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of being domineering and dictatorial in your place setbacks, and hardships, you will come out some of business, you wouldn't think of doing things way and be successful if you do your best. You which would be disastrous to your best interests. expect this. Now, why not expect the same thing You wouldn't jump all over your employees for in your home? When you are married, make every little mistake they made; criticize them for up your mind that you are not going to live on every little thing that went wrong; you wouldn't honey and moonbeams all the time. You know make their lives miserable by your nagging, for very well that inevitably there will be trials, you would know that very soon you would have difficulties, disappointments and setbacks, and no standing either with them or with your busi- why not resolve, you husband, and you wife, also, ness associates, and that your business would that you are going to make the best of everything surely suffer. But you seem to think that you that comes, that whatever happens you will pull can be always scrapping over things in your home, together and do your best to make your home things so trifling that
you wouldn't even consider one-hundred-per-cent efficient and happy. them of sufficient importance to pay any atten- Try Love's way in the home. Perhaps you tion to in your business, and yet you expect to have tried the other way long enough-scolding, have one hundred per cent harmony and effi- bickering, whipping, flinging, faultfinding, nagciency in the home!
ging. What has this ever brought you but dis
comfort, disagreeable experiences, and unhappiOU know very well, my friend, that you ness? It is not the big troubles but the little
cannot build up your business without a lot frets and irritants, the little enemies which de. of setbacks, a lot of unpleasant and unfortunate stroy the harmony of the home; and without happenings, hard times, losses, perhaps failures, harmony, which is the basis of all good, we never still you are determined to make the best of things, can get the one-hundred-per-cent possibilities of and you know that out of these disappointments, the home.
THEN YOU'VE NEVER HAD A CHANCE!
By R. RHODES STABLEY
F your skies have been o'ercast with clouds and you've never seen
Then you've never had a chance!
Then you've never had a chance!
F the world has kicked you all about and has always done it, too;
Then you've never had a chance!
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 loss.
I am no respecter of persons. I show no favoritism -but shower my gifts on old and young, on millionaire 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 lyfe and proclaim to all who know you whether you are going up or down in the human scale.
Write to-day on the irst page of your new book your ambitions, your desires, your heart longings, your dreams of the Jiture, and then register your vow to make your dreams come true. I Am The New Year.
-0. S. M.
A Story that Shows You, in a Humorous
By OLIN LYMAN
A wise old owl lived in an oak:
“I'm going to find out what's
what. Keeps ya busy, after
these lame ducks." IMNED 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," chiured 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 any own office. I've got to comb a felin the woods."
low we afternoon; curry him right!” Mabel politely tapped rosy fingers against “Who?” rosier lips to rout an incipient yawn. ius Prout “Granger, o rourse. 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.
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
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
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.
ABEL 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. ploves 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 disma ved 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 sbe 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-oring 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 sticklike in his Palm Beach Aimsies. 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.