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Charity That Begins at Home Often Gets Cold Feet 'd, IMF ML 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."