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;'SOSO® ©OS' v.>eoeooOS<soOSOSO| I BY WOMAN’S WIT f r x jj By LOUISE HELEN GOODHUE &co®o®o®osoeos<'SC£i>s-o@o©oso®o®o®>| CHAPTER I Tin* ( Hair In The Library It was about nix o’clock one Satur day morning. sr the city of Washing ton, that I was awakened from a pro found deep by burry, tay valet, who , was obviously in a state of great ex citement. Being aroused on a morn-' , ing when 1 usually slept late In or der to mako up for my early rising on other days, I was not in the vcr. - , best of tempers. It was still dark, hut I could see that Harry's face was unnaturally pale. “Well, what is it?" I questioned sharply, drawing the covers closer about me, for being the first of Feb ruary it was very cold. “Come, quick, sir please., sir, hurry," and Barry picked up my bath robe and held it ready for me. There was Homcthing in his tone rather than Ills wordr, that caused me to. get up immediately without questioning him further. 1 knew Barry so well that 4 I was certain he .would not have dis turbed me unless he felt ho was ab solutely justified in doing so. When 1 was ready he said: “It is Mr. Whitmore, sir—l-I think ho is dead “Dead!” 1 gasped, and not waiting for his answer 1 rushed down the hall in the direction of Whitmore’s room. "Not there, sir." Barry called from somewhere back of me, “Not there in the library." However, 1 opened the door and turned on the electric lights, a brief glance showed me that the room was vacant, and that the bed had not been slept in, so now thoroughly i aroused I followed Barry down the dark stairs to the library, the door of which wan partly open. 1 entered while ho switched on the lights. It was a large room, old fashioned nnd high ceilhiged and comfortably though not extravagantly furnished. Two sides of the room were tilled with bookshelves, while an immense v II replace, three windows and a variety of curiosities from all parts of the globe gsve to if n r< r.y appearance one would scarcely have expected to tind in the homo of two bachelors. But : as 1 rushed into the room that Sat urday morning I noticed, as if iu a dream. Unit in spite of the cold one of the wiAluws was open, and that • - the wind bad blown some papers about the door. A big armchair had , been drawn dose to the fireside, and it was upon the occupant of this chair that my gaze fastened. For sit : j ting there, one hand banging limply* over the arm of the chair, was my law partner, Leonard Whitmore. Sc calm was the* expression of his faco. one might have thought him sleeping bad not tiie dagger buried to its hilt In his back borne witness to the aw ful crime that had been committed. 1 sank into the nearest chair with out n word, and hid my head in my hands, llow long I remained thus 1 - do not know, but 1 was aroused by the remembrance that the proper pro cedure in such a case was to tele phone for a doctor and notify the polico. “Call Br. Woods," I directed Barry, though I could not see what a dor tor could do except to discover the cause of death which, however, was quite apparent, and to ascertain as nearly as possible how long Whit more had bcou dead. “And 1 sup-’ pose you had better call the coroner and tlm police." I knew, of course, that under such circumstances the body ought not to .p be touched until after the arrival of p| the coroner, hut I thought it would do no harm to make a brief examina tion of the room In the hope of find ing some clue to the murder. That It was murder, premeditated murder. , I had not the slightest doubt, for no f man who had met with the profes sional success that had come to,Leon ard Whitmore would have had aby ap parent cause to take his own life. S< 1 dismissed the idea of suicide, and began my examination of the library Not that 1 considered mvseif gifted with those powers which go to make ft successful detective, but 1 was nat urally desirous to unearth any evi dence which might serve to identify the murderer. I walked to the open window and looked out upon the heavily falling snow. That the window had been forced was evident by the various screws which lay scattered about the floor, 1 thought that if the midnight intruder had entered that way he must necessarily have left footprints in the soft snow outside, that is un less the heavy fall of the early morn *. ing had obliterated them. 1 leaned further out. but not a mark could be seen or. the smooth white carpet. 1 shivered slightly and drew the dress ing gown tightly around me. for 1 did not wish to close the window un til the coroner came, and it was ex tremely cold. The wind blew flakes of snow in upon the floor and there was a light coating on the window ledge. Fur ther scrutiny of the grounds could gain me nothing except a possible sore throat, so 1 turned ray attention to the long table in the center of the room. From the papers and books upon it. Whitmore must have been engaged in the perusal of a case a shot time before his death, and had donbtless moved to the fireplace to enjoy a comfortable smoke previous H — ■•** • •• ; - to retiring. I picked up several of the papers, and it wa3 a? I surmised the Gardner case which *.vas to come cp wultra a few days, a trial in which Whitmore was much interested. In voluntarily I sighed as I looked across at the silent figure in the lug arm chair, end an answering sigh echoed , ~Xr< m the other end of the room. I glanced up to ree Barry In the open doorway. .“All right, sir." he said, as if in reply to my unspoken question. “Dr Wot da and the coroner will be over at once.” A clock somewhere in the house struck half past six as 1 went up stairs to dresr Barry hastily pre pared some coffee which I gratefully dranlr. for there was a long, hard < lay ahead of me and I would have need of all my strength. Fifteen min utes later 1 came down again to meet i Doctor Woods who arrived all out of ( breath. “Wh-whr.t’s this about Whitmore?” he ardted, shaking the snow from his fur coat, and iu reply I precoded him to the soene of the Catastro phe. , 1 had known Dr. Woods for ten or twelve years and knew him for ae- - unemotional, ; professional man, but \ ‘ in the face of this appalling death of bin friend ho was absolutely ami lit erally stunned. It is impossible to ! Otherwise describe'hie. emotion, lie collected himself, ho wever, with mar- 1 voloua rapidity ar.d made the usual examination, without disturbing in sny way the position of iho body. , When be had linip'l he said noth ing for n few mo tmls but going to ; the open window, stood gazing out i upon the whitened earth as if con sidering some vital point. “ft certainly is awful, Alan." he i ■.aid finally. "As near as I can conic to it Leonard has been dead since about one o’clock between twelve thirty and one. anyway—that is. let’s sec, nearly six hours. He was killed evidently by one stroke of the dag ger. Of course I have not had time to make n thorough tost, but. . . At that moment a loud, sharp ring ing of the bell announced the arrival of the con.ner. Coroner Kiclmrds entered Vith very much the airnf a man who bat? some work to do anh is anxious to get It over with. That he knew Ills business well was tdinwii by the manner In which he immediately took charge o. \ft*ivs, and it was with a reeling of u tense relief that 1 turned things jover to him. lie was accompanied by t ’wo fbllfljhUnnn whom he had stationed . at the front door and hall with or lers *t > aiim\ no one to leave the. house unfir the officers'ho was expect; lug arrived, lie made what seethed to me n cursory inspection of the body, consulting now nml then with i)r. Woods, whom ho know by rep utation. while t sat nearby and ans wered the questions he occasionally asked me. “No, it couldn't have been self inflicted/' 1 heard Dr. Woods say de cisively. “the blow as you sec, was In the hack, atid must have been driven with great force in order that ‘.he weapon penetrate to the hilt. Death was, of course, instantaneous no, it is impossible that Whitmore tilled himself." “I. too, think it Impossible,"agreed 'he coroner solemn**, "Now what we ‘ wr.nt to find out is. if he didn't, who lid? 1 thiuk l can hokl the inquest by ten o'clock .ibis* morning. It i* rushing matters, but.'this if an im portant case Have you ever seen this dagger beforeT. he went on after t moment, addressing me/ 1 wjs about to reply in the nega tive when he added: "1 mean, is it one of the many arms ami cariosities you have around the room?" 1 glanced at the dagger which the' doctor had drawn from the wound and carefully wiped, and shook my head. “No." 1 told him; “it is not one of those wo have collected. 1 know every arm. antique and modern, in j the house, and I am positive this is not one of them. If Whitmore were stal hoe by a stranger, wouldn't it he natural to suppose that ho brought his weapon with him for the pur pose? That would, of course. *prove •hat the murder was., premeditated. *ut though we had a considerable sum of money in the safe last night it was not touched. % As far as I can tell nothing whatever is missing, therefore, burglary could r.,t have been the motive." Barry had entered the mom while I was speaking, and stood- watching me wuh a look of such intensp interest on his thin face, that , ’ % r a moment 1 thought he was going ■ to speak. But instead, when 1 had ; t:niched he merely glanced inquiring- i ly at the coroner as if to psk about the moving of the body. Dr. Bull ards gave the necessary directions, adding that it were best that the li fcrary remain undisturbed ‘until the], police had had time to look it over, j The open window he allowed to be j closed, and with a few parting in- > j junctions to the two policemen he I, I loft us to summon the jury for the! inquest. As soon as he had gone I i wen* into the little room back of 1 the library which Whitmore and 1 ■ had used for the past five years as! i; oar private study, leaving Doctor* T 11L EVLNiKO CAHIaL, AAAL.AOu.S, M AkALaaU, Hit KSDAY, XOVEMBEK 23, 1122. Woods in charge of the front of the i house. Ever since our meeting in New] York while I was completing my t studies in college. I had been asso- ] eiated with Leonard Whitmore, though j it was not until six years ago that] the partner hip war formed which' had brought ns mutual success asj lawyers. Only one thing had broken! the quiet routine of our life and that j was my partner’s engagement to Ag-j ae3 Marion. She and Whitmore had; ieeu friends for years, but their! paths had been far apart pntil they! had suddenly met again, under more I or less romantic conditions, iu Romei w here we had gone on a delayed va- j cation trip. Their wedding had been! c et for early in May. after which I j should hare to occupy the hou3e in] Sixteenth Street In solitary loneliness j unless 1 could succeed in persuading J a distant cousin of mine who was 3tudy’ng medicine to make his home with me. Now there would Le no wedding in May, and though the house was hid den beneath the curtain -ef a tragic murder. I could not suppress the j overwhelming gladness that thrilled I me at the very thought, for 1, like Leonard Whitmore, had fallen under the spell of Agnes Marion’s soft blue eyes. But that momentary feeling oL. exultation quickly gave place to a j more solemn one. better suited to the ! occasion. Who would notify Agnes if her dance's death? By afternoon the papers wouid have it in large, glaring black headlines, and as the affianced wife of the murdered man •the would comp in for Jic-r share of publicity . f mok the telephone re •civcr from ,its hook, and called her number. The best way was to tell her father- he and Mrs. t Marion would know l etter how to toft.n the blow. A moment mqrc anl I had Mr. Marion on the wire. “This is Lockwood, Mr. Mar*on,” 1 explained In answer to his gruff ‘Hello! rerrible thing happened list night; Leonard was murdered Yes. murdered, stabbed. Break it gently to Agues," and 1 rang off, hi errupting the flow of question from the other end. (To be continued) uiimiiiiiiiHiiiiimiimiimmiiiiimtimu j T/HDDIES SIX j; I IXJ Will M. Maupin | MY WANTB T DO not want a fortune great; 1 do not .seek the cares of slate, With all their glitter and their glare, And wickt d pqJu'Uiax, afloat iu air. I do not yearn for power or place; Nor would I take part in the race For gold—l only ask that I May sow good will while passing by;; And that when I am laid below Thu cool, green sod, wfiere daisite blow, . nip Pome one will pause n bit, and then Daciitio: “lie helped his fellowmen.’.’ I do not covet mansions grand, Nor acres broad on every hand; I do not yearn for jewels bright, To dazzle my poor neighbor's sight; 1 do not yearn to take command, And order men on every hand— I only ask that I may go Along a mad where flowers blow. And dying, have men pause and say: “He scattered sunshine all the way.” Let others dig and delve for gold; Lot others place of power hold; I.et others with a lordly air, Stand forth within the limelight's glare; I.et others trade on hopes and fears/' And profit by iho sobs and tears Of those they wreck. I only ask The strength to do each dally task. Then henp-yard go with heart elute And greet my loved ones at the gate; Then, dying, have men pause a while And say: “lie gave the world a smile.” (Copyright by Wffl M. hfaupla.) . Hint for Amateur Printers. When painting or varnishing soft I Wood, always first paint the wood wl?l j shellac and let il dry before painting j or varnishing. This saves about'half ! the paint find gives a much harder and smoother surface to the* wood. BUCR! LUMBAGO! HUNK Ml ! SURE,UMEBUCK V Rub backache away with small trial bottle of old “St. Jacobs Oil.” Bat k hurt you? straighten up without feeling sudden pains, sharp aches and twinges? Now listen! j That’s lumbago, sciatica or maybe from a sprain, and you’ll get relief the moment you rab your back with sooth ing, penetrating “St. Jacobs Oil.” Nothing else takes out soreness, lame ness and stiffness so quickly. You simply rub it on your back and out comes the pain. It is harmless and doesn't burn the skin. Iflmber up! Don' t-uffor! Get a small trial boitio of old, nenest “St. Jacobs Oil” from any drug store, and after using it just once, you’ll forget that you ever had backache, lumbago j jor sciatica, because your back will } j never hurt or cause.anv more misery j I It never disappoints and has been rec ommeuded for 60 years.—(Adv.) I Nazimova j Madame Nazimova is reccrjnized aa one of the most distinguished “movie" actresses. She vyss born in Russian Crimea, in a small town called Yalta, j At twelve she played the violin in pub lic, later taking up stage work. As leading woman of a Russian stock company she played nearly 200 parts in a wide variety of productions, in most cases learning her new roles on the day of the night it waa to be played. .. i ;! 'The Friendly j; I* t- li —— 9 t =* s\__ r\ j .VV.V.V. WVWVWWaVVVWWVfc THE PESSIMIST ; T s ' ONE must be n pessimist, lot l*,im A keep his pessimism to.himself. It is 'sufficient to make cue’s self ! unhappy without lending gloom on tlie i-otluu* in tho-wai'ld. ore i more reasons f<q* gladness XlumXqc swy. j row. -jmff-if nr.rr-rmtnnrrftnTlyrfpptifrss j fur himself he's an ungrateful and na j kind .UiiUvidual.jji.be tries to Like the • filming-* quay lrpm his feller uiop. In a big city ji'omiivg house, a life*- weary.man, previous to trying suicide, penned si rotq 1u which he.said: “The work! T1:;k growm corrupt. It is no decent pbjjfp to live irt. ope has ' to Ihieff* runner or In* I ebriufp else he (h no good uoy more.” A pcm- evoa&i 'to- r.cinoju? himself j frc-in this life (jjffunshi n&ppd gktl! .BuLlie had ofm ]. . .• mi- Honrfiqg fif d‘Hjirb ; the ; lives.pf tj'.uiis w'uma-e Vljin prcttj M 'tmo , 'd'TTft worn] ti “ .• op," The man didn’t succeed in removing himself from-this life, and when, lie re- ! envoi's it is quite probable Umt lie'll j prize bis brenlli and the privilege of j living more than he ever did before. ; But he'll only do so when be engages I some of Ms time and attention in the I task which belongs to everyone—that ‘ j o? making the world better, more beau tiful and iis inhaMtanu more liappy and thankful to their God. i No rie rati answer the question without a lengthy thesis as to how fast tiie world js growing he ter. Bt:t no one can delve into history even a little without admitting that most people ab ( hor sin and atf* more nshamed of shi ning than people wi re not very long ago. Thomas Edison*, while camping with i Henry Lord and it, S. Firestone re- j cently, ‘.;:M filet ‘’ltv.'ry iriaii’Vitl r.*- vert to hari'gripm if glveiv' 1.r.1f a chance.’* But he ' .intended ibnV dVlll | ration is gaining, though he estimated ] that 15.000 years would > have to pass ! jjeDw jnan r "\rilj have readied such a i high point of civilisation pi iere he can | not, or will not want to go hack to the ! hnrlinric life." i So you see we’re moving In the right j direction and following thy right path, j Then let us forget our \complainlng ; and not block traffic for Mothers with j ' foolish in ■isimlsm. for thery is need of ' more optimism to bring thfc chariot of happiness tkrouah even i though we're engaged In l a tortoise race. , i ._ v * * (©‘by tiie Wl.e-1- Sjx-ti' s.t, lac.) dji&gMh \ I ■ ! i Tt J . | D.r.crcticn Highfy Lnportantl i -p who act jvMi ari . 1 j *im* of a gro*l part In il Je tirai/li 0 I ! * kfa. r&pni (vA \SB ' K' ft!j V I V iITY ix KITTOWN J Turn?. rrssi MS sent an invftatiol to all the kittens and every j Puss la the village, for she wanted : her daughter to have the very largest ! party that had ever boon held in‘ Kit | tow a on her birthday. Everyone was glad to come, and, 1 anyway, as 1-u.ssy Pus&ißn’s father was the one Chat, governed the neigh borhood, they felt bound to be pres ■ era, and so all day there were great preparations going on, all trying to look their at the wonderful birth day party. It was to be an outdoor affair and the bam was to be used ■ for games, and as soon as It was dark Mr.-. Possums and her daugh ter stood by the garden gate to re j ccive their guests. They could see them coming from all directions. “There comes Miss QwK7 pry. a Tb.cy Told the Guests. Tabby with h?r no-e in the air," said Mrs. Pus ■••unis. “Well, she won’t be as airy after she sees our beauiifei party; and I do believe she has a beau at Inst, for Mr. Tompkins is trotting along beside her. Well, he isn’t much of a catch, for he is old. but then it is her last chance, so she can’t be fussy. “And there is Mrs. Yellow Cat. Isn’t her dress a friglft! If I laid on*!y that yellow dress to my bu> 1; I would never go to a stylish party. A white collar would Improve it, but she hadn't oven tKati** Mrs. Pie-sums stopped talking: long enough to welcome each guest as they trotted by, but as soon as she could sire began again. “Here conies dainty Mbs White, , and 1 do believe ‘Mr. Torn Black has her by the arm. Well, they will make a good-looking couple. ..‘.‘Oh, ho look, Pussy, there is Mrs. # ! THE RIGHT THING i ! cl the RIGHT TIME ‘ By MAR Y MARSHALL DUFFLE AS TO I SOURS \I7IIEN a man a friend to be nil usher at Ills wedding •It is un indication of a feeling of warm per j sonal attachment and esteem, and the : request should be. taken as such. How ever, if, for any reason when you re ceive such a request, you find that you cannot conveniently comply, you should not hesitate to decline, staling, of course, your reason for so doing, if the bridegroom-to-be is a person whose acquaintance you value highly. Some times young persons with more wealth than social position and more mere nc-' qiiaint'anoes than real friends, will ask a- young man whom they know but I slightly, but who would be a social ns- I set, to :fet in this capacity. In this ease the one requested, would fnt better tie.- clii.tS than to perform the duties of usher while in his h*a*f he- ?<*" aYtnoyed at thb reqjtast* > - <r : ~ , AV;*atever Jws ides to jltSshe•aJtMfi(V decide within" three or four -doyiuoi-*i+e request. In formal society, shortly after iliiu- the cjypMn uvfiejc makes a more of tiggs fdCmnl call tijUih th<? bride-to-be arid her mother, or. If-fig hns not met them, he ask's the bride groom to take ldm to call. After this his role Is to await further in-trn<*- tions from the bride and her mother, or from the bridegroom. Matters of dress are settled, by the bridegroom . and discussed among the other ush- I erg. From the bride’s family be ro -1 reives Instructions ns to the exact : time for his arrival at the church or ; the houae the day of the ceremony, and plans for a rehearsal. Nothing ex : cuse.s ilio usher from sending the bride i a wedding present, though, if he is not well able to do so, he should not make j it a matter oS very great cost. Although ushers are chosen by the briilirgrbuia, they take ail instructions ’ from the bride or her mother, sind they J should bear in mind that they are the ctsests of the bride’s family and In no •fay o| the brldegfoohi during tin? wed* j g. Sometimes ushers offer their arms . to women guests whom they are to > se*t, feet fads is not always done. It is necessary, therefore, for the usher to leafn from the bride’s mother or the bride what is ber wish in this mfetfer, i and then to c.tri-y it out. The ushers j should make a formal call upon the bride’s mother following the wedding. ! Tiie usher should also learn the time of the return of the bride and groom after their wedding trip, and should | make it bis duty to call upon them j also. j t©. I>2l. by :w- f - ’■ Syndicate.) ' J , . . ,: \ ■ f - 4 . C-u-ese Ancient* Used Sword*. * •- pcbolars claim that Iron i '" r " rH in use in their country * 1.-vd_j*-,n-a ago. , t Tibbens wearing- that old three- 1 J colored dress, and if there isn t Mrs. t | Tabby in her old tiger calico. Why | she does not wear a red ribbon with 1 that dull colored dress is more than [ 1 can tell.” “Oh, dear, here comes Mr. fsnook utus," said Fussy, holding her fan in front of her face to hide her blushes. T do hope father will not start a . quarrel with him; he never does a . thing, but father does hot seem to - like him. 1 think he is a very’ flue , mannered cat.’’., “Hush.” -aid Mrs. Possums, “here ' comes Mrs. Persian. Mv dear, our ! ! party is a great success, for never has - she attended a social altair in Kit town before. She is late, of course. - but that is so every one will be able to see her beautiful dress. Isn't she i sweet, dressed all in llufi'y white? ; Of course, 1 think your dress lacks better with that touch of black, but everyone does not have the same taste in dressing, of course. Good • evening, Mrs. Persian, so glad you could come, and now we must begin | the parly right away. We were waif- i lug for you, my dear.** I'.y this time the lawn was well filled and the Cat Brothers’ orches tra struck up a lively tune front, the ■ top of the thick fence, and off whirled the dancers, making merry in tlie moonlight. But Pussy Pussums was not with the dancers, and when her father went to look for her, what did he see but Pussy and Mr. Snookums sit ting side by side on the back steps. Mr. Possums growled and bumped his hack, but Snnokums did net run. , lie knew it was now or never, so he ‘ I jumped up and growled back, but ho stepped teward Mr. Pussums and not away from hfan. | “You are just ns big as lie Is,” whis pered Pussy, “and you may us well ; tell father tonight as any time.” When Pussy’s father saw that Snook urns was not going to run he ' dropped his back and stopped growl ing. “You youngsters better join the dancers.” he said sweetly. “This is i ; your party, Pussy, you know.’* I*ii'-'sy ami Snookums run toward the whirling couples, and there they all danced until someone tossed a bottle over tlie wall and broke tip the parly, hut everyone voted it the j. best affair ever given in Kittown. and , Pussy Possums and Mr. Snookums told the guests that the next big affair would be their wedding. (5 by MoCJura >fevrpaper Syndtcat*.) | “What sin a Name?” I 8 By MILDRED MARSHALL £ * -. ■ .... I>: Facia about go tir name; lit hittory; '5 ►Jr meaning; whence It i oas derived; !* | X /i- significance; your lucky J<V Bj 1 $ \J& and lucky Jnod ►*< ItRIDGET j T'HE quaint name of Bridget, so | often in modern times- associated ! "*lth domestics, is in reality one of the I most poetic of feminine names, emerg ing front a romantically and religiously splendid cqiie. It is said to come from ■ i Ilrigh, meaning strength, and had Its ; origin y.ith Brigliid, the daughter of j lb© h ,- e god and the lCrse goddess of ■ 1 wisdom, song and poetry. Brighid has been a favorite in Ire* ! lond since early times, and was one of ; the first few Keltic names to llnd pop , ularity in KuropPT Her vogue there is j explained through the story pf the maiden, who was brought up by a bard ; and afterward became a pupil of st. i Pt'Stb.-k and. ir**fti a noiilery reel use at •* K lid a re, became tk-rd of .Vio mttm and 1 t was. eoiujttlted by a synod of bishops. She was highly revered and did much j go yd.VQfiiC, g’Hl w ben she died a copy ‘ 1 Os Hl© ®r:r|i7thresj too beautiful to have j 1 ‘ bedri written *by mortal hands, was i • fmtnd in her cell. The ancient Bridget’s ! ’"'©‘h which used to ring in church tow ■ j ers, was ro called in honor of her, but ‘ the title was Suppressed |>y Henry V. However, she has always l>een a pa i ] tron of Ireland, and Saint Bride’s or • Ifridget’s churches are common in • ! England and Scotland. | Portugal has a Dona Britcs, which ' it honors as St. d’.ridget, aud Sweden 1 i claims a St. Bridget, or Brigetta. One " Swedhjh Brigetta, a lady of noble birth, ‘ who founded an order of Brigettin ; cuns : ‘ Bt l ra de ji pilgrimage to Rome, i gave Bridget vogue throughout Scan dinavia. ! i Bridget’s jewel is umber, which pro serves her bodily henlth and gives her immunity from contagion. Friday is ‘ ; her lucky day and 2 her lucky • j ber. : ? ;\i A LJNE O’ CHEER * 11J * rj * By John Kendrick Bangs. J 5 ! ! THE GENEROUS SUN ’* \ ' J thmsr I love about the Sun— * | , 9 -- I - * Coes not wait for anv one I I * Bu t Roes about its task all dair \ i i; J Of spreading light upon the way J | : J 11 does n-a make us climb on high * , , f To w "‘n the radiance of the sky, * t Bat In a spirit generous * t Sends all it has down here to us i I * l© by llcClur* N-w„-jiip r Syndicate.) J |0 I Salt in Biocd and ‘.Vater. Fluman tb* wl cn*;Tn Nhe sustit . se.lrs in simitar h> ar. | found in sea water. j PICTURES® } By W,LL M * waupin i * **"-• - --.nr - , ■ TACK 1 HOST can paint nre n- . 1 J On the window over night Tracing myriad forms m. With his pencil cold and I But the rarest, fairest picture * I That high art can e’er im* n Is my baby’s smiling features Framed within the - When tiie fiery artist Hums i < Picture# in the‘glowing coals Ho can touch the finest feeling Of the must artisiic souls But the sweetest, neatet picture I Ever shown to mortal sight I Is m.v baby’s smiling featur. s In the evening lamp alight. When the sun god lays his colon I On tiie canvas of the w o ,lu. | Yut may think earth’s richest ttcy-S i o >otir gaze has been ttnf r.ut the rarest, fairest picture 9 1 can ever hope to know Is niy baby’s smiling features ith tin* light of love tOopyrifht by M U j, ia) Something to j Think About \ By F. A. WALKER | 31 ax\ (; i x(i 3iiAmia i TT IS observed that the ejnrtfl have, as a rule, si better nv't B than the uneducated. The rca-i.n B this is obvious. The one class exercises its for carrying things in its mind B thus gives memory strength, t-ni® ance and ability to recall p\* B names or date# ut a momeufs not* while the other class permits n.i'n.B to become flabby and undcnoiHluhJ Each individual has within Iml lier brain a certain amount, of rr:l tive power, beyond which he or >1 cannot go without unusual effort,. if the effort is not put forth ref. !y, with persistent determination fl Improve, memory will not o? i'.yl make notable progress. There nre, it is true, nntlvt 41FS enees of retentive power. One child is from the first capiß of retaining impressions of nil 1:1 more easily thnn ottiers. A fluidvß a gnofl natural ear for musical sorl .will be likely to retain sound* il their successions better than nno:;fl child deficient in this sens<v>acß ment, ami so it goes through ell hood to old age, with memory pic I fast, or loose as It has been taugt I Faulty memory, if you go d*]H into its cause, you will find verylß quenlly is the rosiflt of inaotr especially in adults wlio have h. l absorbed in the problems of lift! the exclusion of everything else. I Anti these usually are ike who habitually complain. They have ceased to gee He -fl light or to move forward. They I dejectedly at the croggroads, wfl oiliers jjass them an<l go on their I rejoicing. A man or woman is not better "■ Ids or her memory. Each may have ability, piß manners ami good looks, but if hi site is deficient in memory the il will take to nowhere save to dk| pointrnent. Tiie fact Is that good znen.r.rylil the base of every great suc< es, il in* for its helpful couriers ev* Industry and probity which t>| mcmfiry a strategic position fr which it cannot be shaken, em critical moments of stress wi/n m thing depends on the righf mori. He who mlsalHes himself with memory, refuses to manage h’s w ory o drill it with utmost carc.vt he ea. do by eonttnual praricx iSi himself witii fniiure, and In n<c kfanoe# he has nobody to h!.tr.r bis miserly incapacity and iris ance but his miserable sell. (©. 1322. by McClure Ner*|)Btfir ftri'.W Has Anyone Laugh* lAt You n— 1 1 Because - I ffvjaJ You Give Too Much cf Yen' Time to Other*/ How of;tB |; have r* w >p!© said to you: ?; use up so much perfcf My n -'’^l strength doing for others? wH If do you? They don’t apprrdiiH it!** It may he true that roadt |f it may be tme that ss.roe i* people do not appreciate v:.f [ Jsl you do, init some do. Anylk* • |j> you have a good hph.it. Non©B Jj; better than the giving tsM iii The Good Rook says: • bread upon the waters, for t * ;j; shalt finfi ir. Give a p'lnion* hi seven, yea, even to eight." A> '!> that’s only another way of vf ;j; ing If you give a lot you'll I a lot, maybe not in money i* things, but in real and satisfaction. Think vU sacrifices the Quakers an! peopjo of tiie various * sions are making in forcigt | ji; unccmfortable countries u id; the starving! i z. SO Your Get-away here u: : JI Nothing pays like giving. * '■ || you can feel sorry for the c Hj * that laughed at you; he h** ;J begun yet to be happy. (Copyright by McClurn Newd**' j. . F.rst American Mamase- The first C'hristtan tnarriuS* • ioisv in the Atuerlcan c-oloni® 5 ;w> fcriaed at Jamestown ix l 10®’