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Facts, Fiction, Fancies and Fashion of Interest to the Women of Washington' Helene's Married Life By May Christie (Copyright 1J!0. IfcClur* Syndicate.) XXVI?The Man in the Dark Tony dt?pp?red ? fmptdly ?? h? lad come Into view. "Tony Lascelles?your son's foster Jrother?I never dreamed of such * Jiing!" I rasped, staring at my com panion. "Oh. it surely isn't possible! "Indeed it is?as I know to my sor row !** she replied. Her sweet. mlddle iged face wore a startled, strained expression. She eased after the re peating Tony. "It's Tony l^ascelles mho got my Jim into all this Lroubie! I'm positive of that!" Waves of emotion swept over me. Tony who had forged the check?Tony srho had bought the diamond brace let?oh. if it were only true, and Jim were cleared! My brain was whirling. For a mo ment or two I could frame no definite, soherent thought. Then a vision of Alice Anstruther rose up before me? i complacent, pretty Alice, flaunting tier bauble before my miserable eyes! Tony had given her the diamond bracelet! My Jim wm innocent! Yes, innocent! Even in his delirium he Had protested that the accusations igainst himself had been a lie?"an Infernal lie." "I know?who did?It!" he had mur tered. before sinking back into un sonsciousness. All afternoon this phrase had puzzled ine. . . . But now, tonight. Jim's mother had irrived to throw lip it upon her ?on's unconscious mutterings. Tony I*as eelles. she said, had been the guilty party! Tony himself, at sight of heiv had slunk off like a whipped cur. That was odd. Extremely odd. too, how at the last minute, for no logical reason, de'd backed out of going to the rail way station to meet Jim's mother, once he'd learned of her lelationship with Jim! Yes. I began to see daylight now! And?that memorable afternoon at tea! Alice's confusion when I re marked upon the bracelet that she wore! A slow, self-conscious red had -rept into her cheeks. "The bracelet was given me by a friend of my husband's." she had said, explanatory-wise. "An expensive gift!" Tony had supplemented, grimly. I'd wondered over that sarcastic comment. But now I understand. Tb'ank heaven, I understand! Tony?forg ing the check for which my Jim had been so wrongfully blamed? had been the foolish giver! I drew a long, deep breath of ecstasy. My eyes shone like stara. I could have hugged Jim's mother, then and there. Dear Jim! Oh. I'd been wicked, < ruel, in daring to disbelieve my Jim! The awful problem to be faced fiow was?would he ultimately for give me? And?even if forgiving? ??ould he ever forget the detestable suspicions I had harbored? -T?ur?your information astounds nie! 1 muttered to my companion. "l?I've known Mr. Tony l^ascelles for some time?" Jim's mother turned In the car and looked at me. She could just dimly see my face. And then we swung around a corner of the drive and the lights of Anstruther Lodg^ fell full upon us both. "I guess that Tony Lascelles has beer making love to you," she said. "He never could resist a pretty woman! And?forgive me. Mis3 Beauclare?you are so pretty!" I started over the pame of "MIjs Beauclare." If she only knew that I was no longer Helene Beauclare. bat Mrs. Jim 8t. Aubyns, her son's secret ik if e! The car drew up before the door, ard we allghtsd. After the formal ities of introduction were over. I led her straight to Jim's room, the nurse following- * Jim was still asleep. A nigtt light slowed beneath a shade be side his bed. It cast an eerie shad ow across his good-looking yoaug (act. I longed to kneel down be3i?le his sleeping form, and then ano there proclaim him as my hus band. But now was not the fitting time for such a dramatic scene. ''Jim!** His mother tiptoed close up to his pillow. Tears were run ning down her cheeks as she re garded him. "Oh. Jim?" I could not bear to watch the two of them. A queer, ridiculous jeal ousy did actually seize me?a feel ing of which I was most heartily ashamed. For this kindly, gray haired woman could acknowledge her relationship with Jim?and 1 coo Id not! And so I slipped away. I wanted ?desperately?to be alone. Regrets had seized me?vain regrets for the once possible Might-Have-Been! "Jim innocent ? and 1 thought him guilty!" The words reiterated through my brain. "He never will forgive men?never!" After our ecstatic honeymoon I'd taken our happiness in my obsti nate. stupid hands, and flung It far away. . . . Rightfully, legally, ethically. I dfiould now have been beside Jim's bed. Too late. Regretting was of no avail. ' I sped across the wide hall, opened a side door, and slipped out into the chilly darkness. Nearby the lights of the garage shone out, a cheerful beacon. But I turned away in an opposite direction, anxious to be alone. If only 'Jim and 1 could be in my little flat tonight?together?oh, how happy I should be! How gladly would I nurse him. work for him! A path ran down beside a privet hedge. I followed it. stumbling oc casionally as 1 walked. Tears stupid. babyish tears?sprang to my eyes, so that the darkness seemed more dense than ever. But I wasn't frightened of the dark. The only thing I feared was something that now seemed to me inevitable?the loss of my young husband's love! Until the cataclysm how proud I'd been of Jim! He was my hero. Yes, and?now I knew the truth?he was my hero still. There was a sudden crackling of twigs beside me. the glow of a ci gar, and a tall form loomed up. "Helene! Helene!" Before I rea lized just what was happening I was seized in a man's strong arms, and hot terrifying kisses were being rained upon my face! I Tomoron?Helene'* Discovery. REMODELING A WIFE A Story of Married Life Where the Husband Would Be a Creator By MILDRED K. BARBOUR. Copyright, 1920, bj The McClure >'ewspaper Syndics t* Intensive Culture. Doris was very happy in the weeks following her restoration to grace. She went about from lec ture to concert with a childishly absorbing interest: many after noons she accompanied Mrs. Du rand to teas, where her shy, girl ish hesitancy attracted admiring attention among men in tow of "clever" wives, who treated her with patronizing condescension. She 1 was even beginning to enjoy the horseback rides with Juliet and was naively unaware that her en joyment reached its height at tea at the clubhouse, where Harvey Oatewood paid her flattering attention, tion. The first meeting with Mrs. Stev enson after the contretemps which Doris had dreaded, passed off grace fully under the perfect tact and sweetly forgiving attitude of the charming widow. Lila Demarest. she rarely saw; the girl seemed to grow paler and more quiet each day of her husband's prolonged stay. One morning they met at Jane Dixon's current topics lecture. Doris slipped into a seat beside Lila who was sitting with her hands folded listlessly in her lap and her eyes turned toward the window where a cold winter rain was falling. "Don't you ever bring your knit ting or sewing with you?" inquired Doris, opening her bag of Chinese embroidery and drawing forth a half finished tea serviette on which she was doing a picot edge in o)d blue. I hate to sew," Lila returned a trifle impatiently, bringing her eyes reluctantly from the window; "I think I hate everything. "Lila!" Doris was aghast. "You mustn't say that. You're so pretty and dear; everybody loves you, and I know one young man in particular who is crazy about you," she added shyly. La La turned utterly expressionless eyes toward her. "Whom do you mean?" "Alex Muncaster," Doris replied promptly, "the boy I introduced ? to you the night of Margaret's big din. nor party. Lila shrugged her shoulders wearily. "I'm not like Lethe." was all she said. At that moment there was a rus tle of expectation in the audience and Jane Dixon, black of hair and florid of complexion took h>r place on the platform. She seemed the only vivid touch in the grey morn ing. "Good morning, ladies." she greet ed them to her throaty contralto, "It Is very gratifying to see that so many of you have braved the ele ments to hear my discussion today of pork barrel legislation." A low moan Issued from Doris' right hand neighbor. "My heavens, ^why can't about somethinAiUe for a I've taken the whole course for the last two years and every third lec ture she rings In the old pork bar- i reL" "Perhaps she knows more about! it than any other subject," sug- I gested the woman in the next seat, j with what Doris thought a wise! look. "Well, why should she?" persisted the first. "Ssh! Don't you know about the old Congressman that " The voice descended to a whisper and the two heads bent together In an absorbing exchange. Doris sighed with ennui and be-! gan to count the stitches of her picot edge. Behind her she heard two women discussing the merits of aluminum saucepans over enamel, and two young girls in front were giggling over, a letter they were reading together. Doris turned hopefully to Lila Demarest. but she \*as staring out of the window again. "It's very puzzling, Isn't it?" Doris complained. I "What is?*\ asked Lila with a start which proclaimed how little she was following Jane Dixon's throaty discourse. "Legislation," returned Doris ab- i I stractedly. "I don't know a thing about law. We had to commit the Constitution to memory in school, but I didn't remember it any bet-, ter than,the catechism." Lila did not reply and for three quarters of an hour, Doris alter- i nately crocheted or gazed around the auditorium at her similarity oc cupied sisters. When Jane Dixon I at last dismissed the class with a1 graceful wave of her carelessly manicured hand, there was a surge i of admiring femininity toward the platform. "Such an instructive talk! So In teresting! Positively engrossing,"! cooed the audience, and Jane Dixon I accepted the homage as graciously as a queen receiving tribute from her subjects. THE CEMETERY AT BONY. American mothers will visit the graves of their sons who died In France, no matter how remote these graves may be, or how desolate their location. And wherever these so row ing mothers go on their sad pilgrim ages. the Y. W.'C. A. is making pro vision for lightening their burdens as much as possible. The Bony Cemetery?for some sar donic fate decreed that one of the American cemeteries be located near the French town of Bony?is one of the most desolate of all. It is in the valley of the Oise, a very low, wet re gion, where It Ja almost impoasible to find a house dry enough to live in. The cemetery la near enough to Parts so that visitors can get there in th$ morning and return to the city the same afternoon, but there waa abso lutely no provision for their conven iences during the da* nor any abet ter for the occasional person who might be marooned there over night, ?ntH two JP. W, tX-A^ aecrt tariea jtr New Town Blouses Are Joyous Things of Sil\ and Ribbons With Gay-Colored Embroidery, Says Authority on Fashions CARTRIDGE-SILK AND GEORGETTE ADORNED WITH BLOSSOMS, FOR JULIE AND POLLY. MOLLY AND NANCY IN EMBROIDERED SATIN AND FANCY RIBBON TOWN BLOUSES. "Apple Blossom" girls, they are called by Cora Moore, who sets the fashion pace in New York? these four girls, Julie, Polly, Molly and Nancy, wearing town blouses of silk, georgette, satin and ribbon. By CORA MOORE, XfW > ork'N h'ambion Authority. New York?Here arc Julie and Polly, Molly and Nancy in their order, from left to right, in their new town blouses. Julie's blouse is made of cartridge silk. It is lemon color, embroidered in brown and black and gold, with tiny buttons of gold up the sides and a gold cord around the neck and sleeves. Polly's blouse is creamy georgette with great chrysanthe mums embroidered on it in their rightful colors. Then it is shaped at -the sides by two or three fine tucks and it has little pockets let in just below?a part of the decorative schcmc, though the artist hasn't shown this point very clearly. Molly's blouse is a joyous thing. Its material is, satin, i^avy blue, which is sedate enough, but then it's embroidered with wool in the brightest, gayest colors and has streamers of wool braid looped to stimulate panniers. Altogether it's very novel and inspiring, as, indeed, are all of these blouses "in the flesh, as you might say, including Nancy's, which is, indeed, most novel of all. and if not the prettiest, as pretty as any. It's made all of ribbon and the ribbon is novelty striped, as you sec in the pattern of the cuff-hem. Ribbon of a different, but not too different, pattern and a darker hue forms the shoulder bands. This blouse, too, has odd little set-in pockets. WHAT'S IN A NAME?!) By MILDRED MARSHALL Facts about your name; its his tory; its meaning; whence it || was derived; its significance; [[ your lucky day and lucky jewel VICTORIA. The regal name Victoria has a fit- j tin* origin since it comes from the J Latin Vinco, meaning to conquer. Vincentius was an early masruline < name borne by two characters of the' tenth persecution, and later by one i of the great ecclesiastical authors at ! f^erius in Provence. Vincente de St. 1 Paul added honors to the name, but I it was Victor, the past participle, ; whiCh gave rise to Vittorc in Italy. The first Victoria was a martyred j Roman virgin from whose name came } the Italian Vittoria. borne by the ad mirable daughter of the colonel from j whom France and Germany seem to have learned it. since after her time, J Vlctorie and Victorine became common 1 in France. From Germany direct came | Victoria, which i? considered the na- j tional name. Queen Victoria of Spain adds one . more claim to the regality of the j name. It is fitting that the ruby, king of precious stones, should be the jewel assigned as Victoria's own. ? It it* said to preserve the mental and . bodily health of its wearer, remove J evil thoughts, control high temper, | reconcile disputes and dispel pesti- j lential infection. To dream of ru- ? bles signifies unexpected guests. Friday is Victoria's lucky day and f three her lucky number. Wordsworth translated from the ] Italian of Michael Angelo a charm ing poem to Vittoria: "Yes. hope may with my strong de sire keep pace, And I be undeluded. unbetrayed: For if of our affections none find grace In sight of Heaven, then wherefor hath God made The world which we inhabit? Bet ter plea Love cannot have, than in loving thee Glory to that Kternal Peace is paid, | Who such divinity to thee imparts j As hallows and makes pure all gen tle hearts." (Copyright, 1920, by Wheeler Sy ml irate. Inc.) I Don't Use Salves The old-fashioned idea of apply ing some kind of grease or salve for cuts. bruises, burns and scratches has no place in modern nursing. Today we clean up the wound with a good antiseptic so lution and according to the nature of the injury dress with dry or wet dressing. If it is a clean cut made with a sharp instrument pull the two wounds together after washing; wrlnj? out a pad of gauze in the antiseptic solution and place K over the cut and fasten it to place with a gauze bandage. To keep the whole dressing in place one or two strips of zinc oxide adhesive plaster may be spiraled about the dressing and attached to the skin below to anchor it. Wounds heal by first and second intention. The first means that the edges come together and heal at once by the serum that is thrown out. Second intention means that granulations take place and new cells are formed which is a longer process. A clean cut will general ly close in the first-mentioned way. A tear or jagged cut heals slowly in the latter way. To keep it clean and exclude the air is all the nurse haSj to do. Nature does the rest. In putting on a dressing it is important to remember that in ap plying a bandage pressure must be evenly applied beginning at the ex tremity and not tied around the middle of a limb endangering the circulation. As an example a wound between the ankle and knee requires a bandage starting at the foot and making gradual pressure past the point of the wound. On burns alone it Is permissible to treat with oil. They may be covered with soft linen rags dipped in olive oil to exclude the air and lightly bandaged. (Copyright, Vm. by the M-C Syiiwti) :: Excellent Advice :: By DOROTHY DIX, Highest-paid Woman Writer. DON'T GIVE UP THE SHIP, OLD DEARS! Not long ago I made inquiries! concerning an old friend of mine. "Dead," was the reply. "Up to a year ago he was as hale and hearty an old man as you could find any- < where. Head clear as a bell. Judg- j ment sound. Body vigorous, but I his wife nagged at him about work ing too hard until she made, him sell j out his business and retire. "She asked why he should be a j slave to his business any longer ; when they had more money than they could use, and no children to leave it to. and she had an Idea that he could be perfectly happy loaflng around home, or raising Belgian hares or roses for an exciting diver-I sion. Fancy a man who has been geared up to high speed for fifty years, coming down to a Belgian hare , gait, and one who has been pitting! his wits against the sharpest brains in the financial world, getting any ' thrill out of developing a new shade in a rose! "He couldn't do it. Business was his life. His office was his world. ! and when he gave them up he sim ply snapped the cords that bound him to existence. He literally pined away and died of sheer boredom, and for lack of any vital interest In life. He didn't live a year, and yet I am convinced that he would have been good for twenty years more if he had only kept on at his job." The same day I meet a woman whom I had always known as strong and healthy, and capable In body, and cheerful and optimistic in spirits. She looked suddenly old, and gray, and shrunken, and feeble, and she was gloomy and peevish in temper. "How are your flowers doing?** I asked. "Oh. T haven't any flowers any more." she replied. "I've given up my old home, and am living with Mary. The children didn't think that I should live by myself. So I live around with the different ones. They are very kind, but I miss my own house and my own things, but perhaps it is best. I don't seem very well these days." Of course she didn't seem very well. She had signed her death sen Fashionable Nancy A cape?but atlll a coat, you aee The top and ileeves frll looae and free A bugert plaid allk ia uaed to line The cape?and then a*aln to twine About the neck; * narrow bolt Make iN>acy'a figure moat ive^e. 1 teacc when she gave up the thing in life that made life worth while, when she cased to have any objec tive in living, and became one or those who hold their hands and wait ! for death. The tonic she needed, and without 1 which she would surely die. was work, the interest of work, and the knowledge that she was still ac complishing something in the world. Not one of you who read those lines but can duplicate these casen a hundred times over out of your own experience. It is a matter of common knowledge how soon a man's funeral follows his retirement from business, or else how childish and senile he becomes. You have noticed how surely mother begins to fail as soon as he goes to live with Mary or John. ( ' And everybody says that old Mr. Smith and old Mrs. Jones must have I been much feebler than they seemed. t and how good, and kind, and wise It l was in'their children to make them j give up their work and take life i easier, and nobody dreams, least of 'all their children, that the old peo | pie have been, literally slain by their j sons' and daughters' devotion. For old people are like old trees , that have stuck their roots deep down into the soil. They cannot be transplanted. They wither and die if j you take them away from their old environments. ; For this reason an old woman Is happier and better off in her small I house, without a single convenience : in if. and in the obscure village In which she has spent her life than she will be in her son's Fifth avenue palace with servants to wait upon l her and every possible luxury at her 1 < ommand. No society can be bril ; liant enouch to interest her a.- much as the gossip of her own neighbor?. INo play as thrilling to her as the meeting of the missionary society to , which shf has belonged for fifty j years, and at whose festivals she 'always contributes the prixe cake. ? Moreover, mother in her own | home is a personage. She is free 1 and independent and monarch of I all she surveys: whereas, in her 'daughter's or her son's home she ! has no authority, and is but a guest, welcome or unwelcome ac cording to the kind of an in-law that luck has foisted upon her. j And the old man who dies in ; harness will not only die less soon j hut happier than he will as an i idler. Ko job is such hard work as ! killing time. That is why few sur vive ^t unless they get accustomei^ to loafing early in life. It takes a natural talent for laziness that f- w Americans possess to enable one to get any fun out of doing nothing. T''? old man who remains in. business has something to think about, somewhere to go. something definite to do. and even if he comes home tired and worn out, he is bet ter off than he would have been had he spent his days in the ex hausting occupation of trying to make work for himself, or thinking about the state of hia liver, or en gaged In that moat melancholy pursuit of attempting to learn how to play after the play time of life has passed. There comes to all people a psychology hour when they begin to get elderly, when they are tempted to give up. They are tired, and their children aay. "Come to us and let us take care of you. You have worked enough." But it Is a mistake to give up. If they do they are always sorry for it. For in a little while they get what Prof. James called their sec ond wind, and they are good for many more years of useful work and independence. So I aay to every old man. "Keep on with your business. Slack up a little if you like, but keep the reins in your own hand, and don't turn it over to the boys, nor sell it out." And I say to every old woman. "Don't give up your own home and go to live with your children. .Visit them as much as you like, but have your own hom? to come back to. some place where y>u are mistress." Don't give up living, old dears, whlla you are still alive. Dotj'l climb Into the grave until the coroner has sat upon the re* mains and pronounced you per manently dead." (Copyright, 1930. toy Wtoslsr Syadcate. lac.) "The Stars incline, but do not compel.*' HOROSCOPE. m MOSUAY, FKnKlABY 23. 1920 (Copyright, 1930. by The McClvre Newspaper Syndicate > Astrologers road this as an un favorable day. for during business hours Mars and Neptune arc in J ev il pi ace. Saturn is in benefic aspect in the evening:. Discontent and unrest again serm t to be of paramount power in the United States. Smouldering fires may burst forth, the seers warn. It is not a lucky day for jour I ncys of any sort, but the signs are especially unfavorable for sea going. Movements of troops which may be merely readjustments of mili | tary strength are prognosticated. Quarrels, due to misrepresenta tion and misjudgment, arc likely I I to be numerous during this plane-] i tary government, which is most threatening to domestic happiness. I Some sort of trouble involving both the army and navy seems to bo presaged. This is a question of rank or benefits. With an increased interest in I religious subjects and renewed ten-! dency to venture in psychic ex-1 periments many false prophets and' prophetesses will arise during the next few months. The young arc warned to forego all experiments with toys that! tell the future, for dangers lurk' in them, since after the age of 12 when the Mercury period of life! merges into that of Venus, the j nerves are exceedingly sensitive. Many geniuses will develop in the United States and from the na tional and State eapitals both men j and women will go forth to "re ceive recognition in Europe, the I seers declare. Race problems will again come | to the fore next month when a sensational incident seems to be foreshadowed. Farming will become more popu lar than ever before in this coun try and many college graduates will till the soil Cleanliness in city streets is en 1 joined, as epidemics threaten to J spread with the coming of the spring. I Persons whose birthdatc it is may expect a prosperous year if they avoid litigation. Children born on this day are likely to be bright and intellectual, popular and witty. These subjects of Pisces may be inclined toward careless ways and should be care IS THIS YOUR TYPE? By MARIE LA ROQUE Copyright 1920, by tht McClur* Ncvvptper Syndicate. Have You Napoleon's Eye? The gray or steel blue eye that| at times looks black?that was the eye possessed by thfc two greatest conquerors of history. Julius Cae sar and Napoleon Bonaparte. As you turn the pages of the lives of famous; men and women you will find that there were quite a num ber moie who had this black -gray eye?so many, in fact, that you might almost conclude that there was some association between an eye of this sort and superior men tal endowments, especially of th< aggressive sort. Among great men whose eyes are described an gray, yt-u may find the i:ames of Michael Angelo. Brown ing. Carnegie. Coleridge. Columbus. Ibsen. Thomas Jefferson. Milton. Tolstoy. Tennyson and George Wash ington. whose eye is described ax | "mixed pray." Doubtless there were J times wb'-n the Kray eyes of the j Father of His Country looked as black with the fire of determlna-! tion a* ever did those of Napoleon j or Caesar. If you should analyze this Napu j leonic eye?this eye that is so of-; ten to be found in the heads of men who hold commanding posi tions in the world's affairs?you will see that the orb itself Is i,ray. The impression of darkness is something thst conv-s with the placing of i the $>*?? in the eye socket, the contour of the lids, lashes and brows, and the faci^ expression. Often th?* darkness is due to the fact that the pupil is fsirly large and the eye lumin ous?for the man of * genius or ability usually does have eves that are brilliant. And so it may hap pen that two gray eyes of th?- same degree of pigmentation may appear quite different. The one belong ing to a man or woman posessing force of character, deep purpose, mental alertness and powers of concentration will look dark, ex tremely dark at times, as did Cae sar's and Napoleon's. But the same eye in the head of the man who T Ct'?? U.*? >ap?lr?iiir Ky?. lakes it)1n?oi as they come, the man who dit-am* rather than acts, this eye will remain simply gray. You may find wom^n with gTmy eyes praised by poets and occa sionally they appear on the can vasses of the great painters: bui the gray eyea that look black sel dom find place In the feminine ideal of beauty. It is too much the eye that commands?too forceful, too compelling?to accord with man's ideal of a beautiful woman. Doubt Jt-aa there are women who have had this eye. There arc a?-tresses who have (fray or blue eyes which in I moments of tense emotion appear to be black. But the "beau ideal" ? f ilovely womanhood I* usually tbf I eye that is "blue like sapphire " "sepia brown like heavy velvet." |"black like the skin of a ripe olire." or "hazel like the reflections of trees in a woodland pool ' ** Byron had the*e gray-black eyes, though we should hardly put him in a category with Napoleon. Cae sar or Washington. Still, the de scription is interesting?"beautiful, chanceful gray eyes which deepened in color when he was under the in fluence of tenderness and passion and which clomed with a red lisht I when he was angry." CHILDREN'S SUNRISE STORIES UNCLE W1GGILY AND SAMMIE S ALTO. By HOWAHK 15. GAJtIS vr = One day Uncle Wiaily Ix>ngears was hopping through the woods, when, all of a sudden, he heard a voice laying: "No. it will not go! There*# no use trying to make it!" "Maybe if you bang?d it a couple of times it would go," said another voice. "Take it to Uncle Wfg?ctl>! ~ He'll make it go!" exclaimed a third vak*. "Dear me!" thought the bunny rab- j bit gentleman to hlmwlf, "\\ hat 1?; it I am to fix? I think I'd better I take a look." So the bunny rabbit pentleman peeked around the corner of a bank of enow, and there he saw Uilye and Johnnie Bushytail, the two squirrel boy?, and Sammy Littletail, the rab bit. i "Oh. I'm all right m-ith them!'* Mid j Uncle Wigrily. "What's the malt< r. , Sammie? What won't go?" "My toy automobile that T got j for Christmas." Sammio answered. "Something is the matter and it ' won't go. and we were just going to try to see if it could lace with a j snowball." "Race your automobile with a snow- | ball. Sammie!" cried Uncle Wiugily ) *n surprise. "A snowball can't run." j "It can run down hill,*' -aid the 1 rabbit boy.* "and that's wh< re we I were going to have the race. Hut now I we can't, because my toy automj'jiki is broken.** said Sammie. ''Uncle Wigrily. having 1 real auto mobile ??f his own. took a look at Sammi. 's toy, and the rabbit gentle man saw what the trouble was. "The tieerum-tankerum has become twilled around the whixxkum-whazzi icum." said Mr. fjongeaJv. j "Yes." answered Sammie and Rillie ? and Johnnie all topether. "And the only way to fix it," said j Uncle Wiggily. "is to put some taVum , powder on the thinc-a-ma-hob that 1 sixces around the whit-ls-it!** "Can you do that?" asked Sammie. * "1 can. 1 said Uncle Wiggilv. and he J did. Soon Sammie'n auto was run- j ning as well as ever. "But this isn't mu< h of an adventure _ I The twins had found some saw dust out of Jocko down by the edge of the creek and Nancy'* heart was pad. "Maybe he ran away because I didn't sew him up,'* she said. "You can see tor yourself. He's all full of lumps, and the lumps are my children." And she began to cry again "Well.** said Nick indignantly. Nick got cross and chased the king! "Mamma told me to, but I always forgot." Then suddenly a voice near them said, "That's the trouble with all of us. We keep forgetting things, and then something happens." I Nancy and Nick looked around curiously, and there sat Mrs. Toad crying. , "It's Just what I get," said Mrs. Toad. "When I went to do the mar keUn5:.L,<n.,t.hi?100?:?U.n,0Cked ? sure wrn "f'Vu' dor?"5Te"u; those toads. Now open your moutw quick." 4 There mas nothing else for Sam my to do. He just had to open fits mouth and all the little toads hop ped out one at a time and ran across the meadow to their mother. And the twins were happy, be cause they had helpod somebody out of trouble am. *1*11 go right home and tell mamma.** "That wouldn't do any good." aaid Mrs. Toad sadly. "But if you'll just please go and tell Patrick Pig, it may help some." So the twins hunted up the pig. and sure enough he knew exactly what to do. He marched right over to where Sammy Snake was sleeping and smiling In the ?un and said. "Now, Sam, I've had a mind to mane a meal of you for ever so long, a no the children all got out. "And are *hey lost now, like our Jocko?** asked Nick. "No/* said the toad, "they're not. That's the trouble. They're over there on the road where Sammy Snake is lying In the sun. They're inside of him.'* "Inside of him?** cried the twins. "Yea," nodded poor Mrs. Toad. f<>r me." said Uncle Wiggily to him self "I mu>t hop along a call) and see if something real exciting w|U not happen." So Uncle Wiggily. after bavins fixed Sammie s auto, hopped over the fields ami through the woods. looking for an adventure. Ho was beginning to think he would never find one. when, all of a sudden, out from behind a wow covcrcd sasfafrw bush joraped the f funny old Baxumpu.1*. ?"Dear me!** exclaimed the Bazumpus. 1 pretending to be surprised. "How re markable !'* and he grabl?ed Uncle Wicaly by the ears. "I didn't expect to meet you!** he went on. not telling the exact truth, as the rabbit gentle man m*ell knew. "Well. now you have met me what are you going to do?*' asked Uncle Wiggily. scornful like. **I think I shall nibble a bit of you' souse." said the bad old Bazumrnis ?Yes. 1 shall take some of your souw. and then, if there is any time left. I'll take you to the Skeczicks and the Pipslsewah." All of a sudden, when Unci* Wiggily was fooling badly, and wishing he could got away from th^ Bazumpus. there came a cry of: "Look out for the auto! I?ok out for the automobile! lx>ok out! ( I-ook out!'* and there was a whiz ring, whirring sound. "Gracious mo. sakes* alivr." cried the Bazumpus. "I don't want to got run down by a Jitney!" and he gave a jump, lotting go of Cu rio Wlggily's ears, and a* ay ???* ran as fast as anything, did th?* Bazumpus. Uncle Wiggily was so surprised that ho couldn't get out of th? w.i.y. "The auto! Tho auto!** cried ^ the voice again, and th?-n some-" thing ran slamb-bang-k*-r-bunko! full crash into tho rabbit gentle 1 man. He was hit by the automo | bile! i But it was only the little tin toy 1ono he had fixed for Sammio. th? ; rabbit boy. and tho auto was so light it couldn't hurt a rat doll, let alone brave Uncle Wiggily. Up | caino running and laughing Sam , mie and the squirrels. 1 "We didn't moan to run th<* auto 'into you. Undo Wiggily." they said. I "It got away from us and slid dowrv hill." Tin glad it did.** laughed the bunny. "Only for the auto having wand away the Bazumpus h<* would have had my sous*. I'm glad 1 iix? d it for you. Sammio." Not a Bite of Breakfast Until You Drink Water a a la km of water mm+ pkotphnir prr\rii, lllaeaa and keep* mm At. Just aa coal, when it burns, leaves behind incombustible ashes, so the food and drink taken day after day leaves in the alimentary canal in digestible material, which. If not completely eliminated from the sys tem each day, becomes food for the millions of bacteria which infest the bowels. From this mats of left-over waste, toxins and ptomainelike poi sons are formed and sucked into the blood. Men and women who can't get feeling right must begin to take in side baths. Before breakfast each morning drink.a glass of hot water with a teaspoon ful of limestone i phosphate in it to wash out of the bowels the previous day's poisons I and toxins, and to eep the entire alimentary canal clean, pure and fresh. I Those who are subject to nick | headache, colds, biliousness, constl | pation. others who wake up with bad taste, foul breath. backachaA rheumstic stiffness, or have a sour gasv stomach after meals, are urged to get a quarter pound of limestoae phosphate from the drug atore. and begin practicing internal sanitation [This will cost very little but is *uf Went to make anyone aa enthusiast od the subject.?Adv. . \ \ * *