vance to the top was in evidence all through her tussle with Mrs. Mallory yesterday. She was coolness personified, never worried, never elated and never overconfident. She went at her task in the most businesslike manner in the world and never changed expression once during the match, as she put her skill and speed into play. In the main it was a deep court driving duel, but every now and then Miss Wills came forward and flashed some superb volleying, holding her net position. in the face of Mrs. Mallory's most accurate attempts to pass her. The youngster made some astonishing trap shots in recovering returns in the forward court, and whether it was drive or volley she seemed to stroke with equal facility, forehand and backhand. 1 Miss Wills, observes the New York Herald, is America's first native-born champion since 1919, the year in which Miss Marion Zinderstein of Boston interrapted, for only one season, the triumphs. Mrs. Mallory started in 1915. This commentator, among others, pays a high tribute to the defeated champion, whose "Norse conquest" is thus brought to an end. She surrendered gracefully, the crities agree, before an exhibition of tennis the like of which has seldom been seen on an American court. To Merchants Tribute is paid to Miss Wills's volleying, her service, her uncanny accuracy in placing her drives, her change of pace. Taking up the more personal attributes of the new American champion, Eleanor Carroll writes in the New York Evening Post: When Helen Wills, the "girl tennis marvel" from California, is not on the courts at the West Side Tennis Club, brilliantly smashing and driving her way forward in the women's singles tournament, she may be seen about the club grounds, or in the bright streets of Forest Hills and she is always with her mother. It is a game of doubles that she plays continually. The two make a happy, invincible team; there seems to be no one in the town whose love they have not won. "I play tennis just for pleasure," is Helen's well-worn exclamation. And it is very apparent from their conversation and shared opinions and easy understanding that she and her mother play life together for the same reason. It seems to me that California, especially, raises a race of real sports and comrades. Mrs. Wills and her daughter are hauntingly like the most successful mother-daughter partnership that I have ever met-and these were two "native sons" whom I caught putting a festive girdle around the earth together, but who had with them all the while that contented sunny openness that goes with California bungalows. In the same way, Helen Wills and her mother have the comfortable and gracious beauty of the hills of Berkeley about them. I met them on one of the long palm porches of the Forest Hills Inn. Both were exquisitely drest. The young girl's shining brown hair, which she wears in soft coils over her ears, peeped out from beneath a white hat. Her dress, straight and simple, was of gold-color linen, the smallest amount of narrow Irish lace marking the neck and yoke and becomingly short sleeves. Her firm brown arms, that ripple with power, could not have had a lovelier setting. Trim white oxfords INT Chain Stor By Roger HERE are a million and a States today. One hundred thousand of these are doing a profitable business; 400,000 more are doing a fair business; but a million of these retailers are barely struggling along. A large proportion of this million are operating at a loss if their books were kept properly. Those who are not operating at a loss are merely getting day wages and small day wages at best. There are several hundred thousand retailers in this country who would be better off if they were bricklayers or plasterers; that is to say, they would be better off as bricklayers and plasterers rather than continue to do business as they are doing it at present. Yet the retailers of the try bear the same relation industries as ar t not in h man tru WO of nat sho can can vic Af in A NTIMATE knowledge of all the important The Burroughs Simplified Accounting Plan Look in your phone book, or ask your banker for Burroughs ADDING-BOOKKEEPING BILLING CALCULATING MACHINES No player need gamble with his Bristol Select your fishing tackle just as carefully as you do your golf equipment. It means just as much. Bristol Steel Fishing Rods, Meek and Blue Grass Reels and Kingfisher Silk Fishing Lines mean much to the best fishermen. Bristol, Meek and Kingfisher Catalogs SPORTS AND ATHLETICS Continued encased the narrow feet that on the tennis courts are always dancing in a tantalizing way while waiting for the balls to come over. The face-most important part of any picture-in this case matched the rest of the subject-strong and sweet. Her nose is somewhat inclined to be impudent, but serious eyes and mouth keep this under control. Mrs. Wills, says the writer, slimmer and taller than her daughter, looked her part as mother of a "marvel": A dark blue knitted silk costume and simple dark blue hat exprest her unstated policy of quiet, friendly attendance. She read the morning press accounts of Helen's tennis triumphs while the two of us talked of school-girl tennis-players and ways for their working up to a really good game. "I have never had a professional lesson in my life," Helen Wills said, "nor any help from really good players, either. Four and a half years ago I started the game. Daddy and I went at it together, just for the fun of it. "I play every afternoon when at home in Berkeley. I love it. I have no theories of how to go about learning the game. I never have read any. And I don't want any. Just play the game; play hard, for pleasure and let the technique and variety of strokes take care of themselves. They come to you, I suppose, but they don't really matter. The thing is to have a good time. "People ask me about the difference between a woman's and a man's game. There is nothing I can say about it. I suppose that women do, on the whole, play a safer, slower, baseline game. But really it's much more fun to run to the net and try some smashing volleying shots. They seem to call that a 'man's game.' But I don't. I just call it fun." Following along her main idea of constant practise, I asked her if she definitely arranged her matches every afternoon. At first I did not understand her confusion. "No, no!" she exclaimed. "You see, the Berkeley Tennis Club happens to be an awfully nice one. The members are most friendly and there has never been an afternoon but some one asks me for a set. Sometimes I ask a newcomer at the club to play with me, but that is the only kind of game I would think of getting for myself. 'And, oh, it is a lovely land, my California," she burst out happily, as she turned to her mother. "Isn't it? Why, from our porch and the big windows of our living-room and from our dining-room, too, we look 'way down to San Francisco Bay and far across to the beautiful Golden Gate. "And mother is such a sport and leaves her fine view and says that she loves to look at tennis!" Miss Wills's slow laugh bubbled up, and she patted her mother's arm. "For two whole months every year you do nothing but watch me play, don't you, Mum? It's lucky for me I'm your only child." Be it put to Mrs. Wills's high credit that Helen is utterly unspoiled with it all. I like to remember her as I saw her at another time, between sets, in the women's dressing shack out under the unfinished stadium. Two of the visiting English team were there. The attendant, follow Beautiful TILES In the best sense, there is no bathroom but the TILED bathroom. Because of utility and lasting attractiveness. Tiles are accepted as the proper thing. The Tiled bathroom LOOKS its cleanliness. 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(Adv.) ing instructions, was changing their stockings, cleaning their shoes, preparing costumes and equipment for the match they were gathered to play, while the English players lay resting-and drinking tea. In a corner, without tea and without a lady's maid, Helen Wills sat quietly, changing her shoes. She picked up a pair of soft white woollen things, hand knit (I think by her mother), dusted them with talcum powder, then slipped them on her feet, over the silk hose she was wearing. Next she put on her black-trimmed tennis shoes, which covered the wool foot-mits completely. After that she stood up. "Look at her," one of the English ladies remarked. "Just look at the size of her. American girls are enormous-much taller and heavier than us. How much do you weigh, child?" "A hundred and forty-one," Helen Wills said. "Pounds?" asked one of the other. "Why," she cried, after a little muttered arithmetic, "that's ten stone! Fancy!" There was nothing for the American girl to say, so she said it. She smoothed her middy blouse and looked down at her wide, short skirt. Then she remarked casually: "I think I'll change it. This skirt is a little wrinkled." The laughter of the Britishers did not in the least disturb her. Many of the editorial tributes mention her imperturbability, whether under fire on the courts, or in the midst of admiring or merely curious crowds. She is called "absolutely unspoiled"-thanks, in great part, to the care of her mother and manager-by her success. The New York World mentions the "engaging youthfulness" of the new champion, and also brings up the interesting question as to whether Suzanne Lenglen is to be displaced by this young lady from California. Under the heading, "The Girl of the Golden West," this journal editorializes: An imperturbable seventeen-year-old girl from California stept out on the turf courts at Forest Hills on Saturday and in thirty-three minutes of expert racketwielding drove, slashed, cut and lobbed her way to victory over a player who had held the American woman's championship for seven of the eight years since 1915. By allowing Mrs. Mallory but three games in the two sets Miss Wills demonstrated her overwhelming superiority. Real championship caliber is rare in any sport. There is a gulf, narrow but impassable, between a very good player and the genius. Whether or not Miss Wills could defeat Mademoiselle Lenglen is a question, for the Frenchwoman is undoubtedly in the latter class. Such a meeting would indeed be the most sensational match in the tennis world, not, of course, from the standpoint of actually the best tennis, for, as in other games, the men excel the women. Yet, on the side of universal appeal, what could be of such interest as the meeting of the brilliant, temperamental Suzanne and the marvelous slip of a girl from Berkeley? Pending that glad day little Miss Wills, wearing her eye-shade, with her championship and sheaf of rackets under her arm, is on her way back to her studies at the University of California. Youth is always engaging, and when it is coupled with virtuosity it becomes irresistible. Long live the Girl Queen! up, OUR TRIAL OFFER. AMERICAN BOSCH MAGNETO CO Box No. 7953 Springfield, Mass. Date Tell me about your Type 600 Ignition System, and all about your Special Trial Offer. Name. Street Address. Type of Car. Year of Car. Accessory dealer's name. Copyrighted by Keystone View Co. THE FIRST AMERICAN ACROSS Henry Sullivan did it on his seventh attempt, after being in the water so long that he grew a beard. He navigated five tides, and traveled a total distance of about fifty-six miles. reported, were helped by two huge stone piers, since removed. Burgess's record was made in 1911, when, after being in the water 22 hours and 35 minutes, and swimming 60 miles, he landed on the shore of France. This year, there have been nearly a dozen attempts made both by men and women. An English newspaper's offer of $5,000 to anybody who should complete the feat helped to bring out candidates. Of the two men who succeeded, one came from North, and one from South, America. The North American, Henry Sullivan of Lowell, Massachusetts, accomplished the swim first, the first American to make the journey, after more than 27 hours in the water. According to a special cable dispatch to the New York Times: Sullivan, who comes from Lowell, Massachusetts, received a great send-off from Dover by a crowd of holiday-makers. He was accompanied by a motor launch and two boats, which contained members of the Dover Swimming Club. Sullivan entered the water at 4:20 Sunday afternoon, and using a powerful trudgeon stroke had covered a mile of his journey in eighteen minutes. He then settled down to a steady breast stroke. The sea was calm, with a temperature of 62° inshore. This was Sullivan's seventh attempt to swim the English Channel, and on two previous occasions he reached within a mile or two of the French coast. The feat has been accomplished only twice before-by Captain Webb and W. T. Burgess, both Englishmen. It is estimated that Sullivan swam a distance of about fifty-six miles. Captain Webb in 1875 took 21 hours and 45 minutes and covered thirty-nine and one-half miles, while Burgess in 1911 was in the water 22 the sea had nothing to check its fury at a point which has always been one of great difficulty to aspirants for Channel honors. A succession of messages describing Sullivan's progress reached Dover to-day, for a French mail packet which arrived in the morning reported the swimmer apparently going well about six miles off Cape GrisNez about 6 A.M. The mail steamer Maid of Orléans, which arrived later from Calais, reported Sullivan one and a half miles off Cape Blanc-Nez. east of Calais, at 4:15 P.M. A few days later Enrique Tirabocchi, a South American swimmer, smashed all records by making the distance in sixteen and one-half hours. The reports of his record swim as cabled to the New York American, runs: Enrique Tirabocchi, Argentine swimmer. landed here at 12:33 o'clock this afternoon after swimming the English Channel from Cape Gris-Nez, France, in the record time of sixteen hours and thirty-three minutes. With the landing of Tirabocchi, the channel has been conquered twice within a week by American swimmers. With fortunate turns in the tide, Tirabocchi took nine hours less than Henry Sullivan, of Lowell, Massachusetts, who swam the channel last week in the opposite direction. The Argentinian also cut five hours and twelve minutes off the record set in the seventies by the first man to swim the channel, Captain Matthew Webb, an Englishman, who later lost his life in trying to negotiate the rapids at Niagara Falls. The great effort of Tirabocchi sapped him of all his strength, and unlike Sullivan, he was not able to walk up the shore to a café and order a dish of ice-cream and a bowl of soup. The moment the Argentinian's feet touched the bottom a few yards out from the pebble-covered beach of Dover he fell into the arms of members of the crowd that had cheered his finishing strokes across the twenty-two-and-one-half-mile stretch. He recovered rapidly, however. His riends, who had rowed across the channel in his wake, quickly removed his swimming runks and lifted him into some dry clothes, tho they were dressing some little infant. The change seemed to revive Tirabocchi, who stood up chatting for a few minutes with comrades. Then, before any one had an opportunity to find out what he thought About his swim, he embarked on a tug, which immediately headed toward the French shore. Tirabocchi had luck with the tide. Had he been thirty minutes slower in getting within the sheltered cove between the Long Admiralty Pier and Shakespeare Cliff, he surely would have had the same sad experience which last year robbed him of accomplishing his ambition-that is, he would have got within a thousand yards of his goal and then been carried back by an adverse tide. A few minutes before the tide turned at mid-day, Tirabocchi had pulled himself inside the cove so the tide could not trouble him. He had begun his swim on an ebb tide which lasted one hour, and then, for most of the night, he went with the flood tide. When the waters rose again in the middle of the morning, the swimmer had drifted into plain view of hundreds of watchers. Because of his speed in crossing, Tira30cchi had to contend with only three tides, while Sullivan had five to fight. Thus while Sullivan's course is described by the etter "W" plus one additional line, Tiraocchi's is described by the letter "N." Tirabocchi made such fast time that he did ot even grow a beard in the water as Sullivan did. Like Sullivan, the Argentinian will reeive £1,000 for his feat and also a gold nedal from the Channel Swimming Club. He is likely, however, to be spared Sullivan's experience of going up to London and istening to after-dinner speeches. Viewing Tirabocchi's achievement, the Boston Post cried "Rah for Argentina!" and comments: All of a sudden our sister republic, Argentina, sallies forth with athletes of the highest order in their special lines. What's the ferment down there, that it san send up such masters? Firpo, the bruiser, has shown some of the fraternity in the United States that there is nothing in the theory sometimes held that the Latin-American product in the sporting line is "soft" and unable to stand the gaff. And now comes Enrique Tirabocchi, from the same Argentina, not only swimming the English Channel, but doing it in the shortest time ever known. The internationalism of athletics is coming along at a remarkable rate just now. No nation is long to have any monopoly of any branch of sport. In its way, this fraternalism is bound to work for amity and good-will in the world. Lloyds of London, the Detroit News recalls, viewing the matter in a more general light, are willing to bet ten to one that any attempt to swim the channel will fail. So Naturally fewer than one attempt in twenty is successful. The ancient mariner, Webb, is supposed to have performed the feat in 1875, after overcoming a jelly-fish Teeth You Admire in Women Clean and pearly-free from dingy film A vast change has come in late years in respect to pretty teeth. Now you see whiter teeth everywhere, and everyone admires them. A new method of teeth cleaning has come into vogue, and millions now employ it. It combats the film-the cause of dingy teeth. If you don't know it, the test we offer will prove a revelation. That cloud is film You can feel on your teeth a viscous film. It clings to teeth and stays. Unless removed, it becomes discolored. Then it forms dingy coats. It particularly discolors teeth of men who smoke. That film is the teeth's great enemy. 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