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THE ATLANTIAN
S
KANSAS MEDICINE.
Mayor Gaynor, at a luncheon in Brook
lyn, said to a prohibitionist:
“It is spissitiulinous on your part to
think tlijt prohibition would succeed in
cosmopolitan New York. Prohibition
would do worse here than in Kansas.
“You know how it does there. There,
liquor can only be sold as a medicine.
As a New York visitor was buying a
toothbrush in a Kansas drug store one
afternoon, a brawny cowboy entered with
a four-gallon demijohn. He plumped the
great wicker demijohn down on the coun
ter, tlio druggist looked at him inquiring
ly, and he said:
“ ‘Pill her up, Jim. Baby’s took
bad.’ ”
COULDN’T FEAZE HIM.
While Governor Foss, of Massachu
setts, was in tho South one winter, he
met an old colored man who claimed he
had known George Washington.
Tho governor, quite amused, asked the
old fellow if ho was in the boat when
George Washington crossed the Delaware.
Tho old man said:
“Oh, Lor’, massa, it was me dat steer
ed dat boat.’’
Tho governor, not to be outdone, then
asked:
“And do you remember when George
took tho hack at the cherry tree?”
The colored man was lost in thought
for a moment, then, with a beaming
smile, ho said:
“Why, suah, massa, I dun drove dat
hack mahself.”
WHICH ANIMALS?
One afternoon little Alice went out for
a walk with her mother. A very dirty
organ-grinder was near the curb. He
had a long beard, and was particularly
unkempt-looking. The man had a
monkey on a string, and Alice’s mother
gave her a penny to give to the little
animal.
“Step up to him and give him the
penny,” said tho mother.
Alice hesitated for a moment, and then
turning to her mother, asked very
gravely:
“Which one shall I give it to, mother?
The monkey or his father?”
NO MISTAKE.
Hilma was always glad to say her pray
ers, but she wanted to bo sure that she
was heard in tho heavens abovo as well
as on tho earth beneath.
One night, after the usual “Amen,”
sho dropped her head upon her pillow
and closed her eyes. After a moment
she lifted her hand and, waving it aloft,
said, “Oh, Lord, this prayer comes from
203 Seldcn Avenue.”—Everybody’s
Magazine.
BOTH HANDS FREE.
At tho suffrage lunchrooms in New
York, a woman electrician the other day
showed Mrs. O. H. P. Belmont a model
of a cradle that rocks by electricity.
Mrs. Belmont, after examining the mod
el with interest, smiled and said:
“This invention is of’ great value to
woman—it leaves both her hands free
for the carrying of suffrage banners and
distribution of suffrage literature.”
Another Year of Grand Opera
The past successes of Grand Opera will be duplicated
again in April. In no one thing has Atlanta more thor
oughly demonstrated its metropolitan features than in
the fact that for several years past it has had a brilliant
and successful season of Grand Opera. City after city
has failed, many of them much larger than Atlanta, but
each recurring season the music lovers of our city are
regaled with this superb form of entertainment, and each
year the public-spirited citizens who guarantee expenses
see a handsome profit turned over for account of the big
organ.
This year bids fair to break the record, the first
day’s sale of tickets reaching a total of over $35,000 and
passing last year’s record by $10,000.
The brilliant success of the season is already guar
anteed, and the great musical stars who have learned to
love Atlanta because of its appreciation will face this
year audiences which in size and quality will compare
favorably with those which are shown by the largest
cities of the world. To Col. W. L. Peel and his associates
Atlanta owes a debt of gratitude for putting in reach of
our people every year this elevating and soul-satisfying
form of entertainment.
A Remarkable Performance
The rebuilding of the store of the Davison-Paxon-
Stokes Company without delaying or stopping their im
mense business for a day is one of the manifestations of
Atlanta enterprise worthy of special mention.
Day by day their hundreds of employees have gone
about their work, and waited on their army of customers
while under them, around them, and over them a host of
workmen have been building up one of the most enormous
buildings in the South.
Now the huge structure nears completion, rearing
its immense bulk high towards the heavens on Whitehall,
on Broad and on Hunter streets.
The Atlantian does not propose to tell how it was
done, for it does not know, but it does know that it has
been done, and the doing of it reflects credit on the man
agement of the company and the contractors alike, for
any one at all familiar with the conditions knows of the
immense difficulties which had to be overcome to carry
out such a work without a hitch anywhere.
Red Men’s Drum Corps
Other cities may have been more numerously repre
sented in the great inaugural celebration at.Washington,
but certainly no body of men from any city attracted
more attention or made a better showing in the great
parade than the Red Men’s Drum Corps, of Atlanta, 56
strong, which was enabled to attend the celebration as
the result of the liberality of certain public-spirited
citizens of Atlanta.
Beautifully appointed, marching with faultless pre
cision, and making harmonious noise, the Drum Corps
won unstinted praise and admiration from the vast army
of onlookers, and had the great satisfaction of “making
good” and winning the complete approval of those who
backed them for the trip.
DAD’S A SHRINER NOW.
My dad’s a good old sport, all right,
Last night ho took tho Shrine;
When ho got home, ho was a sight—
Say, none of that for mine.
Ma sewed his trousers to his shirt,
And underwear as well,
But when sho told pa it was torn
Ho simply said, Oh !
Tho fellows all like pa real well,
He‘s Master of his lodge.
He says the Nobles have a goat
Too quick for him to dodge;
A camel too, and red hot sand—
Oh, yes, a great big rope—
And when ho saw tho caravan
Ho says he lost all hope.
Did didn’t go to work today,
But sticks real close to bed;
Ho has a plaster on his side
And bandage on his head;
Ilis feet and hands are blistered some,
But lie said it was fine.
The crowd must be just awful rough
Where father took tho Shrine.
—Bob Dyrenforth.
PAPA’S ALLY.
‘ ‘ Papa says, ’ ’ announced the sweet
young thing, “that when you come to
call on mo hereafter you must not come
in a street car.”
“Great guns! Must I walk?”
“No—you aro to come in a taxicab and
have it wait for you. Papa says that this
will not only prove how much you love
me, but save his staying up nights to
make noises and wind the clock. ’ ’—Cleve
land Plain Dealer.
Harry—* ‘ I was seven years trying
to get into her father’s good graces. ’ ’
Wade—“And.”
Harry—“Wallio beat me out in one
day by giving him a pass to the ball
game. ’ ’—Chicago News.
Shortly before Christmas at tho Play
ers ’ Club in New York, a member named
Scott said one day:
“Mr. Clemens, you have an extra over
coat hanging in tho coatroom. I’ve got
to attend my unclo's funeral, and it's
raining very hard. I’d like to year it.”
The coat was an old one, in the pock
ets of which Clemens kept a melancholy
assortment of pipes, soiled handkerchiefs,
neckties, letters and what not.
“Scott,” ho said, “if you won’t loso
anything out of the pockets of that coat
you may wear it.”
An hour or two later, Clemens found a
notico in his mail-box that a package for
him was in the office. Ho called for it
and found a neat bundle, which somehow
had a Christmas look. He carried it up
to tho reading-room with a showy air.
“Now, boys,” ho said, “you may
make all tho fun of Christmas you like,
but it’s pretty nice, after all, to bo re
membered. ’ ’
They gathered around and he undid
tho pnekage. It was filled with tho pipes,
soiled handkerchiefs and other articles
from tho old overcoat. Scott had taken
extra precautions against losing them.
Mark Twain regarded them a moment
in silence, then ho drawled:
“Well, d n Scott. I hope his un
cle’s funeral will be a failure! ”