The evening world. Newspaper, April 16, 1914, Page 19

\ | JH left had a Minit i Ht id ‘ t | CHAPTER VII. (Consiaved.) The Lonely Man. ICTORIA asked what th IA intentions toward her were, but all that she could learn was that they would take her north with them. She @ffered to arrange the payment of a euitable ransom if they would return her to her friends unharmed, but the Arad only laughed at her. “You will bring a good price,” he até, “at the court of the Sultan of Fulad, north of Tagwara, and for the rest I shall have partly settled the score which I have against the Englishman.” Bo Victoria Custer disappeared from the sight of men at the border of the land of the Waairi, nor was there any other than her captors to know the devious route that they followed to gain the country north of Uziri. ‘When at last Nu, the son of Nu, opened his eyes from the deep elum- ber that had refreshed and invigor- ated him he looked up expectantly for the face that had been hovering above his, and as he realized that the cave was tenantless except for himesif, « sigh that was half sob broke from the depths of his lonely heart, for he knew that Nat-ul had eeen with him only in his dreams. Yet it had been so real! Even now he could feel the touch of her cool hand upon his forehead and her glim fingers running through his hair. His enesk glowed to her hot kisses, and in big nostrila was the sweet aroma of her dear presence, ‘The disillusionment of his waking brought with it bitter disappointment and @ return of the fever. Again Japeed into sem!-consclousness and de- Iirtum, so that he was not aware of ‘the kbaki-clad white man that crept warily into the half-darkness of his jortly after noon. i Ee barney Custer, and behind ‘him came Curtiss, Butzow and a half Gosen others of the searching party. "They had stumbled upon the if dead ‘Terkos beside the spring, and there also they had found Victoria Custer’s hat, and plainly in the oft earth be- tween the boulders of the hillside they \ha@ geen the new made path to the i cave higher up. ‘When Barney saw that the pros- figure within the ern did not hts entrance a stifling fear fm his throat, for he was sure he had found the dead body of sister; but as his eyes became more accustomed to the dim light of the interior he realised bis mistake— at firet with a sense of infinite re- ef and later with misgivings that amounted almost to # wish that it had been Victoria, eafe in death; for rhe others had crowded in beside him, and one had lighted a torch of @ry twigs which for a few seconds fiuminated the interior of the cave . brightly. In that time they saw that the man was the only occupant and that he was helpless from fever. Beside him lay the atone spear that had alain old Raffles—each of them it. How could it have been brought to him? “The sebra-killer," said Brown. What's that beneath his head? Looks aki coat.” ay Se drew it out and held it up. “Goa!” oried Curtiss, “It's hers.” “He must have come down there after we left, got his epear, and stolen your sister,” said Brown. Curtiss drew his revolver and pushed closer toward the unconscious Wane beast,” he growled. ‘Shoot- ingfe too good for him. Get out of the way, Barney; I'm going to give him all six chambers.” Mo,” aid Barney quietly. Why? demanded Curtiss, trying to push past Custer. \ SBeeguse I Gent befleve that he Yea loved until we “know the truth. re he Ev harmed Victoria,” ning Worl replied Barney. “That's sufficient reason for waiting won't stand for any killiag of an un- conscious man, anyway.” Then 1 “He's nothing but a beast—a mad - dog,” insisted Curtias. “He should be Killed for what he ts. I'd never have thought to eee you defending the man who killed your eister.” “Don't be @ fool, Curtiss.” snapped Barney. “We don't know that Vio- toria’s dead. The chances are that this man has been helpless from fever for @ long time, There's a wound in his head that was probably made by your shot last night. “If he recovers from that he may be able to throw eome light en Vic- toria’a disappearance. If it develope that he has harmed her, I'm the one to demand an accounting—not you, As T paid before, I do not believe that man would have harmed a hair ef my eister’s head.” “What do ‘you know about him?” demanded Curtiss. “I never saw him before,” replied Barney. “T don't know who he !s or where came from, but I know— well, never mind what I know, ex- cept that there isn’t anybody going to kill him other than Barney Custer.” “Custer’a right,” broke in Brown. “It would be murder to kill this fel- low in cold blood. You have jumped to the conclusion, Curtiss, that Miss Custer is dead. If we let you kill this man we might be destroying our best chance to locate and rescue her.” As they talked the gaunt figure of the wolfhound, Terkoz, crept into the cave. He had not been killed by the "s blow, and a liberal dose of cold water poured over his head had helped to hasten returning conscious- ness. He nosed, whining, about the cavern as though In search of Victor!: The men watched him in silence after Brown had said: “If this man harmed Miss Custer and laid out Ter- koz, the beast'll be keen for revenge. Watch him, and if Curtiss ts right there won't any of us have to avenge your sister, Terkoz'll take care of that. know him. “We'll leave it to Terkoz,” said Barney. After the animal had made the complete rounds of the cave, sniffing at every crack and crevice, he came to each of the watching men, nosing them carefully. Then he walked directly to the side Fashions for Plump Women 6c HE slim woman has every- thing her own way in fash- fons,” exclaimed an exai erated matron to whom the appell tion “fair, fat and forty” could be aptly aflied, While it is true that the present fashions of tiered and rufMfed skirts, bouffant upper draperies and bustles are all favorable to the woman of slight figure, the over-developed form is by no means overlooked, Styles are not so set but that they may be modified, The woman with the naturally Ja waist and hips, while possessing the desirable figure lines, has no tnclina- tlon to accentuate these, so for her there are the extension draperies that start considerably below the walsi line. Yokes are having a revival this spring, and these are especially adapt- to the woman of medium figure. ‘hese tunic yokes have flounces ar- wed at their lower edge, which is eral inches below the waistline. ‘he tered skirt can be worn if the tlers are arranged on yokes, and the t fulness of the first comes well over the hi adopt panniers sh aid of the ce and by having thi pointed both in front and back ev more effectual results in obtained, The panniers drooped so the fulness comes well be- low the hips, Panniere can be worn without a yoke if they are made to taper from the front to ‘he centre back, But it is the stout woman who has her troubles—or thinks she has, for there really are many of the new models which If not » designe for her are, howev hat she should adopt. There are, for instance the front and back panel effects which are particularly advantageous in producing long lines. If she wants draperies she can, with good effect, have tapering draperies attached to the panels at the aides or she can wear the modified varieties arranged at the sides of the akirt. The stout woman can even indulge in flounces if she has them arranged up the sides of the skirt, retaining the easential long line effect by hav- ing the front and back of the skirt plain from waist to hem, The fash- jonable tiered skirt can be worn if the flounces are applied in tapering effects, The cutaway tunic, which is a prominent feature of the coming season's styles, is pre-eminently suited to the stout woman, Figure lines are largely influenced by the material of the garment worn, especially the colorings, And in this, ‘oo. fashion favors all classes, as there never has been a time when colors were more variud than they are now, While the wo: with the youthful contour can from the tango low, absinthe, Ber- muda, gold, ni bh 4 other high shades, the | woman must eschew many of those striking colors that accentuate fig- ure lines and content herself with less flaring offects in Soloring, and if her figure ts a matter of self-conscious- ness that borders on discomfort, as ia often the cage, she still has a large assortment of beautiful dark and un- ol to select from tn this eceason' ten oF icaren The Eternal Lover « ANOTHER T tee E0GAR RICE of the unconscious Nu, licked his cheek, and, lying down beside him, rested his head upon the man’s breast so that his fierce, wolfish eyes were pointed straight and watebful at the group of men opposite him. “There!” said Barne; and stroking the beast’s head. The hound whined up into his face; but when Curt bristling, body of him, “You'd better keep away from him, Curtiss," warned Brown, “He always has had a strange way with him in his likes and dislikes,and he's a mighty ugly customer to deal with when he's crossed. He's killed one man already —a big Wamboli spearman who was stalking Greystoke up in the north coyntry last fall. Let's see if he’s got growled ominously at Copgright, 1914, by The Press Publishing Oo, (The New York Xvenmg World), PART Il. ELL, I never saw Meda look so dark; it’ that awful shade. She has the worst taste of any woman in our wet. I'll gee if she can hear me now; no one around here cares whether I call or not. Meda! Meda! Oh, Med: Where have you been all this time? Here I've been looking everywhere for you. No, I haven't voted; I forgot where they said the polls were going to be set up. Right there In the Court House? Well, of all things! Looks like they'd have set them on some corner in @ more public—I mean handy—place, doesn't it? No, I have never met Mrs. Gray, but I've heard a great deal about her. (Aside—That ought to make her wince if anything could.) How de- ye-do? So glad to know you. I was just sayin; @ other day to my hus- band that 1 was just orazy to have you over to tea with us some time. And do you bridge? No? Why, | thought everybody played cards. How quaint! Everybody that is anybody here, you know, does! Meda, you darling, I never saw you look sweet That dress is a dream and you wear that shade so well, too, don't you know. Now I would be a perfect fright if I dared come out in that shade. I wear gold and green vetter than anything else. Ob, no, this dress isn’t exactly now—I've had it two weeks now, I supp But ene doesn't like to wear one’ « day ike this, You think we had better vote now. Well, it’s all one to me whether I veally vote or not. All I cared about is the getting out into the midst of things where there’a a lot of excite- ment and one can hear all that is going on, Am | for Cameron or Jones? Well, now I haven't given the matter a thought. Come to think of it, though, Cameron is much the more euphon- fous name, don’t you think? “Mayor Cameron” sounds much more aristo- cratio than “Mayor Jones.” Still, I alwaye did argue that the Mayor of a town ought to be a big, broad- shouldered man, #o he would attract attention when he walks down the street, and you know Commodore Jones would make two of Russell Cameron, There's good points to both sides, eo it’a hard to tell, really. Yeo, it @ amusing, And for Prose- outing Attorney? Honey, I tell you I don't even know who ts running! Ha! Ha! @uch a Seba, don't you know! But then, Mys, Grom I Gent ink 4 a *, 3 ah wig arsine BURROUGHS it in for the reat of us.” One by one Terkoz suffered the others to approach Nu; only Curtiss seemed to rouse his savage, protec- tive instinct. . As they discussed their plans for the immediate future Nu opened his eyes with a return of consciousness. At sight of the strange figures about him he eat up id reached for his spear, but Barney had had the fore- sight to remove this weapon as weil as the man's knife and hatchet from his reach, As the cave man came to a sitting posture Barney laid a hand upon his shoulder, ‘We shall not harm you,” he sald, ‘if you will tell us what has become of my sister.” Then, placing his lips close to the other's ear, he whispered: “Where is Nat-ul?” ARZAN STORY Nu understood but the single word Nat-ul; but the friendly tone and the hand upon his shoulder convinced him that this man was no enemy. He shook his head negatively. understand the stran- @ @aid. Then he asked the as had Barney: “Where is But the American could translat only the name, yet it told him that the dream-man of hie alster. When it became quite evident that the man could not understand any- thing that they said to bim, and that he was in no condition to march, it was decided to send him back to the ranch by some of th tive carriers that accompanied the searching par- ty, while the others continued the rch for the missing girl. Terkos suffered them to lift Nu in “thelr arms and carry him outside, where he was transferred to a rude tter constructed with a saddle bla: ket and two spears belonging to the ‘Wazirl whe had accompanied them. Barney felt that this man might the key to the solution of Vic- whereabouts; and #0, for fear that he might attempt to escape, he decided to accompany him personally, knowing that the search for his ai ter would proceed as thoroughly without him as with. In the mean time he might be working out some plan whereby he could communicate with the stranger. And so they set out for the ranch. Four half-naked blacks bore the rude stretcher. Upon one side walked Terkoz, the wolfhound, and upon the other Bar- ney Custer. Four Wasiri warriors accompanied them. Nu, weak and sick, was indifferent to his fa’ If he had been captured by enem! well and good. He knew what to expect—elther slavery or death, for that was the way of men is Nu knew them. If slavery, there was always the chance to escape. If death, he would at least no longer suffer from lone- liness in @ strange world far from his own people and his matchless Nat-ul, whom he only saw now in his dream. He wondered what this strangely garbed stranger knew of Nat-ul. The man had most certainly spoken her name. Could it be poasible that she, too, was a prisoner among these people? Her First Day at the Polls ——(:A Monologue )}——— can be expected to keep up with all the different men who aspire to these little offices, They have so much of real importance to do besides that. You @ay it's McGuire and Leonard? Bob Leotard? Now, would I vote for him? Why, don't you know his wife was working for her living, when he married her? Yes—and he was the Factory Inspector or some: thing. Married her out of that plac from four dollars a week to six. It was awful! It nearly killed his old father, and I slways will say that bis people, you know; had their home down in Newport and spent every Waldorf. They were fine people, till this dragged Bob down, and it seemed to throw a damper over the whole fam- ily, don’t you know? Of course I wouldn't vote for him! Mary Leon- the women who are #o rushed socially | after he'd made them raise the wages | t marriage hastened hia mother’s death. | ° ‘The Leonards were always such nice winter nearly tn New York at the|7 si girl}on intima ard walks now like she owned @ mill- jon, and if @ were to get to be attorney's wife—whew- ! Not a milliner in town could fit her head! No, siree! I'm for Mo- Guir Well, he does drink? Men t Gray ‘s unless it 1s preachers! od him a high office like this per- it. would reform hi I think id a helping band to the weak whenever we can. Well, I wish you'd look over there; Mrs. Hunter's daughter If I were she I think I'd go away and hide my face instead of parading around in a crowd like this! Oh, didn’t you know? Well, I thought rybody had pears of that affair. Sf to encourage girls of that class. they choose the rocky path instead of the smooth, why it's their own fault and respectable women with rowing daughters can't afford to be terms with them. Yes, I have a daughter, Mra, Gra: You didn’t know it?) Why, Dorts M. is nearly five years old now. never saw me out with ber? Well, To-Day -Is the NE of the most interesting and O romantic of the year’s anni- versaries 1s to-day’s tercente- nary of the marriage of the beautiful Indian Princess, Pocahontas, to John Rolfe, an Englishman who had aet- tled at Jamestown, It was 300 years ago to-day, April 16, 1614, that the dusky princess gave her hand and heart into the keeping of a paleface, who thus became the first “squaw man,” Several of the foremost fam- iliea of Virginia boast descent from that lovely April bride of three cen- turles ago and are very proud of the strain of royal aboriginal blood in their veins, Pocahontas wan the daughter of the powerful Indian chief Powhatan, and was born about the year 1595, Her real name was Matoaka, and Po- cahontas was only @ nickname, mean- ing “little mischief.” Her first ap- pearance in the pages of history re- lates how, a girl of twelve, she inter- vened and saved the life of Capt. John Smith. Smith was taken captive and brought before Powhatan and, accord- ing to the account, “having feasted him Fd the best barbarous man- 4; but tl that two great stones were brought before Powhatan; then ag many as could laid hande on Smith and dra, him to them and thereon laid head. An ag ube beet Pocahontas, feos i, at oat paves So sed Ee Of Pocahontas's could, @ long consultation | conclusion waa) Tercentenary Marriage own upon his to save him from death, Whereat the emperor was contented Smith should live, In 1613, while on a visit to a nolgh- boring tribe, Pocahontas waa tre: erously seized by Capt. 8. Argall and carried @ prisoner to Jamestown. She ed well and only held as a Shi on became friendly pa © settlers, embraced their religion and was baptized and christened Rebecca, Believing that her hero, Smith, dead, aho trans- ferred her affections to John Rolfe, | who returned her love, and was thus| rescued from obrcurity and gi a} permanent place in history. The bridegroom was widower and an official at Jamestown. Rolfe and Po- cahontas were married by the Rev. Richard Buck, according to the ritual of the Church of England. The little church was transformed into a floral bower for the occasion and the wit- nesses of the wedding included the entire population of the settlement, ‘Two years later John Rolfe took hi bride to England, Before her arriva’ Smith petitioned King James I. in her behalf and gave the first account of hie deliverance from death by her Intervention. This romantic tale ni urally attracted attention to Poca- hontas and ‘waa introduced court by Lord and Lady Deli and became the pet of the be clety of London, . {own children Youl FI RTT TT d Daily Magazine, Thursday: April 16; He had moet certainty aeen her tn the garden before the strange cave where he had alain the diminutive Zor that had been about to devour her, That had not been a dream, he was positive, and eo she must deed be « prisoner. As he recalled the lion he amileé, ‘What a runt of @ beast it had been, indeed! Why—old Zor, who ited in the forest of the ape-people and dwelled in the caves upon the hither slopes of the Barren Hille, would have qnapped that fellow up in two bites! And Oo! A eneese from Oo would have sent him scurrying into the Dark Swamp, where Oo could not venture because of bis great weight. It was an odd world in which Nu found himself. The country seemed almost barren to him, and yet he in the heart of tropical Africa; the creatures seemed small and insignifi- cant—yet the lion he had killed was one of the largest that Brown or T: in had ever seen; and he ahivered, even in the heat of the equatorial gun. He longed for the world of his birth, with ite mighty beasts, its gigantic vegetation, and its hot, humid atmos- phere, through which ita great, blurred sun appeared grotesquely large and close at hand. CHAPTER VIII. A Prisoner. OR a week they doctored Nu at the bungalow of the Greyatokes. There were times when they despaired of his life, for the bullet wound that creased his temple clear to the skull had become Infected; but at Iast he commenced to mend, and after that his recovery was rapid, for hia constitution was that of untainted physical perfection. The several searching parties re- turned one by one without;a clue to the whereabouts of Victoria Custer. Barney knew that all was being done that could be done by his frienda; but he clung tegaciously to the belief that the solution to the baffling mystery lay locked In the breast of the strange giant who was convalescing upon the cot that bad been set up for bim in Barney's own room, Curtiss had been relegated t@bther apartments, and Barney stuck close to the bedside of bis patient day and night. ‘ Hie principal reasons for so doing wore his wish to prevent the man's maybe not. You know I keep a nurse, and she has all the care of Doris Mae—takes her out for walks, and sees that she has the right kind of playmates. A woman of my social standing has so many eng: {t's almost impossible to ery day. You're going to vote, are you, now? Well, put me down for Jones and Mc Gulre, and just fill out the rest lik yours ia, 1 don’t care much which way the election goes this year, Oh, I have to do it mypelf? Well, If it's dness, that's over) fie in nelle eater ae we bad ‘ell, goodby, dear. e perfecliy" tovely time, haven't Come to #ee me as soon as you can, Meda, and we'll talk over the elec: tion. ‘So glad I met you, Mrs. Gray; I'm going to bring my crochet over some afternoon soon and visit with yo awhile, unleas you'd prefer my mak- ing @ fashionable call first, No? Weil, I believe we're going to be good friends; | hope #0; you talk so inter- estingly. Oh, by the way have you heard about the miniater’s aweetheart down in Georgia? They say he gets two letters a week from her; guess he'll be getting him @ wife pretty soon and settling down. Be a good thing for all concerned, I reckon if he does. Welly I nv go—I'm so worn out I thought I'd atop down at the Bijou and get something cold. Won't you both come and let me treat? Please do-—I'd just love to. You won't? Well, another time then, But I think It's juat mean of you, Goodby! Goodby! ‘Well, if Meda's dress doesn’t hang a night in the back! I think if I were ashe I'd put another width in my ak And that Mra, Gray! If she had nother word I think I should have screamed! She smiled a mighty sickly smile I noticed when I was telling her about the minister's girl down South, I didn't add that those letters are from his younger slater who's down there in college—he told Billy himself about her. I don't see w he »# in a widow anyhow— and ah uch a shocking gossip! Meda didn’ y @ thing about my hat, even when I flattered her up to the skies. But I waa determined some one would see it, so I told them goodby In the most consptouous place there was. Every one on the Court House steps saw me, I know. If those women had come with me and let me treat I don't know what in the world I would have done, I n't but twenty-five cents to my and I simply couldn't wall home In thene shoes. (To waiter in cafe) ¥ cd pundae with nuts, Yo caramel? What a on vou a Cupid's Love Fy Oh, well what have! thought thie was suppts. up-to-date place {1° After a ‘elightful sojourn in Eng- land Pooahontas and her husband, with their infant eon, embarked on a vessel to return to Virginia, but the ship nad barely started when Po- cahontas died, The ship returned to Gravesend. of church conta! "1617, John . we eel at Snes chasse A "Suffrage Dream with Guerries? That sounds delicious! I'll o it (Girt retreats to fill the order), Now I'll just slip off those horrid pumps here underneath the table while I eat and no one will be an: the wiser. I'll eat sowly ond the le come in, ey think tm ting upon the responstbill- tt vaaieng mar acl By Edgar Rice Burroughs Auth of TARZAN A Ete Eg Curtias continued to view the Ger with suspicion and {I!-dieguised As Curtiss approached, the hound turned his wicked little upon him, without moving bis bead from where it lay stretched upon his forepaws, and growled. &@ booted foot across the beast’s neck to hold him in check. The bound’s show of hostility aa- gered Curtiss. He hated the brute, and he hated Nu as cordially—just why he did not know, for it seemed that his hatred of the stranger was'a thing apart from his righteous anger in his belief that the man had knowledge of the fate of Vieteria Custer. * ° He halted in front of the cave man. “I want to ask you @ question,” Re sald coldly, “I havd been wanting te do 0 for a long time; but there has always been some one else around.” Nu nodded. “What can Nu tell you?” be asked. “You can tell me where Miss Cus ter ts,” replied Curtiss. “Mise Custer? I do net know you mean, I never pears ow Custer.” “You le!" cried Curtiss, losing esa trol of himself. “Her jacket was found beneath your head tm that feat den of yours.” Nu came slowly to his feet, “What does ‘ie’ mean? “ he asked. ‘I do not understand all that people say to me yet, but I know mi the way of saying, and I do not your way, Curtiss,” ; “Answer my question!” cried Cur. tise, “Where te Victoria Custer? When you speak to me remember that. I'm Mr. Curtiss!" “What does ‘lie’ mean?” persisted Nu. “And why should I call you ‘mise ter?’ I do not like the sound of your should take justice into their own hands and execute the prisoner forth- with he now insisted that he be taken to the nearest point at which civiliza- tion bad established the machinery of law and turned over te the authori- ties, Barney, on the other hand, was just aa firm in his determination to wait until the man had gained a aufficient command of English to enable them to give him a fair hearing, and then be governed accordingly. He could not forget that there had existed some atrange and inexplicable bond between this handsome giant and his eister, nor that unquestion- ably ie man had saved her life when old Raffles had sprung upon her. Bar- ney had loved and lost because he had loved a girl beyond his reach, and so his sympathies went out to this man who, he was confident, loved his iter, Uncanny as her dréams had been, Barney was forced to admit that there had been more to them than either Victoria or he had imagined, and now he felt that for Victoria's sal he should champion her dream-man in her absence, One of the first things that Barney tried to impress upon the man was that he waa @ prisoner, and, lest he should escape by night when Barney pt, Greystoke set Terkos to watch over him. But Nu did not seem inclined to wish to escape, His one desire ap- parently w to mast etrange tongue of his captors. For two weeks after he was able volee, Curtiss.” bs peso bed he devoted his time Tt was at thie mo: t that . ing Bnglteh. ‘ ment Barne; He had the freedom of the ranch, coming and going as he pleased, but his weapons were kept from him, hidden in Lord Greystoke's etudy, and Barney, sometimes with others of the A single giamee at the attitude of * the two mem wasmed him that he wag barely in time to avert « tragedy. ‘The bisck-haired giant stood with the bristling wolfhound at his side. ‘The attituée of the man resembied nothing mere closely than that of a big black panther tensed for a spring. Curtias'e hand was reaching for the butt of the gun at his Bip. Barney stepped between them. “What te the meaning of this, Cure tiset” he asked sharply. Curtiss had been a warm friend for COMMON |yeare—a friend of ctvilisation ana fault with|luxury and ease. He had kaown young per-| Curtiss under conditions whith gave sons, particularly |@verything that Curties wished, end young girls, is|he had seemed a fine fellow; but late- the habit of tell-|!¥, since he had been crossed and dis- ing petty lies. This {‘s morally wrong, of course, and it le also tremely foolish. In nine canes out of ten the small falsehood doesn't deceive the person to whom it ta told, and only succeeds in putting the tel- ler in a bad light. A lack of complete trust will des- troy the most perfect friendship @® love affair, And it ts dimoult for a man to feel that he can trust a girl in big things when he knows that she tella him little ites, reversed the have faith in a male prevartcater. He it's best to avoid even white fibs. Betty Vincent’s Advice to Lovers “White Fibs.” character that had never before pre. onnet themselves. Barrow and unreasoning for the half savage white an ae Caused the first doubts im Barney's mind as to the breadth of his friend's character. And thea—most unper- Gonable of ett had grum- bled at the hardabips ef the seid while the searching parties had been. out. Butsow bad told Barney of i, ané ee of how Curtiss had shirked mush the work which the other white had assumeé when there dearth of servants in the Curtise made no reply to "0, R." writes: “Iam te be marriea | “40's shoulder. in a few months. After the cere- ea et Mote et seane, Content? he mony I wish to have photograp! taken of my future wife ana myeie Ie it proper for both of us to be in one picture, or should we be taken ie A all a matter of personal tast: though I think individual pictures are the more customary nowadays. A Candid Youth. “B. B." writes: “A young man whom I have known for some time has told me that he loves me, When T asked him how many other girls he had told the same thing he said ‘two.’ Should I allow him to pay me atten. tto Hie honesty certainly speaks in his favor, and I think you should give him @ chance. e Barney tried to explain. “I eee,” ald Nu. “Amé whet to ‘mister’? “Whe te Mise Custer?’ Nu asked. Barney looked et the man in sur- prise. “Do you not know?” he asked, “Why should It” “She io my aleter,” said Barney, looking closely at the man. . “Your sister?” questioned Nu, “T 414 net knew you had a stster, Cus- ter.” "Yeu @i4 not knew my slater, Natal?” orted Barney. “A. 8." writes: man paid “A young me attention for nearly four ‘yeal “Natal exclaimed the man. | but he is doing so ne longer. \\ 114 /“"Nat-ul your sister?” it be proper for me te send him a ‘ (To Be Continued.) birthday card?” Yes, if you are still on good terms. ‘An outdoor tale of || the big Wet (by the auther of “Me, THE FULL OF THE MOON . By Caroline Lockhart WiLL BEeIN Ht NE X TS Monday’s Evening World ‘“Ppointed, there had been sides to hip” »