Q — Here is my only son gazing across the seas to draw himself a future, while I and his sister have no support but him. I have tried my utmost to change his plan and to prepare his future here among us, but he is set in his resolve, stubborn in his opinion. I will not hide from you that I fear some entanglement his heart may stumble into that would be the fatal blow, depriving me of him. What is your view? — A.M.

A — Do not cloud your imagination with these pictures, O mother, for in them lies every pain for your heart... And what is a man worth if the storms of life do not shake him, so that he comes out of them with the resolve of discerning youth and the firmness of ripened judgment?!

There is no doubt that you have polished his soul with an abundance of knowledge and equipment; and had his mind been going to swerve from the straight road, that would have shown itself at some time, and in any place — nothing but his conscious will can prevail. So put your trust in God; as for your son, spur on his gal-lantry, and do not be a stumbling block in the path of his future.

Q — My husband's salary is a fixed monthly sum, and it suffices my family — my husband, myself, and our three children — only at a deficit, with exhausting scrimping and such a tightening of the hand

that not one piaster escapes to no purpose. I find myself compelled to plunge my head into arranging a meager monthly budget, so that I neither exceed my means nor resort to debt. My father taught me this sentence:

My patience with myself is more fitting than people's patience with me.

And three months ago my hus-band began cutting 25 liras out of the salary on the pretext of trying his luck at the races or the like, giving me to believe that in it lay a chance of winning many times over the (respectable) salary. The result has been nothing but one loss after another. What is your advice, my situation being what it is?!... — H.R.

A — I most certainly do not favor being drawn along by this swaying luck that entices people with a deceptive glitter — and how often has that glitter turned into darkness and misery, doing away with the comfort of families that have only the barest pittance of livelihood, and that after toil and fatigue. I advise you to face your husband with gentle counsel, that he desist from running after this failing luck which keeps a man between the snatching of hope and the breaking of failure, in anxiety and bewilderment. And it is certain that if a man has any luck, its bestowal is from the hand of God, and by toil and diligence he will meet it.

Q — My neighbor's head boils with zeal (as he puts it), so he visits me whenever it occurs to him. He is sharp-tempered, and his talk is shouting. Every time he showers me with a volley of questions, criticisms, and opinions, without my ever coming round to accepting a single one of them, for they conflict with my thinking and my taste. Am I to blame if I cross him? Or shall I take refuge in composed silence? — Perplexed

A — Your position with your neighbor is difficult indeed, for in his nature there is self-conceit and volatility. It may be well — calm being in your nature — to

offer him from time to time your guiding remarks on the benefit of calm nerves and a governed tongue, and on the value of per-sonal liberty and mature thinking; you will thereby have prepared the ground for a second sitting. And if you reach a result in this social refinement with your neighbor, then you are a sound member of this society, which needs the counsel of people like you.

Q — This summer is taking us by surprise, and my spirit shrinks at the state of my arms; for with the heat glowering, I must resort to short sleeves, which expose the roughness and redness of my arms. I have spared no effort to remove this "bulgur," without success. Is there any way? — A young woman

A — I heard this recipe on the radio; if it does not help you entirely, I do not think it will harm you. Rub your arms with a loofah that is somewhat rough, and after drying apply this mixture:

A boiled potato, milk, bee's honey, good powder.

All of these in equal quantities, kneaded together, and the arms anointed with it before sleep.

Q — Every day a new conquest dawns upon us in the world of contests, or in the titles of queens — among them beauty queens, the queen of elegance, the dancing contest, the skiing contest, etc., etc...

We today need to catch up with the procession of civilization and race toward attaining it. May we then dream of a favor of this appealing kind, and begin with the essential ones, and so have stepped up the ladder of progress,

and drawn a useful page in our clamorous present?

So who, I wonder, is our queen of the home?!

And who is the queen of cooking?

And who is the queen of handwork, and of drawing?

And what is the witnessed event in which the flag of morals and virtue was raised to a silent