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IVs I IJaWaI JLM Vi 11U rC |i| U A H >A B W “ BA Mk ■ ■ B B ■ ■II 1 -3L 7 ” T. L. MITCHELL. Publisher. Vol 16—No. 5. For Woman’s Work. ““STUeW TO Y®DR EDSM 1 ” —?k. ® 1 IT oo \\/Q>, /H\ \7\\ (V )J )/ "ww" w "' \X yQ7 O ZLJIa LL 11 aV 1A —y J —7 L<7 11 \\J l \x—o * < I .. ■ ■ Tn)EARL of the morning! evening’s health! 11® Gem of the household’s dream of wealth! ? U “The man who wins in the race is he <^^l%..:t< w Who sticks to his bush.’’ Enlightened be: There’s a time to let go. Don’t misunderstand; A world of truth’s in the maxim grand tlllllll^E^^^~ -^SssSla 77^ -" ■■ ' ® LglW- And good—but the minds of men still love £Mz4 $• I Wtti A little variation. ■®®R^ r -AIFF = SyYfflll : — .... ■ !■ 111 ■ 111 I j. * . jfc j ~Sm/ i J***yrv Prove 'i |l Kfr 12^^-' A But this to my reason “I’m at my best,’’ ;l 1 And I’ll ply the bush and trust the rest. li ~ But when I find that the way is clear * i / To a better job, I’ll quit. ,/ \ f The cheer ||g ! Jr W Is for the tuan who stakes his claim And works it well till bigger game - A.- J■- - '' ” A»T Attracts his notice; he’d be a “mule’’ ~"‘ ” " W W If he didn’t change at once. 4f 7 ,■ J™ To pule Over “tailings’’ is nonsense sheer — t r • ■ '• gH With nuggets in sight; make the reason clear, . . , 11 literature. v- And I’ll risk the hand I hold, though flush, J s Rh et o ric j ust the same, do you think. ’&> To change my bush in fortune’s blush. i« st loo , k ”P Y our obsoletes link upon link: W»P Through Chauceryou chew! O, Shakespeare! the stuff „ * * * You must mentally masticate! Truly, ’tis bluff. In Business: In Customs: > Do merchants “stick’’ just as they stuck I own that a long Greek gown would fit 'S' 1 In those dear days of past good luck? My taste to a T, but I scarce think the “spit’’ They’d soon be “stuck” did they always stick, The equal of bright aluminium ware, For Fickle Dame Fortune would play a trick. Or the three-legged stool the rival of chair. For Woman’s Work. THE MELLOW sunlight glimmered through the leaves of the great trees overhanging one of the best trout streams in the coun try, and fell upon the earnest face of a black-bearded man of thirty six, who was eagerly pursuing his sport with the intentness that he gave to everything he undertook. “Best sport I ever had,” he said half aloud, re-baiting his hook and looking at his basket. The golden sun was just warm enough to charm and not to make uncomfortable those exposed to its rays. The leaves were whispering tender secrets to each other, and the soft, south wind gave promise of rain. The surroundings were perfect, the sport was excellent; but, even as he rejoiced at his good luck, a sudden sadness came over Philip Reinhart, and he sighed. Rich, successful, endowed with many physical attractions, in per fect health, and never having experienced any very serious trouble, Philip Reinhart was envied by his friends; and yet, though he often laughed at himself, he was not happy. Many had asked the reason for his continuing single in spite of the attempts on the part of nu merous mammas and widows, but he gave none, and the fair girls who worshipped him from afar, soon decided that he bad no heart. EACH DRONE IS A WEAK LINK IN THE CHAIN OF HUMAN ENDEAVOR. ATHENS, GEORGIA, MAY, 1903. In Politics: We’ll just leave this batch out; A politician’s the same, no doubt, Be it yesterday, in the long ago, Or to-day—he’s a hog, and —well —you know! But in most of the lijies of life, (The “political hog” roots best in strife!) When your “bush” is not to your liking, you Find another that’s laden with fruit —and true To your nature, you proceed to “cut” The “sticking” dogma, you forthwith shut Your ears to the old “worm eaten” fad, And “change your bush”—if ydii’re not a “cad.” “Stick to your bush” is a motto of gold, But we must admit, ’tis a little old, And it fails to suggest that a time may arrive When ’tis best to “move on” if we hope to survive. (Suggested at a blackberry-picking, when the bushes were not laden. - ) I)K Keller Stamey. ’’’fro heart! How astonished all who knew him would have been had they seen him, as he sat beside that stream, take what apneared to be a silver dollar from his pocket, press a spring, and look long ingly at the face which appeared within the silver cover. A dazzlingly beautiful face, delicately colored, almost lifelike with its deep blue eyes, soft golden hair and sweet, oval face! The bewitching face smiled back at him, but the rich red lips refused to answer his oft repeated question: “Who are you, where are you, how can I reach you?’’ For nearly eighteen years he had been asking these questions, but no answer had been vouchsafed him. Like the sphinx, the lady re fused to give up her secret, but smiled back at him entrancingly. “Why am I such a fool?” he cried angrily. “Here I have gone KATE GARLAND, Editress. Price 10 Gts-. $1 per Year,