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Afternoon Frocks of Taffeta and Crepe [
Truly tlie way of the seeker after pretty frocks that will make them selves generally useful, is easier than It used to he. What with combina tions of materials and a vogue for simplicity togetbzr with much wartime latitude in the matter of dress, any clever woman can achieve afternoon and evening dresses—interchangeable —of course. Very formal dress may . be left out of the reckoning, for that Is a privilege of these times. But aft ernoon frocks are a necessity and seem to have benefited by the concentration of attention on them. In the picture of two models de signed for dressy wear, the needs of the slender figure have been consid ered in the frock at the left, and a fine style for plump figures is portrayed at the right. The gown at the left is of taffeta in a light russet or deep tan «hade. It has a very new tunic effect arranged across the back where it is plaited and extended above the girdle in a fan. The girdle is merely a wide • j ! ! ; i j j ] j j j j Types in Millinery Styles 'Whatever your mood this summer you may find a hat that expresses it, but modistes must be counting upon a cheerful, if not a gay frame of mind In their patron»; for hats are laden with bright flowers and kindly fruits. Plain satin and belting ribbons lend, 'their lovely tones to the millinery spring song and when black and dark colors are introduced they miss being somber by being brilliant. Everjthing igleams. If millinery means anything It surely emphasizes a joy in life, or at the very least a refusal to be down hearted this summer. Three lovely hats in the group shown above are as different, each from the others, as can be. hut are »II types of the season's styles. The wide-brimmed liât at the center is pretty and pic turesque enough to make a dent in a heart of stone. As a bridesmaid's hat It would tempt the bride to move for ward lier wedding (lay. It is <>f orchid pink crepe georgette and tuscan lace braid, with brim lines that flow, about the face in the loveliest of graceful curves. Small grapes clamber over th(' brim, matching their beauty with pink roses that deepen to red at the heart. The ruthless milliner has add ed a final touch of beauty in a long tie of satin ribbon that falls from un der the brim at the hack. .lust bei'cv there is a «nail hat with u soft crown that is poced over a wreath of roses set like a crown about tin* he.id. The hat is covered wi*h crepe georgette and faced with chrys • bias strip of the silk, crushed about the waist and fastened at the left ! side. Crepe georgette with crosswise ; tucks and bordered with a fold makes the deep cape collar, The always smart black and white combination has been worked out in new ways since the appearance of novel patterns in figured black and white crepe. In the frock at the right of the picture figured crepe is used for the underdress and sash, with bod ice, sleeves and tunic made of plain black georgette. There is chemisette of fine tucked crepe in white. The open sleeves are noteworthy with three wide tacks ss a finish. The wide girdle 1* draped very loosely about the figure below the waistline, with ends falling straight nt the left side. There is nothing to break the straight lines of the silhouette. This, with the narrow underskirt and the undraped tunic and sash, all made in the softest and sheer est of fabrics, commend the frock to those who are ambitious to achieve slenderness. anthemum braid. The roses are set: orr a band covered with black velvet ribbon that is tied In a small how at the hack. This is a new departure in hats, as lovely as it is unusual. Speaking of the unusual in mil linery, the smart black hat at the left of the picture may certainly lay claim to the distinction which belongs to the entirely new things ir» styles. This small' Mack satin turban looks as if It were thatched, and it is, with a mass of shiny fibers that resemble grass. They may be silk braid and they may he Japanese aigrettes or glycerine ostrich. Whatever they are they are gleaming and rich looking. A flat wired ornament of grosgrain rib hoR is as odd as the hat. z Alluring New Voiles. Voiles show n ' this year are allur ing, little flowered frocks, ruffled on the sides with vest and collar of sheer white organdie. I'laids in two colors are tucked in a plain color, have plain vest and organdie collar daintily em broidered in garlands of delicate col oring. Uses for Old Waists. Shirt waists which are out of dnt( ml have passed their usefulness as waists can he utilized as guimpes . in anisettes and corset covar*. Is to • Out of the Shadow o-c» By SUSAN CLAGETT VSN/N--' +**4*4^ (Copyright. 191S, by the McClure Newspa per Syndicate.) "deer miss kin yn help we uns me an liz Crawford is bavin a Hard time guvment tuk our mens an we alls tryin to git vittles an cloths to Hive the cliilrun to cut we caiut an miss lloney we alls mos parish me an liz an her Hal hahys is livin with mol wade an arftor we als dun git thru the wuk thars nuiin to do but set fore the Fire an tat an knit an woner of our mensl! kuna hum an how we unsll git thru the Winter it is Awful cold an me an mol go up the mountin an cut down pine saplins au drag em hum i aint plainln miss honey an i aint begin but i jest wants to know' cf yore friensll buy we alls Tatin. 'With great Itespec yore "Frien liza rankin." Lavinia read the letter over and over again. She could make nothing of it but a jumble of words all but illegibly written. Not a comma, not a period. She glanced at the name: liza rankin, and light came to her. The meaning of the letter became clear. Her throat contracted with an uncomfortable ache and tears hid the package in her lap at whicB she fumbled with unsee ing eyes. It was roughly and insecurely tied and she wondered how it hud come intact through the mails. As tfte thought flashed through her miud a smaller package dropped upon the floor. With an exclamation she picked up yards of beautifully fine and intri cate tutting. Examining the contents of the larger bundle, she found it con tained several sets of table mats with crocheted borders and coarse, home spun linen centers. Her mind went back to the summer just past and the several summers before when she had helped spin the cloth from flax raised in the little clearing about the cabin. If she had been asked she could not have told how she had heard of the little home in the Tennessee mountains across the border from Virginia, hut each summer there after had found her a visitor, and she and Eliza Bankiu had become fast friends. She had helped Eliza make her wed ding dress; had returned to the moun tain for the wedding, taking with her from her ow : n store of furniture enough to make comfortable the tiny two room log house that was to be Eliza's future home. She had been with her when tiie child was born ; had been with her when, dry-eyed, the grief etricken mother had laid the still little form in Its crib for the last time, and it was in the rough little cabin that Lavinia came under the influence that altered the course of her own life when she raised her head from her spinning and met the keen, questioning gray eyes of the mountain doctor who had stopped for a moment to ask for a drink of milk. She met him often In her wanderings about the mountain, but aside from the pleasure of au occasional meeting she had given him no thought until she raised her head that day and lier eyes were held by the dominant gray ones of the man standing in the doorway. She felt as if he was reading her very soul. Filled with resentment, the angry color flooded lier face under his memless gaze. Indignantly she straightened iti her chair. Tuen, to her everlasting shame, she left the spin ning wheel and walked directly into his arms. Siie left the mountain the next day. There was a long wait at Bristol be fore the arrival of the north-bound train, but almost as it came into sight Doctor Cochran crossed the platform to her side. "Eliza told me you had gone. Why?" he had asked abruptly. She had looked at him coolly, criti cally. A big, awkward but powerfully built man, coarsely clothed with his blue homespun shirt open at the throat and sleeves pushed carelessly back from his muscular arms. lier very silence brought to him a realiza tion of her thought. "Oh! That's it! A mountain man Is not good enough ! Yob want the fine elothes, the suavity and convention to which you are accustomed. You can have them if you want. 1 do not doubt It. But whoever he be he will never have what you have given to the mountaineer." She had risen and faced him. "How dare you—" He had laughed roughly in Interrup tion. "Dare? I date anything, my dear young lady, and I tell you plainly that In that half hour in Eliza Itun kin's cabin you gave me what you will never give another man, and that was your soul," and turning on Ids heel he left her as the train pulled into the station. She heard from him once, months later. He wrote that he had volun teered and must see her before he left for France. Tiie note was unanswered. He did not come, and as the days passed she knew her day of reckoning was upon lier; that she had let him go to his work thinking lier heartless. it all came back as she looked at the work in her lap and as she let the beautiful tatting slip over her fingers her resolution was taken. Naturally she met opposition when she told her family she was going to lie mountain for a brief stay, but she y* nt on about the carrying out of her linn and blessed the aunt who left her • small 1 gacy to do with as she would. is I is Knowing that the railroads were con gested by the movement of troops, she hired a motortruck to carry food and told the chauffeur she was going with him across the width of Virginia. IBs expression spoke volumes and when j out of hearing uttered words not in tended for a woman's ear' She persuaded a married friend to accompany h. r. This she regretted j later on, for the cold was intense and | there was tire trouble. To her It j meant delay, but her friend could see ; nothing in the trip hut her own folly j in yielding to Laviniu's wishes. ; "I will leave you at Hot Springs and go alone," Lavinia told her at last. "It j was really too much to ask of you." | "I will* keep on until we reach a | railroad," Mrs. Howard answered j shortly. "When we come to that bond with civilization I will leave you to your own devices. What on earth put such an idea into your head. Couldn't you have sent the things by freight?" "Eliza and tiie others need food, and this Is the quickest way to get It to them," Lavinia answered, Fortunately her chauffeur was a Vir ginian and had come from the section of the state to which she was going. He had known the Rankins and Wades. "We played together when we was kids," he told tier. "It'll go hard with the women in the mountains with their men gone." For a moment he looked troubled. "I s'pose you wonder why a husky feller like me is a stay-at home. I ain't no slacker. I has a wife an' five kids an' the orfercer tol' me to stay at home an' take kyar of 'em." Never in her life before had Lavinia been so conscious* of the comforts of fire as when she entered the log cabin an hour later, stiff and shivering. But it wasn't much of a fire, just ft handful of sticks upon which Eliza threw a few pine cones that blazed up at once. Standing before it. Lavinia looked about. There was but the one room. Side by side In one comer stood two beds covered with gay patchwork quilts. Four bright eyes peered nt her from the farthest one. From tiie near er came a slight moan. 'T did not know anyone was sick, Eliza." "I.iz wore jes' po'ly when I writ, miss, honey. She give up las' nigh'. I put the chilrtm in bed to keep warm. Moll is out tryin' to git wood. Miss, honey, I shorely think the Lord dun sent you." "There must be someone who can get wood for you," Lavinia said. "Where is Jake Fox? He is too old to be called." For a moment Eliza did not answer. "He's a-haulin* for money an' we alls dicin' have none." Lavinia opened her purse. "Give him tills and tell him to hurry with a load." The mountain woman drew back. "I ain't hoggin', honey." "Of course not. I expect you to pay it back. But now I am cold and hun gry and we will talk g^out it after a while," and throwing aide her wraps, she went over to speak lo Lizzie Cruw ford. For a week she watched beside that bod in tiie corner, resting between times in a big chair before the fire. At the end of that time as she was bending over the bed the door was thrown open and a hearty voice said: "I came back to take a look around before I left for France, Eliza; heard Lizzie was sick and came over to see what was the matter." The voice stopped short. "Y'ou !" For a second of time Lavinia thought she would suffocate witli the beating of her heart, then she said quietly : "I heard they were in trouble, so I came." The man's hand was not quite steady as lie reached over and laid his fingers upon Lizzie's wrist. "There is no fever. I think—" He caught sight of Lavinia's eyes and turned abruptly away. Her gaze followed him, then rested upon the compass quilt, the figure of which she began to trace absently with her finger. She had thought him in France, now that he was here there were things she must say to him and they would take courage. He interrupted her thought. "Come here," he said peremptorily. "I must see your eyes again. They gave me your soul once. Convention and train ing hid them from sight. I am won dering if it was forever." There was Just an Instant of pause, her eyes held by his as she went toward him and again, as that first time, she walked directly into his arms. Our Partners in Joys and Sorrows. A writer says in the American Mag azine: "It Is a good phrase we have for describing women, 'partners of our joys and sorrows.' I know not how it may be with other men, but it is thus with me: In the regular rou tine of life, when nothing much is happening, when the days go by one after the other filled with their monot onous rounds of duties, I can, if neces sary, exist for long periods without the company of women. In such days and weeks they are sometimes, to be sure, a pleasing distraction; but they are not food and drink and shelter. I can, if need be, survive. But let suc cess break through the monotony of the daily grind, and I must have a woman to share it; half its sweetness is lost otherwise. And failure without their God-given chatter and unquench able optimism Is utterly intolerable. I sty I know not how it may he with taer men, hut it is thus with me." The Reason. 'These mountain-climbing record« • not trustworthy." 'Why not?" "Because mountain climbing is a it which Ly its nature is never or level." j cn p aS t, and NOW BELGIAN WRESTLER HAS HAD 23 WIVES Hopes for Peaceful Do mestic Life. j | j ; New j known ; Colosse," 35 headquarters j claim the ! | championship | erful Belgian has had 23 wiv j of whom deserted him because of ins drinking. Since Ills mar >rting cir >s pound Pierre Fiera ri i, s ns "Pierre le wrestler, with v York city, may ight matrimonial world. The pow most ringe to his latest bride, formerly Miss Julia Jacobson, a Russian woman, Fle rard lias turned his hack on John Bar leycorn. He insists that No. -J comes nearer to being the ideal woman for whom he has sought In his matrimo nial ventures^ and that ho holies to live long and happily with her. Fierard was horn In Montignier sur Sambre. Belgium, January 15, 1S08, and began life as a chef. For four years he served the king of Belgium and then was sought as chef for the crown prince of Germany. And Pierard de W l«w/ Italian and Spanish Women Have Too Much Temper. clares that, had he accepted the job, the war would be over; perhaps, there never would have been a war. Pierard was only eighteen years of age when, in 18S0. he was married the first time. Ills wife died in c'llld Mrth. He eloped with a boarding house mistress and left her when he found she had a husband. With his third wife he lived 13 years. Pierard had by this time taken up wrestling, and in his search for a perfect woman began to marry at the slightest provo cation. Some of his marriage contracts lasted only three months and one last ed only 72 hours. Pierard declares that Italian and Spanish women have too much temper. French women are too capricious. Eng lish women are too cold, and German women too stupid. Russian women, he believes, are the best because they are obedient and wait on their hus bands hand and foot. He lias never married an American woman and de clares he never will, because they have too much liberty and would make him so jealous that they would drive him crazy. I of ♦ MAN KICKS ON COLD FOOD Applies for Divorce Because of Chilled Sunday Dinner Supplied by Wife. San Francisco. —Accusing his wife of giving him only cold food to eat on Sundays, Gordon Gauntlett, repre sentative of an Eastern wire and cable company, filed suit for divorce here against Katherine Amelia Gauntlett. The couple was married in New York in 1007. Gauntlett offers his wife cash and property amounting to more than $ 10 , 000 . % ROUTED MERRYMAKERS f % WITH "TWO-BIT" PISTOL f Tovey, 111.—Will Lorrisey is X Tovey's original gun man. He f> proved it at a ball given by the A, Soldiers' Farewell club. With <?' "pistol" in hand and a dime- £ novel shout he routed the merry- T makers until he came to Mur- & shal Dominick Gaeti. He of 4* the law and order playfully <i pointed a 3$ Colt at the "bad T man" and disarmed him. Lorri- ••• scy's "revolver" prove«} to be his % little brother's two-bit cap pis- •'»> tol. MISSING EYt HIS UNDOING Man Arrested After Many Months on Charge of Stabbing Miner to Death. Salt Lake City.—The absence of an eye caused Eric Hill to be returned to Boulder, Mont., to face a charge .of stabbing to death a minor there las'; September. Just before he died the miner is reported to have said. "That one-eyed man got me." A detecâv photograph ; authorities. recognized Hill from a nt here by the Boulder pß.EH j. iftlÜn- qsMüäBgasE». the village clock. "Well," said the village ('!«.< k ••■»me of the brownies climbed tip t" thy tower upon which it stood and tom; seats around on a tiny balcony. • Well what?" asked the brownie« "Well," said the village < lo. "it's enough to begin with one word. When I continue I use more words and be fore I have finished I have used many. But I begin with one. It's all that Is necessary and so why should I Pother about more?" "True." saifl Billie Brownie, "hut most folks don't stop after th.a> first word. They go on and on titTd on. Sometimes they talk for ever so long. In fact until everyone has forgotten thaf the y Tver had a first word." "I am the village clock. I am not 'most folks.' And what is more, I wouldn't he for anything in the world." "Could you he if you wanted?' asked Bennie Brownie. "Don't be riîïïe, little boy," said tie clock. "J'm not saying whether I Couldn't or whether I could. It's not a matter for discussion." "Whatever do you mean by discus sion?" asked one of the very young brownies. "Talk, my child." said the clock. 'Tall; and discussion mean just about the same. Sometimes, though, a dis cussion may be an argument and some times an argument may mean a quar rel. So discussion has all sorts of pos sibilities which talk hasn't got. Yes. I'd rather he discussion than talk if I were a word. It has more chances In life." Billie and Bennie Jlrownie were laughing so hard, they were almost afraid they would burst their sides. The clock was putting on such airs and trying to be so very learned and wise. "Could you be a word if you wanted to be?" asked the youngest brownie of all. T "I am a word," said the clock. "And a fine word I am too. The word which I am Is clock, little brownie. Yes, clock Is certainly a word and that word means nothing else but me—or else one of iny family. i "And such a fine family as I belong to. We keep the time. We don't care for people If they woi^'t ohej us. Do you suppose for one minute when anv "When It's Dark Anyone Can See Me." one is late we'll move back? Not a bit of it. We go on and on, and won't stop f«»r anyone. "That's what it means to belong tc ♦ he family of clocks. Of course there are clocks that get out of order and stop, hut that's only because they have something the matter with their works. We won't stop for anything else. We sometimes have to he wound tip, hut as for stopping because some one was late and didn't want to be! Goodness, we'd never do that. And when any of our family lias to go to the clock mender's or be wound tip, the time goes on just the same. "Yes. we have to he put ahead with the time. But I am a fortunate clock. I am the village clock. "Folks set their watches by me. I'm the right time. I am. Children hurry by me when they're on their way to school, and they say, 'Oh, dear, that clock seems to hurry along so. We may be late.' I m really just going at my usual rate. I don't go by fits and starts. I'm regular. But the greatest honor of all was paid to me this spring." U hat was that?" asked Bennie Brownie. "Yes. do tell us," said Billie Brownie. They both knew perfectly well, but they wanted the clock t(> tell them. "It was really what I was going on |° when I began talking by say ing. 'Wall.' I was going to say, 'Well, |>t last it has happened. Thev have lighted up my face.' ? »»a see I strike every hour to let folks know the time, hut it's nice to be able to see me in the evening be tween the hours. And so they've light ed up my face, and when it's dark any one can see me. "I'm lighted up, I am, and can be seen by daylight or electric light I'lghf. That shows what an honorable 1M ^ ''in, and how important I am. village clock and they've 4lcht I'm tin p d *p n; iy face so they can alwavs see me—am ♦ime of the dnv or night " And t lie hfownics all agreed that It was a clock ! j-ient honor to he a village Ca; iting Bread Upor. Waters. "Vow, Nettie," saht the Sunday school t cacher, "you may r .id tie ; ext vers»*/* i « >• lit 11 <* girl road, "Cast thy hr ad r,] »on the waters." "\Vbv should we cast our broad upon the waters?" • i] k.tvo to :e toucher. "Cause tlm f.-I.c4 l e fed." uus tiie reply.