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William Ma.cHa.rg and Edbuin Ttaimem * ' ' •afcff iftijuf 1 IgTit TIT Edwin Balmer HENRY AND CONSTANCE 8TNOPSI6.--Wealthy and highly placed In the Chicago business world, Benjamin Corvet ie something of a recliuw and a mystery to his associate* After a stormy interview with his partner, Henry Spearman, Corvet seeks Constance SheiTill, daughter of his other business partner, Lawrence Sherrill, and secures from her a promise pot to marry Spearman. He then disappears. SherriU learns Corvet has written to a certain Alan Conrad, in Blue Rapids, Kan- MUI and exhibited strange agitation over the matter. Covet's letter summons Conrad, a youth of unknown parentage, to Chicago. Alan arrives in Chicago. From a statement oj Shorrill it seems probable Conrad is Corvet'* illegitimate BOA. Corvet has deeded his bouse and its contents to Alan, who takes possession. That night Alan discovers a man ransacking the desks and bureau drawers in Corvet's apartments. T^e appearance of Alan tremendously agitates the intruder, who appears to think him a gftoet and raves of "the Mlwaka?' After a struggle the man escapes. Next day Alan learns from SherriU that Corvet has deeded his entire property to him. Introduced to Spearman, Alan" is astounded at the discovery that he is the man whom he had fought to his bouse the night before. CHAPTER VII--Continued. *Tm afraid you've taken rather a |pd time, Lawrence. Can't we get to* gether later--this afternoon? You'll Be about here this afternoon?" H "I think I can be here this kfteritoon." Alan said. 'M "Let's say two-thirty, then." JSpearfban turngd and noted the boar almost ijollcltously among the scrawled appointments on his desk pad; straightening, after this act of dismissal, he f-alked with them to the door, his and on Sherrill's shoulder. ; "Circumstances have put us--Mr. /•SherriU and myself--in a very difficult position, Conrad," he remarked. ;*We want much to be fqlr to all con- * ierned-i-" • He did not finish the sentence, but jbalted at the door. Sberrill went out, fold Alan followed hjttr; exasperation T-half outrage yet half admiration--at Spearman's bearing, held Alan speechless. If every movement of Spear- Jnan's great, handsome body had not , Recalled to him their struggle of the Aright before--If, as Spearman's hand tested cordially on Sherrill's shoulder, .^lan bad not seemed to feel again that »lg hand at liis throat--he would alfbost have been ready to believe that is was not the man whom he had [ought. But he could not doubt that; ; le had recognized Spearman beyond Question. And Spearman bad recognized him--he was sure of that; he Could not for an instant doubt it; Spearman had known It was Alan whom he had fought in Corvet's house *ven before SherriU had brought them together. Was there not further proof 'if that in Spearman's subsequent manner toward him? For what was all |bis cordiality except defiance? Power and possession--both far ex- WwHog Alan's most extravagant dream--were promised him by those fttpeni which Sherrill had'shown him. When he had read down the list of thaw properties, he had had no more Reeling that such things could be his than he had nad at first that Corvet's louse could be his--until he had heard the intruder moving in that house. ; And now it was the sense that another waa going to make him fight for those properties that was bringing to him the realization of his new power. He "bad** something on that man--on Spearman. He did not know what that f^NMng was; no stretch of his thought, .^.nothing that he knew about himself ©r others, could tell him; but, at sight ' jof him, in the dark of Corvet's house, Spearman had cried out in horror, he » had screamed" at him the name of a '"vjaunkeb ship, and in terror had hurled ^ his electric torch. It was true. Spear- ;v man's terror had not been at Ai^n Con- .rad > It had been because Spearman ;had mistaken him for some one else-- ,,jfor a ghost. But, after learning that Alan was not a ghost, Spearman's attitude had not very greatly changed; . v he had fought, he had been willing to kill rather than to be caught there. A ;•*, Alan thought an instant; he would ^ • make sure he still "had" that somefeX thing on Spearman and would learn f: - how ^ It went He took up the recelver and asked for Spearman. ||;i ^ answered--"Yes." said, evenly; "I think yon wwh JVt * I had better have a talk before we meet with Mr. SherriU this afternoon, jfe a® here In Mr. Corvet's office now K <and will be here for half an hour. HIthen I'm going out" ' Spearman made no reply, but hung v up the receiver. Alan sat waiting, his watch upon the desk before him-- f|- .tense, expectant, with flushes of hot and cold passing over him. Ten mlh- §P? utes passed; then twenty. The teleffffe phone under Coryet's desk buzzed. "Mr. Spearman says he will give iMp,.,, yon five minutes now," the switchboard -girl said. |£; :v.. Alan breathed deep with relief; P Spearnaan had wanted to refuse to see gp;; him--but he had not refused; he had 11'! for him within the time Alan had StL, appointed and after waiting until just before It expired. Alan put his watch back Into his pocket and, crossing to the other office, found Spearman alone. There was no pretense of Courtesy now in Spearman's manner; he sat motionless at his desk, his bold eyes fixed on Alan intently. Alan closed the door behind him and advanced toward the desk. "I thought we'd better "have some explanation," he said, "about .our meeting last night" "Our meeting?" Spearman repeated; his eyes had narrowed watchfully. "You told Mr, SherriU that jm were Ddbtfk «ad that jwi arrived bow* In Chicago only this morning,,, Of course- you don't mean to stick to that story with me?" "What are you talking about?" Spearman demanded. "Of course, I know exactfy where you were a part of last evening; and you know that I know. I only want to know, what explanation you have to offer." Spearman leaned forward. "Talk sense and talk It quick, if yon hare anything to say to me!" { "I haven't told Mr. SherriU that I found you at Corvet's house last night; but I don't want you to doubt for a minute that I know you--and about your d--g of Benjamin Corvet and your cry about saving the Mlwftka!" j A flash of blood came to Spearman's ) face; Alan, in his excitement, was sure of It; but there was just that flash, no more. He turned, while Spearman sat chewing his cigar and staring at him, and- went out and partly closed the door. Then, suddenly, he reopened it, looked In, reclosed It sharply, and went on his way, shaking a little. For, as he looked back this second time at the dominant, determined, able man seated at his desk, what he bad seen In Spearman's face was fear; -fear of himself, of Alan Conrad of Blue Rap- Ids--yet It was not fear of that sort which weakens or dismays; It was of that sort which, merely warning of danger close at hand, determines one to use every means within hi# power to save himself. - , Alan, still trembling excitedly, crossed to Corvet's office to await Sherrill. It was not, he felt sure now, Alan Conrad that Spearman was opposing; It was not even the apparent successor to the controlling stock of Corvet, SherriU and Spearman. That Alan resembled some one--some one whose ghost had seemed to come to Spearman and might, perhaps, have come to Corvet--was only Incidental to what was going on now; for In Alan's presence Spearman found a threat--an active, present threat against himself. Alan could not Imagine what the nature of that threat could be. Was It because there was something still concealed In Corvet's house which Spearman feared Alan would find? Or was It connected only with that soae one whom Alan resem^ bled? - ' * • * •. • • sr Constance Sherrill's most active thought that day was about Henry Spearman, for she had a luncheon enr gagement with him at one o'clock. The tea room of a department stori offers to young people opportunities for dining together without furnishing reason for even innocently connecting i their names too Intimately, If a girl is net seen there with the same man too often. There Is something essentially casual and unpremeditated about It-- as though the man and the girl, both shopping and both hungry, had just happened to meet and go jto lunch together. As Constance recently had drawn closer to Henry Spearman in her thought and particularly since she had been seriously considering marrying him, she had clung deliberately to this unplanned appearance about their meetings. She glanced across at him, when she had settled herself, and the first little trivialities of their being together were over. "I took a visitor down to your office this morning," she said. ...... - "Yes," he answered. ^ r Constance was aware that It wis only formally that she had taken Alan Conrad down to confer with her father ; since Henry was there, she knew her father would not act without his agreement, and that whatever disposition had been made regarding Al«n had been made by him. ^,. • • * • : - :>4 "Did you like him, HefiryT f'SSped you would." He did not answer at once. The waitress brought their order, and he served her; then, as the waitress moved away, he looked aclross at Constance with h long scrutiny. "You've seen a good deal of him, yesterday and todajr, your father teUs me," he observed.' - "Yes." "It's plain enough' you like Mm," he remarked. She reflected seriously. "Yes, I do; though I hadn't thought of It Just that way, because I was thinking most about the position he was In and about #--Mr. Corvet. But I do like him." "So do I," Spearman said with a seeming heartiness that pleased her. f At least I should like him, Connie, If had the sort of privilege you have to think whether I liked or disliked him, I've had to consider him from another point of view--whether I could trust him or must distrust htm." Distrust?" Constance bent toward him Impulsively In her surprise. Distrust him? In relation to what? Why?" "In relation to Corvet Bherrlll end Spearman, Connie--the company that involves your Irterests and your father's and mine and the interests of many other people--small stockholders who have no Influence In its management, and whose Interests I have to look after for them." . "I don't understand, Henry." "I've had to think of ConftwS\ this morning in the same way as I've\hud to think of Ben Corvet of recent yeaj-sj. --as a threat against the Interests of those people." Her color rose, and her pulse quickened. Henry never had talked to her, except in the merest commonplaces, about his relations with Uncle Benny; It was a matter In which, she had recognized, they had been opposed; and Bince the quarrels between the old friend whom she had loved from childhood and he, who wished to become now more than "a mere friend to her. bad, grown more vjolent, she had pur- > ny to Henry, «and he, quite as consciously, had avoided mentioning Mr. Corvet to her. 'Tve known for a good many years. Spearman went en, reluctantly, "that Ben Corvet's brain was seriously af fected. He recognized that himself even earlier, and admitted It to himself when he took me off my ship to take charge of the company. I might have gone with other people then, or It wouldn't have been very long before I could have started in as a ship owner myself; but. In view of his condition. Ben made me promises 'that offered me most. Afterward his malady progressed so,, that he couldn't know himself to be untrustworthy; his Judgment was impaired, and he planned and would have tried to carry out many things that would ,have been disastrous for the company. I had to fight him--for the company's sake and for my own sake and that of the others, whose Interests were at stake. Your father came to see that what I was doing was for the company's good and has learned to trust me. But you --you couldn't see that quite so directly, of course, and you thought I didn't --like Ben, and there was some lack In me which made me fail to appreciate him." . ' "No; not that," Constance denied quickly. "Not that, Henry." "What was It then, Connie? Yon thought me ungrateful to* him? I realise that I owed a great debt to him; but the only way I could pay that debt was to do exactly what I did-- oppose him and seem to push into his place and be an ingrate; for, because I did that Ben's been a respected and honored man In this town all these last years," which he couldn't have remained if I'd let him have his way, or If I told others why I had to do what. I did. I didn't care what others thought about me; but I did care what you thought; yet If you couldn't see what I was up against because of your affection for him, .why--that was all right too." "No, It wasn't all right," she denied almost fiercely, the flush flooding her a ^bro^jng yqa In-h6r throat f? one ever had beard of--^and one who, by his own story, never had seen a ship until yesterday. And when didn't dismiss my business with a dozen men this morning to take him into the company, he claimed occasion to see me alone to threaten me." "Threaten you, Henry? How? With what?" "I couldn't quite make out myself, but that was his tone; he demanded an 'explanation,' of exactly what he didn't make clear. He has been given by Ben, apparently, the technical control of Corvet, Sherrill and Spearman. His idea, if I oppose him, evidently is to turn me out and take the management himself." Constance leaned back, confused. "He--Alan Conrad?" she questioned. "He can t have done that Henry I Oh, he can't have meant that!" "Maybe he didn't; I said I conldn't make out what he did mean," Spearman said. "Things have come upon him with rather a rush, of course; and you couldn't expect a country boy to get se many things straight. He's acting, I suppose, only in the way one might expect a fioy to act who had been brought up in poverty on a Kansas prairie and was suddenly handed the possible possession of a good many millions of dollars. It's better to believe that he's only lost his head. I haven't had opportunity to tell your father these things yet; but I wanted you to understand why Conrad will hardly consider me a friend." 'I'll understand yon now, Benry," she promised. CHAPTER vift. "You've Seen a Good Deal 441m, Yesterday and Today, Your Father Tells Ma," He Observed. which, for an instant stopped her. "You should have told me, Henry; or --I should have been able to see." "I couldn't tell you--dear," he said the last word very distinctly, but so low that she • could scarcely hear. "I couldn't tell you now--If Ben hadn't gone away as he has and this other fellow come. I couldn't tell you when yon wanted to keep caring so much for your Uncle Benny, and he was trying to hurt me with you." She bent toward him, her lips parted; but now she did ngt speak: She never had really known Henry until this moment, she felt; she had thought of htm always as strong, almost brutal, flghtlfig down fiercely, mercilessly, bis opponents and welcoming contest for the joy of overwhelming others by his own decisive strength and power. And she had been almost ready to marry that man for his strength and dominance from thoee qualities; and now she knew that he was merciful too--indeed,, more than merciful. In the very contest where she had thought of him as most selfish and regardless of another, she' had most completely misapprehended. ^ "I ought to have seen!" she rebuked herself to him. "Surely, I should haw seen that was It!" "How could you see?" he defended her. "He never showed to you the side he showed to me and--In these last years, anyway---never to me the side he showed to you. But after what has happened this week, can you understand now; and you can see why I have to distrust the young fellow who's come to claim Ben Covert's place." "Claim!" Constance repeated. "Why, Henry, I did not know he claimed anything; he didn't even know whan he came here--" "He seems, like Ben Corvet," Henry said slowly, "to have the characteristic of showing one side to you, another to me, Connie. With you, of course, lie claimed nothing; but at the office-- Your father showed him this morning the instruments of transfer that Ben seems to have left conveying to, him all Ben had---his other properties and his interest ID Corvet, Sherrill aid Spearman. I very naturally objected to the execution of those transfers, without considerable examination, in view of Corvet's mental condition and : of the fact that they put the control- Violence. t half-past three, Alan left the office. Sherrill had told him an hoar earlier that Spearman had telephoned be would not be able to get back for a conference that afternoon; and Alan was certain now that In Spearman's absence Sherrill would do nothing further with respect to his affairs. Was there no one whom Alan could teU of his encounter with Spearman In Corvet's house, with probability of receiving belief? Alan had not been thinking directly of Constance Sherrill. as he walked swiftly north to the Drive; but she was, In a way. present In all his thoughts< As he approached the Sherrill house, he saw standing at the curb an open roadster with a liveried chauffeur; he had seen that roadster, he recognized with a little start, H fA>nt of the ofllce building that morning when Constance had taken him downtown. He turned into the valk and rang the bell. The servant who opened the door knew him and seemed to accept his right of entry to the house, for he drew back for Alan to enter. Alan went lntd the hall and waited for the servant to follow. "Is Miss Sherrill in?" he asked. "I'll see, sir." The man disappeared. Alan, watting, did not hear Constance's voice in reply to the an-; nouncement of the servant but Spear* man's vigorous tones. The servant returned. "Miss Sberrill will see yon In minute, sir." Through the wide doorway to the drawing room, Alan could see the smaller, portlered entrance to the room beyond--Sherrill's study. The curtains parted, and Constance and Spearman came Into this inner doorway; they stood an Instant there in talk. As Constance started away, Spearman suddenly drew her back to him and kissed her. Alan's shoulders spontaneously jerked hack and his hands clenched; he did not look away and, as she approached, she became aware that he had seen. She came to him, very quiet and very flushed; then she was quite pale as she asked him, "You wanted me?" He was white as she, and could not speak at once. "You told me last night, Miss Sherrill," he said, "that the last thing that Mr. Corvet did--the last that you know of--was to warn you against one of your friends. Who was that?" ; She flushed uneasily. "You mustn't attach any importance to that; I didn't mean you to. There was no reason for what Mr. Corvet said, except In Mr. Corvet's own mind. He had a <Juite unreasonable animosity--" "Against Mr. Spearman, yon mean," She did not answer. "His animosity was against Mr. Spearman, Miss Sherrill, wasn't it? That Is the only animosity of Mr. Corvet's that anyone has told me about" "Yes." . • "It was against Mr. Spearman that he warned you, then?" "Y««." "Thank you.f He turtjed and, not waiting for thl man, letf himself out. He should have ferowh'it when he had e block to in at the fro^t .doeK.^iip^l |t 'The house wai on the table in tftd-lai#r tlM^iliriigtited, a fire was burning In the op# gtitai, |nd the rooms had been swept |Ml The Indian came Into the bail t6 take his coat and bat. "Dinner Is at seven," Wassaquam announced. "You want some abangs about that?" "No; seven is all right" Alan went upstairs to the room next to Corvet's which he had appropriated for his own use the night before, and found It now prepared for his occupancy. When he came down again to the first floor, Wassaquam was nowhere about but he heard sounds in the service rooms on the basement floor. He went part way down the service stairs and saw the Indian in the kitchen, preparing dinner. Wassaquam had not heard his approach, and Alan stood an instant watching the Indian's tall, thin figure and the quick movements of his disproportionately smaU, well-shaped hands, almost like a woman's; then he scuffed his foot upon the stair, and Wassaquam turned swiftly about. Anybody been here today, Judabf* Alan asked. "No, Alan. 1 called tradesmen; they came. There were young men frogi the newspapers." "What did yon tell them?* . , "Nothing." \' "Why not?" *v.. • _. ' . -rjr • "Henfy telephoned I teU them nothing." j "You mean Henry Spearmanr * -Yes." ! "Do you take orders from him, Jih dahr "I took that order, Alan.** Alan hesitated. "You've been bero In the house all day?" "Yes, Alan." Alan went back to the first floor and Into the smaller library. The room was dark with the early winter dusk, and he switched on the light; then he knelt and pulled out one of the drawers he had seen Spearman searching through the ntght before, and carefully examined the papers In it one by one, but found them only ordinary papera. He pulled the drawer completely out and sounded the wall behind It and the partitions on both sides but they appeared solid. He put the drawer back In and went on to examine the next one, and, after that, the others. The clocks In the house had been wound, for presently the clock In the library struck six, and another In the haU chimed slowly. An nour later, when the clocks chimed again, Alan looked up and saw Wassaquam's small black eyes, deep set In their large eye sockets, 'fixed on him intently through the door. How long the Indian had been there, Alan could not guess; be had not( heard his step. "What are you looking for, Alan?" the Indian asked, • •lan reflected a moment. "Mr. SherriU thought that Mr. Corvet might have left a record of some sort here for me, Judah. Do you know of anything like that?"? No. That is what you are looking for?" v Yes. Do you know of any place where Mr. Corvet would have been likely to put away anything like that?" "Ben put papers in all these drawers ; he put them upstairs, too--where you have seen." "Nowhere else, Judah?" "If he put things anywhere else, Alan, I have not seen. Dinner la served. Alan." Alan went to the lavatory on the first floor and washed the dust from his hands and face; then he went Into the dining room. Wassaquam, having served the dinner, took his place behind Alan's chair, ready to pass him what he needed; but the Indian's silent, watchful presence there behind htm where he could not see his face, disturbed Alan, and he twisted himself about to look at him. "Would yon mind, Judah," be inquired, "if I asked you to stand over there Instead of where you are?" The Indian, without answering, moved around to the other side of the tfible, where he stood facing Alan^a^ m LITTLE By C. LOUIO ittliMiiilR, The National KMdBryrtep «md si* WALTEB SOOTT director of the School -of Fin* and Applied Arts, Pratt institute, Brooklyn, N. Y., says: "Drawing is the only uni. versal language used by men of all ages and nationalities." If teachers and parents realized that this definition of drawing Is literally true, more time and attention would be given to the subject at school and at home. Ifc would not be considered a "frill" nor an "extra" but would be classed as an essential, along with reading, writing and arithmetic. Ail chUdren, especially the very little folks, Tvho have not mastered the spoken language well enougft to express themselves clearly, naturally enjoy making pictures to show what they have In "mind. They should be given every opportunity to do this. The difficulty in most homes, the rich as well as the poor, is that no attention Is paid to this part of the children's development and no suitable material Is given them. Usually the only medians they find with which to make a picture is a lead pencil. They use it eagerly and| with enthusiasm, partly because of their natural desire to draw and part ly because they see the older members of the family using It t(> write Kwlth, The only thing that thfey can Mio with the pencil Is to make lines. Consequently they form the habit of making crude drawings in outline which do not in the least resemble the objects they see around them, nor the mental picture they have formed of them. By the time they are old enough to go to kindergarten or first grade, the habit of drawing In line and of letting the Une stand for the thing they would like to express in a better way If they could, has become so fixed that It has been mistaken, I beUeve, by many teachers, for a natural tendency. Material to Make Forms. I am convinced that, if children were given material with which theyr could make forms, as they really see them, they would never be tempted to •> 'fm -•tf'.vvnppss ^ h aU it be bad has mm won- II* been tbi ferovblowbteh __---•. ogatabia --_and LhwrPifia. I«aa ao tauch ^jnefitad by tbe uae of tbeae madkinea that I was able to be and aboat in two weeks. I was at Hit Chaue af Life whea I began taking the meednee and £P»g*d over that time adthoot anj trpoMa. Mow I am bale tmakmt If. da all anr booaework. washing, fasting, »crabwB«, «ad cooking, all tEere iatodol abort a hooasL and can walk two or! three mfles wUbo know of aevaral hsveboen helped by your i 706 BL Tib St* Metropolis Utopia. ***** PMtbam'aVaf-' ponmnaiiiL Nervousness, irritability, heat flashes, bf miarba and ness, are relieved by tbla me* Ifffno. HOW SHALL WE SPEND ^ OtfR MONEY? While a. vast amount of money Is being spent upon our crlm-. Inal classes, we are permitting another crop of criminals to come right aloi^kpd take their places, by nepKting to furnish the moral and social training which the kindergarten provides at the most formative age. If we could only get one lap ahead, and spend our money upon child training instead of upon the vicious, the Idle, and the shiftless! Like Alice in Wonderland, we seem to be "running like mad" in order to keep in the same place! | 4 is endorsed liy horsonea Influents, Pin among horses and mules. Excellent as a preventive. Equally good for Dog Distemper and Chicken Cbolesa. Write for Free Booklet in two uses at all drag atorss. Frtokles Posltl BCTTT*•* F• rftaWckMl*M V HHWMf (!>•• MBMUHI gatsKiSBiiaS 16799 DIED "They My that the Drum beat wrong whui the Miwak* went down." .•>'#0 BE CONTINTJED^^ . i. Tribute to Poetry. • Poetry Is simply the most delightful and perfect form of utterance that human words can reach. Its rhythm and measure, elevated to a regularity, certainty, and force very different from that of the rhythm and treasure which can pervade prose, are a part of Its perfection. Ine more i»f genius that a nation has for high poetry, the more wlU the rhythm and measure which its poetical utterance adopts be distinguished by adequacy and beauty.--' jlatthew Arnold. f ^ ' Reading maketh a foil man, conference a ready man and writing an exact man.--Bacon. THRIFT WON HER A HUSBAND . _ , Ung stock of Corvet, SherriU and poselir avoided mentioning Cnc|e Ben-1 Spearman 1» the hapds of a youth tut Legend TeUs of Reward That Came to Girl Through Her *-• •>;" Cheeee-Parinj£ . yy -':'-V ---- ;V - ^ the expression Ing" Is a recognized equivalent for thrift or economy in the management of hoiisehold affairs, it is apparent the moment we dissect the term that the saving effected by the paring of a cheese depends entirely upon the manner in which the operation Is conducted. If one removes the rind of the cheese carelessly, waste instead ot economy results. According to a French legend, there was a man who was in love with three sisters at the same time. He <,-ouId not make up his mind which of them he ought to marry. The ability to be a thrifty housewife bielng the principal requisite of a wife at that time, the titan decided to watch the thiea cai^ fully, and In order to make a teat presented each of them with a large cheese. . Two of them removed the rind In such a manner that a considerable portion of the cheese was thrown away, but the youngest pared it-with a very sharp unlfe, and did not waste a scrap. The man decided that she would make the best wife, and they were married. draw in outlines. The best and most responsive mediums for the Smallest children are clay and sand. With, these they can learn to make objects as they actually exist, with three dl-; menslons. They can quickly and easily express their ideas aud carry out in a realistic way the pictures of their Imagination. When they are old enough to understand that a picture Is merely the flat representation of the solid forms, they should be given aoft materials that will make surfaces or masses quickly, such as chalk (not crayola), charcoal, and water color paints. Of course these wlli be somewhat "messy" for them to handle, and the mothers and teachers who care more about Clean hands and clothes than they do about the children's development, wUl substitute the lead pencil and ^vax crayons, or crayola. ^ In moet homes, and unfortunately In some kindergartens aad primary grades, most of the art work which Involves the use of scissors and paints, consists In cutting out and coloring pictures from magazines or pictures outlined from patterns. This has U|tle value as art training except to give skill in the handling of the scissors and the brush. It Is good as far as It goes. ^ s • < Will Develop Child's Idea* ^ • It Is far more educational,' htrifrever, and. Will develop the child's Idea of form to a much greater degree, to encourage him to cut out his own forms, without any patterns. Just as he makes his own drawings when allowed to express himself freely as an Individual. Tearing out from paper forms In which he Is Interested, using the thumb and forefinger of each hand held close together like two pairs of nippers Is also an exceUent way for a child to work out his own Idea of form. '"* • To be of real value, most of "the art efforts of children should be the results of their own thinking and seeing, Just as their talking efforts should express their own ideas and not consist merely in the repetition of the words of those around them. Wonder at Pair-Haired Woman.'^ While visitors from the West are no longer looked on with amazement and awe by the Japanese, there Is one occidental type that never falls to excite interest, and that Is the fair-haired woman. Not long since, a' young golden-haired Scotch girl was almost responsible for a riot in the streets of Tokyo, so eager were the jtogulftca to catch a guineas of bats. "Ay'.'c' . TO MAKE CITIZENS ^ state can be no better than the cltlfeens of which it Is composed. Our labor now Is not to mold states, but make citizens. --John Morley. Avoid Trees Durlno Storm. - It la generally conceded that to eeek refuge under a tree during a thunder *torm Is more dangerous than to stayout In the open. Some trees are mow. often struck lhan others, and one scientist describes the sycamore tree aa: the most susceptible of all. But the-" man who considers himself safe under an oak, because there is a sycamore a few yards away. Is putting a sublime faith in statistics. City dwellers are safer than country folk. The great high masses of ste«4 and «y offer a protectlo*. In New York City alooe from kidney trouble last year. Don't allow yourself to become a victim bjr neglecting paina and aches. Guard •gainst this trouble by taking .. GOLDMEML < ^ <•»£££» The world's standard remedy for tddnlitf' liver, bladder and nric acid trouble* Holland's National Remedy since IjBMk All druggists, three sizes. < Leek far the MUD* Gold M*U mm eray fcSB and acctplf no iMtuSw She Is Considered Talkative. A Northeast matrod Is considered' talkative. Her chatter usually Is! bright and entertaining and her good' friends only laugh at her loquaciousness. Others, not such good friends, sometimes complain they can't "get a word In edgewise," when she Is tbe company. Two friefids called Sunday. They were met at the door by Elmer, nine years old. He admitted them, then went to the stairs and called: "Mother, come down. There's some-i one here wants to hear you talk.**--! Kansas City Star. -- Kf- Cutlcura Sootbee Baby llaahas^^ That itch and burn, by hot batnf" ot% Cutlcura Soap followed by gentle anointings of Cutlcura OlntmenL Nothing better, purer, sweeter, espe* ' dally If a little of the fragrant Cutlcura Talcum Is dusted on at tbe.Aslab. 28c each.--Advertisement* . - ^ His Answer. -".'jfe- Crossing the street the Woman dodged the motorcars, taxis and wagons. She was almost safely on tbe other side when a very young boy on a bicycle almost steered Into her. * The Woman turned around. "Why don't you blow your horn Instead of almost knocking a lady down?" aba called out crossly. The boy grinned. "Lady," he kelled, '•you can't blow what yon ain't got lH--- Chicago Journal. i • Pay day domes pretty often far man who works for the devil. One mast not only speak cbarlta$|fe but must also feel charitable, ~ ^ Mot Write for 32- Page Booklet; Mothers pf > the Wor/dl?! PstPieeeee Loom Products litrGin%eMna^ Dk This W. N. U„ CHICAGO, No. 21-1821, ' , Vv --••' • 'VlV ~ "-V'- : .A v.- f w' . - 1 :4V '• ' >*