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pssgasHSHsasasasgsasasHsaHSiSzsasBsgsasgjHSBgagglB CJ Have you ever felt the thrill of an out-of-doors vacatiop— a few weeks of real life by the side of some picturesque lake — 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 a^ile 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 8port; each summer the appeal reaches many more who have not known the charms of this region. 4 Why don't you arrange to go f Taka a holiday la this wotidarfbl country, where a thousand sparkling lakes teeming with gamy fish await you. j** For full particulars apply to ticket agent* SFtTI or addreae J m 1 Chicago and North Western Ry. SSSeVpl ilcUsS*** N. M. BREEZE, a A. 434 Walnut St., Clnctnnatf, OMo v »ra. Confessions of a Medium THE TUNNEL By CHAS. D. ISAACSON. (Copyright, 1913, by International News Service.) T HE Idea of crystal gazing ia | very easily understood and, if i you’re not too much “from \ Missouri," very easily beloved. You take a glass globe, which has been perfectly rounded and polished and is flawless in its transparency. You raise it on a stand of some kind, pref erably ebony, or something else black, to suggest mystery, and breathe un intelligible words of prayer over it. Then, when you look into it forever after, there will appear within Its depth, pictures of your friends, no matter how many miles away they might be—and also pictures of your self in the dim future, even though you are sure you’re right here in the present and could prove an alibi. I mean you will be able to do this, if you are a gifted mystic. Or, if you’re not clever or fraudulent enough to be one, you will be able to have it done for you, provided you are willing to pay some said gifted mystic for the interpretation. Professor S , of avenue, ad vertises that he is a crystal gazer among other things. Together with a friend I called on the professor, and found him, among other things, in cluding a huge crystal, which looked as clear as his schemes later ap peared. The professor is a little dark man with a curious air of mustiness about him, which quite resembled the dark room he occupied. A Question. “What can I do for you, gentle men?” he asked, bowing most ef fusively, as though to say, "Enter— here are two more fools.” “I would like to learn the where abouts of a friend who is now away from his home. I am a little worried about his health, and I should like to know Just what he Is doing.” “Ah, it Is a gentleman,” he answer ed mysteriously, as though he had made a great discovery. but then the word “he” might have suggested a lady, I suppose. "It is,” I acknowledged, and I told his name and gave a full description of his appearance. “Be seated, gentlemen,” he said solemnly, as he drew down the blinds, and polished the crystal. Then he turned toward us, collected his fee and whispered: “Silence, ab solute silence, please.” Very deliberately he raised his arms to the table, rested his elbows upon It, put his chin between his tightly clenched fists, and gazed directly Into the crystal. Tlm e is money to a mystic as well as to any other business man, and visions must appear quickly to make the industry profitable, for he sat thus no more than seven seconds before Something appeared to him. We were made aware of this fact by a prolonged series of grunts, ac companied by a knit expression around his intelligent brow. “M—mm. Huh—hmm. Ah—hah." "It must be funny,” I whispered to my companion, 'he's' laughing.” He Was Well. But just then he looked at us over his spectacles, and said slowly, “Your friend is well. I see him in a room with several gentlemen and ladies. He is talking particularly to one lady, of whom he seems very fond. There seems to be a gathering like a wed ding or reception." "Where is the place .'” we queried. "I can't quite say, but It looks '»s though it might be a place In Ger many or Italy or possibly France. I Think it is France—yes, it Is France, ior there Is the French flag flying.” We looked, but we could see noth ing—we were not wonderful mystics, such as he. We couldn’t even see the missing one, although he showed us just where he was located In the I glass. But w hen we left we thanked I him. It was peculiar that the friehd | we inquired about was my companion, and. although he had been seated j right alongside me, the crystal trans ferred him to France, accompanied by j a lady—At a wedding reception! I don’t think Professor S was half clever enough. Since he was :y- j ing for his money, why didn’t he give ! us a real whopper? Why didn’t he do something like I did, for instance? My crystal was four feet in diame ter and rested on a heavy base, the whole being placed on a table which was covered with a cloth that reached to the floor and swept on the rue. One evening we gathered, about fif teen of us. pulled down the blinds an( waited, while I crooned and moaned cut this hodge-podge of gypsy prayer over the inanimate glass, which I ad dressed as though it were a thing of magic and priceless worth: "Oh dukh andral yakha, Ja andre pani, Ja andremal pani. Ja pani jakha. Ja duso kiji, Oh dukh." I stood back of the table, with the crystal between the visitors and mv- self. As we gazed, there suddenly burst a streak of light into the hall, ft flickered, almost went out, then expanded and expanded until it illu mined the room almost like day. The light changed from yellow to pink, and from pink to Ted. and then back to white. A country scene ap peared. It was a pretty roadway, shaded by huge elms. Gradually it faded and .a beautlfifl girl’s head filled the crystal. Then, in rapid succes sion, an old man, a group of boys, a pair of lovers; then my own face, somewhat aged, which I interpreted to be a happy prediction for me. All this and more appeared in the magic crystal, and all gazed and saw with iheir own eyes. The stand on which rested the mys terious crystal ball was hollow: and stretched across the top, where the glass came in contact with the ebon/, Was a piece of eauzy cloth, tinder ♦ he table was ft Cheap little magic lantern, worked by a wise little boy. One would think that somebody would have been skeptical about the wonderful glass. But there was "iot cne who was careful enough to in vestigate before believing. And It is on this point that I wish I could im press the public. Don’t be taken in so easily. If you want to pay the fakers, learn how they do it, and don’t take their wonders without a grain of salt. Ask Any Man. Gladys—Mamma, when people get married, are they made into one. Mamma—Yes, dear. Gladys—Which one? Mamma—Oh, they find that out afterward, darling. Greatest Story of Its Kind Since Jules Verne What Has Gone Before. The story opens with Rives, who is in charge of the technical work ings of the great tunnel from America to Germany, on one of the tunnel trains, with Baermann, an engineer, in charge of Main Station No. 4. They are traveling at the rate of 118 miles an hour. Rives is in love with Maude Allan, wife of MacKendrick Allan, whose mind first conceived the great tun nel scheme. After going about 60 miles under the Atlantic Ocean, Rives gets out of the train. Sud denly the tunnel seems to burst. There is a frightful explosion. Men are flung to death and Rives is badly wounded. He hears some one calling his name as he stag gers through the blinding smoke. Now Go on With the Story. (From tl»* Oerman of Bernhard Rellermane— German version Copyrighted. 1913. by A. Fiarher V*rlag. Berlin. Engliah translation and compilation by 0 lOc pyrlght*d. 1918, by International N*wa Service.). << r J''HRES?. thousand men — three j thousand men,” he kept re peating to himself as he toiled forward a foot at a time. The words brought him at last to a full realization of what had happened— and still the Voice called his name. Once he put his hand down in the half-light and it rested in the palm of another hand, which by some reflex of dying convulsion closed over it. With half sob and half scream he drew back and rose unsteadily to his feet and lurched forward, following the voics until he stumbled over a negro laborer. Th.s was the voice. “I seen you. Mista Rives—I seen you,” moaned the negro. ”Fo’ Gawd's sake—don’t leave me—don't leave me! ” At hl«» feet was a litle cavern of crossed girders out of which he had crawled, and which explained the fact cf his existence in that*hell. lie got a grip on Rives’ belt and clung to it desperately. “Don’t leave me—don’t leave,” he moaned again and again. “Come on,” said Rives, dully, “we’ve go to get away from here.” Dong tendrils of pungent smoke were curling and puffing around them and sparks were dropping and whirling like fireflies. Rives looked down in the direction of the fire, and then he shuddered and closed his eyes. Over the track In which ho had come, thicker than the rocks and broken timbers that were mingled with them, lay the twisted, criss crossed and heaped up naked bodies of the dead. “We’ve got to get away from here!” A Terrible Sight. And he began toiling forward, the negro clinging to his belt and scream ing with the pain of a crushed foot. A little farther on he heard his name called again and found O'Neii, the «»uperintendent of the drill, pinned between two girders and a great rock. From his hips down he was hopeless ly crushed. But he was conscious and his eyes were calm in the ghast ly glare of the firelight. "It’s all over with me, old man, ’ he said faintly, as Rives leaned on the rock and bent over him. Allan rose slowly, his gaze on the table. “God!” he groaned. “Can’t I do anything for you?” “Yea—shoot me!” The voice was faint, but steady. Rives shivered and clung to the rock with both hands. “I’m suffering horribly, Rives. For pity’s sake, end It!” said the voice. Rives drew his arm across his eyes and looked down at the approaching flames. “Can you use your hands?” he asked. Then, with a sudden spasm of unreasoning fury, he kicked the clinging negro-from him. “Yes,” said O’Nell. With a quick movement Rives drew a pistol from the holster on his hip and pressed it into the dying man’s hand. Then he plunged bilndly forward up the tun nel, the moaning negro again clinging to him. A report followed them. “The fire has reached the blasting charges,” he said to himself. Again they were stopped, this time by the sound of some one running toward them in the direction of the fire at a reckless speed over the breakineck ruin of the tunnel floor, and presently there appeared before them a half-clad man with hair and eyebrows gone, his eyes bright an* feverish and a grin on his lips. The Survivors. "Here! the other wayl” called Rives weakly. The man stopped and grinned at them. “Ha, ha!” he said, not even In an attempt at a laugh, but more In light derision. “What’s the matter with you? Go back!” ordered Rivet. “Ha, ha!” was the reply in the same tone, and eluding a hand that the chief reached for him, the crazed one ran on past them and into the flames. Stumbling forward with the weight of the negro, Rives struck his chin against a timber. The shock had the ultimate effect of clearing his brain completely, but for the moment he fancied that the negr6 had struck him. He got swiftly to his feet and raised his fists to defend himself be fore he realised what had happened. Then he helped the injured man up and was for the first time conscious of his own injuries. He seemed to be burned In a dozen places. His left arm ached with a dull, steady pain. But now he w r as master of what was lef« of himself. With his arm arounl the negro’s body, he helped him for ward. and thus the finished product of the world’s greatest civilization and the straight-browed child of a lowly people, the stronger still help ing the weaker, stumbled forward, through the fuin, following with their last strength the primordial longing for the Light and Life. And now’ they heard and saw plgnp of others. They had reached ft section that had not felt the first for~e of the explosion. Groans and shrieks, loud curses and muttered prayers seemed to come from beneath thrir feet and they heard the name of God called upon in a score of tongues. And, now and then, more terriblo than all else, high bursts of chatter ing maniacal laughter. The now' distant but slowly ad vancing fiamps threw evil shadows of red and black through the chaos, and the figures of the two men stood out in uncertain bigness. They were mov ing—going forward to Light and Life —and all who could move followed them. Rome, indeed, were stunned only numbed by horror and needed but the appearance of Rives and his charge to galvanize them Into life, where, otherwise, they might have sat and died. Others they found who, unscathed or only slightlv injured, had run. blind and panic-stricken. through the tunnel darkness until they had dropped of she°r exhaustion and made up their minds to die two hundred and fifty miles from the light of day. And so their numbers grew’, stag gering along In the smoke and dust with the light of the flames at their backs. At last they came out into a section of the tunnel that was free of wreckage. Only traces of the vio lence of the explosion were visible. It was less than five miles from the scene, but It might have been fifty. They w r ere lost to all sense of dis tance, and time. reeling onward, driven by an instinct stronger than physical strength. And now there was only the sound of the shuffling, stumbling feet, low groans and curses and the gritting of teeth as some strong man fought with his agony. Finally Rives became sensible of change in the spirit of his horrible following. It had ben each man for himself In a hopeless struggle for life. Then someone had mentioned the name of Allan—"Mac,” as he was called all over the world. Instantly they w'ere united in a bond of fury, revived by a lust of vengeance. Ignorant and unreasoning they raged at the great chief of the tunnel w'orks as If he had premeditated and planned the cataclysm that had swallowed up thousands of their mates and seemingly condemned them to a slow and horrible death in the darkness. Rives was with them and had worked with them every day. He had been caught as they were, and there were no curses for him. If an accident of destiny had decreed that he should be at the other end of the tunnel at the time of the ex plosion it is probable that he would have been Included in the curses find incoherent threats that w'ere leveled at his superior. They came to a small sugstatlon where supplies had been stored am! they tore the boxes open with their bare hands. Rives warned them loudly against the emergency lamps, so they hurled these aside and loaded themselves with provisions that none of them could eat. Then the craay procession reeled on into the dark ness. and after hours they came into the view’ of faint lights at main station No. 4. A Panic of Fear. Here Baermann had hastily con nected a small emergency dynamo to give some light to the scene, and, pistol in hand, was holding the last train In the hope that a few of the survivors from the deeper workings might And their way out without the help of rescue parties. In vain he had pleaded for volunteers to go in with him. The men clambered onto the train as fast as they came in, and the engineers had been only too w’llllng to dash back to the en trance with them. Too willing, for there had been two tail-end collis ions and only one track was now- open. No more trains were started in. because the dispatchers at the en- Don’t Lot Perspiration Embarrass You Use HID No More Odor—NONE 25c All Jacobs’Stores Advice to the Lovelorn The Gray Dusk By LOUISE HEILGERS. By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. PERHAPS SHE FORGOT. Dear Miss Fairfax: A few' weeks ago I mot a young girl at a sociable and was quite fond of her. I made a date two weeks ahead, and the day I was to meet her I received a card telling me that she had an ap pointment. and. therefore, asked me to call the following Sunday during the afternoon. On my arrival, I found nobody at home. ANXIOUS. It is possible tho impression you made on her was so faint that aho forgot all about you. At any rate, her conduct does not show that she Is greately interested. Try It again. Don’t be discouraged with the first rebuff. Write her, and ask for the privilege of making a call. CERTAINLY NOT. Dear Mis* Fairfax: I am seventeen and In love with a young man of twenty. He has asked me to go out with him, but I refused, because my mother said she wanted to see the young man first. He wants me to meet him on the corner of our street. Do you think he has any respect for me if he will not call for me at my home? JOHANNA. Your mother is right, and his re fusal to comply doesn’t indicate any great amount of self-respect or re spect for you. Don’t meet him anywhere. Accept your mother’s wish as law, and re spect it. WRITE AGAIN. Dear Miss Fairfax: I am seventeen and am deeply In love with a man two years my senior. Borne time ago I left the city. Ha asked me to write, which I did, and have not received an an swer yet. I tried to forget him, but it is in vain. A CONSTANT READER. There is a chance that he did not re ceive your letter. Be sure that you have the correct address and write again—Just a friendly letter;' nothing more. If he does not reply to that, I hope you will try so hard to forget him the effort will not be In vain. trance knew the danger of another collision with the last of the return ing trains. His men pleaded with Baermann to leave, but he refused. They finally threatened the engine driver and he was eager to obey when the young engineer drew his revolver and threatened to shoot him if he touched a lever. “If one of you men come as fnr forward as the engine,” he said, coolly, “he Is a dead man. Were going to wait.” “But the train’s full,” protested one of the foremen. “They can’t get on if they come.” ‘1 guess we can crowd a few hun dred more on,” returned Baermann, quietly, and waved the man back with the menacing muzzle. At that moment came a far-off shout from Rives’ desperate hundreds. Away down the tracks the men on the trains could see the horde surg ing forward. If they came up while the train was still there It would be a battle for place on the cars. A murmur, cowardly but omnious, rang along the train. “Start the engines — start the engines! ” Baermann kept His eye on the en gine driver and raised his pistol. The next moment there was a flash from a window of the forward car and a shart report. Baermann stiffened, threw his right arm across his face, spun, and fell across the tracks. And just as tho leaders of Rive*' survivors reached for the steps of t** rear car the train slid out into tr-e tunnel and left them screaming ant cursing and running in the dark. To Bo Continued To-morrow. Snap- Shots I F the world has lost all meaning and there seems to be no glean ing, while gray clouds your sun all screening—come out of doors. When my world seems dark and dreary, and no roof-tree joys will cheer me, and of life I think I’m weary—out of doors still can hold and enchant me, can a little respite grant me, can dismiss the ghosts that haunt me, so of course I am prone to reoommending what I find my blues is ending, and the skies new- blue Is lending. Out of doors is a place for deeper breathing, is the land of soul unsheathing—while the sweetest in cense w r reathing out of doors, seems to wing the lightsome hours if you’ll just seek Nature’s bowers—out of doors! * • • j • « GLEANINGS FROM THE PHILISTINE. Life Is a compromise between Fate and Free Will. True lovers always evolve a cipher code. The proudest of women will accept orders from the right man. Your own will come to you if you hold the thought firmly—and hustle! It is a good policy to leave a few things unsaid. * * * •• • • A WOOD PATH. By Bliss Carman. At evening and at morning By an enchanted way, I walk the world in wonder And have no word to say. It is the path we traversed One twilight, thou and I; Thy beauty all a rapture, My spirit all a cry. The red leaves fall upon it, The moon and mist and rain, But not the magic footfall That made its meaning plain. I T was very quiet in the lane and the scent of flowering things nes tled about one’s throat like pale, cool hands in the darkness. Beneath a big copper beech that overhung the path some beneficent Paris coun cil, with a kindly forethought for lov ers, had placed a rustic seat that girt the width of the tree with a strong wooden arm. A woman sat waiting there alone, the w’hite of her skirt spotting tre dusk like a flow'er, all the rest of her blurred by the approaching night. There was a smell of roses about her. One divined that they were pinned ‘somewhere about her gown. Presently a lemon-colored moon slipped above the treetops and lit the lane with the fantastic gleam of a Chinese lantern. Presently, too, there came footsteps and a man Joined the woman sitting so still beneath the leaves. The little night things walking all about might have heard the sound of lover’s greeting had they listened, and had they not long ago lost all interest in lovers. It was the woman who spoke first, as she withdrew herself from his cams*. "I have ben waiting ever so long for you,’ she said fretfully. 'What kept you?” He hesitated drawing further back into the shadow before he spoke. She noticed that his breath came hur- ri' llv and his voice was uneven as he answered: "Ralph kept me. We went for a walk In the woods—and—and” His voice fell into silence. The woman leaned forward eagerly “Did you—did you tell him?” she asked, tenderly. Then, as he did not answer: "Oh, I can see you didn't. He drew a long breath. “Well, If you are afraid”— she flung the word at him like a taunt—"to tell him, I will. I’m sick and tired of this deceit. Besides, it isn’t fair to Ralph to let him go on thinking I’m still going to marry him next month.” He did not sem to hear; he was staring gloomily away into space. Then—“Have you noticed,” she be gan. irrelevantly, “how the leaves seem to speak to-night? Why, over there in the copice they seemed al most to shriek to me”-—Again the silence fell. “Is that where you left Ralph—4n I the coppice?” she inquired anxiously ! She felt rather than saw the sudden shudder that swept him at her words * “Why do you ask me that?” ha asked loudly, turning upon her so ' fiercely that she shrank back in alam.. “Of course, I left him there. He—ne told me he wanted to he alone." The woman rose hastily, with a soft little rustle of skirts. "Then if he’s still out he may come here,” she said, anxiously. "Supposing he takes It into his head to stroll out of the wood into the lane? It’s quite close, you know.” “He won’t come. No fear of that.” The man rose, too, and spoke with sudden energy. “He’s far enough away by this time.” He laughed a queer, ugly laugh. A streak of moonlight slipping tj his face showed him livid, his fore head wet with sweat. Involuntarily she stretched out hpr hand as if io W'ard away some vile thing. "I don’t understand,” she whispered, tensely. “But I feel—I know there is something wrong.” He caught her to him. “What could there be wrong,” he asked, his face against her hair, “so long as you are mine?" But hastily she drew away from him. “What—what is that?" she stammered. He followed her staring eves to where they rested on his shirt cuff. There was fear in his face b(<ore he spoke. “Oh, that,” he said—”1 cut my wrist at dinner. The knife slipped. Noth ing to worry ab>.ut—the merest scratch.” He drew the sleeve of his coat over his shirt cuff. She stood staring down at the dust of the lane, afraid to think or mov* A great terror seemed to envelop her from head to foot. The man stood watching her for a moment, and theo abruptly caught her to him. “Kitty, kiss me. he said, passion* atdy. But she was rigid in his arms. “What have you done to Ralph?* she asked. And even as she spoke she knew the answer; knew before there cams the beat of hurried feet down the lano. and a man came rushing past with staring, frightened eyes, crying wild ly that someone in the coppice beyond was dead. Lost on Him. "Hallo, Jim! You’re the very man X want to see. I've got a new one for you." "A new what?” "A new conundrum." "There isn’t such a thing," asserted Jim "If it's good it Isn't new; If It’s new, It Isn’t—’’ "Oh, stop it, man, and listen! What** the difference between a poet and a plumber?" "A poet and a plumber? That's easy enough. A poet hasn’t any money, and a—’’ “My good chap, you’re miles off the track," his friend Interrupted* "This Is the answer: A poet pipes a lay, and a plumber lays a—’’ "My plumber doesn’t," began Jim. "He—" But there Jim stopped. His friend was stalking off, muttering fiercely; "What’s the good of telling a Joke t® a man with no more sense of humor than an ox?" • Not Even False. Teacher—Children, can any of you name an animal that has no teeth? Little Boy—Yes, ma’am, I can. Teacher—Well, what la the name of the animal? Little Boy—My grandma. CHICHESTER S PILLS THE DIAMOND HBAND. .—... J»» of TO*.. Askf-w C III -CITK A-T1 ITS Ti SfWSliaBRAND’rlLLWSV year* known a« Best, Safest. Always Reliabl* SOLD BY DRUGGISTS EVERYWMK GAINESVILLE. GEORGIA (Filly Mile. from Atlantal in the Heart of the Old Southt Alive with the Spirit of the Hew 8PECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT. The course of study of Brenau has recently been revised in accord ance with standards of foremost American universities and colleges. Hereafter the degree of A. B. will be the only degree granted. The re quirements for admission to Freshman Class are fourteen units. TWO-YEAR COURSES. For the benefit of many girls who can remain fn college only two years, courses are arranged so that diploma may be received and the title of Associate in Arts conferred at the end of two years after the high school. This is similar to the practice of the University qf Chicago. PREPARATORY COURSES. Courses equivalent to the work of a first-class high school are offered, and provision is made to receive pupils as young as fourteen years of age. MUSIC, ORATORY, ART, DOMESTIC SCIENCE. These subjects are especially suited to the needs of the average woman, and may be offered at Brenau as electives for the A. B. degree. Diplomas in each of these subjects are also offered. Brenau has no competitors in the South in these special courses, and the demand for teachers who are graduates of Brenau is far greater than can be supplied. The next term begins September 11. Only a few places are still open. NEW BOOK READY. A beautiful new book, entitled “Brenau Girl,** has just been pub lished. It is sent free upon request. Address; H. J. PEARCE or T. J. SIMMONS, President*, BRENAU, Box 16 » GAINESVILLE, GA. With in your Coffee cup the presence of caf feine is largely done away with and your coffee bills practi cally cut in two. *tt., lib. emd ah. terns at Ch»ek-Neal Coffee Co, floiUtM,