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[ e erond Installment of the Third Episode of “BEATRICE FAIRFAX, " News Filla SSly soete Today
<Nk GEORGIANS MAGAZINE PAGRE——
“"BEATRICE FAIRFAX"™
['he Stars in Episode No. 3
e’ Diars in Lpisode [No.
. ? rr
! “Billy’s Romance
Jimmy Barton— A rigorier for e XY __Hapry Fox
Beatrice Fairfax— Of the N. Y. Bvening _Grace Darling
This splendid series of exciting human interest stories is
produced in motion pictures by Wharton Inc. Studios for the
International Film Service, Ine.
See the motion pictures at your favorite theater next week
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX,
(Novelized From the Scenafio of 8. Basil Dickey.)
(Copyright, 1916, International News Service.)
HE boy at my side gasped ocutla little girl named Jean. Do you
T his amazement and joy: “Miss | know just what I'm talking about,
Fairfax! Say, vou're a regu- | Biilie?" .
lar miracle worker. Nobody but you “No'm, not 'zactly. But I guess you
would ever have been here just when get me all right. 1 liked Jean right
a fellow wanted her. And say, vou're off—but I didn't like the mystery 1|
kinder pretty—most as pretty as my | kinder felt.”
Jean!” Billie Tells the Story.
Dear, gallant, little soul! What Of course, 1 know boys have a way
woman in all the world wouldn't have of making up mysterles and detective
liked the tribute of his gratefui ad- | gtories for themeslves—but Billia
miration? seemed so earnest, so sincere, that I
The car ahead of us siowed down, sensed a basis for his feeling.
driving a tortuous course in and out “‘Come on, Billie. Tell me all about
of crossroads. As we followed 1 BOt |jg »
Billie’s story from him. 1f 1 were to “Ye'm. It was like this: They givas
help him in this mysterious chase me a telegram this morning over to
Which seemed so desperately earnest| .o office—excuse me, over at the of
to the boy I had to know exactly why fice—and sends me-—sent me—up to
I was driving up and down West- Richard Morton's house. He's the
chester County after a strange limou- District Attorney, and the boys all
sine say he's a very honest guy—man.”
“Well, I never saw Jean till yes- Billle blushed ingenuously as he
terday. But I knew she was my il | corrected his English and brought it
rigt away. 1 never noticed girls|nearer his standard of correctness for
Wuch before. I've been ta bus¥|s comversation with a grown-up lady.
bringing myself up. Rut Jean—she “Never mind the slang, Billie boy.
was different a!l right. I knew; you We'll be careful with our English
understand how it is with a fellow. later on, but now let's have the story.”
You don't think I'm a softy? Do “Yes'm. Well, when I get to the
you?" Morton house they teil me to come in
‘Do, I don't, Billie—not a bit of it. and wait to see if there's an answer.
Every boy has to have a dream lady | And while I'm out in the ball the pret
—an ideal to work for. And some tiest little girl you ever seen came
day when you grow up and fall in love out. She shook hands with me as po
with a grown.up woman you'll bring | lite as you please and asked me to sit
her a finer man because the little boy | down, just as if | _was a gentleman
you are today made up a dream abeut instead of a telegraph messenger,
T he Biography of aSinnner
T_hf m Ends and Vera Finds Herself.
By ANNE LISLE.
(Copyright, 1916, International News
Service )
UT it was Mildred who held the
casting vote. When she came
to father shyly and told him
that Rex had forgiven her, he almost
died of amazement. That particular
word, “forgiven,” is what saved Rex
from banishment. It gave father a
new angle of vision—a new slant. It
convinced him that a thief might
have semething to forgive because ha
had been driven to thievery. It gove
father a glimpse of something that
hay have been anarch® or Socialism,
but was, T think, an understanding of
the brotherhood of man
“Am 1 my brother's keeper? was
in my heart always when I looked at
Rex during those days, while father
was deciding what to do with him—
for davs my brother’s fate hung in
the balance. Rex had saved me—
could it be possible that because of
me his life was to be ruined?
A Year's Trial.
And then father capitulated. After
all, he couldn’t logically make much
fuss when the richest heiress in' Rox
brooke succeeded in winning over her
parents! Rex was to be given a year's
trial in the factory. He had a year
in which to prove that he had
strength—even if it were onl]y the
strength of his weakness—love.
® % * Tyat year has passed. Rex
R P. I 1
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Bathe with Cuticura Soap and hot water
05. ee the poresof impurities and follow
with gentle application of Cuticura Oint
‘ment 1o soothe and heal Absolutely
nothing bette, purer or sweeter for all
skin troubles and toilet uses
Sample Each Free by Mal)
With 32-p. ook on the Skin. Address post-card
I “Cuticura, Dept. 7¥. Boston. Bold everywhere
has lived down his own self-distrust
and the scorn and sneers and ques
tioning glances of the Pharisees in
our little town.
For me it has been a quiet year—
and lonely, too. Norton Gregory ac
tually averted his eves the first time
he met me on the street and Myra and
Cousin Corrine Hazen refused to have
anything to do v:'tth me.
Stories of the gay New York crowd
of which I was one have come to
Roxbrooke. Roxbrooke feels that the
Sheldons are a queer lot. Well, T sup
p Pose wne are. But it doesn't hurt me.
Even Mildred's iove, however, can
not keep it from hurting Rex. The
iron has enterad his soul and too
many people have the power to twist
that iron.
Father has a beaten look—but there
is a Jittle tendernese in it Mother
Still takes her breakfast in bed and
likes boudoir caps and caramels! 1
am housekeeper and [ find that mar
keting and ordering meals leaves a
vast empty place in my heart—a place
filled by longings and dreams. |
A Wedding Day. : |
Rex and Mildred are to be married
tomorrow. I shall be maid of honor
at the wedding. And T think wa will
all be as-nearly happy as our own
natures permit,
Tomorrow when the brether whe
Was ready to give his all for love of
me is married 1 shall feel a strange,
uplifted happiness—and with it there
must be mingled a cruel pain. For
when the maid of honor walks down
the aisle after the ceremony, the best
man on whose arm she leans will be
Jim Donaldson. * * * There is a
wonderful friendship between him
and Rex-—the friendship of under
standing,
Life isn't too easy for Jim, nor for
Rex, 1 suppose, even with Mildred's
love to help him. So lam going to be
very brave for the sake of the two
men who were ready to sacrifice
themselves and their ideals of honor
for the sake of a little sinner named
Vera Sheldon,
There must not he any sign in my
eves tomorrow of the ache of longing
in my heart. There can not be any
other man but Jim—nothing can take
the place of his love, nothing can fill
my life and keep me from wanting to
belong to him—to be his little pal and
his wife as well as the friend I dare be
now,
| Not an Empty Life,
_Perhaps some day I may be Jim
Donaldson's wife-—-and until then I
Can just try to find some measure of
content in being a geod daughter and
sister—and Jim's “dream lady.”
Life isn't ampty for a giri who has
the devotion of the two finest men she
knows. Jim {is my friend and Rex is
my brother in all the best those words
mean. 1 want more—infinitely more.
But which of us has the heart's de
sire?
“A happy ending for the story,” you
say? But my story is life. I must
find peace in being strong—joy in
Rex's victory and hope that porbag
some day life will let Jim and me
hapry, to .
Now we can only “play the game”
of life falrly and squarely and hope
that perhaps some day Fate will re
lent,
“Perhaps—Bome day"—is that to be
the end or the beginning of my story?
THE END,
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R . : ‘ BB ST,
Ge T e
“No other girl had ever treated me
like that before, and her being so
pretty, and all—it just got me—got
me where I live. I knew it was love
at first sight, all right. I got to grow
up and be the president of the West
ern Union and marry that girl!
: '.'Well. Jeafi—that was her name,
Anecdotes of
the Famous
In a book of stage anecdotes re
cently published there is an amusing
story dY the celebrated Samuel Foote,
dramatist and actor, who was born at
Truro in 1720 and died at Dover in
1777. While playing in Dublin Foote
introduced a scene mn which he mim
icked the carriage, speech and per
sonal pecuilarities of several local
celebrities. The imitations, although
presented with a touch of caricature,
were not ill-natured, and most of the
victims accepted the jest at their ax
pense without protest; but there was
one, a well-known tradesman, with
several ludicrous oddities of manner,
who angrily resented seeing himself
as others saw him. :
Collecting a score or more of street
urchins, he treated them to supper,
gave them each a shilling to secure a
seat in the gallery, and promised them
ancther treat the next day if they
would hiss Foote off the stage. They
promised with glee, but nhis friends
who attended the performance that
rigsht reported that not a hiss was
heard; on the contrary, the obnoxious
scene of mimicry was raceived with
more boisterous applause than gver.
Naturally the man was disappoint
ed. When, the next morning, the
troop of boys turned up in exuberant
spirite, clamorously demanding the
‘pmmhod reward, he repudiated the
“chlm. They in turn were indignant
;md reproachful,
| “Plaze, yer honor, we did all we
-could,” explained their spokesman,
“for the actor man had heard of us,
‘and did not come on at all, at all. And
80 we had nobody to hiss. But, when
Wwe saw your honor's own dear self
come on, we did clap and clap, and
showed you all the respect in our
power; sure, yer honor must have
seen and hnud.us.?" . .
‘ Fforo is an entirely new story about
Rudyard Kipling.
Apropos of his recent seried of ar
ticles on the work of the submarine
heroes, a friend of his suggested that
he should write a companion series
on the doings of our gallant airmen.
“Perhaps—some day,” was Kip
ling's noncommittal reply.
~_ “Oh, but you must” insisted his
friend. “Let's sce whether we can't
hit on a good title.”
“Well,” answered Rudyard, after a
moment or two of cogitation, “what
do you think of ‘Plane Tales from the
Sky?” "
The point of the joke is, of course,
thn&one of Kipling's earliest and best
known books is entitled “Plain Tales
from the Hills.”
| Misunderstood.
Cicely: *"Oh, auntie, I'm in awfyl
doubt! They've both come, and I don't
know which to have—the ffl‘ dark one
or the petite light one! 1 adore them
both so mueh!™
ity ALY dos, 8
o rous! re they
sober-minded? Do they both attend
‘chéw ' 1 choose will But
32 one I ¢ |
l'nomh::m styles of new hats!™
The Governess of the Morton Child Paysant
'she told me—Jean seemed to like me,
tOO. We had a lovely time for a min
iute or so, and then the lady wltl; a
‘k‘ace that looked like someone had
carved it out of a piece of steel came
out and took her away. She didn't
want to go, either—any more than I
wanted to have her go. |
Lovemaking in Public
"‘ T'S all right in the summer-
I time,” was the refrain bf a
: song popular a few years ago.
It is almost the refrain of summer
silliness itself
~ Nothing is all right in the gimmer
time that would be all wrong in the
fall. ’ ‘
“Spooning” in the parks, flirting at
the beaches, relaxing standards ,of
clothes and manners everywhere
seem to be a part of the cult of sum
mer. They are a most unbecoming
part.
A girl who palls down her dress
when she is conscious that her crossed
knees are showing a bit too much
stocking runs merrily out on the
beach in a scant little bathing suit
cut well above her knees and clinging
where its few- brief inches of material
do exist. .
Summer relaxation has deadened
her common sense and her powers of
observation. Worth-while people pity
her for her evident lack of modesty,
and the wrong sort of men and wom
en classify her as one of their own
ilk and treat her accordingly.
Later, her own modesty and decency
may be shocked at things that are
said to'her or little indignities that
are offered to her. And it never oc
curs to her to trace her unpleasant
experiences right back to har shocking
little bathing suit!
The summer spirit brings out a
The Manicure Lady
By WILLIAM F, KIRK, - |
€6 GUESS the old gent is going to
I move ug all down to the sea
shore this summer,” said the
Manicure Lady. “And I'm sure look
ing forward. I love the sounding sea,
as them poets calls it."” |
“No more for me,” said the Head
Barber. “Me and the Missus gave it a |
try last summer. No wonder the
ocean goes on & tear once in a while, |
kid. There's an awful lot of money}
spent right where it can see. It gets
the habit.”
“Of course, we ain't planning to
spend no great wad of dough down
there,” said the Manicure Lady. “Fa
ther said last night that it would be
0. K. for us to spend the summer
there, but not much of anything else.
“Of course, I know quite a lot of
swell gents that might come down off
and on and spend some dough on me,
but the rest of the family will have to
go along about the same as they do
in the city, except Wilfred. He says
he's going to clean up a lot of kale
writing poems about the ocean.”
~ “That's been done too much,” said
the Head Barber. “It's stale.”
. “It's a cinch it ain’t ever been done
the way Wilfred would do it,” said the
“So I went across the road and sat
down on the curbstone. I thought
maybe she'd come to a window and
wave to me--and she did. And then
the lady with the face all carved out
of a piece of steel came and took her
away. And I sat on the curh and
made up a romance—want to hear
L
whole crop of young lovers. You see
them on benches in the park, in the
Cross seats of street cars, on excur
sion boats and scattered about on the
beaches.
Public Lovemaking.
Unrestricted public lovemaking is a
menace to the community as well as
to the individual. At its best it is
cheap, and at its worst it is morally
dangerous. Real love is a fine, self
respecting thing which does not car-
Ty on its manifestations in public.
I beg of all my boys and girls to
respect their feelings if they ofe gen
uine, and to recige them if they are
cheaply emotional. Don’t exploit yeur
love in public for every ‘passerby to
laugh at. Learn a little fina self-re
straint. Don’t “spoon” on park benches
or anywhere out in the hig world just
because it's summer and you think
anything goes in summer.
Anything goes in the sense that it
passes and ceases to be. The sort of
emotion that exploits itself cheaply is
worth nothing and ends cheaply. Your
self-respect demands that you refrain
from publie lovemaking,
, The third ill of the summertime
which adds its dangers to immodest
clothes and immodest lovemaking is
taken more lightly, but has equally
grave dangers in its train. It is flir
tation—scraping acquaintance — in
vulgar parlance, “picking up” a com
panion. ]
Manicure Lady. “A magazine editor
wrote him last week that his poetry
was different than anything he had
ever saw. If he makes it a go, we'll
stay down there all summer.”
“I hope you won't wear none of
them stenciled bathing suits the girls
is talking about,” said the Head Bar
ber. “There's plenty of mosquitos
down there.”
“Leave it to me, George, to he
garbed according to the rules of a re
tiring girl,” said the Manicure Lady.
“And when I say a retiring girl, 1
don't mean a girl that's feady to re
tire for the night. 1 was alwavs kind
of modest, anyhow. Even this jolly
barber shop life ain't roughed me up
none to speak of."
“That's so, kid,” agreed Geo-ge.
“You stay like you are, and you're ina
class by yourself. You know, I al
ways said some rich gent was going
to carry you cff to the Little Church
Around the Corner.”
“l know, you always say that,
George,” said the Manicure Lady
wistfully, “but, gee' That little church
has been around that corner a long
time, Gecrge, and I ain’t getting no
yYounger as the days drifts by, One of
them old poets said something about
Novelized from the Great Film Pl;;
~ By BEATRICE FAIRFAX
| “Yes, Billie, I'd like to hear it?”
~ “Well, ma’'am—all of a sudden the
\house changed into a castle with a
moat and a drawbridge and portcul
lis and everything, just like in ‘lvan
loe. And T had hose and doublet and
‘was sitting a fiery charger and carry
ing my trusty sword. And I rode up
By BEATRICE
T
FAIRFAX
Don’t do it. Well-tailored blue serge
suits may be the proverbial sheep’s
clothing that hide a wolf. No girl
can be sure that a man is a gentle
man because he looks like one. And
no man is likely to believe that a girl
is a lady or that he is called on to act
like a gentleman if she lets him scrfape
acquaintance with her. :
The girl who wouldn't dream of
letting a stranger come to her tahle
in a public restaurant in the winter
season and pay for her luncheon
sometimes relaxes her standards in
the summertime enough to permit just
that situation to arise when she goes
down to the beach for a day’s outing.
There is a spirit of informality and
youth and gayety and desire for “a
good time” in summer. But it is so
likely to lead to a bad time, either in
damaged reputation for modesty and
good behavior, or in unpleasant ex
periences with dangerous people that
no sane bor or birl wants to rfsk it.
“It's all right in the summertime,”
if it would be all right at any season‘
of the year. That must be the only
safe test for your own conduct.
Modesty, dignity, recognition es the
rules of society and even decency are
at stake too often in the summer con
duct of boys and girls. Deon't gamble
with them idly. They are too valu
able to risk for the sake of a passing
whim or faney which will die long
before the leaves fall in the autumn.
A Few Words on |
the Smiling Sea |
standing and waiting, and that's me,
only it’s been setting an® waiting for
me.”
“Don’t be in no mad rush about get
ting married,” warned the Head Bar
ber.
“It certainly ain't beem no mad
rush, George,” said the Manicure
Lady. “It's been more Nke a sad
hush.”
i ittty
Cuba's president has signed a decree
appointing a commission to stud{ the
question of natlonalizln{ the railroads
there. The committee is expected to
report in six months.
Be CGuided by =
WS Mothers Who Know =
";b’.«. The comfort and secureness of the //" .
2BLLY lexpectant mother is essential to the /// =
wac mawe ' | Welfare of the future child. In exer. //)/ &
I=2 ]l eising cautlon be guided by the experi- ////
;I ence of hundreds who have found in /7//
bl TRI <Mother’s Friend” a way to eliminate se //’/l[
bl —===="lf vere suffering and insure your own rapid
B spiormm] recovery. ©lt is easily applied and its intuence over
il iesuomnfl the effected ligaments Is soothing and beneficial. (et
{ ~soce. it at any druggist. Send for the free book on Mother
il A 3 hood. Address p
o 3 The Bradfield Regulator Co.,
e 209 Lamar Bldg., Atlanta, Ga.
to the castle—an’ Jean came to the
window an’ waved a handkerchief to
me an’ threw it over. An’ this is what
the lady in distress sent me for a
message: ‘Oh, fair knight, save me
from my enemies.’
No Other Way Out.
“An’ then, of course, I had to g 0
save her. So I dashed over the draw
bridge and into the courtyard of the
castle. An’ the men-at-arms came
dashing forward, but single-handed I
swept them aside and fought my way
to the doorway. An’ that steel-faced
lady was there—all over steel, in shin
ing armor and things.
“Well, I swung Jean to the saddle
behind me and fought my way back
to the bridge, an’ there was an enor
mous warrior armed with a club. An’
then I woke up an’ a policeman was
standing there an’ waving his club at
me an’ grinning. So I got up an’ went
back to the office, an’ I felt kind of
ashamed.”
The by stopped his confidences
abruptly. “Say, Miss Fairfax, do you
think I am a poor nut?”
But I didn’t think he was a poor
nut. Do you? For which of us has
not in childhood made up romances
and stories more strange and wonder
ful than any that ever was prisoned
between the covers of a hook?
It was youth that had made Bil
lie dream—and I was proud of
the sympathy in my heart which
had made it possible for me to win
his confidence and hear the story.
“But, Billie, there's more to your
story. I think it was after your dream
that you went down to the office and
wrote to me. But then what? Why
are we following that limousine?
That's the part of the story I have to
know.”
Billie Desperately in Love.
“Yes'm. I'm coming to that. Well,
then after I spoke to you I went back
to practicing the Morse alphabet, but
I was thinking about Jean all the
time. I just had to go back to her
house and try to see her again. T got
a message to deliver up in the neigh
borhood that afternoon and then I
went over and hit behind a tree, kind
of hoping Jean would come out and I
could see her. Love does get a fel
low like that.” |
And 1, who love boys, found Billie
very wistful and swaeet and not at alli
Good Housekeeping Recipes
The following recipes have been tested and approved b
Good Housekeeping Institute, conducted by GOOD HOUSE
KEEPING, and are republished here by special arrangement i
that publication, the nation’s greatest home magizine.
Al measurements are level, stand
ard half-pint measuring cups, table
spoons and teaspoons being used.
Sixteen level tablespoonfuls equal a
half pint. Quantities are sufficient
for six people unless otherwise stated.
Flour is sifted once before measuring.
' - Fried Musghrooms.
‘ One-half pound mushrooms, 2 ta
‘blespoonfuls butter, 2 tablespoonfuls
olive oil, 3 cloves of garlic, minced;
3-4 teaspoonful salt, 1-2 cupful stock,
if desired; 2 tablespoonfuls chopped
parsley.
~ Melt the butter, add the olMve oil,
parsley and garlic. Cook gently, but
do not let the parsley brown. The
‘mushrooms should be very small.
Clean them thoroughly. Add them to
the fat, together with the =alt, and
cook very gently until tender. Add
the stock if some liquid is desired.
Serve on toast.
Frozen Fruit Mayonnaise.
1 cupful mayonpaise dressing. |
3 cupfuls whipped cream. J
2 1-2 cupfuls mixed fresh and can
dled fruits, as maraschino cherries,
candied pineapple, oranges, sticed
peaches, stoned cherries, ete,
1 teaspoonful powdered sugar,
1 teaspoonful gelatin.
Cover the gelatin with cold water,
and then set it over steam to melt,
Beat into the mayonnaise, Combine
the mixture with the whipped cream,
stir in the fruit, and pour into a
mold which has been rinsed with cold
water. Seal carefully, and bury in
equal parts of ice and salt for four
hours. Serve garnished with lettuce
hearts and parsley.
Brunswick Stew. -
One (2-pound) sow! or 2 pounds
lean veal, two large potatoes diced,
one-half pint shelled Lima beans,
one-half pint tender sweet corn, one
pint chopped okra, two large ripe to
matoes, one large onion, two table
spoonfuls butter, two tablespoonfuls
flour.
Clean and dissect the fowl and set
to cook in two and a half quarts of
salted water, covering it closely and
cooking until it leaves the bones.
silly. Love is the most heaytis
thing in the world, and if a w:;._‘;:
votion comes to a boy’s heart 1 dg;
believe in laughing at it. 1
“I was thinking how hard I'q pa
to work to be worthy of her and hy
I'd study and study till 1 grew yp ¢
be the kind of a man a girl liks ;
could marry—and all of a suddg
while I was standing there dreamin
up the street comes a limousine, 3
“I could see two men it o
kind of looked Ifke the chap tha: y,
shaking his club at me in my dream
and the other had smokeq glasses oy
The smoked glass one 80t out ang
Big Warrior stayed in the car,
“I saw that the one in smokes
glasses was blind. He came tapping
tapring along the sidewalk feeling
way with his cane like he was tryin
to get somewhere. I thought T ough
to come out and help him, and then
thought maybe he’'d be sensitive aboy
having a boy notice his trouble. So
stayed stiff a minute, thinking.
A Tapping on the Pane.
“And then, all of a sudden from
Jean’'s house I heard a funny clicking
sound. I looked up and there was th
steel-faced lady rapping away on the|
window pane. And that bling man
knocking on the sidewallk with his
cane was doing something tha
sounded to me kind of funny ke
the Morse code.
*““Without thinking much about it 1
got out my notebook and pencil and
began to write. It just wrote {tself
kind of—and this was what it said
‘Drive north on Sullivan road.’
“There was some more tapping
from the house. The steel-faced lady
was using a pencil on the pane. Pret.
ty soon the blimd man seemed to get
his bearings and went back to the
limousine. It stood there still—like t
was waiting.
“Say, Miss Fairfax, I sensed a myvs.
tery all right—and you look like yoy
did, too.”
“Btllie,” said I, “vou're a wonderfy!
little raconteur. And if some dav voy
know what that means, it will bs
when the magazines are paying you 3
cents a word for yvour stories
“Yes'm,” said Billie. “‘There wasa
mystery—that's why we're followins
that Big Warrior's car.”
(To Be Continued Tomorrow
When perfectly tender. remove from
the bones, strain the stock and let it
€ool so that the fat can be removed
Cut the meat into half-inch pieces,
turn into the stock, add the vegeta
bles and simmer for an hour and 2
half. Season to taste with salt, pep
per and a dash of red pepper, and
thicken with the flour and butter rub
}bed together. Water should be addad
from time to time to Keep the
amount of liquid always two quarts
The original recipe for this stew 25
for three squirrels, which can be =ub
stituted for the fowl or veal
Veal and Peanut Croquette:
4 2 pounds lean veal, boiled until ten
er.
1-2 cupful shelled peanuts,
2 tablespoonfuls butter.
5 1-2 tablespoonfuls flour.
2-3 cupful mitk.
1-3 cupful veal stock, -
3-4 teaak)oontul salt.
Few grains pepper.
Dry bread crumbs.
1 egg.
Make a white sauce of the milk
stock, flour, butter, salt and pepper
chop the veal fine—there should be
three cupfuls. Add the peanuts rolled
almost to powder, and combine with
the sauce. Cool, form into chop
shaped croquettes, roll in fine dry
bread crumbs and in the egg slightly
beaten and diluted with one-quarter
cupful of cold water, then in tha
crumbs again. Insert a piece of
macaroni in the end of each to rer
resent the bone of a chop, and fr
In deep fat hot enough to braqwn 2
bit of bread in forty counts.
| A e e =AT
| ’&‘3\?‘l Fiß | S e
SRR TR
? R R ’
’Z(ILL THE FLY
AND
-
Prevent Disease
SHEPARD’S
' House Fly and Insect
Killer
sprayed I.n the room is sure death to 2
‘gr::'::;t?i!e Harmless to people. Fatal
Recommended Ly leadin Physicia:r
and Superintendents of Hozfith. i
Get it today. At all first-class stores
For free hooklet write
SHEPARD'S CHEMICAL (O,
Wilmington, N. C.