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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (June 7, 1906)
THE PHYSICIAN A Vivid and Correct View of Hit Life — The Necessary Steps Which Most Be Taken to Become a Doctor—Handicaps Along the Road to Medical Success. By NATH’L C. FOWLER. JR. Author of "The Boy—How to Help Him Succeed.” "Building Business,” "Dollars and Sense.” “Practical Publicity." "Fowler's Cyclopedia of Publicity and Printing," "Gumption.” Etc. __ >5^- - <s (CopyTlgbt, 1906, by b The phys. Jian is one of the noblest products of civilization. His asso ciates are of the highest grade; his surroundings are refined, broad, pro gressive and civilized. He lives both under the sunshine of life and under the shadow of death, and, by day and by night, he feels the pulse of human ity, and continually listens to the beat ing of the public heart. Practically every doctor in good and Tegular standing is a man of ability and a credit to his community. No man can occupy a more honor able, a more respected and a more re sponsible position than does the reg ular doctor. In the actions of his brain, and in the skill of his hands, he often holds the control of life. He is our friend at birm, and he remains with us until we die. He is a neces sity, for without him we could not be properly born, nor could we proper ly live. Not one boy in 10,000 has the nat ural abilities to make him fitted for the medical profession, and the par ent who pushes his son in this direc tion, unless the boy shows marked characteristics which point to this pro fession, not only wrongs the boy, but the community as well. The boy most likely to succeed as a doctor is one who takes life serious- ] ly, and yet is not morose; for success- ' ful seriousness sees the bright side of life as often as it does the cloudy side. While it is true that some frivolous boys have la‘-r acquired great so briety of demeanor and thought, and have become eminent physicians, yet the majority of good physicians have developed from thoughtful and serious lads, who early realized that life has its responsibilities, and that there was something in it besides chance and pleasure. The embryo physician is likely to be a student, almost always an experimenter, an early seeker after truth, a natural reasoner, and one who does not readily accept any statement unless it is backed by probability. Such a boy loves nature, and in his crude way is an evolutionist, and a believer in cause and effect. He feels the growth of life, and becomes famil iar with its different forms. Physiol ogy is his favorite study, and he may even acquire a fair knowledge of anatomy. He may faint at the first eight of blood and become unnerved in the presence of suffering, so that his parents may conclude that because the boy does not seem to have the strongest of nerves, therefore he is unfitted for the medical profession. The physician has nerves. The great er the physician, the greater the amount of feeling he possesses. But he also has the power of nerve con centration, which allows him to cut in mercy and to seem not to care while in action; but no man of fine in tellect, no man of consummate skill, can idly stand unmoved beside the bed of suffering. Good butchers are not good doctors, and the man without tender feeling never made a good sur geon. The wild boy, the thoughtless boy, , the boy who does not possess the char acteristics of manliness, and who is not willingly a ctudent, will never be come more than a mediocre doctor. One of the first indications of abil ity in this direction is the perceptible enjoyment which the boy shows at the visits of the family physician, and the earnestness with which he listens to all that the doctor says. As he grows older, he associates with med ical men, and probably borrows med ical books, and studies them earnest ly. The chances are that he does not display marked money-making ability, and probably he thinks more about becoming a man and a useful member of society than of being a mere money getter. It is the exceptional, not the average boy, who is fit to become a doctor. me puysician is reasonamy sure or a livelihood, but he must not expect to be self-supporting during the first year, and perhaps not during his sec ond and third years of practice. His chances are much better in the coun try than in the city, unless he pos sesses remarkable skill or has strong social influence. A very few physi cians in large citie3 enjoy incomes of about $25,000 a year, and possibly the-® are soma whose receipts exceed this amount. The average physician in large cities probably receives from $2,500 to $5,000 a year, and compara tively few established city doctors have annual Incomes of less than $1,500. There are In large cities quite a number of family physicians who are not specialists, who have practices worth from $5,000 to $10,000 a year. The average annual income of the physician established in some country center is from $2,000 to $3,000; the minimum probably being not over $1,000, and the maximum not in ex cess of trom $6,000 to $7,000, compara tively few receiving more than the 'arger amount Well established coun try physicians earn from $800 to $2,500 a year. Many young physicians begin in the country by succeeding some old doc tor, who either has become too old to practice or who removes to the city. The so-called specialist is a regular physician, who, after yeaft of prac tice, devotes his time to some one dis ease, or class of diseases. Compara tively few physicians have the pecul * lar ability necessary for becoming a successful specialist. The majority of physicians will do better, especially financially, to continue their family practice. Regular family physicians, who are not specialists, and who practice In large cities, usually receive from $1 to $3 per office call, the majority of Buch fees being $1; and from $2 to $3 for outside calls, the $2 rate being the usual one. The country center phy sician seldom receives more than fl wu. — ~w ttta'l C. Fowler, Jr.) for office calls, nor more than $2 for outside calls, although the most suc cessful may command $3 for outside visits. In some of the smaller places the office fee is as low as 50 cents, and the outside call rate not higher than $1 or $1.25. Nearly every doctor of ability can earn his living. The specialist, if ex tremely skillful in diagnosis, or in surgery, receives very large fees, often running into the hundreds and even thousands of dollars. Yet few spe cialists are wealthy men, because it is an unwritten law that the specialist shall give of his time to cases where there is little or no hope of more than ordinary remuneration. There is no profession, and there are few callings, either of trade or of busi ness, which makes such demands upon its practitioners as does the medical profession. The practicing physician is the slave of his work; he is liable to be called any hour of the day or night; in rain or in blizzard. The lit tle time he has at his disposal he must use for study, for without continual study he cannot keep up with the progress of his profession. Adaptability is essential to medical success. Anyone can learn the ele ments of the technique of medicine, and surgery, almost anyone can be come a “book doctor,” and any well read book doctor can successfully I treat a case when he knows exactly ' what is the matter with the patient ! and what the patient’s constitution ! requires. In the skill at diagnosing lies the physician’s real value. With out this proficiency, he is little better ' than a medical book. Unless the boy, ! some time during his common school 1 career, shows indications of a diag nostic instinct, he is not likely to be come a good physician, and should not be allowed to enter the profession. Mere scholarship is not an indication of adaptability. While he must have passed through the courses of medical j study, he must also have had actual 1 experience, hospital and laboratory practice, and know, from observation : and from feeline, much that no book. ! or any amount of theory, can teach ’ him. li is impossiuie to state witn any degree of accuracy the proportion of college educated physicians, but it is said at a venture that probably 60 per cent, of our leading physicians are graduates of the classical college, and that about half of the rank and file of doctors are college-bred. The medical school course is from four to six years. A college education will prove of great value to the phy sician, not because he will practice the classics, but because he needs the dis cipline and the more general knowl edge which is not obtainable in the common schools. It is true that many of our most successful practitioners never entered college; but few, If any, of them would refuse a college educa tion if they could start again. The business man can get along without the college. The doctor can succeed without the higher education, but he will feel the lack of it con stantly. He must pass through the training of an immense amount of study. If he does not do it in his youth, he must do It afterward; and it is much more economical to build the general educational framework of success before one has established him self in any calling. George M. Gould, M. D„ of Philadel phia, editor of American Medicine, and author of many medical works, in a letter to the author says; "The choice of a proresslon is rareiy made by a young man's own free will, and still more infrequently by a due consideration of his peculiar fitness for the special work. Whim, accident and circumstances usually rule. Phy sicians seldom advise their sons to become physicians, since by the time of the son's majority, life has demon strated to the 40 or 50-year-old father i that the world has little thanks and thought for the true doctor or his , work. “For the sake of decency, humanity : and medical art and science, do not choose, do not allow a young man, whose character is of the commercial or politician, ambitious, selfish type, to choose the medical calling. “In no other calling, not even In pure science, is there such an oppor tunity to make great discoveries of tremendous value. And these discov eries are for all men, for the whole world, and for all time. Moreover they are practical, affect the very warp and woof of life, reaching into the daily and hourly well-being—or ill being—of the lowest and the highest. There is a peculiar reason for this consisting in the fact that no two men's diseases or ‘cases’ are exactly alike. The cause and nature of every one’s illness uifTers from that of every other that has been or may be. This -gives an individuality to practice and supplies the basis of the art of heal ing, which is unlike that of any other calling. The great ‘case,’ the unique experience, the illuminating discovery may just as well come in the country town to the ’unknown’ family doctor, as to the most erudite in tt > city laboratory. “And, after all, when we view the ill-success of the vast majority in self seeking (and not finding), the material rewards of the conscientious physician average well with those of the others His calling is not unhealthful, in spite of the fact that he handles infection and disease. He has, as a rule, good food, warm clothing, a roof over him, wife and little ones, and a position of trust and honor among his fellow workmen. These things ‘pay’ no man for his highest work—and higher work is not rewarded; and the coveted ex cess of food, clothing, roofs, and even wives, one learns to believe, like all excesses, brings—well, they do not bring happiness and well-being.’’ Jay W. Seaver, M. D., of New Haven, late of Yale university, and president of the Chautauqua School of Physical Education, in a letter to the author, says; "If I advised a young man to study medicine, it would be because I found that he was a man of sympathetic na ture, and had a mind that was quick and resourceful in meeting the emer gencies of life, and a body that was strong and able to bear all the pos sible hardships, and that was under such control that it could be depend ed on to do the bidding of the mind in the most exact and easy manner. “He must possess both mental and physical accuracy and a fund of pa tience and optimism that will carry him through all the experiences of s physician’s life without letting him drop into pessimism or cynicism, for the physician must believe in man as well as in God and have an enthu siasm for service. “If I advised a man not to study medicine it would be because I knew him to be unhealthy morally, mental ly or physically. If a man has an am bition to gain wealth or notoriety or influence or social prestige, I would advise him to seek some other avenue to his goal. The lack of certain nec essary qualities, such as have been indicated above, would also lead me to advise a young man not to become a physician.” John H. Kellogg, M. D., superintend ent Battle Creek Sanitarium, editor “Modern Medicine” and “Good Health,” president International Med ical Missionary end Benevolent asso ciation, International Health associa tion and American Medical Mission ary College, author and lecturer, in a letter to the author says: “The study of medicine is the study of man and of his relations to his en vironment. It is the broadest and most useful of all the professions. A skillful physician can find opportunity for the employment of his highest skill in a hovel as well as in a palace. He is alike welcomed by the king and by the peasant. “The exactions of the physician’s calling are more severe than those ot any other profession. The burden of knowledge to tax his brain, and of anxieties to weigh upon his heart, ex ceed those of any other profession. His life must be irregular. He must constantly unload great masses of stored facts which have become obso lete, and learn new. He must be con tent to hold all his personal plans for pleasure, profit or recreation subject to the exigencies of many other lives as well as of his own, so that his life must be less regular than that of other men. He belongs to the social fire de partment. He must often imperil his health, even his life, to save the health and lives of others. He must be con tent with a short life. But all these disadvantages are inducements to the man who desires to live up to the I highest and noblest ideals.” Ml?rn Mtn Will 3lag tn Mark By MR. HENRY ABRAHAMS. Secretary of Boston Central Labor Union. Two things are evi dent from the ques tion : “Can all men find joy in work?” First, that things are not what they ought to be, and second, the question does not ap ply to professional ^i men. Food, shelter and clothes we will always need to have, but they can be produced under better conditions. Many garments are made to-day in tenement houses by women and children—there is no joy in that. Buildings are erected by men who work long hours for small wages. The sanitary conditions of the mine, the mill and the foundry are not what they will be eventually. 3 Wages and hours of labor are the key to the situation. In this twentieth century thousands of children are employed who ought to be at school. 3 Superintendents and foremen are overbearing. Wages are so small that the standard of life is such as to brutalize. Every president of a corporation will say he believes in his em ployes having pictures upon his wall and books on the shelf but to do this he must have wages large enough to get them and leisure to enjoy them. Civilization depends on the home. What the home is the chiB dren will be. It is as true *o-day as when it was first uttered that .“The hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world.” While labor is looked upon as a commodity regulated by tne laws of supply and demand there will be no joy in labor. When you realize that the man whose face is blackened with coal dust, who wears overalls, is a man and a brother, when our college professors realize that the worker who gives the best years of his life to production receives no pension in his old age when the em plover will practice the golden rule— • ’ r Then there will be joy in labor, and J we shall acknowledge the fatherhood of m f God and the brotherhood of man. r HAS A FIGHTING RECORD EX - SENATOR CHANDLER IS KNOWN AS “HUMAN WASP.” Man Who Caused Recent Row Over Rate Bill Noted as a Trouble Maker—Now Head of Span ish Claims Commission. Washington.—Out from the musty :omes and the somnolent recesses of ;he scarcely known Spanish claims :ommission there emerged a few days tgo a wiry, restless little man with a lynamic capacity for making trouble. Terrier-like in activity, vitriolic in sa tire and searing in sarcasm Wiliam E. Chandler has ever been a dsturber when he took a hand in public matters. It occasioned no surprise that his should be the hand to create a situ ation capable of keeping the senate in a boiling turmoil for a week, the White House in a foment of recrimina WILLIAM E. CHANDLER. (Head of Spanish Claims Commission Who Stirred t'p Trouble at Wash ington.) tion and denunciation and the whole country in a state of agitated interest. The cause fkr surprise is not so much that Chandler rocked the political structure of the country to its foun dation, but, rather that he has been quiescent for so long. “The human wasp,” was the title the senate bestowed upon Chandler and well he deserved the name. He is a stormy petrel of politics. “Born in a i cyclone he has never ceased to re volve,” thundered David B. Hill on one momentous occasion defining and de nouncing Chandler. This outburst came after Chandler had driven the usually imperturbable Hill into a fit of passion approaching the apoplec tic. Chandler seems to take an impish delight in creating trouble and once he has set the trouble going he quiet ly slips out from the vortex and with diabolic glee watches the frantic strug gles of those he has precipitated into a row. The whole life of Chandler has been' tumultuous. When Garfield appointed him solicitor general he had a feud on with congress and had his name re jected. Arthur made him secretary ot the navy and he served there until elected senator in 1887. He served con tinuously in the senate until 1901 There has never been a time since he entered public life that he has not been embroiled, with the possible ex ception of the last four years during which time he has served on the Span ish claims commission. That quaint and slumberous body housed in an an tique brick headquarters on a sleepy thoroughfore induces serenity and acts as a deterrent to activity. Chandler is probably the only man in the country so shackled with dron ing quietufle who would have kicked out of his deadening surroundings to rouse a tempest in congress. He is a product of New Hampshire. He is small, wiry, singularly active and in tense. He reminds one irresistibly of a fox terrier. He is regarded as a man of singularly clean private and public life. There has never been a question against Chandler’s honesty or his veracity until the president’s as sertion that he made statements un qualifiedly false. A favorite scheme of Chandler in his senatorial day was to foment trouble in that body. He would stand by the entrance to the senate floor and listen to the droning precedure. His eyes would dance with impish mischief and suddenly he would dart in and ask a question or two. He had the instincts or a scavenger. He knew where the sore spots were. He could find a wound and tear it open and start it to bleeding afresh with unerring in stinct. Once he had precipitated a row and had half a dozen senators wrang ling and fighting like wild cats he would quietly slip out and from the side watch the struggle go on. When it was all over and senators stopped to think what it was all about and' look for the cause Chandler would be nowhere to be found. Chandler's retirement to private life can be traced to the railroads. He got in the bad books of the Maine Central and that august corporation thought the affairs of the United States would be handled better if Chandler took no active part in the management. They sent a few able-bodied citizens into New Hampshire, and when the legis lature elected a senator to succeed Chandler the wiry little fighter found himself left out. Roosevelt, however, as a great and good friend, stepped in and appointed him to the Spanish claims commission, a newly created body, with little or nothing to do. There he has rested ever since until the row with the pres, ident and the Democratic senators oc curred. NOVEL JAPANESE CASTLE. Large Solid Gold Dolphins Once Be decked Structure—Is Used by the Emperor. New York.—Is the novel castle at Nishma, Japan, the palace which Mar co Polo described in his tale of the marvels of Far Cathay as covered with gold slabs? At the ends of the ridge of the pyramidal structure are large, solid gold dolphins. Beneath the pile is a well which is literally a salted gold mine. It is gold lined and will hold sufficient water to supply 5,000 persons. The dolphins, which were placed on the top several centuries ago, have excited the curiosity of for eign relic hunters, as anyone might Imagine they would. So many have climbed to the top of the high struc ture to discover by testing if they are real gold that the dolphins have be come seriously disfigured. Strong steel wire bags have been put over them to prevent further vandaiism. Only by good fortune does one of these dolphins still grace the old cas tle. A number of years ago it was taken down and sent to Vienna for ex hibition at the world’s fair held there as a rare specimen of ancient Japanese art. The vessel on which it was be ing returned sans, and it lay at the bottom of the sea for several years THE GOLD BEDECKED CASTLE IN JAPAN. In spite of every attempt to raise it. Persistence was rewarded at last, for it was finally recovered and placed again in its old position. The castle is used by the emperor of Japan as his headquarters during the army and navy reviews. State balls are also held there. LARGEST LEAF IN WORLD Grows from Plant Named in Honor of Queen Victoria and Measures Over Five Feet in Diameter. New York.—The plant which has this most remarkable leaf Is named after Queen Victoria. It was the trib ute of a British traveler in a. far away land when he discovered the unusual growth. The leaf was more than five LEAF OF QUEEN VICTORIA PLANT. feet In diameter, and around It ex tended a rim about three to five Inches high, on the inside light green, like the surface of the leaf, on the outside like the leaf’s lower part, of a bright crimson. The stem of the flower was an inch thick near the calyx and stud ded with sharp, elastic prickles about three-quarters of an inch in length. The calyx was four-leaved, each up ward of seven Inches In length and three in breadth at the base; they were thick, white inside, reddish brown and prickly outside. The diameter of the calyx is 12 to 13 inches; on it rest ed the magnificent flower, which, when fully developed, covered completely the calyx with its hundred petals. When it first opens the flower is white, with pink In the middle, which spreads over the whole flower the mose it advances in age, and it is generally found the next day of a pink color. As If to enhance its beauty it is sweet scented; like others of its tribe, it possesses a fleshy disk, and petals and stamens pass gradual ly into each other, ana many petalold leaves may be observed. "We met them afterward frequent-* ly," says an explorer, “and the higher we advanced the more gigantic they became; we measured a leaf which was six feet five inches in diameter, its rim five and a half inches high, and the flower across 15 Inches.” PAYS FOR A PAIR OF TWINS. Secretary Shaw Helps Out Treasury Clerk Who Was Bur dened. Secretary Shaw learned recently that a clerk In his department was In debt and made Inquiries as to the cause. The clerk said it was due to his “last hair of twins.” “For goodness sake, how many pair have you?” asked the secretary. "Oh, they come In pairs at my house; we'vs had three pairs now. 1 managed to keep even with &e doctor till the last pair came.” The secretary reached down In his pocket. "How much dH that last pail costr* he asked. The estimated the Ugure. "Well,* declared the head of thd treasury department, "I guess you’rr entitled to have the slate cleared. I’ll pay for the last pair." And he did. Brides In Australia are pelted with rose leaves. A LESSON IN TACT. DON’T BECOME PERSON ALWAYS SAYING THE WRONG THING. 3choolgirls Should Study to Be Tact ful Without Being Insincere—Bru tal Sincerity Sometimes Unpardon able — How One Girl Offended Three Friends—The Truth-Telling Tale-Bearer a Disagreeable Person. BY MARGARET E. SANGSTER. (Copyright, 1906, by Joseph B. Bowles.) Louise, who is a girl neighbor, came into my living-room the other day looking very forlorn. She flung her self into a chair, the corners of her mouth drooped and 1 saw that tears were not very far from her honest brown eyes. Louise has those big brown eyes that show a soul so true and loyal that it has in it not .he faintest possibility for deceit. I have seen dogs with eyes that have exactly that expression. “What is the matter?” I said. "Have you found out that your doll is stuffed with sawdust, or has your dearest friend picked up her play things and gone home? You appear to have met with some provoking disap pointment. Did you not get on the promotion list after all your work? Come, dear, pour out your trouble. Tell me what has happened. Perhaps I can help you. I’ve been in hard places myself.” Louise managed to smile a little as she answered: "The trouble isn’t one that you can cure. It is Just that I am such an idiot of a girl, always say ing the wrong thing and making mis takes and setting people against me I have done it three times to-day; I have three times said the wrong thing, and I am completely discouraged. “In the first place I met Mena Car son on her way to school this morning. She was in very good spirits and told me that she was sure she would have a perfect recitation in geometry as she had worked out every proposition correctly last evening. t I had nothing better to answer than: ‘That will be a cnange ior you. i Know mat your Cousin Tom is visiting your house, and 1 suppose he helped you.’ "Now, that was the worst and most insulting remark I could have made, for Mena is very dull in mathematics, and, as everybody knows, her people at home are not particularly well-edu cated. I called attention in a breath to her own stupidity and to the fact that she couldn’t have made her prep aration unless Tom Winthrop had been there to help her. She left me abruptly, and she hasn’t sponen to me since. Anyway, I was sincere.” “Yes, Louise," I assured her, "you were sincere, but you were not tact ful. I fear that you did hurt your friend’s feelings quite needlessly. Uo on, dear. Let me hear the rest.” "At recess,” said Louise, “Marjorie Dean asked me if I liked the fashion of her new frock. Without stopping to think, I told her frankly that the fashion was pretty enough for some people. It would suit a tall, slender girl like Nancy Kent, but it made Mar jorie look too dumpy and short. It was the truth, but Marjorie flushed up and said: ‘You do say such horrid things, Louise. One never knows what you will tell her when she asks you B civil question.’ Then she walked off, and I know she does not like-her frock eo well as she did before. “As if this were not sufficient.” Louise proceeded, “I blundered again. Miss Tilson, our teacher, asked me whether I would have to go out of my way to post a letter for her, when 1 went home to luncheon. The post of fice is three blocks from our house In an opposite direction from the school, so I could not oblige my teach er without taking some extra' steps. I hesitated a moment before I answered: •I shall have to go a little out of the way, but I shall not mind that; I can hurry, and I will be happy to post your letter.' ‘Never mind,’ said Miss Tilson, ‘here comes Rose Elliot, I think she can oblige me without any inconvenience.’ “You should have seen Rose. She Just beamed. She seized upon that letter and bore it off in triumph, and Miss Tilson looked after her as much as to say: ‘There goes a young girl who takes delight in doing favors for people.’ ” Louise sighed and was silent » * • • * "The error you make, Louise,” I said, after a pause,, " is a common one with young people. They lack a sense of proportion. You are naturally can did and open, and you have formed aa excellent habit of always telling the truth. I like your sincerity. I ei en like your bluntness, and yet I must _ tell you very plainly that sincerity _. , without tact Is often cruel and brutal, and sometimes unpardonable. Tact means touch. "The tactful girl is very quick to un derstand a situation. She knows how people feel without having their sen timents explained. She never goes out of her way to show a schoolmate as you did Mena, that you have noticed how frequently she is deficient. In no circumstances does she venture tc inform an acquaintance that her hat or her dress is unbecoming, when th6 dress and hat have been bought and paid for. And she understands how tc undertake a commission without act ually saying that it will put her to some inconvenience. This morning you had only to say to Mena, wheD she told you about the geometry: ‘Dear Mena, how glad I am,’ and you might have stopped your comment on Marjorie’s frock at the point of ad miration for the fashion. As for MisS Tilson you had merely to say: ‘Why of course; it will be a pleasure to post your letter.’ "One of our greatest perils is in this direction. We exalt one virtue at the expense of another. I had a school mate who not only never made friends, but really made enemies through her determination never to say the least thing that was not altogether true. She carried her truth-telling so far that she constantly involved other peo ple in trouble by doing what has been regarded by school people as shock ing from the days of the Romans un til now. She was a sort of tale-bear er, not because she wanted to be so, but because her conscience obliged her to reveal everything she knew, wheth er it was her own affair or that of an other.” At this Louise sat up very straight. “That girl,” she said, "was a goose. Everybody knows that telling tales is perfectly abominable.” "I agree with you in that, but Caro line unfortunately never learned that simple thing; in consequence she was shunned as a girl and disliked wheD she grew older. * * * * * “A very important study for girls, aa important, I think, as Latin, algebra or German, is to learn how to be both tactful and sincere. We must never knowingly violate the truth, but there are times when we may be silent and commit no sin. A lie may be told by one who is a hypocrite, without hei opening her lips. There are times when deception is carried on by looks* One must speak truth if she speaks a* all, and one must not be a coward. A sincere nature reveals itself in tones and glances, as well as in speech, but one who is tactful will learn delicacy She will be careful not to wound any one’s feelings. She will refrain frotr putting herself forward and will be quick to do and say agreeable things. “For instance, your friend MarjorW has a beautiful complexion. You might have said ‘that color suits your hair and eyes,’ without calling atten tion to her figure. Although Mena is not quick at mathematics, she writes good compositions, and I don’t be lieve you have ever complimented hei on that talent. As for Miss Tilson, whom you adore, you can make it all right with her by being on the watch to accommodate her next time. Does she not let the girls sometimes make her a cup of tea at the noon hour? And do you not sometimes carry your luncheon with you to school? The tactful person looks out for opportu nities to be helpful, without ever be ing obtrusive. “Cheer up, Louise, you have done nothing very dreadful after all. Nine tenths of the difficulty is in finding out where our weak points lie. Once they are discovered, it is very easy tc guard against them. I expect to see you as tactful as your sister Gene vieve by the time you are 20.” Louise went away consoled. Gene ‘vieve is her ideal, as elder sisters should always be. Hot Water Bag. Put a bag of hot water to your feet when you have a cold, to your back when you have a backache, or to the nape of your neck when you have a headache or cannot sleep. For Hollow Cheeks. Cleanse the face each night with cleansing cream, wipe it off at once with a soft towel, massage with the massage cream for ten minutes, do this with rotary motion. Pompadour Silks. Pompadour silks grow lovelier and lovelier, and prove the prettiest sort ol things for making stunning afternoon gowns of. !■__ VOILE GOWNS IN STYLE. Return to Favor Again and the Trim ming Moet Approved Is Differ ent Widths of Ribbon. Silk voiles and grenadines are not of necessity associated with large quan tities of taffeta or broadcloth, although those combinations are very desirable. The sheer silky stuffs, which wear sur prisingly well, in spite of their sheer ness, are made up into the most charming of little frocks, mounted over silk of the same tone or of har monizing color and trimmed in satin or velvet ribbon, with lace about the throat and shoulders and on the sleeves. Ribbon trimming is particularly ef fective upon stuffs of this class, and often a skirt will be adorned with rows of rather narrow ribbon for fully half its depth, the ribbon being laid on flat and stitched on the upper edge. Ribbon and material are, of course, in the same color. Sometimes two widths of ribbon are used, a single wide ribbon and a group of narrow ribbon alternating; or, as In the case of a charming white silk voile model, wide inset lace Insertion may be combined wi th ribbon bands of varying widths. Many Ideas may be worked out in this simple trimming, and the effect of velvet ribbon upon ■Ilk voile of the same shade but made up over white is especially good. Rib VOILE OVER SILK. bon trimming ig used too upon the silk mousseli.es and indeed upon all ST «'-* <*«>« EmpS
