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It ' M\ r £ boctctlj -JICAN oc the b ouih Cm ^ If AX son m a« Tut n> 1> M/ iw- jffi if O NCE more I have been called upon to cure the woes of the human race, and this time it is cne of our very most popular beaus who does the calling. He has written a most pitiful letter that w’ould bring tears to the eyes of almost anyone, registering a protest—but here is the letter: “Dear Polly—Some time ago you called the attention of the girls to the ancient and honorable dress suits worn by some of the men ” of course, he starts by putting it all off on me. That’s just like a man. Sup pose J did mention the ; n old age attained by some of o evening clothes displayed at the dinner- flances, what then? Just that he was so much affected by the criticism that he has purchased some new ones, and that in theee troublous times of war! It is a sign of un dreamed of prosperity. But he con tinues: “Being a society man, naturally I am impecunious, and a new* dress suit is an event, hence this protest to you. Is it absolutely necessary for a girl to cover her arms completely with a brand of powder which eats in like a New England conscience?” I don’t know' much about a New England conscience, but I confess that it sounds horrible. And then: “Said dress suit is now' a light gray in spots, my clothes brush is a wreck, and my partiality to solid green as opposed to spotted gray as a color for evening clothes is increasing with every dance.” I have a horribly guilty feeling that maybe it is some of my own ppwder that is helping to spoil that dress suit, except that I don’t think there is anything about me that even re motely resembles a New England conscience. Do you suppose he ex pects us to give up powdering? We might Just as well suggest that he give up dancing, and if you knew who he is, I know' you would agree with me that that would be a calamity from every point of view. There re main only two alternatives that I can see—either he can go back to the old dress suit for dances and save the new one for weddings and other oc casions where there wdll not be any dancing, or he can marry one of the worst offenders and let her do the necessary brushing for him. Rather neat idea, don’t you think? Though I confess that it would be rather hard on the rest of us. There Is one other suggestion I mighi make—but, on second thought, I won’t. Those dread ful second thoughts spoil some aw fully good ideas. As a killjoy they arealmost as bad as the much-men- ATLANTA, <IA„ SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 1, 1914. Their First Winter Out of College Society is fortunate this season in having so many attractive girls figuring in its activities. Below, on the left, is Miss Helen Barnes, of Macon, a popular £ debutante, who is entertained extensively. She has frequently been the guest of Mrs. .John Marshall Slaton, Miss Northen and Miss Jennie D. Harris. She has just > returned from a very exciting trip abroad. In the center is Miss Louise Jones, who, although she does not count herself among the debutantes, is seen at all the £ large functions. On the right is Miss Lucile, second daughter of Mrs. Henry Kuhrt, who made her debut several weeks ago at a large bridge party. I ■"•Ci .X m- m % v r — rgp / ;4t V PIpiIIIpP mm '‘mWm 4? / m 0 yii# a, 4 s « 0 ft:] s [Qa • , .-••v -; hi ;im ■ * 'w 1 ** .A' m km - mwm <-■ I I :ai: i. V 00 r%. y 1 % \ % A & > 14 / . -iff mM 1 i ■ >■. % *%> ..‘..'Ml I JKry { • , . .». m IfU ■0m ^EJhopoS' pm f%1UKO^P A 000 f // - A"^ 's ' '"s. A ■Hi v: c.- tioned New England, not quite. conscience, but O NE of our g?^ young beaus w^ho is noted for his sympathetic heart whenever there is a pretty girl In the case became very much exercised not long ago over the sad case of a girl who worked at the cash register of a certain prominent drug store. She was such a very pretty girl that almost anybody would have been glad to sympathize with her, and after she had pathetically con fessed that she worked from H in the morning until 12 at night, the same confession being made while she showed off her long black lashes against the turve of a soft pink check, he appointed himself consoler in chief of the poor little downtrodden thing. It war a fine job, and ht* made the most of it. He went in three or four times a day to impart a few words of sympathy and encouragement to her, but I ^m not going to try to make you believe that his w ords were limited to this. One morning, as he leaned across the counter, he noticed what very lovely big blue eyes she had. He had never seen anything quite so blue in all his life, and he very seldom got a glimpse of them, on account of the length of the aforesaid lashes. He was »o interested in this new' discovery that he went back again late in the afternoon to see if he could got another glimpse of them. He did. and they were really the biggest, brownest eyes he ever saw—just there he remembered that they had been blue that morning, and then the truth came out. They were twins, and she or they, or whatever you want to call them, had been stringing him all along about that awfully hard work from 6 to 12. He is much more careful about giving his sympathy now, and I think he is temporarily out w ith both brown and blue eyes. Gray probably will be his favorite color for quite two weeks to come. C‘ OMES now' a most interesting tale of the adventures of our good friends, the Cameron Burn sides, of Paris, who spent the spring and part of the summer with Mrs. Burnside’s mother, Mrs. Virpinius Hitt. Their adventures started almost as soon as they left Atlanta. Mr. Burnside was told that their boat sailed at 1 o’clock on June 23, but when he and Mrs. Burnside went down to the dock about 10 o’clock /n the morning to go aboard they found that 1 o’clock In the morning had been meant, and that the liner had sailed without them. That de layed their getting back to Paris about two weeks, and they found things in a pretty exciting condition w’hen they arrived. Now they are located at Concarneau on the west coast of Prance, where quite a colony of American artists has gathered, and they expect to remain there through the winter. Mrs. Burnside is in charge of the commissariat at this point, and distributes food three times a day to the French children of the village. Meanwhile Mr. Burnside and a num ber of the other artists are helping the women and the old men in the fields. They ought to get the inspira tion for a lot of masterpieces from these scenes that are now a part ol their daily lives. It is good to know that they have not stayed In Parts, where there is so much danger and w’here we should them all the time. feel uneasy about I T WAS a pretty sight at the Inman Park Chrysanthemum Show last week, when Asa Candler and Dr. Connally and Colonel Lowry arrived in a body and made themselves agreeable to everybody. The show' was at the home of Henry Porter, and the mums were the finest I ever saw’—like huge plates of cold slaw, you might say, only that doesn’t look very happily descriptive, now I’ve got it down. t But the Three Musketeers—ah, now. the young sprouts are all very well, but for true gallantry and agreeable ness they will have to take a wall flower’s place when their elders are about; at least w'hen the elders in clude Dr. Connally and Mr. Candler and Colonel Lowry. * * * I WAS talking to a friend of my mother at the Driving Club the other afternoon, when a man I know passed by. “Hello, Polly,” he said as he went on. "How long have you knowm that young man?” asked my mother’s friend. “Oh, I don’t know,” I answered; “about two weeks, I think.” “And he calls you Polly!” gasped my mother’s friend. “Why, my doar, when I was your age if a young man had called me by my first name I would have expected him to follow it by a proposal. Otherwise, it would have been almost Insulting.” “Even if you knew’ him awfully well” I inquired, incredulously. “We never knew them w r ell enough for that,” she replied, severely. “I don’t know what young people are coming to. Men had some respect for women when I was young.” And, although I told her that they still have, only they show it different ly now, she wouldn’t believe a wort I said, and she left me feeling down right depraved. So when I got home* Continued on Page 4, Column 1.