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Show j ,.SuiTORS OE MELISSA WOULD NOT BE A HARVEST HAR-VEST HAND. "Men are not angels, my dear Melissa," Me-lissa," observed Mrs. Merriwid's maternal mater-nal maiden Aunt Jane, threading her embroidery needle with a strand of moss-green silk and simpering a little as she spoke. " 'A little lower than the angels' we are told, I believa," agreed Mrs. Merriwid, Merri-wid, whose nimble white fingers were occupied with French knots. "I should say that Mr. Uisterbee was quite a few notches below the angelic standard. That's what makes him so extremely entertaining." "Exactly what I say," remarked Aunt Jane, with an air of triumph. "But considered as a matrimonial proposition " "Yes?" said Aunt Jane. "Well, vnn know what nennlft Hav faced, bald-headed old reprobates that you see in every theater and restaurant restau-rant sitting up to all hours of the night and dissipating in the most perfectly ridiculous way. And here's poor Mr. "Uisterbee condemned to absolute sobriety so-briety In his prime." "I think you take a very cynical view of the matter, my dear," Aunt Jane objected. "Perhaps I do," Mrs. Merriwid conceded; con-ceded; "but there are so very many men who think it's awfully wrong to drink because it gives them such perfectly per-fectly terrible headaches, and who daren't smoke because smoking is a filthy, disgusting and expensive habit and gives them acuta nausea. Mr. Uisterbee may be truly repentant, honey, but I suspect his liver has more to do with his reformation than any conviction of sin. "Anart from that T don't likn nennla, about him." "People exaggerate," said Aunt Jane. "At all events, nobody can find any fault with his conduct now." "I suppose not," mused Mrs. Merriwid, Merri-wid, "and I suppose he has been just as much sinned against as sinning." "No doubt of it," said Aunt Jane. "And it's natural that a man should Bow his wild oats." "There are very few who do not, I'm afraid," sighed Aunt Jane. "The great i . with shady pasts," Mrs. Merriwid continued.' con-tinued.' "A shady past always suggests sug-gests to me a gloomy old swamp slime and bad-smelling mud and dirty water with creepy, wiggly things in it and malaria and jungle fever. I like the sunlight and the open for past, present and future, myself. "And I don't want any husband with little red veins over his nose and a shaky hand," said the lady after a pause. "He may be distinguished look- L .HIM -i h "; r "l Think He's Sorry for the Errors of the Past." ing and interesting and elegant and beautifully tailored and know no end of racy little anecdotes about people and have an annuity under his father's will and be able to order a dinner and have good taste in neckties and the very nicest kind of manners, but my gracious, auntie! He's too shaky to even hook up a dress for me." "Hooking dresses isn't all there is to married life, is it, my dear?" asked Aunt Jane, gently. "Poor dear Henry Merriwid used to intimate that it was," replied her niece. "Well, Henry couldn't order a dinner Intelligently, but be could eat one all right, especially if it happened to be corned beef and cabbage. He was exceedingly partial to corned beef and cabbage, poor Henry was. You wouldn't have called him interesting and elegant, either, but he didn't have any past and never raised enough wild oats to make a dish of mush." "Of course bad health is an objection," objec-tion," admitted Aunt Jane. "Oh, it isn't Mr. Uisterbee's bad health that I'm worrying about," said Mrs. Merriwid. "It's the awful thought of what would happen if by any chance he got perfectly well." (Copyright. 1913. br W. S. Chapman.) thing Is that he is reformed," she added. "And they say a reformed rake makes the best husband," Mrs. Merriwid Merri-wid supplemented. Aunt Jane said she had always heard so and was disposed to think it true. Mrs. Merriwid laughed. "You lovely love-ly darling!" she exclaimed. "I didn't think you knew Bow to Wink, and here you are fluttering both eyes at Mr. Uisterbee's frailties. If a bad, naughty man wants a charitable Judgment of his iniquities, his one best bet is certainly the nice, innocent lady who doesn't know what iniquity is. I believe you would approve o our engagement. You would, wouldn't you?" "I don't see any good reason why I should disapprove," replied Aunt Jane. "I believe that I'll take you down town with me this afternoon and get your eyes examined, dearie," said Mrs. Merriwid. "Do you mean to tell me that you haven't seen the bilious tinge In Mr. Uisterbee's complexion?. Haven't you noticed the lines around his mouth and the dark pouches under un-der his eyes, and the little network of red veins in his handsome nose or bow unsteady his hand is? My dear, a rake never reforms until it has lost all its teeth, believe me. When that happens, you may use what's left of it 'or some domestic purpose, Dut you ivon't find it satisfactory. A rakT is i rake just the same as a spade is a ipade. As for sowing wild oats, that wouldn't be so bad if a man had to larvest his crop himself. The trouble trou-ble is that his family and friends al-vays al-vays have to turn in and help and ;here'6 never any telling when the job s done. Another thing, there's never i year when a clump isn't apt to ipring up in some fence corner and leed another patch somewhere else. I lon't know much about agriculture, luntie dear, but I understand wild ats are meaner and harder to get out if the ground than Canada thistles." "I don't know what Canada thistles ire, but I think if. a man is sincerely lorry for the errors of his past and :ries to lead a better life, it is our luty to help him." Aunt Jane said lis very seriously. "I think he's sorry for the errors of he past," replied - Mrs. Merriwid. 'Poor man! It's pretty hard on him to be obliged to lead a strictly tem-lerate tem-lerate and virtuous existence at his Ime of life. If he had only been vici-lus vici-lus In moderation, he wouldn't be ibllged to adopt regular habits now. Vby, auntie, just think of the pjnk- |