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Show I . . WHEN ONE GROWS OLD. - 1 1 "You are aging," said a woman to her friend. "I sec the crow's P 'feet,''' The comparatively young woman who was addressed felt the ' first sheck of getting old. She knew by the calendar that the years ; "were going by, but she did not feel old or realize that others could see in her face the lines of the years. Mountains, which seem to defy time have wrinkles worn by the wind in its soft and gentle caress. - ing, and why should mere humans, made up of the most perishable ' material, expect to escape the markings of the years? But wrinkles on the face are something more than records of the minutes, the hours, the days. They are character markings. If a woman constantly draws a sour face, the stamp of ill humor eventually even-tually will be indelibly placed, but with kindness and sweetness of disposition there will come the crow's feet. Eugene Tardiou, the French writer, describing the exodus from Paris on a day in last November when the French 'had their Decoration Deco-ration Day, tells of "a mother, little and plump, with keen eyes, pink cheeks, and the wrinkles that come from kindness." t ? 1 - xWhon growing old, and the lines of the face arc telling life s 1 ' story it should be a source of satisfaction to a woman to know that j the wrinkles disclose a soul of sympathy, of sweetness, of temper, of forgiveness and even of sadness softened by resignation. |