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VOL UJVE THUE E
HUH9EH TWENTY-THREE
WHAT WE THINK OF WHAT WE SEE
Sv A. E. RUTHSA UR, Managing Editor
We wonder if that 11 Brides’ Club” organized in
Palestine, Texas, is just the old fashioned rolling
pin?
n
A dry dust storm in Atlanta Saturday night.
Could it be that the Prohibition law has anything
to do with this sort of thing?
Sir Thomas Lipton is going to keep on racing for
the America’s cup. We hope it will continue to be
a case of “Many a slip twixt the cup and Lip-ton.”
A Wisconsin professor has married a deaf and
dumb heiress. If ever a man did find easy money he
is the one. He won’t have any curtain lectures in
his family.
It is estimated that the Omaha people drink
62,000 pounds of mud in their daily water. Talk
about drinking up a farm or a house and lot, but
this is going some!
R
A certain millionaire in New York stated recently
that if he was married he didn’t know it. Well, it’s
a safe bet that he isn’t. That is one of the things
you can be sure of if you’ve got it.
We have read in an exchange that “the last
twelve years have sobered Mr. Bryan. ’ ’ Goodness,
what a time he must have had during his early man
hood if it took that long to get straight!
H
The zoo in Bristol has a two-legged hog. Funny
how some people cage things as a curiosity that we
can see most any day in this neighborhood going
around without exciting any comment whatever.
at
Isn’t it sad, the cutting remarks some women
make to their poor, long-suffering husbands? We
have learned of an instance in point. At the
breakfast the biscuits were rather harder than
they should have been, and Jones growled out:
“I wish I were an ostrich. Maybe I could eat
these biscuits and live afterward.”
“I wish you were,” said Mrs. Jones. “Maybe
then I’d get a few feathers for my hat.”
We want our Agents to make a better record during the summer months than they have ever done
heretofore. We will do all we can at our end of the line to aid them in their work. We can furnish club
subscriptions with almost any magazines that may be desired at surprisingly low rates. We have prem
iums with paid subscriptions that are attractive. The “Prohibition Souvenir” which we give with each
paid subscription should be in every Georgia home. We give you choice of one of two books: “Sam
Jones’ Own Book” and “Quit Your Meanness” with each new subscription or each old subscription paid
one vear in advance. Write to us.
THE GOLDEN AGE, 510 Lowndes Bldg., Atlanta.
ATLANTA, GA., JULY 23. 1908.
We wish some photographer would get a shot at
Mr. Taft while he is asleep. We would be willing to
give something to see him without that smile. May
be though it is the kind that “won’t come off.”
R
A widower who was married recently for the
third time, and whose bride had been married once
before herself, wrote across the bottom of the in
vitations: “Be sure and come; this is no ama
teur performance.”
*
Just as an illustration of how confidence is sadly
lacking throughout this country whenever finances
are involved, the news comes to us of a church in
Topeka, Kansas, electing a one-armed man to pass
the contribution basket.
Mr. Sherman, the candidate for Vice President,
has been advised by his physicians to keep very
quiet during the campaign. It is well enough to
begin practicing now, for if he is elected he will
have a four years’ stunt of keeping quiet, on his
hands.
*
Since last March the rainfall of Oklahoma has
been ninety-seven per cent above the normal. We
felt at the time they were fixing that prohibition
plank in the Constitution that they would do better
to follow Georgia’s example and let the legislature
attend to it.
*
•
The Memphis Commercial-Appeal says that “In
twenty years from now candidates may be speak
ing from the rear end of airships.” Well, we don’t
want to be on the front end when a candidate like
Mr. Taft steps out on the little speaking platform
at the rear.
There is no question about it, when one Georgia
editor likes another Georgia editor, he knows ex
actly how to say what he feels. This is what
we see about Brother Rucker:
“Editor Rucker gets out the best country paper
in Georgia, bar none. When you read it, you cau
hear the call of the whippoorwill, the whistle of
bobwhite, the low of the cow, the chirp of the
cricket, the clatter of the katydid, the crack of the
base hit, the murmur of mountain streams, the
ring of the woodsman’s axe, the music of the saw
and hammer, the drone of honey bees, the sound
of the dinner horn, the caw of the crow, the bark
of the squirrel, the creak of the windlass at the
public well, the coo of the dove, the laughter of
children, the squawk of the chicken, the scream of
the eagle, and last, always last, the soul-soothing
melody of the mockingbird.”
Now, with a paper like that in the house, what is
the use of having a piano or a phonograph?
*
We cannot help wondering whether, in the event
a Rip Van Winkle should awake in this age and
time, he would take the same view of things as
did the hero of the following little story:
Rip Van Winkle returned from his long sleep
looking fresh as a daisy and made his way to the
village barber shop, not only because he needed a
haircut and shave, but also because he wished to
catch up on the news.
“Let’s see,” said he to the barber after he was
safely tucked in the chair, “I’ve been asleep twen
ty years, haven’t I?”
“Yep,” replied the tonsorialist.
“Have I missed much?”
“Nope, we bin standin’ pat.”
“Has Congress done anything yet?”
“Not a thing.”
“Jerome done anything?’
“Nope.”
“Platt resigned?”
11 Nope. ’ ’
“Panama Canal Built?”
“Nope.”
“Bryan been elected?”
1 ‘ Nope. ’ ’
“Carnegie poor?”
“Nope.”
“Well,'say,” said Rip, rising up in the chair,
“never mind shaving the other side of my face.
I’m going back to sleep again.”
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