? I do. This from a man: “I have been in love with a girl of my a|e for some time. 1 stopped keeping company with her some time ago, and lost her love. Now I want to win it back again.” Woulti you dare, remembering the sweetheart your stubbornness lost you, advise him to hunt a new love? I wouldn’t. I want him to go to her humbly and sincerely and tell her he has discov ered that he didn’t know his own heart; that he knows it now, and knows that so long as he lives it will long for her and beat true for her, if only she will forgive him and take him back. Then I want him to act like a man and be .true to his word. A girl writes: “I am in love with a young man and he professes to love me. We have been keeping company since last October, but trust me he will not. He always thinks I am with other men when not with him. He seems to think a great deal of me when he is with me. When there are other girls present he likes to tease me by making a lot of them.” Certainly Not. Would you advise her to marry a man who gives every proof of being a jealous tyrant? I wouldn’t. He reserves for himself the right to flirt with other girls, enjoying him self because It “teases” her, and ac cuses her of spending every moment when not in his company with other men. I want her to love and to mar ry; it i- the only lasting happiness there is in life; but I don’t want her to marry a man who will make her life miserable with his unjust suspi cions and reproaches. There is peace in spinsterhood: there would be noth ing but war with such a man. Bill writes: “I am a young man of 23 and in love with a girl of 18. Every time I call on her her mother says she is out. Do you think this girl loves me?” Would you, with dreamy eyes, build up a romance: Loving girl, stern parent, perhaps a dungeon in which the girl is locked to keep her from her lover. I wouldn’t. If she loved him she wduld he “in” some time when he calls. No mother was ever clever enough to send a yoyng man away from the door time after time without a chance to see the girl he loves unless she had the girl’s consent. I am sorry for Bill, but I am quite si/fe the girl doesn’t love him. A very young girl sends the fol lowing: "I am In love with a young man two and a half years m$ # sefilor. My parents say that 1 am too youftg to keep company with him. 1 am 17. They tell me to wait two years. What shall I do?” Would you urge her to defy the best friends she ban in the world? 1 wouldn’t. I \ynnt her to remember that two years is a very short time compared with the lifetime she will give to this man if she marries him. She owes that much, and more, to the two who have cared for her all her life and who stand ready to con tinue that protection, if need be. till the end of their days. An easily discouraged soul writer: “I am deeply infatuated with a girl of my own age who is wealthy, and I am not. She is also receiving the. attention of a young man who is also wealthy. He has more time and money to spend on her than I have, and she says ehe can’t »declde which one she likes the more. What rhall I do? I do not want to waste her time and mine. It would be very hard for me to give her up.” Would you, made skeptical perhaps by some bitter experience, advise him to get out of the race, telling him that no man stands a show when ills empty ham's are opposed to hands that are filled with money? 1 would not. Love Independent. I insist that love is independent of wealth, and that he stands as good a chance as his wealthy rival. The other man’s wealth will never defeat him. If he loses. It will be because of his own faint heart, and his fear that by continuing to make love to the girl he will waste “her time and mine." I have no patience with such a weak-willed person! Bessie also has troubles* She writer: "I have been keeping company with a young man for nearly two years, and I love him very much. He has never come right out and asked me to marry him. hut some way of other, we have just drifted into talking about it. and vve expect to be married in the fall. Now, what I don’t understand is why he has never said anything about an engagement ring. He never goes with other girls, or wants* me to go with other young men. nor do I care to. He has given me some beautiful presents, but never a ring.” Would you urge her to grow in dignant, and demand it? I wouldn't. Happiness is not dependent on a band for the girl’s finger. If it had been there would have been little I happiness in the world some years j ago, when engagement rings wer^ ■ unknown, and many a happy brid j was married with a key as the mar- | riage symbol. There are some men who never THINK. This man didn’t think to propose. He just drifted into the en gagement. and In the same happy wan "Hi drift to the altar. I am sure the thought of a ring has not entered his head. I am also surf* that if Bessie goes about it right, by suggesting Instead of by knocking, he will visit Jhe jeweler before he calls again. Don’t you think that would be wiser than to frighten Love away with angry reproaches? 1 do. A Bunch of Grapes By CHARLES GENLAUX. A Word About Personal Appearance By MRS. FRANK £EARNED. Author of “Etiquette In New York To- * day.” T " HE essentials which characterize a well-<1resse4 woman are that she dresses in proportion to her means, in accordance with her position and age. She wears what is appropriate to the occasion, does not dress con spicuously and does not adopt exagger ated novelties of fashion. The well-bred woman avoids showiness, over-trim ming, and refuses to wear anything that is suggestive of a lack of modesty. Personal appearance and dress are very- sure indications of character. The woman or girl who dresses merely 'to gratify vanity, pride, love of display, shows what are her characteristics and aims. A woman who may be uble to afford costly materials and jewels does not wear them In the morning or when trav eling. In this age of extravagance there is danger of being covetous about clothes. The commandment, “Thou shalt not covet." needs to be brought in mind frequently. To buy things which can not be afforded, to go in debt for clothes, or to owe money in other directions while spending lavishly for dress, Is not acting on right principles. Self-re spect requires that we shall be always neatly dressed, never over-dressed, and conscience requires that we spend con scientiously. Nothing is worse than for a woman to have the appearance of carrying all of her worldly possessions on her back, spending everything she has and more than at*} can afford. No one respects her. # There is a happy medium between foolish extravagance and excessive econ omy in dress. Economizing should not mean saving in necessary and neat clothes. Exquisite neatness and dainti ness is everyone's duty. A well-bred woman Is as careful to have her under garments as fresh and neat as her gowns or hats. For business hours a quiet, simple dress of good, durable material is de sirable. A business girl who wears a neat, plain dress, a hat simply trimmed, well fitting, neat gloves and shoes, com mands respect. If a girl’s dress is “loud,” her hat overladen with cheap trimmings, she proclaims herself as in experienced in the ways of the world and not having mental qualities of a high order. Exaggerated and conspicu ous affectations in hairdressing had best be avoided. Hn social, professional or business life women who have the best instincts un derstand the importance of following what may be the fashion, but never going to extremes. They adapt fash ions to their requirements and omit what is eccentric. The best dreseed girls do not wear jewelry. Cheap, Imitation Jewels are in poor taste. An Important thing is to avoid the use of sce-nts. It Is in excusable to have any redolence upon (he person from sachets, essences or strong perfumery. The faintest whiff of a delicate perfume is all that may be allowable A clean, pure skin, kept clean by daily bathing and the constant use of soap and water, is an evidence of a woman of refinement and does not need the addition of a scent. A T KAIRONAU I was a constant visitor at an Arabian cafe. I went there every day to drink the excellent mocha a la ver- viene, which my native friend Chadli Djerrmal made for me. Ordinarily this man, who wam dressed in a coat of mauve silk and who resembled a fighting cook with his long thin neck and aquiline nose, wore the gloomiest of expressions, but one day he was so merry and gay that I could not help asking him the reason. “Chadli.” I a Heed, “why are you so happy to-day?” “I will teli you, if yon will swear not to tell anybody.” I promised. “You know,” Chadli began, “that the Koran permits a man to have four wives. So I had four—Aloha, Zorah. Emina and Fathma. They were my servants, for I am a poor Mussulman They also wove rugs, which I sold to get piastres and douros to buy food and clothes for them. Every night, turning my face toward the eaVt in prayer. I thought: ‘O Allah, am I not always a just man?* “Still my.four wives accused me of being unjust. I tried to treat them all alike in every way. but still they ac cused me of being partial. I never bought a bottle of scent for Aicha if the dealer could not give me three other bottles just like it. I measured their food and weighed my every word. Fool that I was! I even meas ured the breadth of my smiles that Zorah might not grow jealous of Em- ina and that Fathma might not have reason to scream, ‘He smiles oftener to Aicha!' “When one of them had neglected her work, rather than scold her alone I scolded all four, that none of them might think herself favored. And when Emina had finished a beautiful ly colored rug first I praised her lazy companions just as much. “In spite of all these precautions I lived in constant misery. "Now, last week I bought, a bunch of grapes, but I had hardly done so when 1 began to feel uneasy. Alas, where was I to get four bunches Just alike? Suddenly, by Mahomet, I haJ an inspiration and breathed easier When I came home 1 showed them the beautiful bunch. They made a ruMh for me. each wanting to grab :t. “ ‘Slop,’ I cried, ‘Take one grape— only one at a time.’ “I held up the bunch and began ‘You take one grape, Aicha.’ “She took one. “ ‘Eat it,’ I commanded. “She swallowed it. “‘Now, you take one, Zorah. Eat it.’ I said, and then, ‘Come here Emina, only one grape, dear! Eat it. And you, Fathma, one grape, and no more. Eat it, my soul.’ “In this way I went on. calling them by name one at a time and as quickly as I could, for they were as quick as birds. At last there was only the stem left for my own des sert. but I was satisfied. I thought I had successfully solved the most difficult problem of my married life, but, alas! I had not counted on wom an's innate malice. “In the evening, when I had closed the cafe and was at home with my four wives, Fathma took hold of my sleevo, drew m# asid< j jind hissed, ‘Why did you turi^the green grapes This bathing costume is simple yet graceful and commends it self to the young woman who would appear neat but not con spicuous on the beach. It is a one-piece affair, made of dark blue cloth with the waist trimmed to suit the taste of the wearer. toward me to-day? I shall never for give you this mean trick.’ “I was about to protest when somebody pulled the tail of my coat, I and Zorah dragged me toward the I kitchen, stared at me with her big I cat-like eyes and scolded, ‘Chadi, what did you mean turning that side j of the bunch toward me, where the only three moldy grapes were? You wanted to insult me. you rascrfl.’ “I began to explain, when Aicha’s sharp voice called to me to come out on the terrace. I ran out to her, hap py to get away from Zorah, who be- I gan to get very abusive. “My joy did not last long, for my third wife began to show' her teeth, | which are very white and sharp. “ ‘You monster,’ she hissed, ‘don’t tell me you did not know' the birds had pecked at some of the grapes on the side of the bunch you turned toward me. You won't dare d*eny it, you mane of a horse.’ “I tried in vain to defend myself. ” ‘Come down here, Chadi,’ now cried Emina, the liveliest of my wives, and in order not to offend her by listening to Aicha’s scolding and also because 1 was afiaid of her teeth, I rushed downstairs so quickly that I hurt my ankle, so that 1 had to limp and clinch my teeth together With pain. “ ‘Oh, you need not think you can soften my heart by limping,’ she screamed, waving her arms agitat edly. ‘I won’t look at you until you ask my pardon, you jackal.’ “‘Beg your pardon!' I cried; ‘I do not understand. What have I done to ■you, Emina?’ “ ‘The grapes on my side of the bunch were much smaller than the others,’ she whined. "This was too much for me. I got angry, ran into my room and came back w'ith a bamboo stick with which I began to beat her merci lessly. "‘Oh, the coward!’ screamed Fath ma. Zorah and Aicha, in .chorus. 'He Ueits only Emina and be darai not touch us.’ “ ‘I will show what I dare,’ I cried, and now 1 beat them all, one after the other, until my arms ached and the stick broke in my hand- Then I slammed the door and w'ent out. “The next day I divorced them all. Therefore, 1 am happy.” Nobody Hurt. Reporter—Anybody Injured in the practice game to-day? Football Captain—No; the boys took it easy to-day. They are saving themselves for the cup tie to-morrow. Robinson got his nose broken. Smith lost an ear, Robson got a few teeth knocked out, Jacock dislocated his jaw and broke a few fingers, but no body got what you could really call hurt. Opaque Taste. A sad-looking man went Into a drug store. "Can you rive me,” he asked, “some thing that will drive from my mind the thought of sorrow and bitter recollec tions?” Then the chemist nodded, and put him up a little dose of quinine and asa- foetida and wormwood and Epsom salts and a dash of castor oil, and gave It to him, and for six months the man could not think of anything In the world ex cept new schemes for getting the taste out of his mouth. From a Novel. “If I were not in a canoe, I would kiss you.” “Take me ashore instantly, sir.” KODAKS Ths Best FInlshIn* and fat&rn m* That Cun B« Pr»dt>Md. KMtmoii Films and cotn- pUU Hock amateur auppHe*. to* for out-of-town customers. 'Send for Catalog and Prlca List. A. K. HAWKES CO. •ggSR 14 Whltahall St,, Atlanta, Ga. HICHESTER S PILLS THE DIAMOND CUAMl LsdlestAsk) < hl-Hie#.ier'i rilU m Urd boxes, sealed Take no otbe !>H«*f**<- Ask for Cl’ I-< II'Km-TFR’M DIAMOND (IRANI) PILL*, for S5 years k nown as Best. 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