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"Nowadays, Any Woman Should Be Ashamed Not to Be Goodlooking"Says Mary Nash
LESSORS IN UNNfXTURAL HISTORY DOROTHY DIX A FISH is a small, moist, unpleasant looking .body, which is equally at -home in the water and cold storage. It is also the father of lies, and full of ptomaine poisoning and temptation to tell tarradiddles. Fish arc found in al! parts of the world, but their favorite habitat is a cold and clammy plate, where they are discovered surrounded by a white sauce that bilUstickers' paste. Few people have the hardihood alo remove them from this though occasionally you may ob serve an. intrepid and foolhardy adventurer attempting the feat at a *60 cent table d'hote dinner. In appearance the fish is somewhat unprepossessing, being lacking in profile and having a mouth that resembles that of a political orator. Rut it has a lovely, sinuous, straight front figure that ajfenes for its facial defects. It is also possessed of a high moral character, being calm and cdJlected, snd little given to temperamental impulses. The h«bits of the fish are most exemplary. The males of the species -arc always on the water wagon, while the lady fi P hes are so industrious and so-averse to race suicide that they fill the heart of Colonel Roosevelt The chief characteristic of fish appears to be their sense of humor. They are the great practical jokers of the animal world, and they like nothing betfer than a day's sport with a man with a $250 outfit, whom lhey will josh into sitting for hours at a stretch in a humped position that gives him the cramps, or cl.-c they jvill string htm along for miles through ■ a shallow stream without giving him anything to .show for his trouble but a cold in his head There are a great many different kinds of fish. The most common variety, is the One-I-Caught-But-Could-Not-Land. This species is ex tremely large, about the size of a sperm whale. It is also exceedingly game and .is only caught after the most brilliant maneuvering on the part of the fisherman. The chief peculiarity-, though, is its shyness, Tor ft is obser.vable that thi> paragon of the finny tribe is never hooked except wfien a man is fishing alone. ' The next most familiar variety i<; the ti_h that a rrtan actually does catch. This, variety is a small, insignificant, measly creature that his wife dpe'sn't think worth while cooking. It is extremely expensive, a little hand caught fi>h not three inches long frequently costing from $300 to $500. " Araofrff' other well known varieties of fish are the sucker, which abjtiod-; in* Wall street waters; the goggle eyed perch, who infests the automobiles and rubbers up at the tall buildings; the lobster. ". jtrts around the bars of the Great White Way. and the clams, wliicli are plentiful along Fifth avenue. who are great fishers of men and frequently', make big caliches, find that the most effective'bait to use is a combination of good lor/ks and flattery. Almost any kind of a he fish, especially an old one. How fishing comes to be classed among sports instead of among crUel and unusual and inhuman punishments, is a mystery no one ha = ever attempted to solve. It must simply be set down as one of the vagaries.pf human nature that a man will leave a nice, cool,, clean, com fortable onice and spend from $10 to $100 to sit on the end of a broiling pier, holding a dinky little pole with a. silly little line attached, fishing for a fish that hasrft been in that vicinity for 10 years, and then he will return home with a blistered neck, every muscle in him aching, and brag about the fun he has had. ' ; • As has been said, fish are found in all parts of the world, but the finest varieties'are to be discovered at your butcher's. Also you will find fhat The Manicure Lady WILLIAM F. KIRK * usually dream about anything S. except a horse race, but last night f I dream"i that I was in a swell room with a lot of the Four Hundred, and that I was doing the turkey trot with you. I was wondering how either one of us got into such swell com pany when I woke up." ■That was one dream that will •never come true," said the Manicure Lady. "You couldn't get me to get up and dance one of them Idiot dances like the turkey trot if you 'held a loaded musket right at my* he-ad. I would rather have my head full of birdshot than empty rooms. "The only good thing about them new ,ian< e<=. George, is that the folks In tl*e asylums has got some real joy out of them. They have dances in all the asylums every week, some times oftener, and they let all the In mates dance. 1 was reading the other d;<y that the crazy folks takes to the n«jw dances Just as natural as a duck trfkes to water, and I think anything teat pleases _a,lunatic ..Is worth notice, a-ifcrnow." .' "Do all the hat* like the turkey *trot?" asked the Head Barber. »f*ur- they do," said the Manicure Lady. "Why shouldn't they? They are gaited just right for that kind of dancing. Wilfred went to a dance the ether night that was gave by some j=f.etety people on Long island, and one cf the girls wouldn't dance with him because all he could do was the old |»■ fashioned waltz. He kind of burned up about It, I guess, because when Special Features of Interest Women the dance was over and he had went home he wrote a poem about the crowd arid the new dances. I don't remember all of it, but I was reading it over after he got lt back from the magazine he sent it to, and part of'lt Went like this: " 'On with the dance, but it ain't the dance Our grandfathers used to dance. For now the folks do not twostep or waltz; All they do is to foolishly prance. I could learn to turkey trot in a But I can not see where there is anything in it. " 'When I saw them people dancing it, This crowd of so called society, I blushed because at once 1 seen They didn't have no sense of pro priety. Rather than dance them dances new I would die on the ballroom floor And pass up through them skies so To the blessed golden shore.' " It' is a good thing that didn't get into print, or them society people .would sure have felt pretty cheap," said the Head Barber. "I know it would, but that's the trouble with Wilfred." said the Mani cure Lady. "He writes a lot of good sermons like that, but none of them ever gets Into print, where the world can see them. I think if he was on one of the big newspapers he would do a world of good. He would fire the people to a sense of right, George." "He would get fired before the peo ple," declared the Head Barber. WITHIN THE LAW Greatest Serial of the Day Marvin Dana From the Play of Bayard Vei 11 c r What Has Gone Before Mnry Turner, a beautiful girl, of good breeding, but without fund-, I- forced to take employ ment iv Edward Glider's great metropolitan department store. She works for a pittance, bat Keeps herself wholesome and honest. Thefts are committed !n the store and the girl Is nTiingfully accused of the crluie and sentenced to three rears' Imprisonment. The sflrl, in charge of a detective, in brought to UUder'* office on her way to prison. She declares It was unfair of (aider to Insist that »he he given n long sen tence, and In reiterating her In nocence nsserts that thefts are committed In the store because the girls are not paid a living «asc In conclusion she de clares when she cornea out she will make (aider pay for every minute of her Imprisonment. Now Go On With the Story Copyright, lUl.t. by the H. K. Kly Company. The play •"Within the Law' - Is copyrighted l>y Mr. Velller sod the novelUatlon of It 1* published by nl» ■rrmisaion. The American Play company Is the sole proprietor of tbe exclusive rights of the representation and performance of "Within the Law" in all languages. < out In iied From Saturday CHAPTER VI Continued Yet, these afflictions were not the worst injuries to mar the girl con vict's life. That which bore upon her most weightily and Incessantly was the degradation of this environment, from which there was never any re spite, the vlclousness of this spot wherein she had been cast through no fault of her own. Vileness was every where, visibly In the faces of many, and it was brimming from the souls of more, subtly hideous. The girl held herself rigidly from any personal in timacy with her fellows. To some %x --tent. at least, she could separate her self from their corruption in the mat-, ter of personal association. But. ever present, there was a secret energy of vice that could not be escaped so sim ply—nor, indeed, by any device; that breathed in the spiritual atmosphere itself of the place. Always, this mys-.. terious. invisible, yet horribly potent, power of sin ' was like a miasma throughout the prison. Always, lt was striving to reach her soul, to make her of its own. She fought the in sidious, fetid force as best she might. She was not evil by nature. She had been well grounded in principles of righteousness. Nevertheless, though she maintained the integrity of her character," that character suffered from the taint. There developed over the girl's original sensibility a shell of hardness, which in time would surely come to make her less scrupu lous in her reckoning of right and wrong. Yet, as a rule, character remains the same throughout life as to its prime essentials, and. in this case, Mary Turner at the end of her term waa vitally almost as wholesome as on the day when she began the serv ing of the sentence. The change wrought in her was chiefly of an ex ternal sort. The kindliness of her heart and her desire for the seemly joys of life were unweakened. But over the better qualities of her nature was now spread a crust of worldly hardness, a denial of appeal to her sensibilities. It was this that would eventually bring her perilously close to contented companioning with The best evidence of the fact that Mary Turner's soul was not fatally soiled must be found In the fact that still, at the expiration of her sen tence, she was fully resolved to live straight, as the saying Is, which she had quoted to Glider. This, too, in the face of sure knowledge as to the difficulties that would beset the effort, and in the face of the temptations offered to follow an easier path. There was, for example, Aggie Lynch, a fellow convict, with whom she had a slight degree of acquaint ance, nothing more. This young woman, a criminal by training, offered allurements of Illegitimate employ ment in the cuter world when they should be free. Mary endured the companionship with this prisoner be cause a sixth sense proclaimed the fact that here was one unmoral, rather than immoral —and the differ ence is mighty. For that reason, Ag gie Lynch was not actively offensive, as were most of the others. She was a dainty little blonde, with a baby face, in which were set two light blue eyes, of a sort to widen often Iff de mure wonder over most things in a surprising and naughty world. She had been convicted of blackmail, and she made no pretense even of inno cence. Instead, she was inclined to boast over her ability to bamboozle men at her will. She was a natural actress of the ingenue role, and In that pose she could unfailingly beguile the heart of the wisest of worldly men. Perhaps the very keen student of physiognomy might have discovered grounds for suspecting her demure ness by reason of the thick, level brows that cast a shadow on the bland innoc'nee of her face. For the rest, she possessed a knack of rather harmless perversity, a fair smat tering of grammar and spelling, and a lively sense of humor within her own limitations, with a particularly small intelligence in other directions. Her one art was histrionics of the kind that made an individual appeal. In such she was inimitable. She had been reared in a criminal family, which must excuse much. Long ,ago she had lost track of her father; her mother she had never known. Her one relation was a brother of high standing as a pickpocket. One prin cipal reason of her success in lead ing on men to make fools of them selves over her, to their everlasting regret afterward, lay in the fact that, in spite of all the gross irregu larities of her life, she remained •chaste. She deserved no credit for such restraint, since it was a matter purely of temperament, not of re ■olve. i The girl saw in Mary Turner the possibilities of a ladylike personality ; that might mean much financial profit la the devious ways of which she j was a mistress.* With the frankness characteristic of her. she proceeded to paint glowing pictures of a future shared to the undoing of ardent and fatuous swains. Mary Turner listened wltb curiosity, but she was in no wise moved to follow such a life, even though it did not necessitate anything worse than a fraudulent playing at love, without physical degradation. So she steadfastly continued her re fusals, to the great astonishment of Aggie, who actually could not under stand in the least, even while she believed the others declaration of innocence of the crime for which she was serving a sentence. But, for her own part, such innocence had nothing to do with the matter. Where, in deed, could be the harm in making some old sinner pay a round price for his folly? And always. In response to every argument, Mary shook her head m negation. Sne would live straight. Then the heavy brows of Aggie would draw down a little, and the baby face would harden. ."You will find that you are up against a hell of-a frost," she would declare, brutally. Mary found the profane prophecy true. Back in New York she experi enced a poverty more ravaging than any she had known in those five lean years of her working In the store. She had been absolutely penniless for J two days and without food through the gnawing hours, when she at last found employment of the humblest In a milliner's shop. Followed a blessed interval, in which she worked contentedly, happy over the meager stipend, since it served to give her shelter and food honestly earned. .. But the ways of the police are not always those of ordinary decency. In due time an officer informed Mary's employer concerning the fact of her record as a convict, and thereupon she was at once discharged. The un fortunate victim of the law came perilously close to despair then. Yet I her spirit triumphed, and again she persevered in that resolve to live j straight. Finally, for the second time, j she secured a cheap position in a i cheap shop—only to be again perse cuted by the police, so that she speed- ' ily lost the place. Nevertheless, Indomitable in her purpose, she maintained the strug- j gle. A third time she obtained j work, and there after a little, she told her employer, a candy manufacturer in a small way, the truth as to her having been In prison. The man had a kindly heart, and, in addition, he ran little risk in the mat ter, so he allowed her to remain. When, presently, the police called his attention to the girl's criminal record, he paid no heed to their ad vice against retaining her services. But such ac tion on his part offended the great ness of the law's dignity. The police brought pressure to bear on the man. They even called in the assistance of Edward Gilder himself, who oblgingly wrote a very severe letter to the girl's employer. In the end such tac tics alarmed the man. For the sake of his own interests, though unwill ingly enough, he dismissed Mary from his wervlce. It was then that despair did come upon the girl. She had tried with all the strength of her to live straight. Yet. despite her innocence, the world would not let her live according to her own conscience. It demanded that she be the criminal it had branded her—lf she were to live at all. So, lt was despair! For she would not turn to evil, and without such turning she could not live. She still walked the streets falterlngly, seeking some place: hut her heart was gone from the <iuest. Now, she was sunken in an apathy that saved her from the worst p;yigs of misery. She had suf fered so much, so poignantly, that at last her emotions had grown sluggish. She did not mind much even when her tiny hoard of money was quite gone, and she roamed the city, starving. . . . Came an hour when she thought of the river, and was glad! Mary remembered, with a wan smile, how, long ago, she had thought with amaeed horror of suicide, unable to imagine any trouble sufficient to drive one to death as the only relief. Now. however, the thing was simple to her. Since there was nothing else, she must turn to that —to death. In deed, it was so very simple, so final, and so easy, after the agonies she had endured, that she marveled over her own folly in not having sought such escape before. . Even with the flrst wild fancy, she had unconsciously bent her steps westward toward the North river. Now, she quickened her pace, anxious for the plunge that should set the term to sorrow. In her numbed brain was -no flicker of thought as to whatever might come to her afterward Her sole guide was that compelling passion of desire to be done with this unbearable present. Nothing else mattered—not in the least! So, she came through the long stretch of ill lighted streets, crossed some railroad tracks to a pier, over which she hurried to the far end, where It projected out to the fiercer currents of the Hudson. There, with out giving herself a moment's pause for reflection or hesitation, she leaped out aB far as her strength permitted Into the coll of waters. . . . But, In that final second, natural terror In the face of death overcame the leth argy of despair—a shriek burst from her lips. But for that BTsara of fear, the story of Marji Turner had ended there and then. Only one person was any where near to catch the sound. And that single person heard. On the south side of the pier a man had just tied up a motor boat. He stood up In alarm at the cry. and was just in time to I gain a glimpse of a white face under | the dim moonlight as It swept down the tide, two rods beyond him. On the Instant he threw off his coat and sprang far out after the drifting body. He came to lt in a few furious strokes, caught lt. Then began the savage struggle to save her and him self. The currents tore at him wrath fully, but he fought against them with all the flerce"ness of his nature. He had strength a-plenty, but he need ed all of lt, and more, to win out of the river's hungry clutch. What saved the two of them was the violent tem per of the man. Always, it had been the demon to set him aflame. Tonight, there in the faint light, within the 'grip of the watera, he was moved to Insensate fury against the element that menaced. His rage mounted and gave him new power In the battle. Maniacal strength grew out ot su- How You Dress Your Hair How Take Care of Your Hair How Keep Your Eyes Bright? Read What Pretty Mary Nash Has to Say About It to Women LILIAN LAUFERTY TALKING to Mary Nash is not a little mono-dialogue wherein the interviewer decides what a girl of the particular type of the inter viewed ought to say and says it for her. Talking to Mary Nash is, indeed, taking part in a scintillating and yet deeply thoughtful conversation in which one of the most earnest, charming, philosophical and spiritual ly lovely girls of the stage spurs the interviewer to try to hold up her end of a chat that begins with per sonal pulchritude, veers to the prob lems of living this sometimes brings to woman, and dutifully swings back to a consideration of beauty per sc. And, be it added, Anally, that talking to Mary Nash and with Mary Nash means 15 minutes of pure joy between and added to the acts of the thought compelling play, "The Lure." in which she portrays the latest heroine of the Maxine Elliott theater in New York. "Has the play made you say. 'Beauty is a snare and a delusion' — and share with the mother in 'Fan ny's First Play' the thought 'happi ness Is from within?'" asked Miss Nash with the combination of desire to know and understand the humor- ous appreciation of life that seems to me to be her salient characteristic. "It is all true unless beauty has a guiding: force of mentality and Idealism. True beauty has to be spirit—and spirit illuminated by the inner glow from the inner shrine that keeps a woman's beauty a pure, flickering flame. "Nowadays any woman should be ashamed not to be good looking. "I say 'any woman ought to be ashamed not to be good looking, for good looks have been made s"6 easily possible they mean that clean, just had-my-bath look that Is arways so delightfully present in the pink cheeked English woman. They mean carefully brushed and washed and neatly arranged hair, and clean'cared prame wrath. Under the urge of It he conquered—at last brought himself and his charge to the shore. When, finally, the rescuer was able to do something more than gasp chok ingly he gave anxious atttention to the woman whom he had brought out of the river. Yet at the outset he could not be sure that she still lived. She had shown no sign of life at any time since he had first seized her. That fact had been of Incalculable advantage to him in his efforts to reach the shore with her. Now. how ever, it alarmed him mightily, though it hardly seemed possible that she could have drowned. So far as he could determine, she had not even sunk once beneath the surface. Nev ertheless, she displayed no evidence of vitality, though he chafed her hands for a long time. The shore here was very lonely: it would take pre cious time to summon aid. It seemed, notwithstanding, that this must be the only course. Then, just as the man was about to leave her, the girl sighed, very faintly, with an infinite weariness, and opened her eyes. The man echoed the sigh, but his was of joy. since now he knew that his strife in the girl's behalf had not been in vain. Afterward the rescuer experienced no great difficulty in carrying out his work to a satisfactory conclusion. Mary revived to clear consciousness, which was at first inclined toward hysteria, but this phase yielded soon under the sympathetic ministrations of the man. His rather low voice was soothing to her tired soul, and his whole air was at once masterful and gently tender. Moreover, there was an inexpressible balm to her spirit in the very fact that some one was thus mln isterjng to her. It was the first time for many dreadful years that any one for teeth, and clear eyes that have had enough sleep and cold water bathings, and a clear skin that re- j suits from a properly considered dj- 1 gestion. "Good looks mean a controlled na- ! ture that does not exhaust Itself in unworthy emotions. Good looks mean simple, fresh clothes as free from tawdriness as the body they encase or the mind that has designed them in tune with that body. "To elevate good looks to beauty add to your physical care of the outer shell one part of Idealism, one part of love for the world, one part of willingness to work and study, and one part of simple adherence to duty—with these keep the Are in your inner shrine aglow and beauty had taken thought for her welfare. The effect of it was like a draught of sarest wine to warm her heart. So, she rested obediently as he, busied and when finally she was able to stand and to walk with tlie support j of his arm she went forward slowly at his side without so much even as • question of whither. And, curiously, the man himself shared the gladness that touched the mooA of the girl, for he experienced a sucraen pride in his accomplishment of the night, a pride that delighted a starved part of his nature. Some where in him were the seeds of self-sacrifice, the seeds of a generous devotion to others. But those seeds had been left undei eloped in a life that had been lived since early boyhood outside the pale of respecta bility. Tonight Joe Carson had per formed, perhaps, his first action with no thought of self at the back of it. He had risked his life to save that of a stranger. The fact astonished him, while it pleased him hugely. The sen sation was at orce novel and thrill ing. Since it was so agreeable he meant to prolong the glow of self satisfaction' by continuing to care j for this waif of the river. He must | make his rescue complete. It did not j occur to him to question his fitness for the work. His introspection did not reach to a point of suspecting that j he, an habitual criminal, was neces- i sarily of a sort to be most objection- j able as the protector of a young girl. : Indeed, had any one suggested the j thought to him he would have met it j with a sneer, to the effect that a ! wretch thus tired of Ufe could hardly j object to any one who constituted himself her savior. Continued Tomorrow won't be a delusion and a snare, but a fact of universal delight as your happy spirit wells up from within. "Do you know. I'often have noticed in the country that the girls are growing up with a flowerlike loveli ness that makes the young things all so pretty and sweet that they seem like human flowers? You see, that is because they are coming to know how to take care of themselves and to their own knowledge is added nature's careful attention. "If only the girls In the city would forget that they know where to buy peroxide and i;ouge and lip salve, and would instead make a science of keep ing their bodies clean and sweet and nourished .in healthiness and tend the Inner shrine, too, I think our good old human race would grow to be as beautiful as it surely must have been intended to be before we, with cruelty and ignorance, spoiled the original design." I GAS Gas is rapidly supplanting oil and coal as fuel in homes, hotels, res taurants, clubs, etc It is admitted to be the most desirable range fuel in existence. It is absolutely relia ble and eliminates any possible danger of fire losses from over heated surroundings or defective |j flues. • J| j Gas fuel eliminates all kitchen troubles and inconveniences experienced with coal and oil ranges. No expensive repairs for grates, tops, linings, etc. A regular uni form heat; clean, quick, convenient. II "Pacific Service" Is 1 "Perfect Service" ji Pacific Gas and Electric Co. 445 Sutter Street San Francisco Jjjj Advice to the •': Lovelorn •*: BEATRICE FAIRFAX VOI Ci:itT\lM.*» wkri: DEAR MISS FAIRFAX: I have known a young man for the last five years and we were to be engaged in a few months. We very seldom had any qu-rrels, but some time ago he made an ap pointment to call to see mo which he did not keep. He wanted to write me, and through a friend I sent word that I did not want any explanation. Here it is almost five weeks and I have not heard from him yet. Do you think that I was hasty? D. D. D. Tou showed a most unreasonable temper, and he did right in resenting it. Naturally, he did not call after such a message. Write and tell him you «j .• sorry. A man who has been a faithful lover five years is too rare to be lost through a whim. CERTAINLY DEAR MISS FAIRFAX: For many years I have been great friends with a certain young lady. She is about to celebrate her birth day, and we have not been speaking to each other for a short time. I wish to inquire whether or not it is proper- for me to send her a birthday card, as I have always sent her one whenever she celebrated her birthday. FLORENCE. Send her a card by all means; but before you send it be sure you are the friend its sentiments would indi cate. And, my dear young woman, you will not be that friend unless you can lay aside all differences and be on speaking terms again. HAVE YOU TOLD YOUR FATHER t DEAR MISS FAIRFAX: I am 18 and kept company with a man about six months. I found that he was not the sort of a man I would like, so I did not notice him any more. We did not have a quarrel. I keep company with another young man now, and if I am with him my girl friends, or alone, he follows me wherever I go. S. B. U. I. A girl's' father, or a brother, is in positlofi to put an end to Insulting at tentions like these. If both are powerless, appeal to the police. You must not risk your personal safety by letting him follow you around in •this manner. SOMETIMES MOTHERS DON'T KNOW DEAR MISS FAIRFAX: I am 19 years of age and in love ■with a young man 22 years old. We are both Swedish. Can you tell me how I can find out if he loves me, as my mother says he doesn't. GERDA. I am satisfied that love is a little secret motrrers sometimes are the last to suspect. For this reason your moth er's opinion should not distress you. If he loves you he will tell you. Don't try to force the avowal: don't even put yourself in an expectant at titude. Just go on being his sympa thetic friend, and' some time soon, I am sure, he will awaken to the reali zation that life is not worth while without you.