Newspaper Page Text
i
Advice to the
Lovelorn
The Mistakes of Jennie .:. B y HAL coffman j
Being a Series of Chapters in the Life of a Southern Girl in the Big City
... One Woman’s Story .:.
By VIRGINIA TERHUNE VAN DE WATER
CHAPTER XXII. So he must b e something of a gentle-
,, _ , .. . man himself. I am ready to like him if
0«> agitated had Mrs. Danforth been he ,, vn „ , mv ......
• 1 1
* AM.*
YOU MUST DECIDE.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am in love with a young: man
who lives in the same neighbor
hood and is of a very high stand
ard. He has told me he loves me
and would like me to become his
wife, but as he is a Hebrew and
I am a Christian would like your
advice, for I can not live without
him. Q. M. S.
This is a matter too serious for 1
third party to determine. Marriages
of this nature are sometimes happy,
but the risk is great. When it means
an estrangement from one’s family
and friends, 1 would throw my influ
ence against it.
BE PERSISTENT.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am 19 and deeply in love with
a young lady one year my senior.
One day 1 proposed to her and she
sqid her parents would not permit
the marriage because of the dif
ference in nationality.
Please let me know w’hat to do,
for I love her.
HEARTBROKEN.
You are too young to marry even
(hough you had their consent, so do j
not feel discouraged. Go on loving
her; attend to your business duties
faithfully; develop yourself mentally,
and don't despair or worry. Mak<*
yourself such a desirable suitor the’r
objections will vanish.
DON'T MAKE THE EFFORT.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
1 am a girl of 18 and in love
with a man one year my senior.
We have never k^"* company. He
tells everyone he loves me, but
while he is in my presence I fall
to see it. How may l find out if
he is true to me? 1- H.
The man who tells “everyone” he
loves a girl, and gives her no evidence,
floesn’t love her very much.
Unless you have made mutual vows
of love, he can not be untrue to you.
A man must make vows before he can
break them. Do not fret yourself
about him. Time for that when you
are engaged.
YOU ARE A LITTLE EXACTING.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am 18, and for the past four
months have been keeping steady
company with a young man of 20
When I first became acquainted with
this young man he was making a
nice salary, but I told him that If
he wanted to go with me he must
change hia profession, which he did,
therefore starting at the bottom of I
the ladder again. It is also under ]
stood that he will not care to be
married before three years, to which
my parents and myself agree, pro
vkJed we become engaged in about
a month from now. which he abso
lutely refuses to do, claiming that
he does not want to become engaged
before next year. My parents have
therefore forbidden my going with
him under any other conditions.
Now, do you think that if he real
ly loves me, as he claims he does,
he would allow a matter of a few
months to break our keeping com
pany? The only reason he gives for
not wanting to be engaged is that
he is making a small salary, but if
I and my folks are satisfied, I don’t
see why he should object.
IN DOUBT.
He gave up his profession for you,
Starting at the bottom of the ladder
again I think he has conceded his
share, and, under the circumstances,
you should not nag him Into an engage
ment until he is ready. Dove la w»*.
too much to risk It by the exacting at
titude which I am afraid you are tak
ing.
Two Birds—One Stone.
Norah had arrived from Erin’s Isle
a wevk before, and was with difficulty
being “broken in” to the routine of an
English household. Cleanliness was not
a very strong point with her, and her
cooking, apart from “spuds." was hardly
all that could be desired.
"If you are not quite sure on any
point, come and ask me at once," said
her mistress.
Dinner was just about to be served
when there was a clatter along the
hall, and the breathless Norah poked
her head around the dining room door.
“Please, ma'am," she asked, “an' how
will I be know in’ when the puddln’ is
done enough?'
“Stick a knife into it.” said her mis
tress. with a resigned air. ’If the knife
comes out clean, the pudding is ready i
to serve "
“Yes, ma'am." said Norah; “and I'll j
be after that crathur that’s boilin’
over "
“And. oh. Norah"—the mistress had i
an after-thought- “if the knife does not
come out clean, you might stick all the
rest of the knives into the pudding." .
“No, no, my boy; I could not be so selfish.’’
CHAPTER XXV.
A KTKK the row Jennie had with the install
ment man. she still owed $28 for her clothes.
The man hail come for his weekly payment
on the clothes, which Tom had to pay to keep the
man from literally tearing them off Jennie's back,
for Jennie didn’t have the money to pay him, and
If Tom hadn't been there at the time Jennie would
probably have had to do like other girls have done
In such an emergency— gone out and (JOT the
money, never mind IiOW.
When Jennie told Tom she still owed $28 for her
clothes- that she foolishly bought and did not
need Tom left Jennie In the front room, saying he
wanted to go in and talk to her mother a while.
Jennie's mother was lying in bed, and, sick as
she was, managed a cheery smile at seeing Tom
A VERY NEAR THING
and told him she always regarded him as her boy.
and that she had always hoped that some day he
would marry Jennie. Tom did not tell Jennie's
mother how much Jennie still owed on her clothes,
for he knew that she had trouble enough without
worrying any more. Instead, lit* told her that he
had a little money saved up—for the time that
Jennie would consent to marry 1dm—and that he
wanted her to take it and to go down to the beach
somewhere, take a good rest, get well again and
take Jennie with her.
At this the good woman cried and said over and
over, as she pat ted Tom's hand:
"No, no, my hoy. I could not be so selfish as
to take your money that was meant for yours and
Jennie's happiness.” 1
—//If, COFFMAN.
(To Be Continued.)
A Complete Short Story
X
In a Nutshell
By MINNA IRVING.
T TE heard with equanimity
That coal was soaring
high.
We bore it when the price of meat
Went kiting to th e sky;
When eggs and butter followed
suit
We stood it like a sport.
But, lo, the worst has come at
last—
The peanut crop is short.
Oh, what is summer time with
out
The tuber of delight?
We ought to bust the peanut
trust.
We ought to make a fight;
We ought to put our woe in print.
We ought to go to court.
We ought to take the warpath
when
The^peanut crop Is short.
T ANSITTAKT was going to smash.
' At least, it looked ominously
like It. Nobody said it openly.
Nominally, nobody was supposed to even
suspect that It was likely. But men
whispered It to one another in the city;
and when men whisper about a thing
it is oftener far more serious than if
they talked about it in their loudest
voices.
“There's about one chance in a million
for me!’’ he told himself. “If the Orien
tal Bank floats, I’m safe; If It closes
down, I’m finished And It will close
down unless a miracle happens, and—
Lily will know that the gods have given ^
her her revenge!"
Vansittart’s world would have been
astonished, perhaps cynically amused,
had it seen him now After locking
»he door of his room from the Inside,
to render intrusion impossible, he
opened a secret drawer in hia desk by
touching a spring, and took from It a
hurdle of letters and a photograph.
The letters were love letters, and the
photograph that of a girl.
A fair-haired girl, with a pretty face,
without Vansittart’s pitiless power, but
brave and patient, with love ami faith
In her eyes. And the letters had been
written by a girl to the man to whom
she had given her heart, whose wife
she expected to be.
“By jove!” muttered Vanslttart. as he
put the letters down, “she’s had to
wait for her revenge, hut it looks as if
Fate is going to give It to her at last “
It bad been an ordinary, common
place story of a man’s selfishness and
falstty and a girl's outraged trust and
love. Vanslttart had boon engaged to
Lily Gordon, a girl clerk in the city, be
fore he had begun to rise, and had left
her without a word to fight life's battle
for herself as soon as lie began to grow
rich.
Too Late.
"I whs a cur, a mean cur!" he mut
tered. "But it's too late to think of It
now. If I go down she'll know Will
she be glad. I wonder?"
He tried to laugh, but there was a
harsh discordance in the sound. Re
placing the latters and the photograph
in the desk, he went out.
He felt he could not sit there waiting
for ruin to come.
There was a man in the city, an
other speculator, named James Harper,
whom Athol Vanslttart had helped many
times, by whose side he had stood in
more than one threatening crisis. Har
per had not the power to save htm iVi
his turn, but Vansittart felt that he
must talk to someone If something In
his brain were not to snap.
So he went to him now.
Harper was a keen-featured man.
with a trick of half curving his Ups
in what promised to be a smile and
never became one. He was alone In his
office when Vansittart entered and
grasped his hand cordially.
“You’ve come to talk over things, old
chap?” he said. "I'm glad of It. I’d
like to cheer you up. But wait a min
ute.”
He closed the inner door.
“Anything wrong?"
"Oh, no; only a new girl I've got to*
help with my letters, and I don’t want
her to hear too much of our talk. Busi
ness is one thing, but a confidential
chat between friends is another. I hope
It’s not so bad with you as some fools
are making out?"
"I’m afraid some fools are rather
wise," returned Vansittart. grimly. “It
is no use blinking things. I'm done
for if the Oriental closes down."
Harper’s tone was sympathetic, but
he was pretending to pick up some
thing he had dropped on the floor and
his eyes were very eager.
"Look here, Harper," Vansittard said
with an effort; "I’ve come to you be
cause I believe you’re the only true
friend I've got. As 1 said, I shall pull
through if the bank stands firm. But I
don’t think it can. It’s in a bad way
itself, and If it can’t raise a big loan
practically at once It will close its
doors. And if it does that I can’t face
the music.”
"Surely, It’s not so bad as that?"
Very Desperate.
“I tell you It is!” Vansittard an
swered, fiercely. "I shall ow f e more
than I can pay. I shall be disgraced as
well as ruined. But I’m not going to
stop to face it. Harper, if—if anything
happens to me. do your best to prevent
too much mud being thrown on my
name It's all you can do."
There was a threat of self-destruction
in his tense * expression, if not on his
lips. Harper knew it, but he did not
endeavor to stop him or to argue with
him. He only gripped his hand once
more, with a few conventional words of
sympathy.
And when Vansittart had gone Harper
laughed
Laughed, and then sat considering
and frowning, until he suddenly struck
his hand on his desk with a low,
triumphant exclamation, as though he
had hit on a way of accomplishing
something that had seemed impossible
before.
He left his office hastily, and when
he had gone the inner door opened and
there came out a girl, with love and
terror on her colorless face.
It was late before Vansittart went
home. He had gone back to his olTice
and waited for news, but none had
come He left the place at last with a
morbid ^nvlction strong on him thaj
he wouH never return to it. He hailed
a hansom, but the man hu« t o ask
him twice before he was told where to
drive him.
It seemed to Vansittart a matter of in
difference where he went. It was not
that he had abandoned all hope. He
clung to the gambler’s belief that there
is always a last chance. But he was
too restless and excited to fix his mind
on anything except the news he was
waiting for.
Ah, what was that?
The Crash.
The street was quiet, all but 'de
serted There was a gas lamp oppo
site Vansittart’s door, and the illumina
tion was gleaming on a pink some
thing. It was the placard of an even
ing newspaper which a hawker was of
fering for sale.
He hastened toward It. In bold,
merciless letters, the words stared at
him:
“FAILURE OF THE
ORIENTAL BANK."
He bought a paper. obliTious thai
he gave a sovereign for it. In the space
reserved for late news were two smudg
ed lines, stating that the Oriental Bank
had closod its doors that evening and
posted a notice outside that they would
not reopen on the morrow.
So it was all over. It was useless to
hope against hope any longer. His ca
reer was finished. He was a ruined
man, with disgrace awaiting him if he
lived.
He let himself into his house with
a latch key, and went straight to the
library, where he had been in the habit
of working. At first he switched the
electric light on full, but at once low
ered it to a tiny shimmer. No need of
much light for what he was going to do'
A revolver was ready to hand when
he opened a drawer. There was noth
ing else for him to do.
•*•*♦***
"No, no! Listen to me, Athol. I’ve
come to tell you—I’ve come to tell you
it's a lie.”
Idly was beside him. struggling with
him to get the revolver away. He star
ed at her stupidly.
“A lie?"
"The placard. The bank was not
stopped. MY. Harper had the false pla
card and the two lines of false news
put in one copy of the paper. I have
proof of it; 1 have found the man who
printed it!”
The Plot.
He was hard to convince. But she
told him how she had been in the inner
office while he was talking to Harper,
and how, after he was gone. Harper’s
manner had been so suspicious that she
had followed him to see what he meant
to do. He had gone to a printer. It was
not for a long time after he had left the
shop, however, that she half forced and
half frightened the printer to confess
that Harper had paid him handsomely
to turn out the sham placard and insert
the two lines in the paper. He had
said it was for a joke, but the girl had
not believed It. She had guessed that he
intended to use the placard and doctored
newspaper to drive Vansittart to des
peration by leading him to believe that
all was lost.
“So I came here to tell you,” she said.
“I saw you come in. but you did not see
me. So I had to knock, and when the
servant opened the door I ran past her.
I had seen the light flash from the win
dow into the street, and that hefped me
to find my way to you. The placard is
a lie!"
Vansittart looked at her; there was
Feor for the Loser.
Two costers were in the British
Museum, looking at the statue of a
Roman gladiator. One of his arms
was broken ofT, his left leg ended at
the knee, his helmet was battered,
and there were several chips from the
face of the warrior. Underneath the
statue was an inscription, “Victory.”
“Lor’ lumme. Bill," said the gen
tleman in pearlies, “if that there
blekc won the victory, what must ’a’
bean the state of the bloke what
lost?”
at the news of Mary’s break with
Gordon Uralg that she lay down
on the couch in the tiny parlor until
the dishes were washed and put away,
i This task the daughter performed quick-
1 ly and noiselessly. She was thankful
that her mother had asked no more
j questions just then, for she felt that
j she had not the courage to reply to
them. Her work done, she glanced
nervously at the clock. It was now a
quarter past aight. Bert Fletcher would
he here soon. She must prepaTe her
mother for the call. She went into
the parlor and, drawing a chair close
to the couch, took the pale and worn
woman's hand in hers.
She Started Nervously.
Mother, dear." she said. “I think you
ought to go to bed now. for you do not
feel well enough to see company.’’
Mrs. Danforth started nervously.
“Company!" she exclaimed. “Why,
what company could you be expect
ing?”
Mary smiled bitterly at the sugges
tion implied by the question.
“That’s true, mother," she said, a
' hard ring in her voice. "I am not trou-
. bled with friends or guests, am 1?
But this evening will be an exception,
for I am expecting a caller—Mr. Fletch-
| er."
Her mother sat up and eyed her
: keenly. "Mr. Fletcher?" she asked.
"Is he the man who was so nice to
' you on* evening last winter?” There
was eagerness in the tone, and as she
noted this the girl appreciated that
her loving, gentle mother was actually
anxious to have her marry if it would
mean freedom from care for herself
and the girl.
"Mary, why don’t you answer me?”
demanded Mrs. Danforth.
Mary started guiltily. “I beg your
pardon, mother,” she said. “Did you
ask me a question? I must have been
absorbed in my own thoughts. What
| did you ask. dear?”
“Only if this Mr. Fletcher is the man
who brought you home one night in a
cab when it was stormy?”
"Yes," assented Mary, “that is the
man.”
“Well. I remember that you once said
*he was very kind,” remarked her moth
er, watching the girl's face.
* “Yes,” said Mary, “he Is kind—even
if he is not a cultured gentleman anfl
does murder the king’s English. But,
after all, truth and fidelity are more
than education and manners. I have
had enough of men of culture and of
nothing else." She tried to change her
sharp speech Into a laugh that her
mother might not suspect how sore her
heart was.
Mary Remembered.
The widow replied with one of her
sighs, but this time the sound was in
dicative of hope and satisfaction.
"He evidently knows that you are a
lady, and he treats you as if you were.
ing one of her daughter’s hands to her
pale lips and holding it there, “nobody,
not even you, knows what I have gone
through in seeing you overworked and
in trying to save and manage here at
home. There have been times when but
for you I would have prayed to die."
Mary remembered how, less than two
hours ago, she had said to herself: “If
it were not for mother I would want to
die." But she smiled reassurance into
her mother’s face.
“Since we need each other, mother,”
she said, jestingly, “let us both de
termine to live for each other. And
there’s a better time coming for us
both.”
The mother looked at her anxiously.
"You mean that, Mary? You are not
keeping the truth from me or trying to
pacify me by seeming hopeful when
you are not, are you, dear?”
“No, mother.” replied the girl. “I
am speaking the truth when I say that
l believe there is a better time coming
for you.”
She did not add “and for me." Per
haps she did not think of it.
“I do not like to seem inquisitive,”
Mrs. Danforth went on. “but I am won
dering how long ago you broke your en
gagement to Gordon—Mr. Craig, I
mean.”.
The girl hesitated a moment before
replying, and she avoided her mother’s
gaze.
“Not so long ago,” she said indiffer
ently. “You know I alwdys think that
when people find they are not suited
to each other it is best for them to
agree to disagree with as little fuss and
talk as possible.”
There was so much finality in her
manner that the elderly woman ven
tured to say no more about the Tex
an. Yet she was not satisfied, and
soon asked timidly:
“This—this Mr. Fletcher—do you like
him very much, Mary, my dear?”
“I have told you, mother,” said the
girl, “that he is a kind man, and has
been good to me—so why should I not
like him?”
Her mother began another question,
but a ring at the bell checked it.
“Good Night, Dear.”
“Good night, dear,” she said, rising
hastily and hurrying into her own room.
When the door had closed behind her
mother. Mary stood, her hands over her
eyes. Perhaps she was praying, perhaps
trying to collect her thoughts. But as
the bell sounded forth a second sum
mons she went slowly into the kitchen
and pressed the button releasing the
catch of the lower front door. For an
other minute she stood poised as if now,
at this last moment before her guest’s
arrival, she would escape him, would
avoid receiving him. Then, recovering
her self-control and courage, she passed
out into the narrow hall, opened her
front door and stood waiting for the
man whose footsteps she heard on the
stairs ascending toward her.
The‘Ten Commandments of the
Summer Wife
By DOROTHY DIX.
A RISE, sister, gird up thy straight
front, put glad raiment upon
thyself and take thy vacation;
vea. take it though thou hast to fight
for it with tooth and nail, for she
that hath wrestled with the robber
that lleth In wait in the butcher shop
and the despoller who abldeth in the
grocery store, and who hath provided
the wherewithal her family is fed
three times a day for three hundred
and sixty-five days, needeth to slip
the yoke for a space while the galled
place healeth.
2. When thou takest thy vacation,
go it alone. Be not as those foolish
wives who say, “I have never been
parted from my husband, and lo,
where he goeth there will I go also,”
for belike thou hast gotten on thy
husband’s nerves and he would fain
have a rest from thee.
3. Reflect that nine months of the
year can a man rejoice and be ex
ceeding glad to be married. Ten
months can he steel his heart with
fortitude to endure It, but on the
twelfth month he notlceth that his
wife’s nose Is crooked, and he knock-
eth her cooking. Therefore get thee
hence on the twelfth month, and when
thou shalt return to him he will make
a feast at thy com
ing.
4. Stay not too
long, though, on
thy vacation, for it
Is not good that a
husband should be
left alone to his
«own devices until
he can find the se
cret spot wherein
the clean shirt
hideth Itself and
the fresh collars
are secreted. Ver
ily It was written
in the Book of the
Prophets that &
little absence mak.
eth the heart grow
fonder, but too
much absence In-
cllneth It to an- They shall
other skirt.
5. When thou rockest In the chair
that swayeth back and forth on the
Summer hotel gallery, boast not thy
self of thine automobile, and thy but
ter. and thy social prestige, and the
Jiamonds thou hast left behind thee
in thy husband’s safe; for the wjmen
thou braggest to art the Daughters of
Missouri, that even require to be
Daysey Mayme and Her hoiks
By FRANCES L. GARSIDE.
Ga It alone.
He is as a phonograph.
shown, and they shall mock thee be
hind thy back as a liar.
6. Tell not the secret of thy life.
Reveal not the weaknesses of thy
husband, and pull not forth from thy
closet the skeleton where It is hidden
because thju happenest to stroll In
the twilight with a sympathetic sis-*
ter. for lo she shall tell the tale t k
another, and she shall repeat it to
still another, and scandal shall be
heaped upon thy name.
7. When thou pla.vest bridge, get
thee a strangle
hold upon thy
purse, for perad-
venture the society
dames with whom
thou sportest
shall shear thee
even as a lamb is
sheared on Wall '
Street, and thou
shalt have to write
home for more
money.
8. Take not the
lone Summer man
away from the
maidens when he
fleest to thee as to
a temple of refuge,
because thou al-
' a **? ready hast a hus
band and cannot
mock thee. expect him to mar
ry thee. Flirt not w’ith such an one.
but stand thou to one side and give
the virgins their chance, for lo in
those days a husband is scarce and
hard to come at.
9. Listen not to the man who wan-
dereth on the beach with thee in the
moonlight and who sayeth, “Would
God 1 htd met thee In time," for be
hold he is but as a phon3grapli with
one record, and hath already said the
same thing to 9S1.735 other women.
Also he draweth but twenty-five bon> s
per in a department store, whilst thy
husband hath skill with the shekels,
so that thou adornest thyself In pur
ple and fine linen and split skirts
therewithal.
10. Forget not that gossip stalketh
through the halls 3f a Summer hotel,
seeking whom it may destrjy: there
fore bear thyself as though thou
posest In a moving picture film and
j converse as though thou consortest
I with a dictagraph. So shait thoiV.
| meet thy husband with a glad smll^
| when he cometh down on the Satur
day afternoon train, and thy heart
shall not quake with fear when thou
thinkest of what one of the old cats
| who knit pink sweaters in the hotel
j lobby may reveal unto him.
' Selah.
T HE most restful way for spending
one’s vacation is to watch one’s
neighbors. If they are idle, it
makes the one on a vacation just in
dignant enough to make his blood cir
culate, and if they are working, the sight
of their labors makes his own idleness
soothing in contrast.
The man who lived next door inter
ested himself with the Lysander John
Appleton family, who were occupying
their summer home. He watched them
the day they moved in: Two women of
regal bearing a boy with a forehead like
a Mansard roof, and a meek-looking man
who might be a servant, the Appleton
family being an ideal American family.
It was the women who interested the
idle man the most. They were of such
queenly bearing an<j had such perfect
figures he longed for the fingers and skill
of a Rodin. "I never." he murmured,
“saw more perfectly-formed women.”
They entered the house, closed the
door, and for a half hour there was no
outward evidence of occupancy, and then
the man on the side porch saw a woman
emerge^ from the back door the sight of
whom made him throw back his head
and laugh.
She had a figure like that of a feather
bed, and if she bad ever had a waist line
it had long ago moved up and become ;
lost in the foothills of her mountainous j
bosom. She shook and quivered as she j
walked like a bowl of calves’-foot jelly,
and while he gazed at her in bewilder
ment th'e door opened again and there
emerged a younger woman so thin that
she looked the same coming as going.
For a week he saw two women with
perfect figures enter and emerge at the
front door, and a feather bed and a bean
pole from which garments drooped like
a flag at half mast emerge and enter at
the back door. Then one evening when
he saw Lysander John sitting alone on
the porch in fr-/nt he walked across the
lawn and asked for an explanation.
"They are the same women,” said Ly
sander John sadly. “If you are inter
ested, I will show you the means of the
transformation."
He led the way upstairs to a dress
ing room where two long, vise-like gar
ments hung over the back of a chair.
“The modern magician’s wand,” he
said, pointing to two corsets."
’Tain’t No Use.
The tramp approached the proud cit
izen and asked for alms.
" 'Go to the ant, thou sluggard.’ ’’
“ ‘Tain’t no use, mister. Me aunt’s
jist as tight-fisted as me uncle an’ all
de rest uv me relashuns. I fear I’ll have
to go to work at last.”
Childlife.
“Come, Willie,” said his mother,
“don’t be so selfish. Let your little
brother play with your marbles a
while."
“But,” protested Willie, "he means to
keep them always."
“Oh, I think not."
“I say. ‘Yes,’ ’cause he’s swallowed
two of them already."
COLLEGE-CONSERVATORY
Imbued with the spirit of the Old South, alive with
the progress of the New South, Brenau offers unsur
passed advantages for advanced study in Literature,
Art, Expression, Music and Domestic Science. Its
equipment is the most elegant and extensive in the
South. The faculty is com
posed of specialists and its
patronage is drawn from 28
states and abroad. The cost
is most moderate when the
advantages offered are con
sidered.
Is the Old Typewriter
About Played Out?
Does it write the letters out of line? Does it blur?
Do the carbon copies smut? Does your stenog
rapher grumble and tire out easily? Do you fre
quently send for the repair man? Are you, in
brief, dissatisfied with the work turned out on
your present machine?
If so, call on the—
L. C. SMITH & BROS. TYPEWRITER CO.
We will take the old machine off your hands for a liberal al
lowance and install a brand new L. C. Smith & Bros, type
writer, the machine that runs on ball bearings and produces
neat, correct typewriting.
BRENAU,
Write today far beautifully illustrated catalog and full information.
Address
<3>
Box IS
GAINESVILLE, GA.
CHICHESTER S PILLS
. THE DIAMOND BRAND*
Jffj* 1 *** Auk your Drug* lot f-x
Jhl-ohri-ter'. Diamond Tir»„dV
. I Ills in Bed *nd Gold metallic!
TaL- !“*!?,. wlth „ Blj « \V
I Take no other. Buy of roar V
AskforClII.CirES-TPHN
* n «* ^ * '* pilEa.
L"° Wn “ Bc f'■ S “ fest - Reliable
SOLD BY DRIG«STS EVERYWHFP*
Agnes Scott College
DECATUR ( 6M A' t r a „ F « r a om ) GEORGIA
Session Opens Sept. 17th
For Catalogue and Bulletin of
Views Address the President,
F. H. GAINES, D. D., LL. D.
Tr-?
The New Model Five L, C. Smith A. Bros. Typewriter.
We can serve the business public in many ways. We
have a free employment department and will send you office 1
help that will just fit into the position you have, making no
charge to either party. We are always pleased to have you
call at our store.
Clip this coupon and mail:
Gentlemen:
I am now using a typewriter
which I would be willing to trade In for a new L. C. Smith
& Bros., if satisfactory terms can be arranged.
Name
Address
To L. C. SMITH & BROS. TYPEWRITER CO.
221 N. Pryor Stroot, Atlanta, Georgia
Phone Ivy 1946.