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TBy CLIVE ARDEN fo Bavtan, thit vmIbc __ , ;%»iw ending. her fa 1m position to to! !?erabla. 8b» craved jet dreaded, the *\jlnorrow when riw could talk with Jpofta. ^ One* by themselvea, the vonml '"jttonguee boned over their coffee cap* 'j^toncernlng the latest local scandal. , ^Irs. Rochdaie proceeded with a gar- ; in lows account of a housemaid treasure, possessing all the virtues, In ^rhose room four empty whisky bottle* Jfcad been found, during her absence on holiday I As she had been a frequenter k temperance meetings and had taken I.,Jjbe pledge, this was in itself a terrible pin, even though she had never been Seen drank. Whether to allow her to •eturn. or to write and denounce her forthwith, exercised her mistress' sllnmind to the exclusion of sleep. . .. •After much discussion. It was decided §jo ask the vlcar. [iC The girl shrank !nto her chair sick ;;*t heart, old talks with Alan in her inind. What key, she wondered, did these people use In substitution for •Hie true one given to the world and fast again? "Charity suftereth long •nd Is kind," they read glibly; or "He that is without sin among you, let him Jgast the first stone" What did half owmgit rill O* the righteous souls, judging everybody III their own smug conception of Christianity. know of temptation, sin, the giennlng of tlie word love with all its Hianlfold sub-keys: consideration, understanding, sympathy. . . . "My dear," broke in old Mr. Rochdale's voice, as he seated himself be- »Ide her, "we must bring back the rosea Into your cheeks!" He took her Hand and patted it. "You .mustn't brood over the past. It was a terrible ixperlence--terrible! But it's all over low. Forget it, Barbara, like a bad dream, and cheer up again." The words were, to the girl, like Wades of steel thrust Into sore bleeding wounds. "Over. . . . Forget!" They seemed to reverberate In her Blind, and her very soul turned sick and faint as, gripping the arms of her chair, she heard her mother's voice: "Her time will soon be fall again until her wedding, with all her old duties--" Then Hugh came up and chatted. In bis usual cheery way, and somebody played and sang. . . . But all the time those two words beat upon her God! was It true? Was this •et once more to capture her? Was this nightmare to become tlie reality. «nd the splendid real--all the very essence of life--to fade Into the dream? * The morning was cold and bright After a pretense at breakfast, she put «n her coat, Hngh not being expected ttefore lunch, and her mother not yet down. A craving for freedom from stone walls, for vigorous action, bad seized > her. The cold air stinging her face, the wind buffeting her skirts, dnlled momentarily the agony within. The Jake glistened in the sunshine; here •nd there sprigs of ling still showed fiurple amid the russet of dead heather tmd bracken upon the common; the •hlte sandy paths were crisp with frost. At the corner where the lane joined fhe main road, she paused. Here, she •nd that other had first met With Skquisite pain, memories of those far- •ff first encounters seethed Into her mind. She saw again the half-mockteg smile upon his lips; remembered Ms teasing words and her own annoy- •nee, after speaking of her heart's de- •Ire. . . . She understood, as she tMned hurriedly away, how, from the •ret, those keen eyes had read Into her heart, penetrating to what she was but Vaguely conscious of herself. Her heart's desire? Ah, how changed tt all was now--how changed, •nee treading last these familiar! heathery paths, a lifetime seemed to have elapsed. She looked back with wonder upon the Inexperienced girl <Hmly yearning after an Intangible something beyond the dally horl- . IKMI. . . . Presently she turned her steps to the house where so many happy hours fad been spent The garden looked deserted now, the tennis court frosthound and dreary. But tlie housAfceeper welcomed her warmly; and the f£w school teachers installed there for Christmas holidays looked at her with Hi-concealed curiosity. She harried •way, up to Mrs. Field's little den. Its .afcner being one of those whose arrivals ever had the charm at unexpectedness, the room had a cheerful Are and was fragrant with hothouse flowers. As Barbara looked round at the bolt walls and deep-blae velvet cartains, the soft chairs built for comfort, •ftd shelves stacked with books, other memories of confidential chats and •wy teas caused her again to realise the gulf yawning between herself and the girl of long ago. She turned to the book shelves, then Walked restlessly back to the fire A11 at once she caught with a little cry. at the back of a chair, as her fiance fell upon the writing table For the eyes she loved and had lost _Jhet her own. with the old straight pen- 2S fj!?" • • • She ran forw •nd picked up the photograph. *Hrde laughter In hla voice aa he made some teasing remark. . . . The ringing of a bell brought her sharply back to reality, the sadden cruel contrast cutting her like a whip. With a low moan she sank upon a couch, throwing herself face down* ward among the cushions, her llpa pressed to the unresponsive portrait. Despair again clutched her In its remorseless claws. . . . She lay Inert In her blind tearleaa abandonment, oblivious to all things . . . Tlie opening door and quick footsteps crossing the room did not disturb her. At the touch of aa aria about her shoulders she started violently and raised a drawn face. Hugh stood beside her, consternation te Ms eyes. "Bab V he exclaimed, allocked by her expression. "My dearest I what ever Is the matter?** She sat slowly upright, the portrait still clasped with both arms, regarding him dumbly. "I managed to get away this morning-- Martha said you were here--** he stammered. "What Is It. Bab? I--I thought something was wrong--" It occurred to her that anybody less stupidly dense and unimaginative would have guessed the truth long ago. Then, swiftly chasing the thought came the knowledge that It was Ills genuine staple trust In her and ^1 St Then Hugh Came Up and Chatted. his fellow-creatures which blinded lilm. Suspicion was as foreign to his honest nature as subtle changes were beyond his ken. She recognized, with a warm rush of sympathy, that her affection for this old companion remained unchanged; she alone was to blame for mistaking it for anything more, with the inevitable suffering she was about to cause. She Btretched out her hand; and he took It In both of bis. "Haghle! Everything is--wrong." "Tell me all about It," be urged, sitting beside her. "We can probably put things right between us." She shook her bead, with a catch of her breath; thai drew her hand gently free agait££. "I*™--I ve got to hurt you--horribly. Oh! my dear I I can't bear doing It" Rising impulsively, she walked to the window and back, her face working with emotion. "Can't you--guess, Hugh? Can't you realize that--that-- everything is different, now?" she cried, looking straight into his bewildered face. Apprehension was spreading over his features. His brown eyes, with their dawning sense of trouble, resembled that of a faithful dog not understanding the meaning of some unexpected chastisement The girl could not bear to see It. She looked Involuntarily down at what was still clasped to her breast. His glance followed hers, and the apprehension deepened. "Guess -- what V be muttered.* "What's that Bab? A photograph?" She nodded. He suddenly stepped toward her. "Whose? Whqf--I oh. lord! Tell me straighti" It was the cry of one upon the borderland ot tragic discovery. Feeling like an old-time executioner who let the ax fall upon the quivering neck of his victim, ending the hopes and affections of a lifetime, she silently handed him tlie photograph, and again turned to the window. Looking with unseeing eyes at the frosty landscape, her thoughts reverted to a curiously similar scene In the past, wherein the situation was reversed. Hugh's portrait ted played Its part In that little drama. Alan, she remembered, had, with characteristic vehemence torn It into shreds. . . . then claimed her for his own, by the only bonds which constitute real posiii srion ot a woman. There may be other lawful ttea, honorably recognised and adhered to; but, whether near In phya^al presence, or sundered by cottntlees miles of sea and land, even by death Iteelf, only the man to whom a woman's heart belongs holds her in trim poasaaaiML None other can turn the key which unlock* the real fountains of her soul. Hugh did not tear the cardboard to fragments. After a few moments' pregnant atteoce, he laid tt upon a table and followed the girl to the window. His f*o*. was pale, and his voice towlm "Yon me»n, Bab that--" i "1--I cea never marry you." He ceught at a chair, but said notb- "I--care for you--as much as ever," she went on hurriedly, seeing the look on his face "R;it--it was never love! I have teamed that. Hugh. I know now--" "You mean--" he asked again huskily, as her voice faltered. "Croft?" She nodded. The color ebbed still more from his cheeks, and he laid a hand on her arm. "But--my poor Bab! he Is--dead--** "Oh, I know! I know!" She clasped her hands in anguish, "ijjpt--you shall hear all the truth. Hugh--It Is your due. He--I--lie was my husband." Hugh started violently and dropped his hand. She stood motionless before him. For several long moments the ticking of a little clock and the crackling of the fire were the only audible sounds. In his slow fashion, the man was trying, gropingly, to adjust facts. fBut--" he began at last, "I don't understand! You were only together a ffew weeks before the wreck. Where did you get--married? Why didn't somebody write? I don't understand,' he repeated, bewildered. "I thought you disliked lilm." She looked silently Into his agitated face It was evident that the truth Was still far from his grasp. "Hughie," she said very quietly, "It was impossible to write; We were not married during the trip--not until we had been on the island for--over a year." ' He gazed at her, speechless, his bewilderment gradually changing to disj may and dawning horror. "On tlie Island? For •• year?" he echoed. "But--how on earth could you get married--" Suddenly the blood rushed to his temples and the horror grew and deepened. He caught her arm, gripping It fiercely. "You-- my God! Barbara! you d6n't mean that you--you, of all people--and Croft--" Abruptly he swung her arm free, his face blazing as she had never seen It. "The swine! the--the rotten swinet" he clioked, at a loss for words. "I trusted him. He gave me his word--" "And he kept-It" she cried quickly. He faced her, something nearer to a sneer than she had ever seen curling his good-natured lips. "In what way? By betraying the greatest trust one man can put In another? By dragging you down--" "Be quiet, Hugh!" The anger in her voice silenced him. He turned away, dazed. Sinking upon the couch, he covered his thee with his hsnds. The girt was trembling with indignation. Her back to the room, she struggled with the hot anger seething within until her woman's understanding won the victory. Then she turned round. "It was my doing," she said. "Your--doing V He sprang to his feet and walked about agitatedly. "What d'you mean? You were not the sort of girl to encourage-- For God's sake, explain everything!" "He kept his word to you," she repeated. "He saved my life at the risk of his own. In every possible way he looked after my safety and comfort: nobody could have done more. Although he--cared--all the time, I never even guessed It! He--be thought I--belonged to yqy." She patted, shading her eyes. . "Then--" "Months went t»y, and no rescue came. Then--I--oh, Hughie, I couldn't help It--I realised--I loved him, and-- and he--knew It, too. . . . We meant to wait--and. tell yop. But months passed again, and--the position became impossible. You can't understand here But there we had to face facts--quite differently from ordinary standpoints--to make our own laws. He left the decision to me ... At last, after months again of struggle and--uncertainty--I became convinced that It would be right to make our own marriage, too--" She touched her finger. "This was the only ring be had." Famed Navigator Gave Name to Mont Royal In the late summer of 1535. Jacques Cartier, a hardy, skilled navigator of St. Malo, France, sailed up the St. Lawrence river and reached the island standing tat the Junction of the St. Lawrence and Ottawa rivers. On this Island he found a race of Indians In a palisaded town of about 1,500 Inhabitants, and living by a rude agriculture and fishing. This place was called Hochelaga. On the day following his arrival at the island, Cartier, with a few companions and »ore the uniform of an air force officer jnd his face was set In the lines of ™ dTd nulB®nce--get it doner 8he could almost hear the thought she read behind the grim lips. Til*- l , 2 * * A i«01L 1 '•---» *«•»» « »vw vviii|^aui<iun auu as she gazed upon the familiar fea- twenty mariners, left his boats and, r. ,6*' the Pa8t fofce up and en-1 conducted by three natives, visited eloped her: the comfortable English | the town, which stood on rising ground : faded. . . . Once more. In a "bout half a mile from the river at WB* hut* "k* PrePared strange I ®bout what Is now the center of. the Vi f°r 1167 ®ate' *ver and anon run- °* Montreal. Cartier saw on all , nlng to look for his return, seeing little B,dea large and fairly well-tilled fields black figures at play on the sand. . . . whlch were growing abundant crops maize or Indian corn. The town was fortified, and it contained about 60 houses made of wood and bark, searching for her. . . . she Krom the town the visitors were confeVlried to meet him, taking some of ducted to the top of the mountain harden. ... Again she felt the which rose to the west of the town. lip* beard >»••< that •Hrnnfin Royal," wrote Cartier. In his account of his travels. "Therefrom one sees very far." The name "Mont,, Royal" with slight corruption jglves us the name of today. Montreal. The old name Hocbelaga, la preserved In the nam* ot one of the wards of the city. present,y be carae Striding down V. the sunny slope fresh from a dip In - toe river, laden with fruit his dear The Second Fiddle The Frenchman had been presented to the mayor of Puddlebury. to which town he had come to reside. "Ah, sir, permit me ze honor of giving you my felicitations, and to your talented family likewise. Ze music It ees a beautiful gift, and I hop* to have ze honor of harking some day to your palrformance." "Pardon, m'sleur," said the mystified mayor, "you are mistaken. ] know nothing whatever of music." "Ah. but sat ees vat you call your hang-back--you are modest. 1 have hear eet several couples of times xat your vlfe plays se first violin, and yon plays se sceoad fiddle to 'irrfrR "Chameleon Lakef % ft ts well kno-vn that the water sf many lakes exhibits - characteristic colors. Lake Geneva, at the western end of Switzerland, Is blue, while Lake Constance, at the eastern end of that country. Is green. Blueness Implies purity, since the natural color of water is blue A green lake baa ita water allghtly clouded with Impurities. It la said that green lakes sometimes become absolutely colorless for a time and it haa been found that this sudden change of hue Is due to the washing Into the lakee of mud colored red by oxide of Iron. Red ia complementary to green, and the result of the mixture is that the green color of the water becomes lot ih* |dass being iewtrnllnsd. ' •if he hnd trusted Hfhs nnbentiMfcr Tbat hasty Jsdgasent was contra lMW8d by her B« (Mld not. as ate surmised, «i«trty esmfrebend the magnitude of th^ iorees mar#* contended with npon the lstaad, flly more than « man learning aurtmmlag strokes in still water can reallae the dlfBcnities to be ^countered, by the sahM movements, dut In die open sea. But the simplicity of her ezpfaasttap, offering no eftcuses, brought with It the force of truth. Evidently, however Incomprehensibly, each had acted in accordance with deeply weighed conviction . . . This was Hugh's first plunge into sftch complications: ha was utterly lost, adrift from every mooring. Barbara, watching him, half held out her hand. "You must not think hardly of Alan," she appealed wistfully. "If be had not behaved honorably, I should not have --loved hi in--as I did. Surely you believe that, Hugb?" Mechanically he took her hand. "Oh. lord!" be ejaculated. "What a mess I It all Is!" "It's hell for me!" she exclaimed, a bitter agony In her voice that s'artled him. He looked at her strangely, amazed. This tragic-eyed woman who had suffered so much, learning to love with such fierce Intensity, was far removed from his old girlish companion. He felt In a turmoil: full of pity for her, tho\igh still half incredulous, chaotically uncertain of his feelings toward Croft. Dropping her hand, he picked up the photograph once more. Then the full realization of his own loss--to be faced for the second time-- surged up In his heart, as he looked at the pictured face He put It down hurriedly, and passed his hand across his forehead. "It's a--d--d world now for us both. Bab! I--I'd better go--it has rather bowled me over--" He turned away, stumbling a little "It--will be such a blow to the old people,** be muttered huskily. The girl watched Mm, helplessly, with aching heart. As he reached the door, she caught the suspicious glint of misery In his eyes which seemed to break down all barriers. Her defensive attitude melted into sympathy, as Ice melts at the touch of hot coals. In her Impulsive way she ran to him and seized the lapels of his tweed coat. "Hughie!" she cried, tears raining unheeded down her cheeks. "Forgive me! I couldn't help It. It--It breaks my heart to hurt you like this." His hands closed upon her arma, but he could not speak. "I--couldn't bear to--betray your trust." she sobbed. "Believe me Hughie, I tried not to--I tried to keep loyal to you--'* x "Oh I" he Interrupted vehemently, "don't make it harder. D'you suppose I should have wanted you to marry me from--duty? out of loyalty?" He paused, regarding her thoughtfully for a moment, "There's one thing, Bab--" "Year "When you tell--your mother or snybody of--things--being over between us, don't mention your marriage ! They won't understand, and It will be rough for you." She threw back her head, with something of Alan's old arrogance and drew away. "I know you mean that kindly. Hcgb: but It's Impossible! It would seem as if I were ashamed. It would be Implying that our convlctlona were wrong." "People are not overcharltable about here, as you know." he urged. "You may both have acted according to your convictions, and they may have been right; but all the same It was--unorthodox, and-- They will simply throw mud at you and--especially--him! Bab," he came hack to her, speofcing with unusual Insistence, "I can't bear to think of you facing that! For my sake, as well as your own--and--hla, don't tell them." She remained silent. The truth of his words, as applied to Alan, struck' her forcibly. The contemplation of his; name suffering calumny had already, that morning, proved unbearable. It would be an awful trouble to your mother and ray old people." he added, with his usual thoughtfulnesa. "They will be upset as It Is. And-- they couldn't understand." She suddenly turned and caogiit his shoulders. Hughie! do you?" she asked earnestly. "Ah! you must! I can't lose your faith, too." Then he acted In a manner that astonished them both. Passion and a sense of the dramatic had ever been far from his nature. Involuntarily, however, his fingers closed around her wrists. Raising her hands, he pressed bis lips upon them. "Heaven knows what waa right or wrong," he declared hurriedly. "But-- oh. my dear! God help you I" The door slammed, and he waa gone from her life--this man who had been friend and brother, playmate or lover, all her youth. . . . She stood gasfng drearily through the window at the desolate tennis court, where they had played so often tngether, and an extra wave of lonely bitterness swept Into her heart. . . . She saw Hugh, with bent head, cross the grass to the garden gate . . . Then she sank Into a chair before the fire, crushed by an overpowering sense of physical --fiffr,-.. nesa, (TO BB CONTINUED.) ^ • hafrffot dfsttnctlon W tween iklld revolution and emphatic evolution, and we are uncertain aa to which term wftrid be preferabie la evaluate* tHe spring styles ef lMfe writes a Farts fashion correspondent In the New York Herald-Tribune It Is true that the pew mnde has not shaken the foundations of fashion-- the smart women of 1828 do not appear to you to be radically different from their predecessors of last year. You will grant the differences In silhouette and detalla, perhapa. but you may be Inclined to observe that the ftar^brulted spring style changes have been substantially teapot tempests. Closer analysis, however; will prove the fallacy of the obvious. Save only the hat, which has successfully resisted all attempts to enlarge and grandedameize it, the various components of the new mode mark essential departures from the themes of last year. The tubular silhouette, the wraparound straight coat, the endless Instances of youthful simplicity, have all Joined the Innumerable caravan, and even the ultraconservative lady cannot mourn their passing. Neckline, waistline sleeves and hemline have all undergone decisive changes and if you add to this the final dethroning of the straight-line silhouette, the beginning of the new fashion cycle cannot be denied. The first and most salient fact about the new spring styles, as disclosed by the Paris haate monde st social functions, is the unusual complication of cut that is evident In the smartest costumes. The reign of simplicity Is definitely over and spring clothes are all cut up with gorea. darts, flares, panels snd the like. The chemise frock with Its two seams, a hem and a cut-out oval for the neck, la nowhere to be seen. It Is replaced by the apparently, simple gown with a flaring skirt, which Is intricately cut and makes use of all of the above-named technical devices of the master couturier. At this time It appears that the amateur seamstress with a length of goods, sclssora, needle and thread. Is going to have her difficulties before achieving a smart gown this season. Coats and blouses have also left simplicity behind them. End of the Simple Mode, Ih the first place, the almple straightline silhouette Is no longer featured by the really chic Parlslenne. Almost all spring models have a flare somewhere, either in the skirt the blouse or the sleeves, and sometimes in all three. True, you can still find straight lines, but there is a decided and definite Intention on the part of Parts style creators to do away with them per ae. Three silhouettes have taken the place of the tube--the silhouette with a flaring skirt usually concentrated in front; the silhouette with a real blouse waist and scflfit skirt, and the silhouette with exaggerated sleeves breaking the straight line. All sorts of scarfs, floating panels and similar frills aid In the elimination of the boxlike outlines of the last few seasons. The big four lines of fashion--the neckline, the waistline, the hipllne and the hemline--obviously play an essential fart in this changed silhouette Necklines are usually decorated by collars, scarfe and big bow ties, particularly on daytime frocks. On evening gowns jeweled bands, beaded fabric necklaces and diaphanous scarfs, varying from mere wisps of tulle or chiffon to meter-wide full-length veils, make for a flowing, graceful line which la the keynote to the chic spring silhouette. Chanel has very few models with plain, unadorned necks. Lanvin is using collars and banda on many, of bar recent models; Jean Patou makes «uaph* t frocte br amnll twnt yeken of contrastingtMtartat muff-. mm Impawn cotisrs In ••shape that tie to bows at the bnek «f ths mcK; Premet uses assail emtHvtdfM-nd cotlars «r collars of linen and ptQM on daytims costiAies, and Worth employs the collar and saaaf again and again en his chdtcest models. Waistlines have shifted and are still shifting. Jean Patou. with his American, English and French mannequins, hss demonstrated that the normal and near-normal waistline ia flattering to most figures. He either ahows the line definitely by ..*39^ tt arraid Chemicals From Le&hmr Chemists have recently obtained from scraps of leather many important substances, Including drugs, medi» clnes, paint pigments and a fuel olL-r- Science Service. Beige Alpaca Dress With Black Assaft Cravat and Silk Cording. means of belts on sports snd street clothes, or indicates it by ahaplng thai soft crepe of his afternoon and evening models to fit at these points Premet uses a sliding waistline, high In front and very low in back--just a line that ia marked by a movement of his side, circular or plaited drapery. Drecoil and Bernard place the line below the hips, and Chanel uses an Irregular line that comes to normal In front and at the hips In back. Low waistlines are still affected by many Parisiennes and in most cases the line, Irrespective ot where it Is placed. Is made significant by a girdle or trimming of some kind. Hlpllnes. where the walatllne la fairly normal, are the beginning point for;" inset panele, plaited or circular, floating panels, ruffles and godets. In short, they mark the stsrtlng of ths flared skirt, which Is the hallmark of chic this spring. On the blousewaist silhouette, the hipllne Is the. dividing point between the full upper portion and the straight eklrt. Hemlines are often Irregular anil the newest line Is slightly higher In front than In back. Lelong, Premet and Chanel show such lines and sodoes Worth. Scalloped and pointed bems are considered smart and floating panels longer thsn the skirt give variety. ' MONARCH COCOA Choicest cocoa beans to vi start with---careful roasty* ing and blending. There " • ; you have the reason why ^Monarch cocoa is a favorite everywhere. " REED, MURDOCH & CO. JMaMMMlIM, GmmhI Offiew, CUca«o.U. 8. A. Bwrtim Boww • NcwYock QUALITY FOR 70 YEARS 3TeB Your! LES -v. a." w--w «itf im» iUnKsd States Rubber Company The Gentle Art of Knitting for praeftcal purposes nothing has ever taken the place of a costume of fine yarn, knitted or crocheted by hand to give it that suppleness snd pliability only attained by the work Of Individual flngera. From Cannes comes word that practically every woman of note has sppeared in the little two-piece balbrlggan model designed originally by Chanel, which has been the inspiration of almllar costumes differing only,In slight details. For every sports purpose there Is sn appropriate sweater In the spring mode. Varying from the lacy shortaleeved model, hand-knitted or crocheted on large needles and worn over the simple frocks of crepe de china, to the mannish suits composed of s tailored coat and the Chanel eklrt with Ita Inverted plait fashioned of yarn In the smartest mixtures, they provide a suitable costume for every climatic change and one that does not lack In the essentials of chic and charm. An unusual model, which will undoubtedly/ ffcliVve a late spring and summ fluenee of certain style tendencies brought to America by the prince of Wales on hla visit laat fall. Surprising aa It may aeem, the Impetus given to fashion by the sartorial taste of the prince affected feminine modes qnlta as much as masculine, and tangible evidence of this Is given by the Introduction this spring of a band-knitted sweater-coat, double-breasted In effect, with tiny plaits at the sides to accentuate a natural waistline, and fastenings of nickel ball buttons, Dick . it was terrH/yemiamusiMti "There I was with a car full of friends and the motor knocking along without a bit of power. Dick, cart you do something about it?" Yeel He can buy MtodfattE Oil and give Ma motor a chance to stage a Velveteen Sports Coata* New and unusually smart are ftpoTtl coats of corduroy or velveteen In the fashionable neutral and pastel Often they are lined with rasliiiisin Fuller Yet Slimmer The spring dresses are fuller «h?n we have been accustomed to, but they give a slimmer silhouette, becsuse It Is achieved without ae verity or apvogue. ahowa clearly the In* parent effort. Habits for Women Who Grace Spirited MoiiH There are two standards of habits, one for women who ride astride and another for those who w the aide ssddle. Generally speaking, there is an invariable rule to be followed in both types--that of aeverity In form, of strict conformity to the masculine form of smart riding dress. To be abeolutely au fait the woman who rides must sacrifice soft lines, ease and elaboration of detail. For this severe type of habit fabrics are the same as for a man's--whipcord, homeepun, melton, bedford cord. The side saddle habit such as is worn at stows error riding In the park, is, in its most formal design, made of black melton or broadcloth with black velvet or oorded allk half collar. Ia a slight relaxation of thla model the long revers of the coat are also faced with the silk, and slit pockets arv ^ in the skirt of the cost. This coat may be cut with a skirt to form « rather high waist line and fastened with two buttons over s buff doth vntstooat, tfcn petals e( which -•"•ST .v . ••••; below the coet mint. The coet may have longer revers snd close with one large button and have a flaring skirt. The riding skirt Is short and fitted to the saddle, and just covers the boot of the seated rider. The side saddle habit is made ordinarily of one material. the only possible variety being In some detail ot waistcoat, which may be made in • smart check or color. The tie should be an Ascot with Slight variation of arrangement. Perfect lubrication is one of die secrets of t reliable snd powerful motsc. WflMftrOlk Itfe--*aeiws^^ Council Bluffs, Ipwa. Toledo, Op Msulfeiffit Oils & Grease* Sex Antagonism Elizabeth Robins, whose book, "Ancilla's Share," Is a hot attack on man for his injustice and cruelty to womaft. said at an Anglo-American luncheon Ml London: "Some people think my book la us; fair to men, but there are too men who say in their hearts: "'Women, are like beefsteaks, ft takes a lot of beating to make thejp tender.'" One-n-Dny Sweater ft* flftme needs little explanatidff fbf that is exactly what It is, a sweeter that can easily be made in a day. It la faahloned of lightweight wool, handknitted In a lace stitch on very large needles, and Is designed for wear over little frocks of crepe da Red Being Uaed A lining atu. collar and cuffs of brilliant red velvet are seen on a blnck jmlk ;* 4' GET FEEUNi WELL AGAIi From Mother Nature's storehouse'V we have gathered the roots, bark* and herbs which are compounded, under the famous Tanlac formula." to make Tanlac. This great tenia, and builder haa brought health and strength to millions. If your body is weak and undernourished, if you can't aleep or eat, • have stomach trouble or burning? rheumatism, Just you see how quickly Tanlac can help you back to health and strength. Most people notice a big change * for the better after the very flrst bottle. Thsy have better appetites, and more pep. The. sparkle cornea back to their dull eyea and color to their thded cheeks. Dont delay Tanlae nn-> ^;' other precious day. Step at you* druggist's now end get a of this, the greatest of all tonics*: * Tafte 1kh» Vageiails Mi ^ . . •• IVR YOUR HEAOJTH >