text: W'-'l.Sffi home •wv ’ •f’SSSW 7&nf < v Topic} W •.w-5Ra CcnJuctec by "■> bJf/fn Wfif!toc\. RUSSIA WAKING UP. The events of the week ending June -10, 1910, show to us beyond peradventure that Russia has got a stranglehold on the battle line between it and the German-Austrian armies. For a long time it seemed as if Russia had nothing but soldiers to present in the crisis, and they were slaughtered without limit and without mercy. But times have changed, and it is now conceded that they came back as soon as they provided themselves with munitions of war, and had guns and cannon to work with in their advances. In eight days, ending June 11, they took as prisoners, one hundred and eight thousand Austrian soldiers, also two thousand of the best of the German army. These numbers mean a great deal, when we recollect that they also captured all sorts of rifle and machine guns, cartridges with enormous depots of ammunition and quantities of arms and other materials, with range finders and immense trains of mounted machine guns, and all the things in use by those defeated armies. And the German lists admit that their nation has lost three million men, nearly a million killed, dead on the battlefields of Europe. While the Germans are pounding the French all the time, the Russians are beating the Germans down all the time and the question is, how long can Germany stand the back fire and continue to lambast? The French with their front fire? Russia seems to have unlimited resources of men and money to restore their armies in the field. The captured munitions of war, those that were taken over within the last week, will equip a fresh army of Russian soldiers, without delay. As quickly as they can be equipped with these guns and sent forward on rapidly moving trains, they will be ready to do more capturing and more pursuing. Germany has done wonders, but likewise, Russia is doing wonders on similar lines. DRESS REFORM. The General Federation of Women's clubs has begun a movement for a standard plan for the use of women—especially as to street wear, travel and general public use. The movement is timely. Men are more sensible than women in their general wear—and they never think of exposing their chests or their arms in cold weather. I have seen women's bare necks in almost zero weather —and the skin would be purple with cold. There is no sense in fashions of that sort. In the first place, it is not pretty. In the next place, it is not healthy—and lastly, it looks silly. Any one of these three reasons should be ample to relegate naked throats and besoms to the discard. And I may be old—fogy in my notions, but I do not believe in naked bodies for women anywhere—unless it may be in the bathroom. I have seen the covering so thin that I could see the very shake of the body through the gossamer drapery, and I have seen the shape of the lower limbs, with scant skirt and thin ones. That cannot be called pretty—and I am continually asking myself. "What do they do it for?" I believe in skirts that clear the ground—and which cannot be stepped upon from crowd. That fashion is sensible, but it is going to extremes when a grown woman wears her frocks so short that you may discern the calves of her legs. And if their legs are worn, they are very homely, and if they are fat and pudgy, they look coarse and also ugly. I am willing to sign a petition for dress reform—right now. The present short fashion in dress skirts is bound to disappear. ITALIAN FAMILIES MOST THRIFTY. The women's organizations in New York city are getting things down fine, and they are trying to find out the amount of money which will give a support to various sized families of different nationalities, and in various grades of society. It is concluded that the Italians get along in comfort on less money than any other nationality in New York city. In one family where there was a grandmother—a mother and three children—the expenditures for fish and meat never extended beyond 28 cents per week—10 cents for soup meat and 12 cents for fish. After they were urged to be more liberal, they raised the Meat bill to 40 cents per week. The Italians eat rice, macaroni, and tomatoes, with carrots, turnips, and spinach, and some prunes. One little German woman supported five children for five years as janitress of a building, but living in a cellar ruined her health at last. She always kept a clean and comfortable home, and said: “If I do not keep my house clean, my children will lose sympathy with it.” There was a case of another family, a widow with five children. One young daughter earned $128 per month and the mother sometimes earned $14.33. The kind ladies donated $340 per month to aid them, making $370.33. "The money was spent—for rent $315. Food $330. Food $33.25 and clothing $312. Luncheon for the working girl $35.50 and sundries $32, and they began to live well and healthy. Some of these struggling women had been trying to live four days on $31 and were nearly starved when these gracious ladies came to their relief. The aid given by these ladies' organizations aforetime consisted of sending provisions, but the new way of appropriating the money by the week or month and requiring a list of articles to see that the money is well spent, has worked much better and with better results. Young people need clear complexions. If you find yourself "left out" because of a poor skin, and want a clear, fresh complexion, use Resinol Soap at least once a day. Wash thoroughly with a warm, creamy lather of it, then rinse the face with plenty of cold water. It does not often take many days of such regular care with Resinol Soap to show an improvement, because The Resinol medication soothes and refreshes the skin, while the perfectly pure soap is cleansing it. Reaction Soap and Ointment heal eczema and similar skin conditions and quickly stop it quickly. THE RED CIRCLE (Continued from East Issue) SYNOPSIS IN INSTALLMENT, June Trails, surrounded with the main circle birthmark, is imprinted to benevolent crime. At Detective Lamar's office, she meets Attorney Gordon, a fugitive, who has come to throw himself on Lamar's mercy. After much persuasion, Gordon tells June of his persecution and the “trumped" of employees against him. As counsel for the Farwell corporation, he refuses to “legally” swindle their employees out of cooperative profits and threatening to expose them, they ruined him. Lamar’s secretary tries to gain admission to his employer's office and finding that it is locked, smashes a corner of the opaque plate glass. June not wishing him to see Gordon, seizes a pair of handcuffs from Lamar's desk and fastens the secretary’s hand to the inside door knob. Inne refuses to let Gordon give himself up and together they leave the office through another door. From a taxicab they see Lamar and Farwell, and Judge wishing to get further information if possible, leaves Gordon in the taxicab to salt her return. Joining Lamar and the criminal Farwell she goes with them to Farwell's office. At the opportune time, June sends Lamar and Farwell to a "wild goose chase" after an imaginary thief and during their absence, steals the incriminating document, which would have proven Gordon's undoing. Emptying Lamar's open safe of a bundle of banknotes, she awaits their return and then departs. WHILE Max Lamar was musing in miserable uncertainty over the problem of June's guilt or innocence. June herself was confronted by a problem quite as disheartening and far more perilous. Mary had told her of "Smiling Sam" Eagan's presence in the Travis house, and June realized all it might mean to her. The man, hidden in the attic store room, held her fate, her liberty, in the hollow of his grimy hand. He had seen the Red Circle on her hand. He was crafty enough to know how fearful a hold over the girl this secret gave him. June could bear the suspense no longer. Impulsively she got to her feet and crossed the room toward the hall door. "Where are you going, dearie?" asked Mary in sudden anxiety. "I'm going to see him," replied June. "I must." "No! No!" wailed the nurse. "There is danger—horrible danger. But I'm not going to skulk before it. I'm going to see him and find out the very worst." June had taken off her hat, and as she spoke she was stripping the gloves from her hands. The left glove came off first. Then, as the right glove was half removed, its wearer noted the pulsing Red Circle on her hand. In instinctively she drew the glove over it. Meantime Mary had flung herself between June and the door, exclaiming in horror: "Oh, my dear, my dear. You mustn't. He—he might kill you!" "Kill me?" echoed June, bitterly. "I almost wish he would! It would be the easiest solution of the whole wretched puzzle. But he won't. Any more than a wise man would light a fire with millions." dollar bills. Dead. I'd be of no use to him. Alive. I’m a fortune to him. And he knows it.” "But, my precious—”— "The Red Circle is throbbing on my hand, this minute.” interrupted June, grimly. "See it! And yet I have no craving for mischief or crime. It must be a new manifestation of Jim Borden's wolf nature—the trait that made him want to face his enemies instead of slinking away from them. Let me go.” She shook off the old woman’s appealing grasp and pushed Mary gently to one side, leaving the way open to the door. “If you're going there," declared the valiant nurse, giving up the unequal battle, “then I'm going, too. I’ll keep him from harming my baby if anyone can." June scarce heard her. Already the girl was hurrying toward the stairs that led to the attic stairs. Mary scurried along at her heels. Together they reached the doorway leading to the attic stairs. June flung open the door, and the two climbed the narrow and dusty stairway, first carefully closing the door behind them to prevent sound of the coming interview from reaching the ears of anyone below stairs. June a step ahead, they emerged into the gloomy attic room, with its dimly seen piles of trunks and packing boxes and outworn furniture. Mary paused, staring timorously around the dismal and cluttered room. There was no sign there of the man they sought. June drew a sigh of relief that merged presently into a sharply nervous intake of breath, as something moved in the shadows of the attic's far corner. From an impromptu couch of patched quilt and moth-eaten pillows. Between two trunks, a frowsy head cautiously came into view. Sam, in his comfortable hiding place, had heard the steps on the stairs, and he had peeped out to who the intruders might be. At sight of June and Mary, he grinned pleasantly, got up, stretched himself, and slouched forward to meet them. "Well, well!" he rumbled in mock cordiality, "it seems like this is my reception day. Welcome to Castle Eagan, ladies. I'd have spruced up a bit if I'd known I was going to have company." "Ugh!" shuddered Mary, in sharp repulsion as she "U-atched his greasy smile. "Same to you, old dame, and many of them," answered Sam. "and while we are on the subject of victuals—" "I didn't say one word about victuals!" snapped Mary. "No?" grumbled Sam. "Well, I'm going to. That snack you smuggled up here to me awhile ago may be enough to fill up a society girl or a canary, but it wasn't hardly more than an appetizer for me. Rustle the rest of the meal up here as quick as you can. I'm getting hungry again. And when I'm hungry I want to eat. That's what I get hungry for. And, while you're about it, just catch me a pint flask of the stuff that killed Father, at the same time. That's the French for booze. Get me?" " 'Scuse me, miss. He broke off, turning to June. "I was so busy giving orders to my door old housekeeper here that I..." didn’t hardly notice you. Sit down, won't you? I'm sorry the place is so dusty and cockroachy. It’s all old Mary’s fault. If it wasn’t that she's been in our family for more than eighty years. I'd sure have to fire hen She’s an old doodlewit. She don't feed me enough, nor—” “You miserable—!" sputtered Mary, in fury; but June cut her short. "Sam." said the girl, facing the grinning fugitive, "I’ve come here to have you help me." "Help you?" repeated Eagan, puzzled. "Yes, by leaving here." "Oh, I see. Nothing doing, sweetie. I—” "Please!" implored June, again checking Mary's wrathful effort to interrupt. "Please go! Please don't endanger me by staying here. At any moment my mother may find you’re hidden in our house. Yama or one of the other servants may tell her. And—" "That's up to you." philosophically answered Sam. "That’s your share of the game. Miss Travis. I can't look out for everything." "I did all I could for you when you came out of prison, penniless and an outcast, went on June, ignoring his flippancy. "I gave you help, I gave you money. I tried to make up to you for what you had suffered and to put you on your feet again. I didn’t ask any reward; not even your gratitude. But now that I’m in such dire peril, won’t you please help me by going away and saving me from the danger of your presence here? Every minute you stay in this house is a menace to me. Oh, please go!" "Go?" said Smiling Sam argumentatively, and still smiling at her. "Go where? To jail? That's where they'll stick me if I leave here before this row blows over. And even this dusty old hole and Mary's half-portion food are whole lot better than the penn." "But you could creep out at night—" "And be nabbed at daybreak. No, thanks. I’ll —" "But I'll give you enough money to—” “You sure will, miss. I'll see to that. But not till it's safe to sneak out. I’m laying low, just now. And you’re going to help me do it. "But don’t you see what it means to me?" pleaded June. "You can’t stay hidden here indefinitely. If my mother should happen to come up to the attic, if she does," interrupted Sam, almost solemnly, "so much the worse for her." "Oh!" cried June in horror. "Listen here!" went on Eagan, a note of rough authority in his voice. Let's go and me come to a showdown. It ain’t a time for me to play or gallery plays or highfalutin talk. Come down to cases. You’re going to keep on adding me and when I get out, you're going to keep me on Easy street. Not because you want to. But because you've to. Because if you don't, you know I can sell a whole lot of interesting things about Circle Jim Borden's crook daughter. "You beast!" flamed June. "You be cut out the snappy stuff!" ordered Sam. "Treat me easy and you’ll find me easy to treat. That’s always been my way. But come any rough business with me, and you’ll always find me on hand with a bucketful of trouble. Remember that. So don’t call more. Huh!" he rumbled, in contempt. "You're a swell one to be talking to me as if I wasn’t as good as you, by, you and me is in the same pew. If you think we ain’t, just take a look at that." As he spoke, he caught her by the right wrist and tore away the loose hanging glove from the back of her hand. The Red Circle blazed into view. June tore herself free from his grasp just as Mary sprang forward to rescue her darling from the man. Both women broke into fierce speech. But Eagan's deep voice easily dominated and drowned their words of anger. "I stay right here, my lady, he announced loudly. "And you'll see well, took care of. If you don't—or is not trying to dobule—cross me, everybody is going to know all about. Circle Jim's daughter. Get that?" "You've been horrible old grinning Chessy Cat!" shrilled Mary, "I've seen twenty pictures of Judas Iscariot, and no two of them ever looked alike. But every single one of them looked just exactly like you! And if you lay your filthy paw on my baby again or speak one other word to her, I'll claw both your slimy eyes out!" With a thunderclasp of rage, Sam strode toward the dauntless little old woman. His foot struck against an old-fashioned hat rack which was minus one leg and was propped against the floor, with a resounding crash, fell the heavy rack, dislodging in its tumble a packing box and a bracketful of crockery. The attic re-echoed deafeningly with the din of the universal downfall. June and Mary clutched at each other in quick panic. At the same moment the door at the foot of the attic stairs was heard to open. Mrs. Travis’ voice called: "Who is up there? Is it you, Yama. June’s light laugh broke in on the query. Seizing Mary by the hand, the girl ran to the stairs and began to descend them, dragging the terrified nurse along with her. "It's only Mary and I," she called gayly. "We were rummaging up here for some lace I thought I left in a trunk. But it isn't there. And, just as we were starting down I hit against knocked it over. Did it scare you! I’m sorry." While she talked, she reached the bottom of Mary's hand, she threw one arm about Mrs. Travis’ shoulders and whisked her away to look at some pictures of a new car she said she had set her heart on. Next morning, June put on a riding habit, ordered her saddle horse brought to the door in half an hour, and then shut herself in her own den. Taking from a drawer the big packet of banknotes she had stolen from Farwell's safe, she counted them carefully. Then she sat down at her typewriter and pounded out a half dozen lines. Addressing a large envelope, she put the typed sheet into it and stuffed theaff of banknotes in there too. Sealing the envelope, she thrust it into the inside pocket of her riding coat, and ran down stairs. June turned her horse's head toward the section of the city where stood the Farwell corporation's factory. It was not a savory neighborhood, at best. And this morning it was even less peaceful than usual. For the bulk of the Farwell employees were gathered in the big yard of the factory holding an impromptu indignation meeting. Silas Farwell's failure to keep his word about sharing with his men the profits of the concern was the theme of their spokesman's harangue. The "Co-operative Profits" "Plans had been received with noisy joy by the employees. Gordon's warning to them had been their first hint that Farwell might not keep his word. Since then, days had passed; and there was not sign of promised dividends. Wherefore, the earlier discontent had merged into the present mass meeting. From the building's entrance, Farwell watched the gathering of the men in the yard. He knew well enough what was up. And he scowled, as fragments of the spokesmen's speech came to his ears. At last, as he was about to go into his office, Farwell saw the spokesman and two of his audience detach themselves from the group and walk toward him. He understood the object of their visit. His right hand slipped into the pocket of his coat, and his fingers closed about the cold butt of a pistol that rested there. The men drew near. At sight of their employer, they halted, glanced at one another, and then stepped up to him; taking off their hats as they came. “Mr. Farwell, we are a delegation from the hands, chosen—chosen to ask you if you mean to make good on your promise to share profits with us. We—” “No,” said Farwell, coolly, "I don’t. I explained that, in the notice I had the janitor tack up on the workroom doors. I——” “Then, you rotten crook,” roared the spokesman, losing hold of his temper, "What do you mean to do?” “Just this,” answered Farwell. Before The others could guess, his intent, his left fist caught the spokesman flush on the point of the jaw and sent him sprawling. The stricken man scrambled to his feet. His two companions at his side. H- sprang like an angry dog at Farwell’s throat. But the three men stopped their rush almost in midair as the factory owner flashed out the pistol from his coat pocket and leveled it at the foremost of them. There was an instant pause; as the assailants blinked irresolutely at the black pistol muzzle and at the coldly murderous eyes behind it. "Go back to your work," said Farwell, breaking the momentary silence: his voice as cold as steel and as deadly. "Go before I count three, or one of you will go feet foremost." Beneath the menace of the leveled weapon and the dominating gaze of their employer, the trio looked sheepishly at each other; then, one by one, turned and shuffed away toward the yard. Farwell dropped the pistol back into his pocked and continued upon his way to his own office. The three delegates returned to their fellows. The rest of the men crowded eagerly around them for news of the interview. “It’s no use,” reported the spokesman. “I asked him, and he—” Something white flew through the air, striking him across the eyes and then falling to the ground at his feet. The spokesman looked around him in bewilderment. So did the other men. They had a fleeting glimpse of a girl on horseback, riding away from the board fence that divided the yard from the street. “She threw it at you,” said one of the men. “I saw her. What is it?” The spokesman had stooped and was picking up the white thing that had struck him. The others pressing close around him in jostling curiosity, he tore open one end of the envelope. Out fell a package of big denomination bills. A cry of amaze broke from the crowd. The spokesman, holding the money in one hand, stared stupidly at the envelope. He read aloud the typed address; “For the employees of the Farwell corporation.” “What the blue blazes—!” he sputtered. Then he saw a sheet of notepaper sticking halfway out of the torn envelope. He drew it forth and, in a voice shaking with wonder, read the few typed lines it contained: “Accept and distribute the enclosed as part payment of your accumulated cooperative profits in the Farwell corporation—An agent.” A cheer from hundreds of hoarse throats broke in on his reading. “Come on!” yelled the spokesman, enthusiastically, as he flourished the handful of big bills. “Come on, boys! Let’s go to the boss and thank him. He's a white man, after all. And I’m going to apologize for insulting him, too. He was dead right to punch me for it. Come on!” Farwell, in his ground-floor office, overlooking the yard, glanced out of the open window, just in time to see the crowd start toward the building. His hand went to his pistol butt. He thought he understood that unanimous movement. Presently his look of dogged defiance changed to one of bewilderment. This mob of avengers was behaving most strangely! The men were dancing along, laughing and waving their caps and shaking hands with one another. Surely no angry man could have been more than a mere man. mob would act thus. Just then, the front rank of them caught sight of Farwell standing in the open window. A roar went up. “Three cheers for Silas Farwell!” shouted the spokesman. The three cheers were given with a thousand zest. “Three cheers for our white boss!” yelled another workman. And again the throng cheered, rapturously. The men came to a halt just in front of the window; shoving forward the spokesman, who still held the bundle of money in one hand and the typewritten letter in another. “Mr. Farwell,” he began, “we want to thank you. It was a funny way of sending us our cash, but it was mighty welcome. And I want to apologize to you so.” “What are you blithering about?” queried Farwell, in dire perplexity. “And what’s that money you’re shaking at me? What is—?" “The money?" echoed the spokesman, as a murmur of surprise ran through the crowd. “Why, the cooperative profits money, of course. The money this letter of your agent— He got no further. Farwell reached out of the window and snatched the typed note from his hand. He would have snatched the money, too, but that chanced to be just out of his reach. "Who give you this?” roared Farwell when he could get his voice. “A girl," answered the puzzled spokesman, “On horseback. Threw it over the fence to me. She rode past two minutes ago. And —” But Farwell, note in hand, had bolted out into the street. He was just in time to see a girl, mounted on A slender, well-built saddle horse, turn a corner, several blocks away, and vanish from his view. He had recognized the shape of the packet of bills the spokesman had flourished. They were the same bills that the "Circle Lady" had stolen from his safe, the preceding day. He had no great hope of being able to persuade or bully the men into giving back the money to him. But he swore a mighty oath to catch the woman who had robbed him. Farwell’s bloodshot eyes swept the street in search of a taxicab in which he could pursue the fugitive. He saw none. But he saw something almost as good for his purpose. Alongside the opposite curb lounged a mounted policeman, chatting with a passerby. Farwell ran across and seized the officer by the arm. "Did you see a woman ride past here a few moments ago?" he demanded. "Why, yes," returned the patrolman, wondering at his inferlocutor’s excitement. "I did. I didn’t take much notice of her, except that she rode mighty well. She'd gotten past me before I saw her. Is?" — "She has robbed me," interrupted Farwell. "Catch her! She turned to the left at the third corner. She’s riding slowly. You can catch up"— His last words were drowned in the clatter of hoofbeats as the policeman put his horse to a gallop. His horse rounded the corner three blocks above, scarce slackening his mighty stride. At a distance of several hundred yards ahead, the rider saw June jogging along in leisurely fashion. And he bore down upon her. The girl, as she trotted homeward, heard behind her the hurrying hoofbeats of a horse hard-ridden. She glanced back. And she understood. (Continued in Next Issue.) Two Big German Steamships Sunk In the Baltic Sea COPENHAGEN, Denmark, June 18.— (Via London.) —Two large German steamships were torpedoed in the Baltic last evening, according to Swedish fishermen who say they saw the vessels sink after a violent cannonading. Conservatism and Not Radicalism Is Needed in the Church BY BISHOP WARREN A. CANDLES. "The most conservatively managed bank in the city of." So reads the advertisement of a leading bank in a certain Georgia city. Whether the advertisement does, or does not, conform to the facts, it is not necessary to say. But it points to a fact which none will deny. That fact is that when their money is involved men demand that conservative methods and well-settled principles shall be observed. It is to this wise disposition that the bank’s advertisement is designed to appeal. But there are more precious things than money, and it is pertinent to inquire why men who wish conservatism in banking, desire radicalism in religion and government. It cannot be that banking is so much older than religion and government that its principles are better known, or more certainly settled. The earliest bank in Europe of which we have any record was that Venice, which was opened in 1171. But Christianity was in Europe long before that time, and centuries before that date the Romans had a well-ordered government, the principles of which are incorporated in all modern codes. It is quite possible that Babylonians had banks, but educating those financial institutions were the faith of Abraham, the religion of the Hebrews, and the laws of Moses. Nothing is more clear than the fundamental principles of the Christian religion, and it is impossible to amend them without impairing them. In like manner the fundamental principles of good government are easy of comprehension and of universal application; for they rest on the immutable foundations of right and justice. When our forefathers fled from Europe to make their home in the wilds of the new world, they understood all this, and acted upon it constantly. They came into a strange continent, and took up life amid unprecendented conditions. But not for one moment did they dream of renouncing their old faith, or repudiating the well-established principles of government to which they and their ancestors had been accustomed. On the contrary, they fled to the wilderness that they might preserve their religion and perpetuate good government, far from the coercions of corrupt courts and the oppressions of tyrannical rulers. They worshipped the God of their fathers—the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob—and they embodied in their political constitutions and codes the principles of the Magna Charter, the Bill of Rights and the Habeas Corpus Bill — those venerable documents of constitutional liberty which their British ancestors had revered and defended. But the case is far different now. We have come to a time when many men seem to think that conservation in religion and government is a crime, and that radicalism alone is wise or virtuous. And as if radicalism were not already far too rampant, certain persons who assume to be public teachers, exhort the people to become with all haste still more revolutionary. Such teachings are the ravings of the wildest folly, and they lead to the direct disasters and the most remediless destruction. The great spirits, who have done most to cure the world’s ills and redeem mankind from ruin, have been conservatives. It is not irreverent to say that Christ Himself was a great Conservative. He did not repudiate the teachings of God's lawgivers and prophets who had spoken the truth before he appeared in the earth. The keynote of his teaching is heard in the words of the Sermon on the Mount, the Magna Charter of the Kingdom of Heaven: “Think not that I am come to destroy the law, or the prophets; I am not come to destroy, but to fulfill. For verily I say unto you, till heaven and earth pass, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the law until all be fulfilled.” (Matthew v, 17 and 18.) He derided not the Mosaic law as an antiquated and obsolete thing, but did rather say to Moses, “If ye believe not his writings, how shall ye believe my words?” (John v, 47.) And again, “Search the Scriptures: for in them ye think ye have eternal life: and they are they which testify of me.” (John v, 39.) How different these words of the Saviour from the corrosive criticisms of the Hebrew Scriptures put forth by some modern purblind rationalists, who, vain of their little learning, affect omniscience and undertake to revise the divine revelation. Following the example of their Lord, the Apostles also were great Conservatives. In all their recorded ministrations, we find that they harked back to the oracles of God which had been committed to the hands of their Hebrew ancestors. This habit is most marked in St. Paul, who, although the Apostle to the Gentiles, not infrequently appealed to the Hebrew Scriptures when preaching to Gentile congregations. And Luther, Knox, and Wesley were all Conservatives. They never pretended to claim that they had a new set of religious principles to offer the world; but they constantly asserted that their teachings were ancient truth. They were not innovators but renovators; not A STRANGE CASE Right Here in Georgia. Atlanta, Ga.—”I found Dr. Pierce’s advice most satisfactory in quite a peculiar train of circumstances. Soon after arising in the morning a peculiar feeling would begin at my stomach, which seemed to swell, everything would become dark and I would faint dead away. When I became conscious, vomiting would set in and very large beads of perspiration would cover my entire body and would wet my clothes through and through, also had trouble peculiar to women. Insufficient sleep also retarded my gait. My blood, no doubt, was poisoned by my being badly constipated. The constipation was relieved, however, by the ‘Pleasant Pellets’ and, wonderful to say, Doctor Pierce’s Golden Medical Discovery entirely cured my case of unusual health. The trouble never returned.”—Mrs. D. B. Golden, 213 Cooledge Place, Atlanta, Georgia. An imitation of nature’s method of replacing waste of tissue, enriching impoverished blood and increasing nerve force is when you take an alterative extract of herbs and roots made with pure glycerine, without the use of alcohol, like Doctor Pierce’s Golden Medical Discovery. This vegetable medicine coaxes the digestive functions and helps in the assimilation of food, or rather takes from the food just the nutriment the blood requires. Pure blood is essential to good health. Dr. Pierce’s Golden Medical Discovery not only cleanses the blood of impurities, but it increases the activity of the blood-making glands, and enriches the body with an abundant supply of pure, rich blood. It thus cures scrofula, eczema, erysipelas, boils, pimples and other eruptions that mar and scar the skin. Write Dr. Pierce’s Invalids’ Hotel, Buffalo, N. Y., for free booklet on blood. Revolutionists but reformers. In matters political our British forbears assumed the same position. The brave barons of Runnymede, who forced King John to sign the Magna demand no more than “ancient rights of Britons." And our colonial fathers in the Declaration of Independence offered no novelties. They indicted George III for subverting the well-known and well-established principles of civil liberty and constitutional government. What now have our apostles of radicalism discovered to justify their exhortations that we abandoned the clear teachings of the religion of our fathers and the fixed principles of government for which they were born? Our venerated ancestors lived and suffered and died? What superior wisdom do they manifest which should command our respect or secure our acceptance of the novelties which they proclaim? Absolutely nothing. They are vain babblers, unworthy of confidence. We cannot afford to break away from the imperishable principles of truth and righteousness in order to follow innovators who have no reverence for the achievements of our fathers and no care for the fate of our posterity, if only they themselves may accomplish their iniquitous ends in these times of confusion and perplexity. Amid all the bewildering conditions around us, we must continue to steer our course by God’s fixed stars of truth and righteousness. We cannot always be sure of what is expedient, but we can always know what is right; and it is always expedient to do right. Chowda fountain, An American Did you ever stop to realize that the soda fountain is as much an American institution as the sausage is a German institution, “French Bread” is an institution in France and the Plum pudding an English institution? And the funny part of it all is that though one seldom sees a soda fountain in Europe and then only for the sake of attracting American tourist trade, just as soon as a foreigner gets to this country he too seems to learn to love the soda fountain. But, if you are old enough to look back a few years you will remember that only comparatively recently has the soda fountain been either so popular or so beautiful. and hygienic. T • El II You may remember what these old soda fountains looked like —what poor provision they made to supply even their scanty trade. What has wrought this great chance—what has made the soda fountain a national institution—a comfort and necessity in the daily lives of men and women—not only during the hot summer time but the whole year around. The same principles of purity, goodness and deliciousness made another astounding record of growth possible. Bottling of Coca-Cola. Soon after its introduction, people began to ask more and more for this distinctive drink. Just think of it—over 90,000,000 glasses. Along with its demand came the demand for more places that would serve it. Soda fountains sprang up everywhere, and the national institution so is Coca-Cola. The National Beverage. In the same way, has the call for bottled soda. In the same way, has the call for bottled soda. H... beverages grown. In 1899, Coca-Cola in bottles was first put on the market and the same quick recognition and appreciation was accorded to it in this form as after the Semi-Weekly Journal. The Semi-Weekly Journal will be your guide for all your gardening needs. I will enjoy this fine bed of fancy, heavily fruiting, everbearing strawberry plants, at our expense. See our offer. These guaranteed true to name, everbearing strawberry plants, as shown above, are just what their name implies and if set in your garden this summer or early fall, will become thoroughly rooted and will bear a heavy crop of fine, big, red, deliciously flavored strawberries, all through the months of June, July, August, September, and until stopped by severe freezing weather in late fall. You will gain about two months' time in next year’s fruiting season, by setting the plants this fall, instead of waiting until next spring. SAFETY OF SUMMER SETTING. The nursery company which supplies us with these plants, has had long experience in growing and handling them and have perfected a new method of packing and culture, so that the plants can be safely shipped and planted out any time during the summer and early fall. Absolute Proof. To make it interesting for you and to absolutely prove that the plants are the genuine heavy fruit-growing varieties, we will have the nursery leave the blossoms and green berries on a part of your plants, making your package look like the one shown below when it reaches you. Evergreen Plants. We have a special selection of the most beautiful, some specimens the past season. They are of the color, forming flesh and of much better flavor than the average June berries. The plants are very heavily, running a good 20% more than the regular once a year fruiting. Instead of stopping fruiting at the earliest season, these new  v. W. Not here and there a berry, but I'ads upon loads of them as shown in the above. C.A.; 7 WONDERFUL ROOT SYSTEM. Evergreen varieties have a much heavier root system than the common sorts, often soing into the soil to the consistency of a foot and a quarter. This gets the roots down into the moist soil and enables the plants to gather and hardy and the blossoms will withered and die out without injury, that would put a field of common strawberries out of the bushes entirely. But should a heavy enough freeze occur to kill the blossoms of the Everbearers, it will only put your crop off for 30 days, for these plants will come right out again as full of bloom as before. These new varieties simply take the chance all out of the business of growing strawberries and our nursery folks predict that they will take the place of the common sorts entirely as soon as the people learn the truth about them. We are glad to help introduce these valuable plants, and if you will accept our offer and fill out the coupon and mail to us at once, we will have our nursery send you the DOZEN ASSORTED EVERGREEN PLANTS at proper time this summer or early fall and include with them plant of a new variety, for good measure on the deal. THE SEMI-WEEKLY The Semi-Weekly JOURNAL, Atlanta, Ga.: Enclosed find $1.00 for Semi-Weekly Journal 18 months, Send me one dozen Everbearing Strawberry Plants, as described above. NAME R. F. DSTATE Mrs. J. J. Astor, Widow of Titanic Victim, Will Wed (By Associated Press.) NEW YORK, June 18.—The Brooklyn Eagle today announced the engagement of Mrs. John Jacob Astor, widow of Colonel J. J. Astor, who lost his life on the Titanic, to William J. Dick, of Brooklyn. The wedding will take place at Bar Harbor, Me., on June 19. Mr. Dick is a sugar refiner. Mrs. Astor, who was Madeline Talmage Force, will by her marriage surrender the income of a trust fund of $5,000,000 bequeathed to her by Colonel Astor in his will “for so long during her natural life as she shall remain his widow." The will provided that in case of her marriage the fund should go to Colonel Astor's son, W. Vincent Astor. The Astor town house on Fifth Avenue, New York, and its contents were also bequeathed to her under the same conditions. Mr. Dick is understood to be very wealthy. His sister married a member of the Havemeyer family of sugar manufacturers. A son, John Jacob Astor, was born to Mrs. Astor about four months after Colonel Astor’s death. The will provided outright for this expected heir a trust fund of $3,000,000. FOUR NEGROES ESCAPE FROM JAIL AT ASHBURN (Special Dispatch to The Journal.) ASHBURN, Ga., June 17.—Four negroes escaped from jail at Ashburn, Ga., today. Jail awaiting trial, two for murder, escaped last night by sawing bars of the windows. 