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a cook, why, they run over to the store and get
potted ham, and Egg-O-See and corned beef, and
canned beans, salmon, and I don’t know what all
of canned and steam cooked stuff —a poor substi
tute for good cornbread and boiled turnips and
middlin’ meat and coffee. Country folks are trying
too hard to imitate town people, and put on city
style. The cityites may be kinder excused for spin
nin’ so much street yarn. They’ve got finery they
want to show, but we in the country haven’t got
any finery to speak of. But sure as the country girl
sees the city belle with a long feather a-stickin’ out
from her fall hat, well, she wants one, too, and
as she can’t buy it, she pounces on the old rooster,
and when she gets through with him he has to
hide under the house to keep the hens from seein’
that he’s a bob-tailed flush. His tail is on Miss
Katy’s hat, and she’s a prancin’ on the street showin’
it off, while the old rooster is grievin’ over his loss.
And so it goes. The girls won’t help their mothers
cook, and the mothers won’t stay at home long
enough to cook. They put on a Ittle jumper and
a short-sleeve white waist, buttoned in the back,
and off they go to town to be on hand at the bar
gain counter, and there they stay gossipin’ with the
clerks, while the colored girl takes the baby home
with her, and gives it pot-licker and potatoes, and
spanks it when it cries, and tells the other children
tales about devils and wild bears and ghosts, until
they are too scared to walk about. “An’ that’s the
way the world is a-waggin’.” I think it ought to stop
and take breath, don’t you?
UNCLE REUBEN.
7 DeKalb county, Georgia.
-hr
*
SOME EXPERIENCES IN HOUSEBUILDING.
i
My trade is that of a house-builder. I am not
ashamed of it, for was not Jesus —our dear Christ —
a carpenter during his young manhood? His time
had not yet come, as he said, and he worked pa
tiently with the hands that he knew would be
pierced by the sacrificial nails of crucifixion. I
have often wished I were a thorough master of
my business —an architect of talent and skill; but
as I am not, I work cheerfully in my ordained limits
and enjoy helping to create pretty and convenient
houses —the future homes of happy families. I
have met with but- few accidents, in my work. Once,
while I was assisting to put up a brick building,
a scantling fell, cutting a gash in my head. The
doctor said it came within half an inch of proving
fatal. At another time, when I, with several others,
was mounted on a high scaffold M work shingling
the gable end of a house, the plank we were on
slipped off and we fell to the ground. I was badly
stunned, but not otherwise injured. I unintentional
ly caused a man, who was working under me on a
two-story building, to get a bad fall. I had sawed
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The J. M. High Co.
if V ATLANTA, GA.
•J' , .The Store of Many Departments
The Golden Age for October 10, 1907.
some sleepers in two pieces for an upper hall. Not
noticing the sills were cut, the man stepped on
one end, it flew up and he shot down to the floor
below, spraining his foot so badly that he worked
on that job no more. While I lived in Kemper
county, I was employed to take down some over
head ceiling that had been badly put up. Not
having any scaffolding, I made two benches, using
rails for the legs, but forgetting to brace them. I
had just mounted to the top when the benches
went over and I came down with a crash you might
have heard for a mile. For a minute I lay stunned,
then I gathered up resolution, got up, braced the
benches as I should have done at first and went
to work. I enjoy The Golden Age Household almost
as. much as I enjoyed the dear old Sunny South
Household, where I felt so much at home.
GEORGE W. WHEELER.
Hattiesburg, Miss.
It It
THAT BIRTHDAY LETTER.
Very soon it will be the fifteenth of October. Do
you know, dear Householders, whose birthday that
is? No less a personage than our editor’s. Now,
some of you may wish to congratulate him on this
anniversary, but take warning by my experience,
and don’t write him a birthday letter. It was in—
well, I don’t remember the year, and I never like
to count backward, anyway—but Atlanta was about
to have a grand exposition, and the Household folk
of the dear and lamented Sunny South were look
ing forward with enthusiasm to a reunion to take
place in Georgia’s capital during the fair. It was
expected to be a great meeting, and so, indeed, it
proved to be. I was a new member of the House
hold, and I was acquainted with none of the band
personally, save a neighbor, a relative. of Earnest
Willie, and that notable gentleman himself —the
star member of the Household. Having found out
through reading his new book that the fifteenth of
October was his birthday, I conceived the idea of
writing him a birthday letter, which I tried to make
as beautiful as the golden month of his birth. Beau
tiful, indeed, was that special October. I had never
seen such glorious Indian Summer weather! The
world outdoors was a symphony in red and gold,
save for the snowy cotton fields along the river and
the hazy, blue skies.
I was staying at The Oaks —the lovely childhood
home of my mother, and I took several moonlight
rambles on the banks of the noble Chattahoochee,
and still could not fitly describe its beauty in my
letter until I had invoked the muse of Earnest Wil
lie’s beloved Mcßeath to bring the spell that hung
over the stream “where the moonlight slumbered,
quivering on its burnished tide.” A hazy memory
is all that remains to me of that letter’s contents;
not so hazy, however, is the recollection of some
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of the things connected with it, for Instance, the
expression on the face of the young lady, who copied
the letter for me, as it seemed necessary that it
should be beautifully written, as well as elaborately
expressed. After she had laid aside page after
page of the transcribed manuscript, and still there
remained a pile of paper to copy, she sighed and
testily wished the destined recipient of the letter
were on the other side of the ocean, adding, “I
have often admired October, but never shall I rhap
sodize over that month again.”
The Macon Telegraph declares that Earnest Willie
says “awful things sometimes.” I know he can do
awful things occasionally. We have been good
friends, and I hate to tell this on him, but right there
in Atlanta at the big reunion did Earnest Willie de
liberately shake his fist at yours truly—a writer
and a young lady desirous of making a good im
pression on all those authors, editors and poets—
and for no other offense than writing that birthday
letter. Wasn’t that awful of him, after all the beautiful
adjectives and high-flown rhetoric I had aired in
that letter! In revenge, I wish all the Householders
would tell in The Golden Age on his birthday all
the awful things they know about him. I heard
his speech in Carrollton “agin licker,” and enjoyed
it immensely. I did not observe any venom directed
against Macon or any other locality, nor did I see
him shake his fist at anything or anybody. Per
haps at the university he has learned it Is bad form.
At any rate, I don’t believe he will venture to chal
lenge me again in this style of menace, even if
he does occupy the editorial chair of The Golden
Age. MRS. FRANK ROWLAND.
Carrollton, Ga.
It
REMEDIES THAT ARE ALWAYS AT HAND.
For a burn or scald, soda wet in a little water
and applied. Also a raw paste of flour. Molasses is
good for a burn, as is almost anything that will ex
clude the air.
For a pain about the body, a warm application—
flannel cloths, hot salt in a bag, a heated lamp chim
ney. Kerosene oil on a soft cloth is a good lini
ment
For aching or tired feet, a hot bath in salt water.
For headache from cold, warm flannel cloths; a
hot foot bath.
For sick headache, soda and salt water.
For indigestion, salt and soda water; hot or warm
application.
For sting of poisonous insect, salt or soda water.
For earache, hot salt bag.
The above are home remedies to soothe until the
doctor comes with drugs.
MATTIE HOWARD. .
11