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One Woman’s Story .
By VIRGINIA TERHUNE VAN DE WATER
voice
.small
which operation his brow looked lighter
cnatting quite geniany.
Genevieve felt, sick at heart. This
as In anticipation, hut she kept hy lio ir
side, thankful that she was not ex
pected to say anything. On their r< -
turn she asm in expressed u wish to
leave, and this time no demur was
•startled cfy made them look back
It was from Hr. Molesworth, and the
It was Or. Cameron who spoke; ms
wife sensed incapable of uttering a
me.” said he, ”1 did not mean to be so
tragic; but 1n our short absence my
cuffs have been taken out of my over
coat pocket, and though the loss is not
great, it is certainly annoying ”
•*I know who did it," cried «
near them. “It wa > that slim
man who came in after
But I>r. Cameron did not k-< p his
wife waiting any longer to hear these
simple explanations; the affair seemed
altogether too puerile
Would he have thought any more se
riously of it had he known that written
on the inside of one of those cuffs tin
one which had been on the l and which
Dr. Molesworth had extended to Gene
vieve were written in large characters
these words
“Beware! I was t ot released so sud
denly without a motve.”
Husband and Wife.
1 - T must not he supposed that the sud
den and remarkable change which
had taken place in Mrs. Cameron's
physical appearance had passed un
noticed or uncommented upon hy so
ciety. it was only loo widely discussed,
and while it formed the basis of innu
merable compliments, it also awakened
an aqua! number of surmises and ques
tionable remarks
They were sitting in the parlor, and .
Dr. Cameron, anxious to behold her |
smile again, was talking gaily Sud
denly he paused and asked her a ques
tion about some one they lad seen.
She answered but vaguely. Her thought a
were elsewhere Judging from the di
rection of her ga/.e, they were on her
self She sat where she could see her
own image mirrored in the glass before
her, and it was upon this elogaht figure,
clad in gray Velvet and pearls, that
her eyes were fixed with an intent ness
which might have suggested the pres
ence of innate vanity, if the disdain
which curled her lip had n* t shown that
«hf half despised the beauty which re
quired so much sph dor to adorn it.
Her husband's eyes followed hers and
glistened merrily
“An imposing figure," he ■ railed. “Did
you think you would ever be a famous
beauty. Genevieve?"
She rose up with an instantaneous
to my hours many regrets, and t*» my
thoughts a shadow which all the pres
ent brightness cannot quite
away?"
“Genevieve!" His face had changed.'
any such secret in your life? Did you
ever love another man?"
His brows contracted; he thought of
the promise she had given him to al*
crcas* their happiness? They were
married; she loved him now, and any
such raking up of old bygones was cor-
jpg'
&
jvas un pleas
could expect to have
Genevieve G ret ore. x V
is counted her suitors
impulse, and, coming to his side, knelt |
down at his feet.
"Am 1 pretty,” sVc asked, "t<> you?"
“No." lie returned, “you are not pret- ;
ty. you are beautiful, and Just n lit- <
tie awe-inspiring I love you, and I >
wonder at > ou. You are so different " j
She did not wait for him to finish.
“You love me," she murmured. “How \
much do you love me, Walter? Knorgh :
to care more for me than for my beau
ty? Would your heart still glow and
your arms still, embrace me If. in*t< ad of ;
tainly unw
Besides, win
first love of
woman who
scores might he pardoned for having j
yielded one Jot of her pent-up woman- j
ly emotions' iri return. He would not
press his question; he found he loved |
her too well.
"T demand nothing.” was his reply. J
“The past is past"; and wo no longer j
have anything to do with it. As long
as your heart is all mine now and I j
hrn sure It is' what is it to me that
you once smiled for a week or a month ;
upon some one else* 1 would dare
wager that no one but myself ever |
tonehe<bthese lips.”
Her smile flashed out bright and dnz- j
zling. “No one ever did,” said she, and
at that word and at that smile his j
brow cleared and he almost laughed. I
“Most every life has had some harm- j
less flirtations in It.” ho remarked “I !
adored a girl myself once for a fort- j
night. But that does not make me un- i
happy now. (>n the contrary, I think it j
acids u little to my satisfaction. The |
value of true gold Is more apparent after J
some slight handling of dross'.”
She drooped her head There was n
far-away look in her eyes. She did j
not secrn to bear what he said.
“I wish 1 c> gld sep you really cheer- j
ful again,” ho ventured. “You are noi
ill enough to look so sad”
Brought hack to realities, she moved j
a little farther from him, while a reck- I
less gleam shot from her eyes.
"I have read," she began slowly, ami
as if pursuing her own train of thought,
"that love Is powerful with some men.
That no ambition is considered too
dear, no hope too precious to stand in
the way of their passion. Is there
truth in swob tales? la there a man
among your acquaintance, for instance,
who would be willing to sacrifice any
really good tiling he possessed for the
"uke of an unfortunate woman who was
dependent upon Ilim for happiness?”
"1 hope - " he commenced.
But she stopped him with an impe
rious gesture.
"Do yen know of one man.” she asked,
"who would share disgrace with a
woman cheerfully?"
“Disgrace is a hard word,” he assert-
| < 1, “and cheerfully «te<. not readity go
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
OVK comes like a summer
sigh,” goes an old song, and
who have known nothing
ow it only in Its begin-
tblnk. cairn-eyed, that Love is
s a summer sigh- a lutelike strain,
, nothing, telling a story of flow-
haking their heavy, honey-bur
dened
birds giving
dor the . hud'
streams, dmninp
between warm,
ing no 11iiii in
dly in the sun; of
•py twitters from un
tie* leaves, and of lazy
and crooning their way
«sy banks, and giv-
th*ir songs that they
were ever turbulent.
That the summer sigh is. followed by
tempestuous winds and devastating
floods that tear down and sweep de
struction where ail was lazy i«eace, Is
never eiedited by those who do not know
Love.
The girl whose love tale is in the be
ginning regards I.ove as she would a
plaything. Hhe tosses him in the air,
sometimes catching him with fervent
arms and loving kisses, and as often
letting him ‘fall that she may laugh at
his wot—begem- fa* c- and make merry
over his bruises.
She tweaks, pinches, slaps and throws
tlie little god about, finding renewed
merriment in every moan and protest.
“Love," she sings, "is more than a sum
mer sigh, lie is a game. He is the
greatest joy in the world."
First hot, then cold; first loving, then
disdainful; the, plaything in her hands
would be driven mad entirely did he not
know that. Just as surely as to-mor
row's sun follows lo-day’s, his time will
come.
He is the plaything to-day. He knows
who will he the juggler to-morrow, and
with a face which bears no sign of the
malice in tils heart he submits to every
torture she imposes.
And hides his time!
What hour marks the beginning of the
new game where I.ove is the juggler and
the plaything in his hands is t.h* bruised
and aching heart of his tormentor no
one knows.
The inexperienced declare that that
hour never strikes The love-scarred
know that it struck when they were
merriest, and that in a twinkling they
found themselves the sport of that which
. i.;\-
Eut It
Ends So.
AM5-CUPS -
had been their game.
The girl who is playing with Love
grows tired and bids Love go. IR- turns
to depart, and there comes to her a
swift revelation of the dreariness of life
without him, ami she commands him to
stay.
The hour has struck! He refuses, and
then she drops to her knees and begs
for that which she once scorned.
“Only stay,” she implores, "and you
may do with me as you will.” And Low
stays, and for < very tear that she ha;
made bim ihed he makes her shed a
torivnb
Every
little pinch and bfuise on his
’v has made a mark on his heart
that is charged to her account, for
which she must pay in humiliation and
anguish. No cold-blooded, calculating
enemy who starts out to destroy and
lets nothing under heaven interrupt or
change dr balk or defeat his plans, was
ever more ruthless than this little God
of I.ove.
Love is, as the young hope, the only
real joy life holds. And only those who
have hr wn it know the depths of de
- j ki i r a n d sorrow.
In the beginning it is the plaything;
in the end the hearts of men and wom
en are its toys.
The Cry of the Heart
The One You Didn't Marry
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
BY DOROTHY DIX.
u
L
an
ext r»
ome
plea si-
your eye
n)y appealed to
your syrup
it hies and y*
:• affect tors?
Do not say
yea cafeles^ \
. Walter H-w
deep have 1
ir heart ? Past
the first
b mind ary or
not. Walter?
Speak! I am strong cm ;
igh to hoar.”
Affected
deeply, for
■ : look W; -
even more
earnest than
hei* words, he
drew her
"A answered
gravely;
"You are
my wife; you
ary the w oman
i have chc
■son and woul
d choose again
out of all
I have • \ei
own. I love your beau
fly iow can 1
help it!—a
nd 1 love w
beauty life
Had I to <
given me fi
o have this lo\
brilliant eyes, this w
and speak
ing fl-ruFe. w
'th a V.-id and
treachorou
9 soul within
your heart
t and your na-
eme case.
>sitlve dis-
ofton to a
unan. It is more apt to
nan from a'man.”
if an extreme case,’* she
d. “Let us put it at its
y that I had done an
own would brand me with
r«»u became aware of it
that
the heart
Did. only
Would • \ou
which
id it
n t u -
love
way
hdld
main to
> who—
sank to
Uiinur: her eyes,
his, turi >1 glassy,
wn threatening and
win
11
OVK. courtship and marriage
not passing sentiments
accident: . Romance and
science must become fast friends.
Sentiment and reality must meet. 1
want the young man and woman to
know each other and to greet each
other sanely and well under the best
influence 1 know of--the church.”
The lit v. John U. Gunn, who made
this stat-mont i's past of of the North
Baptist Church, No. 231 West Elev
enth street. New York
He has heard the Cry of the Heart.
He has lparncd through his associa
tion with young people that in the
civilization and salvation of this gr.iy
Id world the heart must Vie reck
oned with as well as the soul, the
body and the brain.
.It is not enough t<> throw open the
clun\ h floors to save souls. The
work dues not end with establishing
schools to train the lingers and brain.
The public clinics that teach the care
pf the body aeoomiiiish wonderful .re
sults, but this and all these are not
enough.
The man with perfect lungs and
liver, skilled hands, a well-trained
bruin and a soul that he believes is
saved it* i f n - mi account th in a
collection o*f dry bones if his heart
h is a longing that neither mental nor
I physical tiling can still. He wants to
I love ami be loved. lie wants the
i-greatest gat life holds, and the same
j longing is implanted in the breast of
«", »ry w > ana n.
In a small town *\\ here
1 im»w> * very* one else mo
1 mating are easy. A man :
he H.lnvi’*' and the next .
j tual friend introduces tin
! large city he may see The
. day for an eternity, and
j which were made for her
prevent them from speaking
an introduction and there
eting
one
safes a girl
day a rnu-
em. In a
Girl every
the rules
protection
without
10 on* in
1 who knows him and her
me to any young man. Anyhow, they
are the kind of men they meet in
public dance halls, and I don't care to
know them. Will you toll me of a
wav to meet a few nice men?”
•1 am in love with a young girl,”
writes another, “who is working near
the place 1 work. She is looking at
me all day long with a great deal of
interest but she never says anything
because we have not been introduced.
I try to make her understand with
my eyes that 1 love her, but she keeps
silent, just looking at me all the
time. Is there a waiv I can meet her
and get acquainted?"
'1 am eighteen” this time it ip a
girl--“and every day meet a nice
young man who says ‘How do you
do?’ and passes on. I like him very
much, but have never been intro
duced to him. Tell me how 1 may
know Yiim.”
i am a young man of nineteen an 1
am very very bashful. When wi f h
young ladies I do not know what to
converse about. Lately 1 have hr n
corresponding with a medical institu
tion that offered to permanently cure
me of my bash fulness in twelve les
sons but 1 have an idea I could be
cured quicker if I could meet more
.iris and be with them oftener. But
1 live in a large city and never meet
any girls, and am in despair.”
One Way.
!t is the Dry of tho II. art for love,
ttnd the < r\ is universal. The man r
who r.'ils to hned il or Who
imys the penalty all throe.-rh
)nty through satisfying this
for love may happiness he ae-
U
I
FANCY,” said the woman * who
likes to philosophize above her
tea. “that there are very few ‘of
us, either men or women, who do not
cherish the memory of some rare and
radiant being that we have met some
where in the past, and who do not have
moments in which we speculate upon
what lif • might have been if only we
had married the ideal, instead of the
Individual that we did marry.
“Of course, for the most pari, we are
fairly well satisfied with our own par
tleular Darby or Joan, but in times <*f
domestic strife v* call with a sad,
sweet pleasure, the face of Angelina
or Edwin, and reflect that he or she
never would have been such a goose,
or so pig-headed, or raised such rows
about nothing as does the wife «>r
husband to whom we are tied.
“Ah, no! Angelina would always have
been fair and beautiful, and slim and
young, a perfect housekeeper, and a
marvel of economy, far different from
our own fat and grizzled middle-aged
Joan, who is a hit-or-Tnh
apparently thinks a rnun
money off the trees. Our
would alwa\ - have been
hero, who could maki
touch, who would
sentiments of
B.
woman
stills it
Rt
life,
hung
cur :•(
rnand. h
church ft
possible
men and
v. Gunn, recognizing this de
ls opened a parlor in his
>r the purpose of making V
for. well-intentioned young
women to meet. He will act
n gather
I Win, too,
a romantic
thrill at his
murmur beautiful
ection, couched in
Tarkingu n language for forty
pars at a stretch, and who would have
lived on such a high plane that he
wouldn’t even l ave perceived when the
coffee tasted like dish water, and the
soup was cold, and the ices hot. And
he would have been utterly incapable of
live young fellow who was one of those
youths who live upon their mothers.
“Fortunately for Susie she had a sen
sible. hard-headed father who repre
sented to her that a man who had
never supported himself was not likely,
to support a family, and ‘as Susife had
too much independence to want to set
tle down on a poor mother-in-laW to
he taken care of, she was kept ffconi
marrying the young man. and, of course,
in time got over her girlish fancy.
“Eventually she made, an excellent
match. She married a thrifty business
man in a distant city, who was able to
give her a beautiful home, fine clothes,
an automobile, and every luxury that
wealth can supply. Also her husband
;s a man of weight in his community,
looked up to, and deferred to..
“Bur always her early love has
loomed In Susie’s mind as a fairy prince,
and she has contrasted her husband
unfavorably with him, and said to her
self how blissful she might have been
with a man who understood her poetic
yearnings, and her grasping at the
wh0.tn.ess u f tp e v.’hat, instead of with
h sordid business man. whose sou! was
not on material things..
“Well, last month Susie went back
home for the first time in many years,
and. saw her early love. Also his wife
and children. The shiftless ne’er do
well had gone d$wn, and down,
the quo:
is meani
ing? ! ;
an-
iii tr
tore in a faded or marred body.
should take-
“Which?”
Her eyes were burning, her lips wer
parted; she was breathless,
“Your heart and nature: I know
should, and 1 rejoice in it You hav
charmed me, Genevieve; I cannot rt
sist your spell nor do 1 try any 1 i: •»
to do so. Were these features all over
c*'■’<•*•( would <• 1 • •• :
ality left; a personality which 1 d<> n<
understand, hut which holds me an
interests me more than any amount <
grace or beauty could do.”
“Then I pm an enigma, onl> a
enigma to you. When l am solved—
“Will you ever bo solved, Genevieve;
She uki not look as if she would Th
ir for us? Have you d ne anything ”
But here her laugh broke out merrily
nd shrill. A transformation seemed
f* be worked in her which made his
■ds sound incongruous and al urd
h- supped In his turn and looked at
'v*r in a sort of cloudy amazement
” courtesy then she suddenly grew
ntreated.
«'l*P< *rtiui
*T had
>ur love.
to test the
•: here is' y,
nd erst and imn
study them un
v my happines
ir regard. Y-t,
Tc tie Continued To-morrow.
the
who cares.
Their Cries.
The : ‘l a nice man wants for
wift is not th girl who lets a str*' t
Corner v.and sponsor for him. T ■’
ill'who will h i a wink <>r a smile
! serve as an introduction is not the
! girl In wants to marry, lie wants to
| im et and marry the nice, modest kind
f a girl he. knew “hack homo. ’ and
ae ki wv as every ne knows, that
the city is full of them. He also
J knows that his chances for meeting
her ar,> not any better than if she
i were stranded on an island fn the
North Lea. and he were a nomad in
the Sahara Desert.
Love is too priceless to be lost
through formnlUy and too precious to
he risked thro.:: a its lack. The re
formists must ;n time recognize this
and open social centers where decent
young men may meet decent young
\voim-n in a me. decent way. On
this the happiness of the world de
pends.
I am a young girl nineteen years
of IS 1 . * ivr ■ h. -
‘Anxious,’ “and have no chance what
ever to get acquainted with vouns
In - the intermediary of Cupid, and the
| poor little god of 1 eve needs more tn-
| termediari. th* s. j »’a\s tnan at any
j pn vious time in his troubled exist-
i ence.
Let ot
saying such things under sue
stances, as does the ccmmoni
by to whom we av a united.
The Retrospect,
“Ah the years, go by, and w
ther and farther away from *
Angelina and the gilt rubs
circum-
;e Dar-
. \ others who claim they want to
ate the Rev. Gunn. Sat-
j Isfy this 1 rnging for love first of all.
*
| that cnmis in the progress of human
ity will follow.
Harum 2d.
{{ills crons and
are
one of
market
i if it
‘What
mine.”
“Guess you’ve seen her
j men. While 1 h
are ©elfish and
would not
nds, the)
introdue*
Two farmers
the price > f potatoes.
‘S '. Jim ' finally remarked
the agriculturists, “are ye in the
fyr a good boss?”
“AVoid&n't mind keyin' a ho
suited me. Jake,” responded Jim
kind of a boss is it?"
“It’s thet Uttle
answered Jake,
hain't ye?”
“Think I hov.’ reflectively returned
Jim. “Yes. I know her, all right."
“Mighty g - d little boss,’ declared
Jake, with a hopeful glance at Jim.
“An’ she's yours cheap fer a cash d al.”
“It’s Jes‘ this way. Jake,” said Jim,
picking up his lines and preparing tc
siin. “Id lik* t.> have her. all r : ght. an'
I'd buy her th ; monup’, only 1 hate to
bust a dollar.”
and
until he had become the village loafer.
People spoke of him with sneering con
tempt. His wife was a poor, pitiful,
overworked drudge who supported him
by taking boarders. Half a dozen dirty
little children clung to her skirts.
The Outcome.
“You never saw such an instan
taneous cure as that sight of the man
sj.e didn't marry worked on Susie. She
scuttled back home as fast as she could
go, and she’s been so busy ever since
scattering roses in the path of the man
she did marry that she has got him
guessing as to what has happened.”
"That's right," said the other woman
cooingly, “I never miss an opportunity
of inviting my husband’s early loves to
, dinner. They are sure to be fat and
fa,al mistakes in IUJUU1U uv. I fr , 1(vs) . f liviT1K skeletons, ami 1 can
see his ideal crumbling to pieces as he
contrasts them in propria persona with
the way he remembered them.”
"But we also have changed since we
inspired love’s young dream,” suggest-
got far-
dwin and
more and
more, off of the gingerbread of matri
mony that we are daily forced to con-
j suine, the pictures of our early loves
grow bi - liter and brighter, with a more
and move roseate halo, until at last we
come to the place where we privately
consider ourselves blighted beings, who
have made
“l am convinced that a great deal
of domestic unhappiness arises from
this cause,, and 1 think that ten years
after marriage there ought to be a com
pulsory excursion back to the scene of
one’s early romance, so that husbands
and wives could get a near view of their
first love. Take my word for It, that ft
would do more to make men and women
satisfied with the life partners they
did get than anything else on earth, for
if there is one thing that makes you
want to go out and burn joss sticks to
luck It is to meet up with the one
you didn’t marry.
"I have just been seeing a most illu-
min ting example of the value of my
thet y. i have a friend, whom I wHl
calllsus; . because that isn’t lur name,
wh.j s‘.:e was a young girl, fell
CHAPTER XXV.
A S soon as Herbert Fletcher was
engaged he brought his mother
to call upon his future wife. That
was the only time that Mary Dan forth
saw her soon-to-be mother-in-law until
after her marriage*
Mrs. Fletcher was a large-boned, stout
woman, florid of face and with a voice
that was masculine In quality. She
shook hands with Mary ami eyed her
critically
"How do you do?" 5»ie said, adding,
as in duty bound, “My son has told me
about you.”
“And he has talked to me often about
you,” Mary rejoined timidly. “I am
glad to know you. It is kind of you
to call.”
“Bert insisted on my coming.” re
turned Mrs. Fletcher bluntly. "I was
willing to humor him to keep the
peace." ^
Cfce Was Surprised.
Mary was surprised to hear herself
talking with assuYhed lightness of
trifling matters the weather, the noise
of the city streets at this time of the
year when the windows were open, the
many impersonal matters that make
what is known as "smali talk." Fletcher I
sat by and looked at her with uncon j
eealed admiration; her mother seconded i
her efforts to keep the conversational |
ball rolling, but Mrs. Fletcher said lit
tle. Her quick eyes were taking in
every detail of the simply-furnished
room, and Mary felt that her gaze was
an appraising one. She looked often
at the embarrassed girl, and at last
voiced her thoughts:
"I guess you’re not very strong, are
you?”
Mary flushed hotly. "Why, yes,” she
tjaid, trying to laugh, "i have never
been really ill In my life. Perhaps the
first warm weather may make me look
a little pale, but 1 am very well, thank
you!”
Fletcher spoke up quickly. "It isn’t
always the big women that are the
strongest, ma.” he said oracularly.
“You, yourself, ain’t quite up to the
mark sometimes."
j "I know that,” said his parent • as
j she rose to leave. “But," turning to
Mary, “my son tells me that you and
I be have decided to get married, and I
i think it only fair to say to you that, as
| he hasn’t a fortune, any girl that mar-
I ries him may have to w ork. But I guess
you’re used to that here in your own
home. And,” as an after-thought, “1
hope you both will he happy.”
Mary did not. return Mrs. Fletcher's
call—indeed, was not askexl to do so.
But she wrote a pretty little , note to
Bert’s mother asking her to come to
the wedding, explaining that it was to
be the quietest affair imaginable. To
this invitation the older woman sent a
verbal acceptance by her son.
Herbert Fletcher had always wanted
to live in the country, and Mary was
willing to get away from New York and
from all the old associations. She and
her husband took a wedding trip down
to Atlantic City and staying in an inex
pensive boarding-house* over Sunday.
Then the young couple returned to the
Dan forth flat and began preparations fix-
moving out of town.
' Decided on Small Town.
• Fletcher had decided upon a small
village in New Jersey, the distance of
three-quarters-of-an-hour from New
York, making it convenient for him to
commute daily He and Mary went to
Middle brock one Saturday afternoon ami
chose the little house in which they
were to live. It had seven small rooms
and a diminutive both, but to the girl
who, for two years, had lived in a cheap
fiat, the cottage looked quite large. All
the water used in the bathroom, and
kitchen must be pumped by hand, into
the lank at the top of the house, the
pump being close to the kitchen sink.
“A good job for a fellow that’s get
ting too stout eh, Mamie?” Bert re
marked jocosely.
(He had insisted that “Mary” was
“too formal" a name for a man to
call his wife hy. Mary had suggested
that she preferred it to any nickname,
but her husband had his way.)
“When I don’t feel like pumping the
water, the girl can do it,” he said later
as the two sat* together on the train
taking them hack to New York.
\ "Are you sure I can get a maid?”
Mary asked timidly. ”T nave heard
that it is sometimes difficult to secure
one In a country place.”
“Well, we’ll get one from town then.”
said the master of the house loftily. “J
don’t mean that you should do rough
work in my home at least, if you can
hire a girl whose wages make it pos
sible for us to keep her.”
“Ma Says You Were Right.”
It was evident that he discussed this
matter with his mother, for the next
evening he remarked to his wife:
"Ma tells me that you were right
in saying that it’s hard to get good
help in the country. You know she
never keeps a girl, and she seems to
think that you and your mother could
do a good deal of the work of that little
house yourselves. Perhaps you could.”
Mary hesitated. "I do not want motTi-
er to dA housework. Bert,” she de
murred. “She is not strong, and work
ise is harder than in a flat,
if you can not afford n maid, the house
must be attended fi> by me- but I
would prefer keeping a servant, if pos
sible.”
She tried to speak firmly, but there
w;;. a tremor in her voice and her bus-
band noted it. •
“Weil,” he said, "lei’s hbpe we can
get a girl cheap somewhere. If not,
my dear, I gt: .m yotFU just have to put
up with matters as lots of other women
do, and xs you and your mother have
done lately aod as my mother has al
ways done. Your husband ain’t rich,
you know.”
His wife made no reply. She seemed
these days to be slowly awakening from
a stupor in which she had lived since
the night on which she received the
news of Craig’s engagement. She had
not allowed herself to look a day ahead,
nor an hour backward. That was the
way, she reminded herself, that she
had lived through the past three months.
SIis Aroused Herself.
She aroused herself to listen to her 1
husband again! "Ma says she’!! he
me chuosu any furniture we need,” be
was saying. "She’s a crackerjack at
finding bargains. I never knew such
an economical buyer."
"I thought,'' ventured his wife, "that
we might choose our furniture to
gether ”
"you’re J
buoy packing, so you'd belter let ma
and me attend to that. I saw a real
bright and cheerful blue s< fa on Four
teenth street the other day. and I’ll see
what w'e can get it for for our parlor.
I’ll let ma make the deal.!’
Suddenly the wife appreciated that if
she would not protest too much she
must keep silence.
Sixth City.
The city of Cleveland has a citizen
who is a great booster. When he stops
at a hotel he invariably registers "Sixth
City” instead of <'!evc: :nd. i.V is anx
ious for every one to know That Glove-
laud is the Sixth City in the United
States. His zeal in this respect nearly
cost him a lot of trouble last week.
One of bis New- York business acquaint
ances called up the Waldorf, where ho
had been told Mr, Rose was stopping,
and Risked for him.
”1 want to speak with W. G. Rose,
of Cleveland," said the New Yorker.
After a long w.iii the clerk told him
that there was no W. G. Rose, of Cleve
land, stopping there. The New Yorker
insisted that Mr. Rose was there and
asked tlie clerk to make another in
quiry.
"No,” answered the clerk, after an
other long wait. “There is ho Mr.
Rise, of Cleveland, here. But we hav a
a W. G. Rose, of Sioux City."
Hereafter Mr. Rose is going to regis
ter "Cleveland Sixth City" to avoid,
mistakes.
That Reserve.
Boob- -What’s this federal reserve, that
they’re talking about?*
Simp-Why, that's the Wilson policy
about doing nothing in Mexico.
7here’s a iviJa
Difference in Teas
Try
Maxwell House Diced
For Top Notch Quality
No Other Like It
Uncolored
Unadulterated
Delightful
Economical
Ji-IK, rv-ib., 1-lb. air tiyht ee.ni.itera . £
Ask your greet? for it
Ckeek-Neal Coffee Co., ’
Kaaiouli* Sojiios J*ckno*r/!!t«
m raw.-****.-.JBiffiijw.-vmk*
3 NDSGESTION?
Stop it quickly; Have your grocer send
you one doz. bottles of
SHIVA
GINGER AIE
Drink with meals,
and if not prompt
ly relieved, get
your money back
at our expense.
Wholesome, deli
cious, refreshing,
j Prepared with the
| celebrated Shivar
| Mineral Water and
I the purest flavoring materials.
| SHIVAR SPRING, Manufacturer)
SHELTON, S. C.
E. L. ADAMS CO., Distributors, Atlanta
Why Women H
Pde
•'ves
in l\
\.. with a good-looking and at trac
ed a third woman.
• f >b. <■ ;r husbands are used to us.”
Woman philos jpher, com
fortably. “Ahd they’ve quit looking at
us. anyway."
;• j. b %. u iJ w : A fe-4 3 H a " -.'/r
it. K *stmso*
fit* : . ■’ t Class Finishing and Ln-
D.rc'r.g A complete stock llms,
^ pb* 11 s. papers, chemicals, etc
Special Mail Order Department lor
jut-of-town customers.
Send tor CctaloQue and Price List.
A. li. HJAWKtSC:. Koa*k
( 4 WI. t . li St. ATLANTA. OA
The “blues”—anxiety—sleeplessness—and warnings of pain and dis-|,r
tress are sent hy the nerves like flying messengers throughout body and’
limbs. Such feelings may or may not be accompanied by backache or
headache or bearing down. The local disorders and inflammation, if there
is any, should be treated with Dr. Fierce’s Lotion Tablets. Then the
nervous system and the entire womanly make-up feds the tonic efiect of
DR. PIERCE’S
FAVORITE PRESCRIPTION
when taken systematically and for any period of time. It is not a“cureall,’*
but has given uniform satisketion for over forty years, being designed for
the single purpose of curing woman's peculiar ailments.
Sold in liquid form or tablets by
druggists—or send 50 one-cent
stamps for a box cf Br. Pierce’s
Favorite Prescription Tablets.
Ad. Br. R.V. Pierce. Buffalo, N.Y.
. " .
Every woman ought to troesces 1 i:i
| Peoples Common Sense Medical . J
| Due A by^R.V. Picric M.D. I Oi<c]
L pages. It a miners Questions of szx~
. Teaches mothers hois to core for ihr-f
| children and themsehhfs. It's the emc:i
J gencj doctor in 'jour nsn home.
, 3 / one-cent tamps to L>r. Pkrce as alt v