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Charity That Begins at Home Often Gets Cold Feet
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Beauty Secrets of Beautiful Women
Florence Moore Discusses the Wrinkle Problem
By MAUDE MILLER.
“Wr
pE) hear so much about
beauty and what constitutes
Whether the beautiful
r M la the girl with perfect features
the girl who possesses a clean and
ealthy mind. But I maintain that
no girl, no matter how perfect a* to
facial characteristics, no matter how
pure aa to mind and soul, oan be
beautiful if she does not express
grace of movement and freedom lo
express this grace.
Oh, I am heartily disguated with
ili the absurd freaks of fashion that
n-e call our beautiful women.” These
were the exact words of Miss Flor
ence Moore of the Winter Garden
Company when I asked her for her
.deas on beauty. “The extreme styles
mat are being worn by the ultra-
fashionable set of to-day are spoil-
AT BAY A Thrilling Story of
Society Blackmailers
(Nov«llred fcy>
(From the play by George Scar
borough, now being presented at the
Thirty-ninth Street Theater, New York.
Serial rights held and copyrighted by
International News Service.)
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
A LINE was leaning for support
against the grehl library table—
insensate wood aided her to
stand, and the man who would willingly
have supported the woman he loved —
and so trusted—against all the world,
must stand aloof and wait his Lady’s
pleasure.
“Won't you lock that door?” asked
the priest, breaking the throbbing si
lence.
“It has a spring lock. Father.”
Then he turned to the girl, who
drooped before him.
“Dear lady, you make me the proud
est man in all the world.
And so Lawrence Holbrook offered
this girl of a blasted life the finest de
votion in all the world—for if ‘’perfect
love casteth out fear,” Is not the love
that still must trust because it never
sees the need of doubt, thougli doubt
lies all about—is not such love the most
perfect thing that can be given woman?
The Warning.
Miss Florence Moore and Her Smiie.
n § forever the grace which ought to
e second nature to every sensible
£ h’l who expresses her Ideas in her
Movements with the freedom and
°erty of a young animal. But still
this bugbear of society flourishes—
the narrow skirt. Freedom has been
Riven to some extent in the slashing
of the skirt, in the introduction of
invisible side pleatings, in cunningly
devised draperies and other things
'Tom the clever brains of those who
would make us fashionable. But the
narrow skirt is still with us.
“If we would have proper lines we
must have the narrow skirt, and the
narrower the skirt at the bottom, the
more truly chic and remarkable for
flaring originality is our costume.
The narrow skirt has come to stay.’
^‘e hear the words on all sides, but i
**t me tell you something else that
18 coming in the wake of the narrow
'k!rt Wrinkles. How can a woman
maintain a happy expression when
pended and therefore lowered vitality
ensue? But the active girl is n-ot
necessarily energetic, she is not work-*
ing off an attack of surplus nerves,
she is simply naturally active and
needs unlimited space to move about
in, just as a flower needs the weeds
removed about It before it can grow
she is forced to mince along Fifth properly. Otherwise the sensitive
avenue in an expensive gown which | temperament of the growing girl will
will be irrevocably ruined if she hap- find an outlet for Its natural activity
in some other way,
way always results
and that other
in harm to ths
pens to take one step a little longer
than the ordinary artificial gait that
she has been forced to adopt. And so ! individual. y
there is constant worry, constant "Grace means everything to those
fear of accidents in which you would who would attain beauty, and grace is
be powerless to help yourself, a con- ! a talent which is given to every on*
stant deepening if ever so little of alike. It remains with the individual
worry lines, which have come to stay,
and which are developing into genu
ine wrinkles just as fast as they
can.
"And now. perhaps, you defenders
of the narrow skirt will say that if it
is possible to make anything habitual,
why not the narrow skirt 0 Why
should unnecessary energy be ex-
to develop that talent or to s-mother
it in the dreadful tolls of what fash
ion decrees. It Is time for every girl
r.o be awake and on her guard lest she
be deprived of her liberty. Don't for
get about the parable of the man with
the ten talents, girls, you have the
gift of grace within your grasp, you
may have poetry of motion for the
asking.”
Up-to-Date Jokes
A traveling salesman died suddenly
and was taken to his home. His rela
tives telephoned to the nearest florist,
*ome miles distant, to make a wreath.
The ribbon should be extra wide, witn
the inscription, “Rest in Peace,” on
both sides, and if there was room, "We
shall meet In Heaven.”
The florist was away, and his new
assistant handled the job. It was a
startling floral piece which -turned up
a t the funeral. The ribbon was extra
"^ide and bore the inscription. "Heat in
peace on both sides, and if there >s
r °om we shall meet in Heaven."
* * *
it's a great pity,” said the convict
ed burglar to his counsel, “that you
ouldn’t have made that closing
speech of yours at the opening of 'he
case.”
“I don’t see how that would fiave
improved matters.” said the advocate.
T( would, though." < xplained hi»
‘‘cnt. “Then the jury would have
been asleep when the evidence came
on and I’d have stood some chance.”
♦ * *
A Massachusetts minister was
making his first visit to Kentucky
several years ago. He had to spend
th e night in a small town, where
euds and moonshine stills abounded.
Engaging in conversation with one
the natives, he said:
“My friend, this a very bibulous
®’ a te, l hear.”
Bor,” replied the man. "there
, *^i, replied me nmu,
bain’t 25 Bibles in all Kentucky.'
A teacher in a certain
- ill li»» ICBBUU. J Hinn., i*''
, * succeeded, and, drawing a lon w
hr ? a tb, remarked:
if it wasn’t for me you would be
’be greatest donkey in this town.”
Seeking a Husband
By CONSTANCE CLARKE.
II, is that the way you make
them. Mary?”
“Sure an’ Miss Peggy, how
did you think you’d be makin’ them?’
“Oh, cut a hole out of the middle of
each round thing, and fill it up with
jelly, and bake it.”
Mary interrupted with a burst of
hilarious laughter, and as 1 patted and
pinched the crust for the tarts. I de
cided that it must be harder to be a
cook than a nurse.
"You put the jelly in afterwards,”
said Mary, as she shoved the pan into
the oven. And r, full of pride that I
was doing my first bit of baking for
Dr. Hammond, who was coming down
to dinner settled back in the big kitchen
chair to wait for the tarts to bake
Mary bustled around the kitchen in
the most businesslike way, and I
sighed and looked reflectively out
through the glass door of the laundry.
It was raining, just the kind of a steady
rain that made me long for the cool
pink and white couch up in the den,
and that book that had just corn? up
from the library. I tugged absently at
my apron, and then with my thoughts
still far away I woke to the fact that
Mary was speaking to me.
/ “Sure an’ Miss Peggy, why don't
you run upstairs and let me take care
of the tarts? Who’s to know the dif
ference. child?”
But I said decidedly: “No. Mary, I
must do it my own self. Next time
I'll know just how it’s all done, and
Dr. Hammond just loves tarts.
The tinkle of the telephone, ana I
fl "o!Tes. this U Miss Dear,; O. Dr.
Hammond ?
Yes.
I'm very busy.
expecting company for dinner.
“You’re not coming. W hy . O, of
can t in a case like that.
and get
course you
IV v do people have to go and get mayea race.
anvwav? Yes, of course. I un- an . Miss I*.
derstanr!; don't you need me to help? i fuck, next j
that help-ngnatural
dersta..
I wish I could
"Do you really
some. Anyway, I needed you to help
me cheer up. It’s such a horrod day.
Oh, yes. and we re going to have tarts
for dinner. Yes, I know you’d be sorry.
Next time? Well, maybe. You see I’m
making them, and ”
“Of course I can cook. Please don’t
jolly. Oh, no you won’t, you’ll be too
busy to miss even the tarts.”
“The tarts, perhaps, not you”—the
words sang across the wire, and I sat
down on the stairs in the dark and re
flected. He really did want to come.
And the thought that he would miss me
even in the rush of an accident case,
and the deepening of his voice when he
said those last words—my face burned,
and I put mv fingers up over my eyes
and wondered what had come over me.
Just thn. I wanted to be a nures more
than anything else in the world, because
1 wanted to be where he was. Then I
allowed myself to dwell upon the de
lights of being a hospital nurse. The
fascinating smell of the place, the rest-
lesness and rush of it all. And then as
it all came back to me that aftrnoon
when I had first met him, the shine of
his haid under the electric light and the
funny little impulse I had to rumple ir
up. I smiled and thought it a good
thing that men do not always know
what we women are thinking about.
Peggy dear, you are elarning. every day
you know a little more, and yet you’re
a little frightened, you might as well
j fess up. Things are so very, very
strange, and you don’t know yourself
as well as you thought you did, do you?”
"Miss Peggy, Miss Peggy." came
Mary’s stentorian tones from the kit
chen. “your tarts are burnin'. sure, miss,
you’d better be tendin’ to them.”
And I flew to the rscue. “It’s all
right to be a nurse. Peggy," I scolded
severely as 1 pulled out the smoking
pastry from the oven, “but it strikes
me that you’d better learn to be a good
cook first.” But I felt a whole lot bet
ter when Mary, laughing at my dis
mayed face, said god-naturedlv, “Bure
’ eggy, you never know your
ime you’ll be havin’ better
ith your tarts, too” Mary is a
1 born philosopher. *
“Don’t waste a minute. Miss Graham
has serious news for you. Captain.” said
the Father earnestly.
“THEY’RE COMING TO ARREST
YOU.”
The girl tried to strengthen herself
to meet this new horror—the horror of
having the man who loved her arrested
—in her stead
His reply was almost casual "My
dear lady. Father Shannon will tell you
that an arrest to an Irishman reads as
a form of compliment.”
Aline went on with grim purpose
nerving her.
“A MAN HAS BEEN KILLED TO
NIGHT CAPTAIN HOLBROOK’.”
Could the girl find strength to say
more than this? Can a loving woman
say to ^ > man she must deny, “Your
goddess is no goddess after all—she is
a murderer?” If a woman must deny
herself the glory of a true man’s devo
tion, can she find the greatest courage
to shatter that devotion?
“I saw the body,” said the Captain
simply.
“Judson Flagg." shuddered Aline.
“The same.”
.“Our door-bell rang—it startled me—
I was—I was up and awake—and—I
looked oyer the banisters—Chief Demp
ster to see my father—in the hall he
spoke your name ”
The girl’s frail body swayed—her
strength was failing her purpose.
“Take it gently—and \sit down, my
dear. Father, need she torture herself
more?”
“Hear her out. Captain,” replied the
Father in a firm tone.
“I went downstairs and listened at
the door as they talked In the library
the chief phoned police headquar
ters—the railway stations were to be
watched—you were to be arrested your
self Oh, Captain, a kind of panic
seized me all in a moment I was
.dressed there was only one person
I could think of to help me out—to help
YOU—I went out of the back door—and
over to him.”
“To keep me from being arrested?”
asked the Captain tenderly. Why, she
had been thinking of him, even while
he had been working for her!
A Line Tells All.
“ ’Twas her first and last thought.
Tell him all the story, daughter,’’ said
the man of God, very gently.
“ALL?” quavered Aline.
The father nodded.
“Just as you told it to me.”
Just a few hours before the girl had
laughed easily at her lover, “I have
told you that I do not love you! You're
a quaint soul. Captain.” In her hour
of tragedy she could not lie to her own
soul—she did love this man—love him
with all the forbidden glory of her
wounded heart, and her own deed had
made that love a thing to be denied—
and her crown of martyrdom was that
she must tell him all—all her sad story.
She looked at her captain with half
parted lips—and all her soul yearning
to waft its message from her eyes.
And then she moaned at the hurt of
it all: “Oh, must I tell?”
“Not a word—unless you want to,”
expostulated the captain.
The Father spoke in encouragement:
“I know him. my dear! It’s best to
tell him.”
Aline moistened her dry lips. When
the lips have a dreaded office of speech
to perform, blood of life and color flees
from them and the motive power for
all-revealing words threatens to fall.
She tried to control herself. “I ”
“My dear girl,” protested the captain.
How shall a man endure while the
woman he loves is made to torture
herself?
The girl sank into a chair and gazed
hopelessly into the future she had pre
pared for herself
Time and the tides of life seemed held
in the moment from the flood to ebb.
Aline prepared to see even the gift of
forbidden love go out from her life.
Perhaps it was only a second before
she spoke—but her soul grew to wom
anhood In that, flash across the face
of eternity.
“I killed him,” breathed Aline Gra
ham
For a moment she sank forward
against Ihe table. Then she rose and
tottered to Father Shannon, and hold
ing out her hands to him stood with
bowed head waiting the verdict.
In haste—as if defending her from
her very priest, Larry Holbrook voiced
his ultimate faith and trust.
“She defended herself. Why, Aline,
don't let it drive ihe color from your
cheek “
Amazed beyond ail human bel.eving.
Aline came back toward Holbrook and
gazed up at his strong, tender fate.
“And they think YOU did it!"
Larry waved it away as if this were
the merest trifle
“Oh. no, they don’t think that—but
they think—I KNOW.’’
“And you did know." The Father
spoke the words in slow wonder at the
beauty of soul he was seeing ever more
Strongly revealed in the buoyant nature
of the lad—of almost forty—the lad he
loved!
Very tenderly the man spoke to the
girl: “YES—l KNEW!”
Scorched by the sirocco winds of her
own shame, the girl blanched to even
greater weakness and pain.
"You—despise me——" Her voice held
1 agony.
“I—LOVE YOU,” answered her
“knight without fear and without re
proach." tenderly.
A glazed look of horrified recollection
came over the girl’s eyes. She lived
her pitiful defense aloud.
“I never meant to kill him He
took hold of my arm* I got one
hand free and struck him. My blow
had no effect There was something
In my hand—a paper file—like a big
hat pin—his hand on my throat!
I struck again!. I couldn’t see .
I don’t know what happened, but he
was lying In a chair pulling the paper
file from his breast.”
Her hands battled up to hide her hor
rified eyes from that vision of terror.
“Aline—Aline—you are torturing your
own heart.” cried Holbrook.
The girl turned to the priest for
strength. “Go on, my daughter,” he
said with infinite tenderness in his tone.
“THEN HE GOT UP—1 LOOKED
BA UK—HE HAD FALLEN ACROSS
HTS DESK- FIE CALLED FOR HELP
—I DIDN’T KNOW T HAD HURT HIM
-BADLY T DIDN’T EVEN KNOW
THAT—UNTIL 1 HEARD CHIEF
DEMPSTER PHONING FATHER
“The Chief phoned first? Before he
came?” questioned Holbrook, ever alert
for anything that might mean a chance
for the girl so hopelessly enmeshed in
the spider’s web. The spider had been
destroyed—but the silken meshes of his
gray web remained.
For the Man She Loved.
The girl nodded drearily.
“That’s why I dressed. T thought thel
were coming to take me—I lived over
and over again the disgrace of it—if
there had been anything—to take—I’d
have killed myself—too.” I dressed, and
crept down again—and listened—at the
doors in my father’s house—and then I
heard—it was you in danger!”
“You said nothing at all to yotir fath
er?” asked the Captain. So mqch de
pended on this!
“No!”
“Poor child ” he said in pain at
thought of all she had endured—his ten
derly nurtured, tortured little lady!
“Then your words came into my
mind,” went on Aline.
“What words, my dear?”
- “Of Father Shannon* 1 --this afternoon:
‘Tell him everything. All you've told
me and all you haven't told—tell Fath
er Shannon.’ ”
“ ’Twas the one thing to do.”
The girl fled to ihe refuge of the
priest's strong clasp.
“He will go through all of it with
I me—the jail—the trial—the disgrace.”
And now her strength deserted het^-
like a reed in a bitter wind from the
north she swayed, racked by the chill
blast of her own straining emotions.
A murder trial—a scandal in high
places—and she. Aline Graham, daugh
ter of the District Attorney of the
United States—a prisoner at the bar
her name her father’s clean
j name dragged in the filthy mire of all
the basest human interpretations of her
bitter blundering and love forever
dead and cold to her outcast be
smirched human blood on her
hands Jezebel.... .daughter of Cain
so ran her agonized thought.
The Captain’s tone held all the quiet |
certainty and soothing balm his strength
could impart to words.
“There will be no disgrace. Cry it
all out on the Father’s breast and
do you think he’d be holding you so
tenderly if you were what you think—
instead of what we know?” His voice
deepened to the tenderness he would j
have expressed a thou sand-fold if he
could have held the sobbing girl in his
own strong arms. “Aline—Aline, you’re
breaking all our hearts by your cruelty
to your own self. Why. little lady ”
“But you must not be falsely accused
for my crime,” cried the girl.
“There’s no crime about it." declared
the Captain rashly.
“Tell us what’s to be done, Cap
tain,” said Father Shannon.
The soldier spoke with military brisk
ness. This case demanded more of
mind and less of heart if they who
loved her would find a way of escape
for the girl who was struggling In the
morass of danger.
“Did any one see you leave the
house?”
“No one.” answered Aline.
"Go back and be quiet,” said the Cap
tain.
“To-night they’ll arrest you—and to
morrow they'll come for me, too,” cried
the girl.
"Perhaps they won’t,” said the Cap
tain, casting about in his mind for a
way to make this possibility certain.
“Yes. There was a brooch—& clew for
them. I tried to get it, but he had It.”
“Your mother’s brooch—the emer
ald ?”
“Yes,” moaned the girl, sinking into
the chair at the head of the massive
walnut table.
Holbrook came and stood near her.
He wanted to touch her—to reassure
her—not with a man’s overwhelming
passion, but with the tenderness all
the world feels for a tired child who
faces pain and stern reality too great
for its untried strength. But he only-
held out his hand with the pin in his
palm.
"I thought you'd want It,” he said. In
a matter-of-fact tone.
Aline lokoed at this worker of mira
cles “Oh, you wonderful friend, she
said.
Then she turned In bewilderment to
Father Shannon, with her mother's
jewel in her hand.
■Is it very wicked to think of escape
—to think of keeping silent?"
To Be CPntinued To-morrow.
What Dame Fashion Is Offering
Attractive Styles Described by Olivette
This evening
gown Is made
over a slip, cut on
tlie hips, of pis-
t&che velveteen.
Over It are draped
two tunics. The
first is of beaded
tulle in green and
gold, and It is
veiled by the sec
ond tunic of black
taffeta. They are
finished at the
end In three
points that are
edged with let
heads. This tu
nic Is gathered
very full at the
waistline, and Is
trimmed in the
back with an Ini
na e n s e butterilv
bow of black ne:
A small, simple
blouse of white
net with very
short sleeves is
worn over an in
sertion of beaded
tulle in green and
gold.
A large dark
red rose gives this
simple garment
vivid and effective
touch of color.
T F3H?> disregard of all waistlines in
this afternoon frock, • on the
right, is its greatest charm. It
Is made of rose-pink and vanilla sat
in. The bodice, of rose-pink mate
rial, is made with a bloused-bolero
effect, with a three-quarter sleeve
slightly draped and trimmed at the
elbow with a small buckle of vanilla satin.
A broad plait edges the decollete, which is knotted
in the middle front by two small points. The crossed
yoke is of plain white net. A tunic of vanilla satin la
Do Y ou Know That.
The French police have arrested tn
old thief, known as “Father Noel,”
who never entered a tobacconist’s
shop without taking at least twenty
cigars. He stole daily an average of
300 cigars of the best quality, and a
woman who worked with him put
them into boxes and sold them to
restaurant keepers at a greatly re
duced price.
in Berlin the firemen wear water
jackets with a double skin which
they are able to All with water from
the hose. If the space between the
layers becomes overfilled, the water
escapes through a valve at the top of
the helmet and flows down over thO
firemen like a cascade, protecting him
doubly.
James Smith Woodhouse, of Birse,
Aberdeen, who is 85 years of age, is
still living in the same house In
which he was born, and sleeps on
the same oak bedstead on which ne
first saw the light. He is very ac
tive for his age. and is a keen gar
dener. j
One hundred and thirteen women
and three men were imprisoned dur
ing the year 1910 in England for of- |
fenses in connection with the suffra
gist agitation. The figures for 1912
were 238 women find two men
Upward of 650 tons of soot fall an
nually on each square mile of the
city of London. That is to say, dur
ing one year 75,060 tons fall on the
117 square miles which form the ad
ministrative county.
A church organ has recently been
made in Belgium which is compose !
entirely of paper, the pipes being rolls
of cardboard. The sound is sweet
and powerful.
Human hair takes the fifth place in
China’s list of exports, during the
year over $80,000 worth of hair hav
ing been distributed to countries all
over the world.
A mine, now said to be exceedingly
rich, was sold by its native African
owner for a pair of trousers and a
cricket cap.
No picture is hung on the walls of
the Louvre, in Paris, until ten years
after the death of the artist.
Perhaps the most extraordinary tat
tooing idea ever carried out was that
of a coachman who, at the time of
the Dreyfus trial, had his body and
legs covered with no fewer than 120
illustrations of the case, including
portraits of the leading personages.
The work occupied nearly two years.
A meeting has just taken place at
Bucharest of a Congress of Unappre
ciated Inventors. A certain number
of mechanical geniuses, lacking the
funds to carry out their Ideas, met to
discuss the means of remedying this
want. The members of the congress
included a chemist who knows how
to produce diamonds, a shoemaker
who can manufacturer boots In which
to walk comfortably on the surface of
the deepest waters, and a sign painter
who has discovered a color which
renders aeroplanes Invisible at a dis
tance of eighty meters from the
ground.
Don’t Put Off
seeking relief from tha illnesses
caused by defective action of the or
gans of digestion. Most serious sick
nesses get their start in troubles of
the stomach, liver, botvels- troubles
quickly, safely, surely relieved by
BEECMM’S
PILLS
Sold everywhere. In boz.ee. 10c.. 25c.
CHRISTMAS HOLIDAY FARES
VIA
SOUTHERN RAILWAY
TO ALL POINTS IN
ALABAMA, FLORIDA, GEORGIA, KENTUCKY,
NORTH AND SOUTH CAROLINA, TENNES
SEE, VIRGINIA, WASHINGTON, D. C.,
AND CINCINNATI, OHIO.
Tickets on sale December 17 to 25 and 31, 1913, January 1,
1914. Good to return until midnight, January 6, 1914.
ALSO TO MANY POINTS IN
Arkansas, Illinois, Iowa, Minnesota, Missouri,
Nebraska, Oklahoma, S. Dakota, Texas, Wisconsin.
Tickets sold December 20. 21, 22, 1913. Return limit January 18,
1914. Call on any Southern Railway Agent for complete Informa
tion as to rates, routes, schedules, etc.
GUY TICKET OFFICE, 1 Peachtree St., Atlanta
-<*
:{ I |
slightly draped on the right side with three small
plaits. The skirt is very plain, fashioned after the
rounded style. It is made of rose-colored silk muslin,
machine plaited, and finished at the hem with a nar
row silk fringe.— OLIVETTE.
He Found Out.
"Do you think your father would
object to my seeking your hand?”
"Don’t know, I'm sure. If he’s any~
thing like me he would."