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of being domineering and dictatorial in your place of business, you wouldn't think of doing things which would be disastrous to your best interests. You wouldn't jump all over your employees for every little mistake they made; criticize them for every little thing that went wrong; you wouldn't make their lives miserable by your nagging, for you would know that very soon you would have no standing either with them or with your business associates, and that your business would surely suffer. But you seem to think that you can be always scrapping over things in your home, things so trifling that you wouldn't even consider them of sufficient importance to pay any atten. tion to in your business, and yet you expect to have one hundred per cent harmony and efficiency in the home!

setbacks, and hardships, you will come out some way and be successful if you do your best. You expect this. Now, why not expect the same thing in your home? When you are married, make up your mind that you are not going to live on honey and moonbeams all the time. You know very well that inevitably there will be trials, difficulties, disappointments and setbacks, and why not resolve, you husband, and you wife, also, that you are going to make the best of everything that comes, that whatever happens you will pull together and do your best to make your home one-hundred-per-cent efficient and happy.

Try Love's way in the home. Perhaps you have tried the other way long enough-scolding, bickering, whipping, flinging, faultfinding, nagging. What has this ever brought you but discomfort, disagreeable experiences, and unhappiness? It is not the big troubles but the little frets and irritants, the little enemies which destroy the harmony of the home; and without harmony, which is the basis of all good, we never can get the one-hundred-per-cent possibilities of the home.

V OU know very well, my friend, that you

cannot build up your business without a lot of setbacks, a lot of unpleasant and unfortunate happenings, hard times, losses, perhaps failures, still you are determined to make the best of things and you know that out of these disappointments,

THEN YOU'VE NEVER HAD A CHANCE!

By R. RHODES STABLEY

TF your skies have been o'ercast with clouds and you've never seen

the blue; If your days were filled with pain and woe, and the blame is not

on you; If your heart has aimed at happiness but has hit remorse in lieu

Then you've never had a chance!

TF you've always done the best you could and they "fired” you for

it, too; If you've sought for Opportunity but it never came in view; If disaster's hand has wrecked your life, though misfortune's not your

due

Then you've never had a chance!

TF the world has kicked you all about and has always done it, too; 1 If a thousand men have done you wrong, not a single friend been

true; If you've never got a kindly smile for a million smiles from you,

Then you've never had a chance!

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r AM the open door to a new chance in life, a chance

to try again, an opportunity to bring victory out
of defeat.
I am the beginner of new things. I blot out the
past and open up a new world for king and peasant
alike—a world filled with new hope, new inspiration,
new promise for the future.

I present you with a new book without blot or blur
or blemish in which will appear the record of your
chance and what you have done with it.

I have nothing to do with what you write. I give you the materials to make a good record. No page. in your new book was ever turned before. No word has yet been written in it. Every word you write therein will speak for or against you.

I am very, very young, but I am the heir of all the ages, richer than Solomon or any potentate or millionaire that ever lived.

I bring great possibilities to all who accept my gifts in the right spirit. But if you treat me lightly or indifferently, if you make no effort to utilize the treasures I bring, you will never be able to make good your

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loss.

I am no respecter of persons. I show no favoritism
—but shower my gifts on old and young, on million-
aire and beggar alike.

Resolve that you will no longer squander my gifts,
but will put them out to interest, and you may yet be
what you long to be.

I mark the succeeding steps of your life and pro-
claim to all who know you whether you are going up
or down in the human scale.

Write to-day on the first page of your new book
your ambitions, your desires, your heart longings, your
dreams of the Yiture, and then register your vow to
make your dreams come true.
I Am The New Year.

-0. S. M.

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make your deelture, and their heart longings

Am Theams come true then register ongings, von:

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A Story that Shows You, in a Humorous
Way, How Not To

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A wise old owl lived in an oak:
The more he heard, the less he spoke:
The less he spoke, the more he heard:

“I'm going to find out what's
Why can't we be like that old bird?

what. Keeps ya busy, after

These lame ducks." TIMNED on wood, the framed wall-motto

hung over Mabel Talmadge's desk. An

other object was at this moment also “Four,” she corrected. hanging over her desk, from the floor upward. "Well, four. Will you go?” He was S. Almon Prout, assistant chief clerk, She considered for an unflattering interval. fuss budget and diary man.

But this he minded not at all. “Faint heart His goggling eyes, of a washed-out blue, were never won fair lady," he would have said, and staring at the motto. Loose lips stretched in a let it go at that. derisive smile, then staccatoed words which “Yes, Mr. Prout, I think I'll go; and, thank hurried to their goal, tripping over one another's you,” she told him. Her air was of polite inheels.

difference. But then, he would have reasoned, “Why d'ya keep that thing? You aren't she was that way toward all would-be cavaliers. like that! You can talk a streak if ya want to.” She didn't go about much; she could have had

Rather absently Mabel looked toward the beaux all the time. She was home evenings with sign, thrusting her pencil in the mesh of her her mother, mostly. It meant something to be auburn hair and leaning back in her chair. She seen in her company. His embryonic soul exspoke, her low, rich, throbbing contralto in re- panded like a downy puff ball. freshing contrast to Prout's nasal twang.

"I'll call at eight?” he syllabled eagerly. "Oh, it's only an ideal. We can't reach it, “If you please. And now really you must let of course; we all talk too much," she conceded, me get at these letters. Mr. Swinley will be with faint emphasis. “But it's rather nice to wondering what he's paying me a salary for. think we might be more owlish if we tried. Be- And he'll be back from lunch any minute." sides, I like the poetry. There' bling to it!" "I'll go!” he exclaimed, with a timorous look

"Think so if ya want to," ch iired S. Almon. at the door of the manager's office as he straight"I can't see anything to it. Logic; that's what ened to his five feet, ten, of wispy, crane-legged, it lacks-logic. If you were an owl, now, in an narrow-shouldered length. “I've got to get oak, you wouldn't get anywhere. You'd stay back to ay own office. I've got to comb a felin the woods.”

low ws afternoon; curry him right!” Mabel politely tapped rosy fingers against “Who?” rosier lips to rout an incipient yawn. inis Prout “Granger, of nourse. I'm after him all the did not see. He was not in the least sensitive or time. I'll te" he world he's no good. Mix-up self-effacing.

on his columns; he worked most all night and "Say," he rushed on, “what I stopped to ask couldn't find it; I'm going to find out what's you-will you go to the grove dance with me, what. Keeps ya busy, after these lame ducks.” to-night? You've put me off three times He buzzed away like an unwieldy dragon fly. now

Mabel Talmadge breathed a fervent sigh before her slim fingers sought the keys of her typewriter. rattled, human footsteps thudded upon the

It was a tasteful little office in which she walks. worked. With its paneled walls and ma- Now in the adjacent corridor came commohogany furniture and polished floor it was in- tion of entry. Edward Swinley, general mandicative of the bulk, power and solid basis of ager, whose stenographer she was, always came The Riverton Mills. The largest cotton-weaving in that way. Mabel turned to the machine and corporation in New England, or the country, was rapidly finished the last one of his letters which adequately housed and its offices were ornate. she was typing.

Why not? There were generations of thrift She smiled a little as the bell rang upon her and steady success behind it. It was backed by desk, accompanying Swinley's pressing of a butmillions. Its markets were worldwide. It was ton in the adjacent large office. She was ready a fair sample of the big New England corpora- for him! She had always been, since taking the tion, a class unique in the industrial world.

job two years previously following a year's ex· Riverton, a town of about ten thousand resi- perience with an importing house in Boston. dents, owed its existence wholly to the fact that She had come to Riverton with credentials which the founders of the cotton-goods mills had se- proclaimed that she was "chain lightning." lected that site some sixty years before. They Swinley, who had never before had a stenoghad built a dam and harnessed the power of the rapher who could keep up with him, had found little Nasswai River. The original mill, con- her so. In consequence she had become one of structed of red brick, had been small, and the the best-paid women secretaries of the country. preliminary modest building plan had been lost She entered the big office, fit for the tenancy in the long rows of buildings, three and four of a potentate of business. Swinley greeted her stories high, which gave employment to thou- with an ursine growl. It was his way of regissands of the pretty villages over which floated, tering good nature. all day long, plumes of smoke from the tall He was a little, round, gray man with querustacks.

lous hair which stood on end. His feverish eyes Set amid the rolling hills of central Massachu- snapped fire and brimstone from behind thick setts, Riverton was picturesque, prosperous, and glasses. He gestured like a Frenchman. His filled with the crude "pep” of a typical mill- headlong manner enveloped the maxim of twentown. Owing its existence to the mills it was, tieth-century American business: “Get a wiggle of course, dominated by the corporation. Its on, for to-morrow ye die." His voice was a policies were decided by representatives of stock- fretful whine under breakneck tempo. It was holders at headquarters in New York, as were a composite of force that had made him known those of many another manufacturing town, throughout the world. But he all too evidently similarly sponsored, in the section.

got no fun out of it. His meld of pepper was However, as The Riverton Mills corporation unrelieved by any relish of humor. was progressive, this had worked to the advantage of the community rather than otherwise. M A BEL laid the sheaf of letters on his desk The company, contrasted with some others

and, withdrawing the pencil from her equally large, was a valuable constructive force. hair, began to make pothooks upon her pad as

Mabel paused in her typing for a moment and he began to talk. She rarely sat down to take gazed out of the window. Dreams of June were his dictation. He gave her no time. in her brown eyes; her lovely face was wistful “Ha-aaa, Miss Talmadge! Caught up? Good! with the sense of summer beauties beyond the Take this: John Slocum 'n' Co., N’ York, and so rushing river. Green hills climbed toward the forth: Yours of third inst., contents, and so blue, their crests studded with whispering groves. forth. In regard to your propo'-scratch it out. In the sky sailed tiny white cloud patches, like Your propo' is untenable, for reason-refer back balls of fluffy down flung by the hands of gods. to Hawkins letter, sometime in May, an' give Up sundry slopes climbed the town, the furthest 'em the same dope, Miss Talmadge. Yours dwellings looking like toy houses. Church spires truly!” glinted in sunlight; to the east gleamed the emer So he continued, in hit-or-miss, catch-as-catchald of the park in the heart of the town; over all can style for a half-hour. After the third letter, was an atmosphere of prosperity, of attainment, Mabel managed to snatch a moment to slip into of well-being.

the chair next his desk and rest her notebook To the girl's ears, through the screened win- on her knee. dow, floated sounds of the unrest that is life. As she rose, after taking the last letter, Swinley There was the snarl of a passing trolley car. rubbed together pudgy hands and grinned at Automobiles thrummed, drays lumbered and her like a cherry-cheeked old satyr.

“Good! I'm going out for a round of golf at cended to her room, hung with gay summer the country club. Slam these out. Sign 'em chintz, to make ready for the grove dance which yourself. Mail 'em. And then run away some- she had promised to attend with S. Almon Prout. where and play.”

Standing finally by the window, dainty in Nodding her thanks, the girl entered her office white gown and with the flush of rose-leaf cheeks and renewed her staccato attack upon the type- no less delicate than the sheen of her carefully writer keys. In the middle of the first letter she coiffured auburn hair, her eyes sparkled with heard the lid of Swinley's desk go bang. He anticipation as she gazed toward the grove where stormed out. In a few moments the purr of his the first of the Chinese lanterns were just winkmotor-car receded out of the mill yard that was ing awake. There was reason for her elation. kept fastidiously through the summer by em- Most of her time was spent in a round of duties. ployes hired to shave the lawns and mind the A few hours of pleasure made a welcome interflower plots.

lude. Old man Swinley might be an old bruin but if so he had proved that bears have hearts. He had fought for the innovations of these lawns as savagely as he fought for business in the world's markets. Often he had gone to the mat with the directors in matters of recreation rooms, playgrounds, town groves, free public-libraries, everything to make Riverton “the most contented milltown on earth,” as he expressed it. Always he had won, though more than once he had dangled the threat of his resignation before the dismayed eyes of invested capital in order to have his way.

A hateful and lovable old devil was Swinley, and his men would have entered trenches for him at any time.

By the middle of the afternoon, Mabel, having left the letters ready for the mail collection, tripped out of the office and walked down elmshaded Main Street, fringed with pretty bungalows beyond the business section to Oak Street. Up this she turned and entered a white cottage where she lived with her

"No-thanks!” he blurted, in ludicrous horror. “You see,”

he floundered, “I'm not used to girls-and all that—" widowed mother.

Mrs. Mary Talmadge was a pale, pretty, gray-haired woman, with the resigned air of one whose interests have been The dusk had deepened; the radiance of moon always looked after by a stronger nature. For and stars was growing stronger. She studied the rest of the afternoon, Mabel busied herself the waxing glory of the night. In her absorpwith a lace waist which she was making for tion, she started at the ringing of the doorbell. her mother, because Mrs. Talmadge plaintively Oddly the exaltation died out of her face. Tossdeclared that no dressmaker in Riverton-or ing a white silken mantle over her shoulders, she Boston, for that matter—could do it as well. switched off the electric lights and went down

It was a Wednesday evening—“prayer meet stairs. It was the maid's night out. ing night”—an established institution through She found S. Almon Prout waiting, thin and rural New England, and Mabel saw her mother stieklike in his Palm Beach Alimsies. He swept safely away with a neighbor, after supper, bound off his panama with a flourish; his hawk's face for the Baptist church nearby. Then she as- spread in an ingratiating smile.

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