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THX SUNNY SOUTH ATLANTA. GEORGIA OCTOBER Si 1893;
KICK- A B.’-QO-X O T 8EI-CARQ0.
For Thu Sunnt Boutb.
HI, «|ri, * bo weighed three hundred pound*,
eeut wl'D him to <b« n^r. .
And walked with him about the ground*
To view the wonuere there.
She linked her arm In hi*, he p’ed
• O plewe-do let me go;”
But lrantng more on him, she *nK»
••Of course—ah I Chick, ah I go.
IVhen struggling much beneath the weight,
Kh whispered • iu> »&«
She bung on him a heavier freight,
And said '*ah! Chick, Ah! go.
But email of strength and spare of knee,
He tiled but c..ulo not go.
And *r<*ne i aloud ■ c«n notion see
1 can’t pull my 8he-cargo.
When, from a group of wags
There* cam* a louu ‘ Cole. *n! go,
'While one above tne rest did cry
.•ty what a great She-oargo.
The lover soon JT®**?* ’
For looked him, bis Rhy^eneo,
rud sonndiy r*p ibe joke^ s pate.
And kicked him thro Kick-Ah go
The joker cried aloud in pain ^
•I called tne t**wu «hw-«a»go*
The lover said and kicked again (
"I’ve coanged it to Kick Ah! go.
And thus the name of kicky town
was ’siabiished as Kick-Ah I go,
Because a iov»r hickeo a clown
About a great 8ne-cargo.
—T. Tuley Deavenport.
catarrhaiTconsomption.
The Way it Begins and Ends.
There are several roads which lead
from health to consumption. Over
one of these roads pass all of that
great multitude who die every year
of consumption. Each route begins
with health and happiness and ends
with disease and death. They each
start with slight catarrh of head or
throat and end in catarrhal consump
tion. Almost all, if not all, cases of
consumption begin with catarrh.
Thousands have just started on one
of these roads, all of whom could be
easily cured by Pe-ru-na; thousands
more or half way to the fatal end ol
one of these roads who are still cur
able by a course of treatment by Pe-
ru-na; and yet other thousands are
near the end whose last days would be
made more bearable and hope of re
covery more probable by oommenoina
Pe-ru-na without delay.
Send to The Pe-ru-na Drug Manu
facturing Company of Columbus, O.,
for a free copy of their latest publica
tion, entitled ‘ Climatic Diseases ” i
complete treatise on catarrh and al
chronic diseases of the lungs.
Wild Wheel* la tteuril*.
New York Evening Post: In the
great piney woods of the South At
lantio Slates a peculiar race of sheep
roam at large, almost as wild and un
cared for as llie famous Southern
“razor-back” hog. For centuries
these sheep have eX'Steu in parts o
Georgia and the Gulf States, and, by
adapting themselves to the climate,
poor food and inclement weather, they
nave succeeded in surviving ail tu
vicissitudes of a wild and precariou
life. Tney are commonly called in
the Soutn “the sneep of the piney
woods;” they have no recorded pedi
gree nor even a breed name, it is
supposed however, that they were
originally brought to Florida by tbe
Spanish adventurers wUen tney first
settled upon the present site. They
possess even yet, in some respects, the
characteristics of the merino sheep.
Tney have the same general form,
though less uniform, and wool that is
neany as fine as the pure-bred meri
no. in the historical accounts of the
early Spanish visitors to Florida there
are records of their bringing sheep
and other domestic animals with
them, and after that time no subse
quent large importation of fine-wooled
sheep to inis region was ever heard
of. Wild sheep were known to exist
in the South in the days of Washing
ton and Jefferson, who endeavored to
improve their condition by introduc
ing fine breeds from abroad.
AGENTS WANTED
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LTrBKNTIO
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Photographic Historj of the World's Fair.”
The ^Ibaiecl ceulUK I'UUI of Ui6 VeUburjr. AVn-
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Complete canvassing outfit 50 cents. Agents
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Mention Bcssr norm.
TO MOTHERS.
MRS. WINSLOW'S SOOTHING!
SYRUP •
! ShfldSTn b £ of Mother* for their I
BAB’S BABBLE.
Who Im*
Our Masters, the Critics,
aglne They Know the World
or Men and Women
no WelL
(Copyright, 1893. From Onr Regular
Correspondent.)
New York, Oct. 17,1893.
HERE ARE TIMES
when I am fully con
vinced that all men
are fool?. It dawns
upon me when I read
the criticisms of a
play of which men
do not understand
the motive. A great
many years ago Du
mas, the younger,
brought out a play
called “Les Ides de
Madame Aubray.” Frenchmen scoffed
at it, women read it, marvelled at it,
and wondered who the woman was be
hind the pen; she whispered how wo
men felt, what women did, and how
altogether irrational they were. They
recognized themselves in the woman
who was at the head of a society to
urge the whitewashing of soiled doves,
but who drew herself up with disgust
when her own son suggested that
should marry the woman he bad
wronged. Men said this was far
fetched; laughed at it; women said
less and thought more. To-day one of
the best known of the English play
wrights, Pinero, introduces to ns the
“Second Mrs. Tanqueray.”
And My Master, the Critic, who
Knows the world so well, the world
bounded on the west by Sixth avenue
on the east by Broadway,on the north
by Thirty-fourth street, and on the
south by Twenty-third, gets up on his
hind legs and brays forth “There
never was such a woman.”
And the women? Tbe women are
not saying very much, but every now
and then one who dares wonders who
the woman was who told Pinero how
women felt.
My Master, the Critic, says such
woman is coarse; does he expect
soiled dove to have the whiteness of
lily? My Master, the Critic, says men
of the world don’t marry women lih
that, and that he thinks he knows the
world. 5
If he will take the trouble to look
into the Peerage or in the county
gentry of England, Ireland and Scot
land, he will find that it is men of the
worid who marry such women. It
never the respectable middle-class
man; he marries in his own set. It is
the man who knows it all, and who
loves even a soiled dove well enongh
to think that by giving her an honor
able name he oan make her as white
as her sisters.
REAL AMD UNREAL LIFE PICTURE.
My master, the Critic, sheds sloppy
tears over Camille; he blubbers over
the apotheosis of “Frou Frou,” and yet
he says the “Second Mrs. Tanqueray”
is immoral. There are people who
say that Balzac is immoral. Is every
real picture of life carefully painted
in black and white, showing tbe sin
to be what it is, immoral? While
pink and white picture of an Hetaira
refined and made interesting by
hectic flush and a heart-breaking
cough to pull at our heart-strings, is
called sympathetic and sad! Tear
away the roses and tbe fine frocis
and the sickly sentiment from Ca
mille, and what have you? A common
woman, vulgar, believing that because
she is dying she is in love with
young man, and who, if she had been
oured would probably have measured
her love for him by the depth of bis
pooket.
My Master, the Critic, does not like
the “Second Mrs. Tanqueray” because,
although he is not acquainted with
her, she impresses him as being real.
He claims the does not live here—she
didn’t sit far from me the night 1 saw
Mrs. Kendal play, and I wondered
how long the real Tanqueray would
enjoy her. Mrs. Tanqueray is a well-
known feature of Euglish life. She
is largely the result of the daughters
ot poor gentlefolk and of younger sons
who oannot afford to marry. You can
see her at tbe theatre sitting next to
a duchess, and very often of the two
she is better dressed and the more re-
flned-looKing. From the social stand
point, she knows exactly what is right,
and she knows the people she would
like to go with, but as she cannot, she
is forced to make friends with tbe
women who will accept her. Of course,
she coarsens. Drop your dove in a
mud puddle, and what will be the re
salt? She is tossed around from one
another; her soul and her body
alike being bruised.
IT SEEMS HARD TO FORGET THE PAST.
One day she meets Aubrey Tan-
queray he is the man who is gentle,
kind and loving to her. He knows
Ter life, but his love for her is suf
ficient t-o make him believe that once
she bears the honored name of wife,
the past can be blotted out, and this
woman, some place between 35 and
40—not a young girl, as the critics
persist in saying—will be given an
other chance. Mrs. Tanqueray and
tier kind do not come from the slums
—the daughters of clergy meo, of coun
try gentlemen, they are well educa
ted and calculated to be companions
to men. This man who was willing,
because of his love, to give the women
another chance, had been married
once, and his wife is best described
by his friend. A fanatic, a woman
who found her heaven in her belief
and her hell in her husband; a woman
who, as the friend said, always wore a
thermometer in her stays and never
let it get above zero. That is the
woman, my Critic, who drives men
to seek the second Mrs. Tanquearys.
Men love women who are flesh and
blood, not prayer-books bound in
black velvet and point lace. The child
of this first marriage is a girl, as un
pleasantly offensive as her mother;
the sort of girl who is calculated to
freeze anything and whose sense of
what is wrong is so acute that she
feels, as she says, the past of poor
Paula. May the good God preserve
all of us from meeting such girls!
But, as the man who loved Paula said,
so many times, this girl was just like
her mother.
TRYING TO REFORM A WOMAN.
When the “Second Mrs. Tanqueray”
goes to her husband’s country home,
the neighbors, with that sweet charity
belonging to women, refuse to call
upon ner; and when one does come,
she makes it so plain that she has
come to see this beast of a girl, that
a woman with any pride at all forgives
Paulas manners,and wonders that they
are not worse. You or I, my dear,
general woman, would have had that
visitor fired out the door, instead of
peaceably listening to her praises of
the late Mrs. TanquerAy. The daugh
ter goes off witn this neighbor to
Paris, and there she meets a young
man who has fought in India, and by
being what she calls “a hero” for one
week, he plots out tbe fact that the
rest of his life he has been a cad and a
coward, and this angel of a girl for
gives him for having been mixed up
in poor Paula's past, while after the
fashion of saints—female saints—she
blames tbe woman who bears her
father’s name.
Of course, after this, the only thing
that Paula can do to make everybody
comfortable in that family is to kill
herself.
It seems to me a pity that there
isn’t among the critics one who is du
plex in braiD,and who can look at this
play and see what the writer is try
ing to teach.
The play is great, not pleasant; the
truth very seldom is. But when 1
hear people who permit their daugh
ters to ste “Camille,” find fault with
this play, 1 wonder what has become
of the good sense in the world. They
will see a base, bad woman refined in
to an angel; they will have a young
girl wish that she might be like
Camille.
‘‘BECAUSE IT WAS ALL SO SWEET.”
No girl will wish to be like Pauls.
In the beginning—young, pretty, at
tractive, the toy of men—later on, the
wife of an hoaorable man, who yet
had not been able to kill her past for
her. It seems to me, all through tbe
play, one reads in scarlet letters: “The
wages of sin is death.”
The world has no room to-day, eith
er for the man who wishes to help a
woman, or tbe woman who is trying
to be better. For the fashionable wo
man who conceals her love affairs,
and who is a thousand times worse
than the Paula3 of life, it bss nods and
smiles, and pleasant greetings. For
Paula, trying to he the good wife;
longing so for the love of her hus
band’s child; that child who has taken
her religion in such an unpleasant
form, that she believes it teaches her
to be insolent to tbe woman bearing
her father’s name, there is no sympa
thy. It is supposed that she always
knew, and yet, there was a day when
she was as young and as innocent of
wrong as the purest girl of your ac
quaintance.
My Master, the Critic, would like to
see somebody like Mary Anderson
play this. Bother! Paula was a wo
man, not a girl; a sinner, Dot a saint;
healthy, normal woman^wbose life
had not destroyed tbe sweetness of
her disposition, even if it did make
her burst out ouce in a while in an ex
pression of temper. To my way of
tninking, Pauls, as played by Mrs
Kendal, is a marvelous study. The
Mrs. Tanqueray does not exist in
Paris, consequently a French actress
would not have portrayed her as well.
There are few ot her in New York,but
sheis essentially of Loudon. Always
handsome, always with that Yere de
ere air, she is ready to be the hostess
in the house of the man whose name
she bears, rightly or wrongly, and as
long as he loves her, his friends show
her a certain respect: Possibly, she is
fond of the man. Very often the tie
between them is so strong that noth
ing but death separates them, but she
is unlike the French cocotte, and sue
is scarcely known in this country.
Coarsened?
MEN MORE INDIFFERENT THAN
Does any one ever touch pitch with'
out being coarsened?
Do you know, I think one reason
why so many men rave against this
play is because it hits them very bard.
The Paulas in life are the result of
man’s inhumanity to woman,and men
don’t like to be told of their weak
nesses. Somebody said that they
would like to see Sarah play this. I
have the greatest admiration for tbe
marvelous French woman, but she has
never been able to portray the grande
dame, and with all her faults, with all
her bad temper, Paula still looked
what she originally was, by birth, a
lady. You can cite every part that
Sarah has ever conceived, aad among
them all you will not find one who is
born to high estate And another
thing, the “Second Mrs. Tanqueray”
is not possible in Pans, for a French
man’s love would never cause him to
make what might be considered an
improper marriage.
If you are a woman, I want you to
go and see this play; if you are a mao,
it doesn’t make any difference. Being
masculine, you look at it with the eye
of a critic, being feminine, with the eye
of the woman. Finer in your nature,
you can understand better than does
the critic the yearning of this woman
for the love of a young girl—a girl
whom she believed thought her all
that was good and sweet. You will
despise this girl as I did. The young
girl whose religion causes her inno
cence to be in such a peculiar state
that, witnoct knowing, she believes
wrong ot her stepmotUer, affects me
as do a great many religious people—
people who would not be recognized
by Him of Galilee.
Of course, in the play the greater
part of the work falls upon Mrs. Ken
dal, and she pictured Paula as she
would be in real life; growinga little
weary of the monotony of country
life, longing, as would any woman,
for a social position, nervous and
irritated because she is so much alone,
constantly referring to something in
her old life that she wishes to forget,
and yet making every effort to be a
good wife as far as she knew how. I
am perfectly certain that Aubrey Tan
queray was a deal happier with the
sinner than he was with tbe saint,
who bore him that unpleasant daugh
ter. Most of us find saints very dif
ficult and very unpleasant to live
with. Having all other virtues, they
seldom possess charity.
QUIET DRESSING IS APPRECIATED.
I’ll tell you a fine point that Mrs.
Kendal made, and that none of the
critics noticed. Just before and im
mediately after her marriage, her in
clination was to dress at once magni
ficently ard rather too gorgeously,hut
with a little observation she quieted
down until a pretty silk gown, suita
ble for a gentleman’s wife, and an
evening dress with few jewels,showed
that she was learning to dress as a
gentlewoman does in her own home.
Her friend of by-gone days, who bad
married a lord, was radiant in red
satin and loads of d amonds, when the
Second Mrs. Tanqueray wore a very
p'ain, but superb yellow silk, trimmed
with real lace, and with no jewels ex
cept the comb in her hair.
Another thing the critics forgot
when they saw this play, and which
it woqld be good 10 call the attention
of tberactors to, is the ease with which
the men on the stage wear tbe>
clothes. I saw an actor tbe oth*
night, a very well known oi <
walk around in his eveniLg
clothes with as much grace as if u
were a bootblack, and yet he was sup
posed to repre-ent a gentleman. Ti e
critic doesn’t care; the critic has
much space to fill; if he can abuse the
play or the players, so much the bet
ter; he thinks that is being piquaot
Anybody can throw mud; but to find
the good takes a little care.
To see the perfection in a picture
means a great deal; and to give people
credit for their work is a generosity
that My Master, the Critic, seldum
p« s-esses.
He finds fault with the “Second Mrs
Tanquerayshe can smile at him
Women know she exists, and men are
afraid of her. The mirror is held up
very close to nature, and from the day
that Adam claimed that the woman
did tempt him, men have feared the
t.ru'h I tell you, it is a great play.
You may like it or not, but you must
see it, and you must not, bring a wo
min, be affected by what My Master,
the Critic, says, because after all, he
doesn’t master you, and he doesn’t
master
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