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THE ATLANTIAN
April, 1920
A. L. CURTIS
DRUGS
35 W. MITCHELL STREET
Atlanta, Georgia
Twenty-Four Years In Business
Nineteen Years at My Present Stand
My Motto has always been
"THE BEST”
A. L. CURTIS
DRUGS
35 W. Mitchell Street
Atlanta, Georgia
MY ROAD.
By F. Gregory Hartswick.
Uipon my road to Arcady
There are no lacy shades,
No curving uplands’ grateful swales,
No climbing peaks, no grassy vales,
No shepherds with their maids;
There are no cooling brooks along,
No Pan-pipes and no rustic song—
In truth, no road of poetry—
And yet it runs to Arcady 1
t
Beneath the city’s roaring streets
Crammed trains are hurled like
spears;
The lights streak past in endless rows,
Strange odors greet the shrinking
nose,
Wild shouting stun the ears.
My road—along the iron ways,
Up trampled steps, through traffic’s
maze,
One dim-lit cross-town block—the
key—
Then up three flights to Arcady 1
Doctor: You need more iron in
your blood.
Ex-Doughboy: ISay, Doc, I’ve got
ten pieces of shrapnel in me now the
surgeons were never able to locate.
THE MERRY WHIRL.
“Howwas it you settled the strike?”
“We had .to," replied the labor agi
tator. "We had to get ready to start
another one.”
SEVEN AGES OF A PLOT.
One. The plot germ appears as a
three-line jdke in Life.
Two. A writer, seeing its possibili
ties, expands it into a three-thousand-
word magazine story.
Three. A dramatist reads the story
and seeing its possibilities, turns it
into a three-act drama.
Four. A literary friend of the
dramatist attends the play, sees its
possibilities and works up a noveliz
ed version of the drama.
Five. A motion-picture director
reads the novelized play, sees its pos
sibilities and converts it into a five-
reel movie melodrama.
Six. A writer of serials sees the
picture and recognizing its possibil-
ties, dashes off a six-reel instalment
thriller.
Seven. A humorist reads the serial,
sees its possibilities, and subsequent
ly it appears in Life as a .three-line
joke.
GEORGETTE AND TRICOTINE.
“What’s the noise?" inquired Georg
ette.
“Either somebody is putting in a
thousand tons of coal,” responded
Tricotine, "or our flivver has come.”
“Yes, sir, I tell you that an actor
gets paid according as he can amuse
the public.”
“Nonsense.- Does Bryan make
more than Charlie Chaplin?”
LENT.
Now that all the fads of fashion
Run to sad and somber hues,
And the skies are drear and ashen,
And one often has the “blues;”
Now disgruntled Mrs. Grundy
Says to beaus and belles, "Repent,”
And the week seems one long Sun
day—
It is Lent!
.Now that dances, now that dinners,
Are considered quite taboo;
Now there’s such a crowd of sinners
In the unaccustomed pew;
Now that teas are on the tapis
(Oh, the savory Ceylon scent I)
And one scarcely dares be happy—
It is Lent 1
Now that social self-denial
Is, beyond all doubt, the thing,
And old Time creeps round the dial
Like a bird with wounded wing,
.And, if one the truth confesses,
Now that maiden hours are spent
Planning hats and Easter dresses—
It is Lent!
—Clinton Scollard.
Tender-Hearted Wife: I suppose
I’m foolish, but I can’t help crying at
the sad parts.
'Brutal-Minded Husband: Why
shouldn’t you cry if you want to?
You paid to get in.
AS WAS, AND EVER SHALL BE.
Charles Sumner Bird, progressive-
Republican leader in Massachusetts,
says:
•No man hand-picked by the “old
guard" can muster the full anti-Dem-
ocratic vote, without which a Repub
lican President cannot .be elected.
And Mark Sullivan says:
The Republican party leaders have
not the faintest intention of nominat
ing Hoover. They are not going to
nominate anybody who is not a mem
ber of the lodge, so to speak.
Mr. Bird says no old-guard candi
date will do; Mr. Sullivan says no
other kind will be allowed. Already
there looms up the cheerful prospect
that T. Roosevelt will control anoth
er election.
AN HONORARY DEGREE.
A chimney sweep who was com
plainant in a case in Edinburgh gave
his name as Jamie Gregory, <LL;D.
“Where on earth did you get that
distinction?” aslkied the attorney.
"It was a fellow frae an American
university,” answered Jamie. “I
sweepit his chimney three times. T
canna pay ye cash, Jamie Gregory,’
he says, ‘but I’ll mak’ ye LL.D. an’
we’ll ca’ it quits.’ An’ he did, sir.’’—
Boston Transcript.
What everybody knows is not
enough with which to run a .bootblack
stand, let alone a government.
—New York Tribune.
REED OIL CO.
WE LEAD —OTHERS FOLLOW
FIVE STATIONS
Peachtree and Currier St.
Peachtree and Baker St.
Forsyth and James St.
Georgia Ave. and Capitol Ave.
Park St. and Peters St.
REED OIL CO.