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A Bachelor’s Diary Tennis and Golf by Night—An Autumn Fad 1 The Roses By MAX. . / J' Zf A TRAGEDY IN RUSSIAN LIFE A UGUST 30. (Being in the form of a supposititious dialogue be tween Sally Spencer and my self She is away off in Paris, ab sorbed in the vanities of this world, and I am a helpless invalid, confined, to a cottage in the northernmost woods of this country, with much time to reflect on the probabilities of mv rewards or punishments in th? next. The imaginary Sally is Kitting in the little low rocker that swa> s emptily with the wind, back an J forth, on the porch beside me in that tantalizlngly suggestive wav tha^ empty rockers have.) SALLY: "I can stay only a short ime. Max. I bad to wait a few min utes in the Bon Marche for a fitting and thought I would’make a mental visit with you while waiting. How are you, my dear? You look like a mummy with all those blankets and rugs around you. but not as sick as I had expected Perhaps that prettv nurse you have written so much about is prolonging your illness with a motive.” MAX. “It is possible that the mo- ive Is on my side” It Stops. SALLY: “You don’t mean to srv. Max. that you have become such an imbecile that you condemn yourself to cushions and calomel and airbags for the pleasure you get in having some silly girl wipe your face and hands and look solicitous when you aigh, and comb your hair and tell you what a fine-shaped head you have, and hold your hands every time you have an imaginary pain? Max, T am ashamed of you!” MAX: “You are losing your tact. The right way to talk to a man when he is sick is to call him a martyr and a hero instead of an imbecile." SALLY: “I suppose that’s the sort | of soothing syrup that nurse hands t you? I see it is time 1 came home! from Paris and took you in charge. How many, many times are you gi- ine to make it necessary for me to j save you from other v. gfnen?" M AX “Save me forXvhom?” tThe rocker, which had swayed I rapidly when the Imaginary Sally wot scolding me. stopped short. There is a silence. Then it begins to sway again, hut the Imaginary Bally has turned her head so that T can not «°e her face, and she changes the sub- i ject when she begins talking.) SALLY: “I suppose you know th-it Jack is with me in Paris? That nseanj , 1 have something more to do than to j match ribbons and laces. The widow is tfiere, too." MAX: “You did not say for whoos you want to save me?” RALLY: "I am moat cordial wltjs her. So cordial and so delighted when ; I hear Jack is with her that he is growing suspicious. He asked me thl* morning when dressing for breakfast 1 if I was growing tired of him and wanted to get rid of him.” MAX: "Do you"” SALLY: “I hope you will be satis fied with the winter clothes I bought for Manette. They ‘ost more tlmn ever before, hut the child is no longer h baby *o be confined to the company of her nurse and governess, and must dress better. You will laugh when I tell you there is a party dress •** MAX: “I don’t care what you bought. 1 never care. It doesn’t in terest me and never haa, and you know' I never look at the hills. The nurse aays ” SALLY: "And 1 don’t care what the nurse says, f think it very un kind in you, Max, to quote that nurse 1 to me when I have such a short time to stay. I have a good notion to come back home and diHcharge her You are able to travel now. and can he taken home where Richards anil ' Tompkins and I can nurse you, or g* t j a man nurse for that matter” MAX: “I don't want a man nurse, There would he none of that delight ful senne of danger with a man nurse Hnd I refuse to have one. Fancy me getting lonely in the long hours of tin night and calling for my nurse to come and sit beside me and smooth tny fnreherfTl and hold mv hand, and having a great big. ugly, whiskered man appear! I won't have it! I am sick, and prick people always hav< what they want, and 1 want my pre. ty nurse. 1 think you are very self lsh, Sally, to begrudge me the onH coupensatlon Hckness affords a man a prvmpathy that demands no chap, eron." (The rocker stopped swinging back and forth The imaginary Sally ip i looking away off into the woods, hut 1 fancy »he doesn’t see the royal color of scarlet and gold the trees have put on Perhaps ther« are tears in her eyes, and the colors she see* seem rain-draggled. She turns and when she speaks again her voice is low , and has a note of helplessness In it that j distresses me.) SALLY: "It is all a tangle, my lift and Jack’s and yours. 1 have tried so hard to he good, Mon hut with a husband who strays after every new petticoat, apd whom I can't love with- | out compelling myself to love him. ; and with the man I do love throwing i himself away on a woman who can never care for him a a I have cared i for years--why, Max, I—I don’t know w hat to do!" (It la my turn to look at the trees! without seeing their beauty It seems to me now that all T «*iw was a little narrow' path that wound In and out among the gold-flecked shadows of the woods, and that lost itself some where In their depths. It would be fine to take Sally by the hand and lead her down that path and never know Its ending! I am Interrupted In my muslngs bv a sudden move ment by Sally. She has r!f*en, and has come to me, and has thrown her arms around mv neck and is kissing me In the manner o # which T have often dreamed. Good men are good also in their dreams. But hre there | any ~ood men** He Wonders. HALLY: “I won't Rive yon up! kept the widow from marrying you. and I warn you I will keep the pretty nurse from getting you if I have to go to the limit I want you for myself. I have wanted you for years Every hour of the day and night I have thought only of you, though every one believed I was such a devoted wife. I deceived even "ou! I haven’t been good In ni'- thoughts, hut no woman who doesn’t love her hunband Is good In her thoughts. It is Impos sible. Max! I don’t love my huoband, and 1 do love you, and I know!" A clock In Mrs. Allen’s dining room strikes, and even when a woman is making love to a man she can’t keep a dressmaker waiting Evidently it reminded my dream visitor of the garment waiting n fitting In the Bon Marche, for before it had ceased striking the hour Sally was gone. But I wonder if she Is that kind of a Sally in her thoughts. The tennis court and golf links at night. ao longer are the willfully uuathletic to have the ex cuse that they cannot play outside games because of the pressure of business. Artificially lit lawn courts and a golf links have come into being, as these photographs bear witness. The courts and the “course” in question are at the Woodbury Country Club, at Woodbury, N. J., and were designed anil installed by Thomas J. J.i. i . ■ .. The light is applied by the latest type of incandescent gas lamps, which), it is claimed, are better for the purpose than electric, lights. There are four lawn tennis courts. The golf “course”—for putting only—is 80 feet long by 40 feet widoj, and has nine holes. Poor Mrs. Craig .:. IKS BELINDA dropped *tth * tired sigh Into a seat on her own porch and her brother Ben frowned at her with disapproval “I^ook here, young woman." he be gan sternly, “how long are you going to ke^o this thing up? First thing you know I’ll have to send for a trained nurse for you or at least pack you off to a rest cure at safe distance from the Hraigs ’’ "Nonsense, Ben, I’m all right. You greatly exaggerate what I do for poor Mrs. Craig ” "Well, I don’t exaggerate when 1 tell you that you have passed forty-two hours with poor Mrs. Craig in the last week. I have kept time on you." "How ridiculous to do that! I'd no idea, though, that I’d been at the farm so much. 6UI1. it would be simply brutal not to do what I can for Mrs. Craig when she is ill, and there’s no one hut the boys to wait on her or do any thing about the house. The boys are very busy in the fields Just now. too." "Why in the name of all that’s sensi ble doesn’t she keep a girl?" "1 think she would if she could find one. Girls are scarce in this neighbor hood." "What’s the matter with that little Molly Johnson you sometimes have to help Norah? Why couldn’t she work for Mrs Craig?" "Well,” Miss Belinda laughed, "the matter with Molly is that her eyes are much too blue and her cheeks quite too pink. Do you imagine Mrs Craig is keen on offering that particular kind of temptation to her bachelor sons?" Not to Rest. “It’s an outrage that she should de- I*»nd upon her neighbors to take care of her and run her house. 1 hope you’ll have sense enough to stay at home this afternoon and rest ” "I shall stay at home " "And rest?” "Well, part of the time, perhaps; but now I must make a cake." "Why not let Norah make the cake* If- she can’t we can easily go without it." "Oh. this cake isn't for us. To-mor row is Jimmie Craig's birthday and poor Mrs Craig is terribly disappointed be cause she isn't able to make angel s food for him. It seems that that great six- footer, who looks as if he had never tasted anything leas substantial than pork and beans, quite dotes on angel’s food." "You little woolly lamb! So you promised to make him one Why don't vou crochet him a necktie, too?" "In order to reinstate myself in your good opinion let me tell you that I have persuaded Mrs Craig to get a woman with a cmld. who win be glad to have a country home. I know there are plenty of them and I’ve written to Fan nie Drayton to find one through her settlement work." "That’s a good Idea. Be sure to order one with dull eyes and sallow cheeks. By the way. here’s a letter from Fannie that came while you were gone.” Miss Belinda’s face brightened as she read the letter. "Fannie says she knows a rood woman with a dear little girl that she would love to bring up in the country. Oh, Ren, Isn’t it splendid? Fannie had been hunting for Just such a chance for the widow and what a good thing it will he to poor Mrs. Craig! I must write Fannie to send her at once." "No, I’ll call her up on the long-dis tance and ask her to send them out to morrow " ljtte the next afternoon Miss Belinda and her brother drove to the station and returned with a capable but snd- looking mother and child After giving them a comfortable anppar Mtss Be linda conveyed them to the Craig farm, where, through her offices, they were expected. Her Story. “It will be a relief to know that poor Mrs. Craig has some one to look after her and the housekeeping," said Miss Belinda that night. But when the next day came the woman and the child came also, with the tidings that Mrs. Craig had sent them away. "There must he some misunderstand ing.” sighed Miss Belinda. "You rest here and I’ll run over to the farm and have a talk with Mrs. Craig." When she returned, looking discour aged. her brother said. "Well, how about it?” "Ben. Just think of it! That woman was actually willing to work for the hoard of herself and the little girl, but Mrs. Craig was vexed because she washed out the child's one little frock this morning She said she couldn’t af ford to furnish laundry soap for the child’s washing! When I remonstrated against her losing good help for such a small matter, she said, very blandly, ’With such a good neighbor as you. Miss Belinda 1 don’t see that I really need any hired help * " “Well, I’ll be Jiggered! But hew about our overhasty importation? What’s to be done with the woman and child ?" "They’re to stay here and build up on country air and good food for a while, and then I’ll try to find them a perma nent home You don't mind their staying here, do you. Ben?" "Oh, no. But I must make one re quest, Belinda, and that is that you won’t talk to me any more about your poor Mrs Craig " Handsome Is- "Why. haven’t I been good to you? Ix>ok at the handsome engagement ring I gave you.” "Yes. I took it down to a pawnshop the other day to see what I could get on it, and he asked me what 1 wanted for it—marbles or skipping rope.” Leather chairs often become greasy looking where the arms and head rest on the leather. To remove these marks try linseed oil. Boil half a pint of oil and let It stand until nearly cold, then pour in half a pint of vinegar. Stir till it is well mixed, and bottle, when It Is ready for use. Put a few drops on a flannel and polish with soft duster. This will thoroughly renovate all leather. Tn cases of emergency a kettle or saucepan can he heated over a candle by the following means: Stand two chairs (with rungs) fairly near to gether. Place a lighted candle on the floor between the two. Then lay a pair of flre-tongs across the runftn of the two chairs and on the tongs place a small kettle or saucepan Imme diately over the candle. The water does not take long to boil. Flatirons become rusty if left in a damp place or it put away flat when warm. Rub them first with beeswax, then with dry. coarse salt, using a short, hard brush. When heating irons it is wise to remove them from a lighted gas-ring after a few min utes have elapsed, and to wipe away the tiny specks of moisture which will he found to have formed. To remove smoke-mark* from ceil ings. mix a thick paste of starch and water, and with a clean flannel spread It over the mark. Allow' It to get thoroughly dry. then brush off with a soft brush and the marks will have disappeared. Before using table oilcloth, paste at each comer on the w’rong side a square of cotton. This prevents the corners from wearing out as soon as they otherwise' would. To keep bread hoards a beautiful color, rub them well with half a lemon; then wash them in cold water, and stand them in the wind or in the sun to dry. During hot weather small bags of muslin filled with charcoal should he hung In the pantry on either side of the meat. This will keep it fresh in the hottest weather. When cooking liver and bacon get a sour apple, slice it very finely, and add It to the gravy. This will Im part a delicious flavor, which Is a great improvement. To give potatoes a flavor add half a teaspoonful of sugar, as well as salt, when boiling. This does not make them too sweet, but gives a delicious flavor. Tactful. Kind words may he more than coronets, and simple faith may heat Norman blood to a frazzle; hut. after all, tact is the possession most dear and most useful to the human race. Mr. Daniels thought so. too. When he left the house he had left Mrs. Daniels with a lady friend, whose abilities as a scandal-monger and mischief-maker are pre-eminent. When he returned he Just poked his head into the drawing room. “That old cat gone. I suppose?" he said, with a sigh of relief. For Just an instant there was a dreadful silence, for as he uttered the la*t word he encountered the stony glare of the lady who had been in his mind. Then Mrs. Daniels spoke quite calmly. “The old cat?" she said. "Oh. yes. dear. I sent It to the Cats’ Home in a basket first thing this morning!" His] .ove A CHARMING SHORT STORY I N the wild and inaccessible canyon of the Tlmok River, which forms the boundary line between Servia and Bulgaria, lies a little mountain hamlet, Vardak. In days of old, while the Christian Serbs were fighting their Turkish op pressors. Vardak was the refuge of hundreds from Turkish violence. From this village they renewed their fight with new vigor. Nowadays Var dak is a peaceful village seldom vis ited by strangers. The inhabitants know little or nothing of the out side world and many generations died without knowing anything of the great national movement which swept the country. Even when the great war of liberation set all Serbian hearts aflame the storm of enthusi asm hardly touched Vardak. Only old Ljuba and three other men, armed to the teeth, descended into the valley to fight the arch enemy, but none of them ever returned and after a few years they were completely forgotten. It was taken for granted that they had lost their lives fighting the Turks, for what Serbian peasant would not have hurried pack to his houee and hearth if he went through the war unharmed ? In this quiet, remote village. Mia den grew up. When his father. Ljuba, descended Into the valley to fight the Turks he was still a baby, and now when he had grown into a tall and powerful young man, and earned his living herding the cat tle of the rich peasant. Arsen, did nor remember a single feature of his father’s. But when he looked at the old rusty arms on the walls in the miserable hut he had inherited from his mother, or when he listened to old blind Jezdirpir’s tales of the feats of his ancestors, the cruelties of the enemy and the desperate fights he saw before his inner eye an Image of father, as a tall, broad-shouldered warrior, thirst ! ng for adventure and revenge, and often while he was herd ing his cattle near the river he dreamed of himself fighting the Turks and returning home as a hero cov ered with glory. He saw Arsen run ning to meet him. embracing him and crying: "You are a brave fellow. Mladen, and as a reward, lam happy to accept you a» my daughter Millt- za's husband." Mladen loved Mllitza. though she did not know it. How should Milltza. the richest girl in the village, aboutJj whom all the young men were fight- .| ing., have suspected that her father’s! humbled hireling dared raise his eye&j to her” His Secret. Mladen kept the secret of his 1ot»p to him.'elf. and did not even men titan It to old Jezdimir. Then the wonderful thing happen-wd. One wintry day. when a terrible bliz zard was raging In the mountains And Vardak was entirely cut off from the world, a etranger arrived in the vil lage. He went straight to the /rich Arson’s farm and said that he was Sergeant Janko Viluttn, and that the King of Belgrade had declared war against Bulgaria and now calhfd all men to the colors. Every man capable of bearing arms must meet at Zijecar within 24 hours. This was the message of the King, and when Mladen heard it his^ heart began beating wildly and he began to think of all the stories Jezdimir had told him of wild, cruel-/looking men swinging their bloody scimitars and singing thofr rongs of war; but when he heard 'that he was to fight the Bulgarians., not the Turks, he shook his head.. This seemed so un natural. The Bulgarians living on the other side otf the Timok were good Christians, prating to the same saints as the Serbs. But, of course, the mighty King In Belgrade musuknow what he is doing, and it is not , for an ignorant peas ant to trouble his brain trying tv» understand his orders. The King had Issued an ortfer, and all the men of Vardak obeyed and hurried to get ready for their departure. He is Picked. There weoe twenty young men al together. and among these was Mladen. TJhey were to leave for Zizecar at dawn the next day. Many a mother clasped her young son In her arms#aaid many a young girl cried until her^ejyesi were red at the thought that she might never see her lover again. bu|t nobody wept for Mladen. for he ha i neither parents nor sweet heart. Rut the rich Arsen supplied him well, with provisions and Mllitza shook liter hand cordially and present ed him with a holy ikon of the Vir gin. When she felt how his hand trembled in hers she as*ked in sur prise: "Why do you tremble so. Mladery?" But Mladen did not answer. He let go/her hand, and silently and with bowed] head he joined his comrades. • * • Two brother nations that only a few 'pears previous had been sighing under the same yoke were now at war. a senseless war of foolish am- bitioqi. Bloody battles were fought at F/Uvetza. Zarlnrod and Pirot. The Bulgarians were victorious and the Ser*>s fled demoralized and in wild disorder, an army of ragged and ex- ha’trated crealures, thousands of whom fm<nd their deaths in the blizzard in th‘/» mountains near Pirot. When night fell, the fate of the Serbs was sealed. 'Among the thousands who re- ir/ained on the battlefield was Mladen. Ai shell had torn away his right leg and the wheel of an ammunition cart Rad crushed his chest. But Mladen (fid not want to die. He felt no pain, ’put was warm and comfortable now that the blizzard had stopped and the /moon was making night almost as {bright as day. He raised his head and across his pale lips came the sound of a name, and she whose name he called bent down over him with a tender smile, and asked: “Why do you tremble. Mladen ?" And he told her why. for now he f^lt as brave as never before: "I love you, Milltza." And she did not grow angry at all. She smiled and looked at him kindl\ with her big blue eyes and he felt her warm breath on his cheek. He could not control himself any longer. H* threw his arms passionately aroun her neck. And while his hot, fever ish hands caught hold of the frozen grass. Mladen fell back into the snow and with a happy smile on his lipe lie gave up his young soul. EXCURSION TO BIR MINGHAM. $2.50 round trip, Septem ber 22. Special train leaves Old Depot 8:30 a. m. SEA BOARD. A novel use of compressed air is made by railway companies in the Southern States of America. When the loads of cotton are being taken to the coast there is always danger of their becoming damaged through sparks from the locomotives. To pre vent this, the locomotive boilers are filled with compressed air. A train load of several thousand bales of cot ton can be hauled by these locomo tives at a rate of twelve miles an hour, although no fire is used in working them. Following the proposal for a tax on bachelors in France, the societv “La Race Francaise” suggests that every male citizen who either has nu'. three children alive or who has not reared three children to the age of 21 should be taxed $5.50 a year for each child below the number of three This would apply to both bachelors and married men. Such a tax, it is estimated, would produce about $100,- 000,000 a year. Doubtless the most unique spot in Europe Is the little village of Alten- berg, on whose border three coun tries meet. It is ruled by no mon arch. has no soldiers, no police, and no taxes. Its inhabitants speak a curious Jargon of French and Ger man combined, and spend their days in cultivating the land or' working in the valuable calamine mine of which the village boasts. rpHK season of the rose sellers Is now J at Us highest in the topsy-turvy ancient City of Moscow, which, in spite of it» stucco German buildings aud miniature skyscrapers, still seems | to recall the East at every corner of Its tortuous streets. Even the rose-sellers here are differ- ! ent from the pale-faced, tired-looking men and women who ply the same trade in the great cities of Western Europe. Every morning when the dawn is Just beginning to break, and the sun, like a | great ball of fire, Is forcing Its way up Into the silver-gray sky. they take their stand—a ragged, barefooted band of smiling urchins—on the new bridge be side the Brest station. This bridge is one of the finest struc tures in Moscow At one end is the Arc DeTriomphe, guarding the way to the Tverskaia. the Piccadilly of Moscow. At the other is the boulevard which twines its way through the great beeches and sycamores of the Petrovsky Park, in which are situated Yar, Streil- na, Mauretania and the other boisterous pleasure gardens of Moscow nightlife. The bridge is thus the boundary be tween the prosaic, businesslike Teu tonic Moscow of the daytime and the extravagantly riotous, nocturnal Moscow of the Slav. On its friendly parapet the ! little rose-sellers take their seats, dan- | gllng their half-raked legs against the ! stone, singing snatches of Russian folk songs, and waiting patiently for the re turn of the belated pleasure-seekers to their daily task. Suddenly a “lekhatch"—a swift vic toria with large rubber tires—or a motor car. is heard afar off in the silent still ness of the early morning. Some twelve or thirteen ragamuffins spring from their places and race to the middle of the street. There is a quiet patter of naked feet on the rough, jagged cob bles. For a moment the little band keeps t»ace with the passing vehicle. The sellers jostle and push each other in their eagerness, and with little re gard for their own safety snatch a per ilous foothold on the splashboard. And all the while a fire of pleading requests j is kept up Incessantly. "Buy a rose, master!” “Fresh roses, my lady? A double for [ six.” "See, master. I am hungry. I have eaten nothing since yesterday morning. Buy a rose radee Christa." He Buys. And if the fat, pleasure-sated man in the carriage shows little sign of yield - • ing to these entreaties, the tired painted ! woman by his side is more sympathetic and compels her companion to open his purse. Besides she wants the flowers. They remind her of long-forgotten days and of the many things that might have been. In this way does the little army exact its toll from the passing stream of car riages' and cars Life is hard, and the bent, worn-out mother, who, as a "tender" in the cot ton mills, keeps the family alive on 4 the princely wage of thirteen rubles a ! month, has need of all the copecks her ! fourteen-year-old son can collect. Rivalry is, therefore, keen in this ! children’s trade, but on the whole there is no bullying, no jealousy, no 111 feel- j ing. Occasionally, however, in the race ' for first place, “desire outruns perform ance." and the movement of the thin, bony legs is unable to keep pace with the eagerness of the mind. Motor cars are comparatively rare in J Moscow, and the rose sellers have not j yet learned to judge their deceptive pace with the same nicety as their London prototypes. And so sometimes it happens that the bridge is a silent witness of a little tragedy. Suddenly there is a startled shout of warning from the driver. The car takes a wide swerve to the side. A piercing shriek rings out in the cold morning air A sickening thud follows. The car stops, while a policeman comes forward with his notebook. The little fellow Is taken into the car and driven off to the nearest police station. In a few minutes the street resumes its normal appearance, and the ragged little sellers return to their "beat” on the bridge. They are sorry, of course, as far as it lies in their power to he sorry, but the battle for bread knows no respite and the world of pleasure must still be fed. street. The neighbors gaze at her lazily, curiously, and exchange guesses as to the exact nature of the crime Maria Vasilyevna has committed. At the ouchastok she is ushered Into the superintendent’s office. He has a harsh voice, but he looks at her not unkindly “See. little mother,” he says etam- merlngly, while he shuffles on the floor with his heavy topboots, "there has been an accident." She bows her head resignedly. “It is my Pavel, is it not?” The officer nods assent. He takes her into another room and shows her the poor, emaciated body with the white, pinched face and the wide open, startled eyes. The little hand is clenched tight ly over a bunch of faded roses, as though the instinct of self-preservation so keenly developed amongst the very poor had not left him even in death. "Is that your son?" he asks. Identified. The answering "Yes” is swallowed up In the muttering of a prayer. As gently as he can the officer leads her back into his office. The law must be carried out, and the body has to he identified. He shows her where to make her mark in his hook, for she can not write her name. For a moment she stands with clasped hands, her eyes fixed on the room which she has Just left. "Maye I take the roses with me?" she asks pleadingly. The reply is in the affirmative. She goes back to the bare, cold mor tuary. A bunch of faded roses Is lying beside the corpse. Greedily, cunningly, as though afraid that the officer might change his mind, and without a thought for the body beside her, she gathers up the precious bundle. She counts them over once, twice, lest there by any mis take, then, with a quiet good-bye, she takes her leave. Once In her own home she puts the flowers in water, but the faded petals refuse to resume their appearance of freshness. "The devil takes them." she mutters disgustedly. "They are not worth ten copeck—not even on the Tverskaia." She takes a needle and pricks the long green stems in a last effort to re vive them, but the flowers are as dead as the child whom she has just left. Clocks are now made to run five years with once winding up. In 1881 the Belgian Government placed one of these in a railway station and sealed it. It has kept capital time, having been six times wound—in 1886. 1891. 1896. 1901, 1905 and 1911: and there is a clock in the Church of St. Quentin, in Mayence, which has only stopped once during a period of 500 years. “Aladdin’s lamp, In good working order, price 500,000 pounds.” is the inscription on a card attached to a curious-looking lamp exposed for sale in the sihop-window of a Kingston antique dealer. A pen-nib is a little thing, yet there is more «*teel used in the manufac ture of nibs than in all the sword and gun factories in the world. A ton of steel produces about 1,500,000 pens. The cost of the navies’ of the world last year aggregated $725,000,000. Figures compiled by the Depart ment of Inland Revenue at Ottawa show that the people of Canada la^r year smoked 975,325,501 cigarettes, an increase of nearly 200,000,000 over the figures for 1911. The Other Side. In a little by-street across the river, in the dirtiest part of the town, a frail, shriveled-up little woman is busily en gaged in cleaning out her room. She swears gently to herself every few min utes. The samovar has been ready for over an hour and her brat of a boy has not yet come home. Most likely he has gone off with the other lads to play pitch and toss. She Is still meditating on the punishment she will certainly mete 3ut to him, when a knock at the door disturbs her, and the great, gruff voice of the door keeper rings out: “Maria Vasilyevna! Maria Vasilyevna! You are wanted at the police station at once.” A policeman pushes his way into the room. VVonderingly she w*raps a shawl about her head and totters out into the Yet, though with a sense of grief Comes with the falling leaf. And memory makes the summer doubly pleasant, In all my autumn dreams A future summer gleams. Passing the fairest glories of the present. —George Arnold. Let the sweet heavens endure. Nor close and darken above me Before I am quite, quite sure That there is one to love me, J' Then let come what may To a life that has been so sad, I shall have rriy day. —From "Maud.** When I sail to the Fortunate Islands Over the violet sea. May one friend, my heart’s friend. Be there, a-sail with me. On the breast of the deep, sweet waters, In the arms of the white spray, Sailing, sailing, sailing. Till we come to Haven Bay. In the peace of the Fortunate Islands, By wood, and hill and shore. May one friend, my soul’s friend, Abide with me evermore. —Louis McQuilland. The world wants men, large-hearted, manly men; Men who shall join the chorus and prolong The psalm of labor and the psalm of love. —Selected. —LILIAN LATTFERTY. Nothing In It. “I regard conversation as a gift,* remarked the studious wn-u^in. “It usually is." replied ^iss Cay enne. “If people had to pay for it there would be much les* of it." INDIGESTION? Stop it quickly; 77your grocer send you one qv- bottles of SHIVA R GINGER ALE Drink with meals, and if not prompt ly relieved, get your money back at our expense. Wholesome, deli cious, refreshing. Prenared with the celebrated Shivar Mineral Water and the purest flavoring materials. SHIVAR SPRING, Manufacturers SHELTON, S. C. K. L. ADAMS CO., Distributors. Atlanta, A Weak Stomach ? dL Have you indigestion or dys pepsia, a torpid liver or any other of the many ills com ing from a weak stomach ? DR. PIERCE'S Golden ftfedicaj Discovery for forty years has done a “lion’s share” in eliminating these distressing ailments. Order a Bottle from Your Druggist today II Agnes Scott College The Session Will Open Wednesday, September 17th, 10 o’Gock A. M. The Committee on Admission of Students will meet at the College Monday and Tuesday, 9 o’clock to 12:30, for classification of new students. All desiring to apply for admission to College urged to meet the Committee Monday or Tuesday. Dor mitories will not be open until Tuesday.