Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

= "' ; Wig i l — t = ~ g = I MS?- rnfTTTT 1 Iffl >IF4 s a i wF |u’f ■ JiuViwkk^^uU 11 ►O) 1 i Ik X r jftuaZlr*^*_ L | . L. MITCHELL, Publisher. Vol. 22—No. 3. /? I 1 1 v i t*; ' " I!■ /I A' }>• inr Jgply For Woman’s Work. SPRm§TDDEo WHITE-necked branch and silvered While the vale they proudly screen stem; With majestic evergreen, Tipt with gold and brightest gem, Yet t h e y new-made tassels bring See, the spring-tide Alder blended, « »» / • u c • See them far away, how splendid- Fro* ll the “green-fire” of rich Spring- Dove-like tinting on their hem! Make their outline sharp and keen! Is there mirror on the hill Spring-fire cuts the emerald grass; Gives to firs against their will, Flocks of celandines we pass; Blue-gray purple shades to rise, Fiery star—St. Bridget’s flower— Point their fingers to God’s skies— Brought her by its magic power Azure arch that’s o’er them still? To the shieling-home at last! Creeklets glad their voices raise: “Wintry floods are past!” they praise. They can keep their deep beds peace- ful; Undisturbed, they flow on graceful— Each drop happy in its chase! Louisa A’HmuTy Nash. For Woman’s Work. COOD MATURED REVENGE. f HEN the college degree was proper ly conferred and the last round of applause had died away be w hind the valedictory on those green hills about Haddon Hall, Miss Dial was con fronted with the rather unconifortab e proposition that while all the world may “love a lover,” not all the world loves a sweet girl graduate, even though, -she be in love —until said “sweet girl graduate” has declared her affec tions and assumed an engagement ring! The professions open to a young woman with the right to put an “A. B.” after her name —what were they? There was school teaching, which she abhorred! The very idea of coming two hundred days out of the three hundred and sixty-five and addressing the same lot of in fants who either despised or adored you, but in either case never showed It to your face! Then there was stenography! But that was really intended for the girl without the “advantages” that a college diploma Is supposed to carry in its wake, and which, just en passant, are often really greater handicaps than steps on the road to success. There was journalism, with the “lady editor” “doing” musicales — going to hear the daughter of the mayor play a sonatina, and then (be cause the mayor owned forty and a fraction per cent, of the stock of • the paper) writing of “rapturous ap plause,” which was really joy—joy, pure and simple,—that the “effort” was over. Brother Jack, just back from Har vard, offered a suggestion: “Dial, you’re the cleverest girl In the world at a joke. Why don’t you go into entertaining?” IMPRESS UPON CHILDREN THE NOBILITY OF DOING. THE DISGRACE OF LEAVING UNDONE. BY FELIX L KOCH. “The very idea! How? Sing a song—with my lovely soprano voice? Or, perhaps, read a play—like some phonograph, or not nearly so good?” “No! Practical joking!” “Oh —and land in the penitentia ry, so that you, my lawyer-brother may collect fees to get me out! Cer tainly kind and brotherly of you!” The brother wheeled around, and looked her squarely in the face. “No, I mean it! Look here, Dial; up at the ’varsity we fellows were ever aching for a lark, and you girls were just as bad. There was always someone to get even with, in a good natured, genial way. Now, no one ever beat you at that game, and I believe it would be a new side-line for a woman—one that would pay.” For the first time the girl was in terested. With brother at the helm —brother, with a lawyer’s degree, and prospects as a future Chief Jus tice of the state —everything must succeed! What Jack suggested was always correct, and she heartily en tered into the scheme. “How would you proceed?” He busied himself a moment. “Well, of course, it’ll be your business, not mine, but I’ll give you a tip. You must advertise: this is an age of advertising! Make your “ad.” catchy and so’s it can be read in a moment. Then await your first case, and when it comes —make it a howling success!" They sat together at the desk, and in a few moments the copy was ready for the papers. Pay Back Old Scores in a Harmless Way.' Miss Dial Mannon, Professional Revengeologist and Player of Jokes. ATHENS, GEORGIA, MARCH, 1909. Satisfaction Guaranteed. Terms According to Extent of the Prank Played. 25 Walmsley Place. “Now, then, how will we place it in the papers?” she asked. “Leave that to me,” Jack retorted. Jack knew the newspapers—all lawyers do! “What will it cost me to get this ‘ad.’ in the paper tomorrow?” he asked. “Three dollars’” “And you will place it —?” “Anywhere except on the first page!” The man before the counter look ed the man behind the' counter squarely in the eye. “What was that?” “Anywhere, except on the first page.” “My friend, did you hear what this man said?” The bystander, waiting for his paper, assented. “Now, sir, before witnesses you have declared that you will place this ‘ad.’ anywhere except on the first page. Therefore, I demand that you set it in the center, —exact center, —of the third page!” “But that is only if the right side is full. Then we work ads. toward the center.” “No matter. A bargain before witnesses is a bargain. I am an at torney,” and he handed in his card. The clerk flushed, but there was no help for it. Campaign time was near at hand, and if it was noised about that the Tribune went back on its promises, half the efficacy of its editorials would be lost. So the next day the city awoke to the fact that there was such a being as a “Revengeologlst” in its midst, a lady who must have a bu reau of some extent, since she could get her “ad.” where no small “ad.” had ever been seen before —in the center of a page of solid reading matter. It was really worth while to look into it. The feature writers were the first in her wake. They scented a good “story,” and the reporter from a Chi cago paper got the beat on them. In glaring headlines he came out with a story about: The Latest Profession for Ladles of Culture: Paying Back Old Scores on Your Enemies, Without Harm or Malice; How a Young Woman is Earning Her Livelihood. And then it went on to tell of these stories—all press agent fabri cations, by “Brother Jack.” There came a client, and that very shortly. It was a girl from the seminary on the hills. She wished to repay a bit of “beating out” by a social rival, who had invited the same set of friends before this girl had done so—in spite of an agreement to the contrary. She was bound to “get even,” and left it to the "Revengeologlst” to see how. Dial took Jack’s advice, and “clinched the job.” Then she secured particulars, and the young lady left. The next day eight dozen invita tions went Into the mails: MISS ALZA CONWAY Requests the pleasure of your com pany Friday afternoon, December twenty-third, 4 to 6 P. M. No reply desired. The last line was a most extraor dinary thing to put on an Invitation, of course, but—society is polite, and doesn’t ask questions! KATE QARLAND, Editress* Price 10 cts- $1 per Year. Friday afternoon, December twen ty-third, at a quarter to four, the carriages began to arrive, and their fair mistresses dismounted. The drivers were sent about their busi ness, to call promptly at six. To the first of the young lady callers, the maid replied that “Miss Conway was not at home!” “Not at home!” The girl, suave—-as all French maids are—met the question polite . ly: “No, Mad’m; ze Miss Conway is invited out, I believe.” . “But surely you are mistaken!” “I assure you—will the ladies come inside? It is very cold outside, and you can step into ze parlor.” Two very irate young ladies step . ped into the parlor, and held a con ' sultation. “Didn’t you receive an invitation ’ for this afternoon?” “Why certainly!” ‘ “And—look! here comes Miss ' Weber and Miss Foster, and there’s Grace Spickman, and all the rest of the set! Oh, I tell you, it must be • a surprise party for Alza!” , “But if it is a surprise party, evi dently not even the housekeeper has been informed of it.” Mrs. Conway was in the south, and there was only Alice “at home.” The maids knew nothing of it what soever—they declared, over and over. Then into the crowd of angry young women there came another ; caller—their mutual friend, Miss Cantor. “Why, girls, what are you all standing in the hall for? Where’s Alice? Why aren’t you upstairs or inside? Dearie me, —what is the matter?” They explained. Her consternation seemed equally ■ great. “Well now, this IS nice! Tell you 1 what—you come right ’round the park to our house, —every last one °f you. Mother’s holding a recep tion this afternoon, and a few more wont matter at all. I may as well have you first as Alice, and so you • come—come on!” When a girl is in her "party” ’ dress she doesn’t need much urging 1 to come to a party: she’ll seize the chance. 1 The girls accepted with pleasure, , then and there. They even walked to the other house, despite the trails and the sashes. And such a reception as it was! It really seemed that “Mother’s friends” had all just gone, or had all sent regrets, or—well, there were none of them there: only mother and Mrs. Bannan, who acted as chaper ones. So there was the reception, after all. And in upon it promptly at five, wholly unconscious of all the stir she had caused, walked Miss Alice Conway, who had had “another” re ception that afternoon as a certain friend had known, and the invita tion for Miss Cantor’s reading from “5:40 to 7:00” had come here at Its close. What * happened to her one hates to say—until the clever little hostess told her story. And then what oc curred between the hostess and one of her guests will likewise scarce bear repetition! But, at any rate, the author of the plot did not go undis covered, and the advertisement of the “professional revengeologlst” no longer needs to occupy such con spicuous position in the public print. Folk know too well where to find her when she is needed, as she now so often is.