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THE SUNNY SOUTH.
ATLANTA, GEORGIA,
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By Streams of Song
“ under green hedgerows, in the leafy lanes
and by-paths of literature, in the genial summer
time.”—Longfellow.
Edited by ALONZO LEORA RICE, Ray’s Crossing, Ind.
MY DEAR OLD SOUTHERN HOME
Fortune’s vanished, friends have left me,
All the world seems sad and dcpnr;
Love is blighted, hope departed,
I am loth to linger here.
May this one request be granted.
When my footsteps cease to roam:
Lay me ’neath the orange blossoms.
At my dear old southern home.
I have wandered, sadly W’andered,
And my fate seems but to roam.
Yet. I'm dreaming, ever dreaming,
Of my dear old southern home;
Of that ivy-covered mansion.
And the cabin of the slave.
Of the dear familiar faces
Soon to meet beyond the grave.
As the smoke wreathes from the cabin.
With its coonskin on the wall,
I can see the gourdvine clinging,
I can hear the darkies call;
'Tis a picture that I cherish
And it seems to me sublime.
Oh! the early recollections
Of my sunny, southern clime.
’Mid the sighing pines of Dixie
Let me spend my latest hours.
Breathing last the balmy zephyrs
Laden with the breath of flowers;
And when earthly ties are severed.
And the angels bid me come,
Let my spirit’s flight be taken
From my dear oh. southern home.
—S. W. F. PREWETT.
VENETIAN GONDOLIER.
Oh, come with me, when thro’ the night
Wanders the starry host;
Then by the moonbeams' silvery light
We glide along the coast!
The air is mild like love’s sweet plea.
The wave shines bright and warm;
The mandolin’s soft melody
Casts o'er our souls its charm!
For lovers 'tis the hour most meet,
Lovett like thee and me;
While past the silent shore we fleet
Across the sleeping sea!
And while it sleeps, the eye will tell,
What tongue n'er would nor did:
The lip will not the lip repel,
Will not the kiss forbid!
Oh. come with me, when thro’ the night
Wanders the starry host;
Then by the moonbeams' silvery light
We glide along the coast.
-F. MUEXCH.
IN TIMES OF NEED.
Outside my latticed window sits
The starry midnight on her throne;
One moth about the candle flits.
And I am all alone.
While steeped in moonlight's silver sheen,
The winds all thoughts to slumber woo,
Save over 1 agues that Intervene,
The ones that fly to you.
Unreconciled I mourn the loss
Of some true hand my own to hold.
Whoso alchemy would change the dross
Of life to purest gold.
Here storms assail each calm retreat.
The stars grow dim, I miss the way;
I faint, for I have borne the heat
And burden of the day.
Beneath a dark and rainy sky
I sail Atlantic's midmost wave;
The sea is wild, the wind is high,
And there are none to save.
That hope may live and faith survive,
And come in full redeeming time,
1 hold above where billows strive
This remnant of a rhyme!
—ALONZO I.. RICE.
MY INSPIRATION.
For a charm to cheer on the weary way.
To lighten my life through the livelong
day,
I ask no boon that is sweeter the while
Than the lingering light of her loving
smile
For a rare reward when the day is done,
For the trial made, for the triumph won,
I ask none other save only this.
The warm, sweet touch of her tender kiss.
For the memories dear of her meaning
smile.
The toilsome, tiresome hours beguile.
And the hope for her kiss at the close of
the day
Clears all of uie cares and the clouds
away.
—D. G. BICKERS.
IN DESERT CALMS.
Beneath where God s white flag is furled,
A truce to care through all the world.
The one for whom love’s feast was spread.
Has long been dead.
And now I go my way alone;
There is no one to roil the stone
Away from Hope’s sweet sepulchre,
No one but her.
That hand has withered now to dust
That held the emblem of my trust,
White roses that sweetly pressed
On whiter breast.
The bourne from whence no traveler
Returns is keeping all of her
Delaying steps whose sounds would make
My soul awake.
My caravan through desert calms
A SOLID SORE
Knee to Instep. Wild with Pain.
CURED BY CUTICURA.
I wan afflicted with euch a terrible §ore leg, it
was thought it would have to be amputated.
I could hardly stand the pain, and had to get
along with a crutch. I tried all kinds of medl*
cincH without success, getting worse until it be-
c.amo a solid sore from knee to instep. Almost
wild with pain, I gave up in despair, I heard of
Cuticura remedies and tried them. The first ap
plication of Cuticura (ointment), after washing
with warm water and Cuticura 8oap, gave mo
eo much relief that I was able to sleep over half
of the night, and in eight weeks I was cured,
T.C.BUISCOK.1CO W.IIunter St., Atlanta, Ga.
CuTicnp.A Resolvent purifies the blood and circu
lating fluiis of IIumok Germs, and thus removte tha
cause, while warm butha with Ccticitba SoAr.and gentlft
i nointinge with Cuticcfa (ointment), greatest of emol
lient ekin cures, cleanse the skin and scalp of cruets and
rcalcs, allay itching, burning, and inflammation, and
thus soothe nnd hesl the most torturing, diafleruring hu
mors of the skin, scalp, and blood, with loss oi hair, when
all else fails. _
Bold throughout the world. Potter D. and C. Coep. #
Bole Props., Boston. “ How to Cure Ail liuraors," free.
BABY HUMORST 1 ^CClfcOBA* ^
Winds onward to the founts and palms.
While camels raise to silent skies
Beseeching eyes.
But oft above the desert sand.
I see a white-domed city stand.
And in its crystal portal see
One waits for me!
—ALONZO L. RICE.
NEATH GRAVEYARD TREES.
The old graveyard, amid the trees! how
many years have gone
Since you and I. beneath their shade, sat
hand in hand, alone!
Half sunken in the ground, the stones
gleamed 'mid the verdant grass:
Across whose emerald spires, we saw the
netted sunbeams pass.
There my ancestors, wrapped in sleep,
lay dreamless, at their ease—
Forgotten! while I whispered love, be
neath the graveyard trees.
The lilies of the valley bowed above the
lowly mounds.
And all the summer air was full of soft,
mysterious sounds.
The roses, on the picket fence, hung,
glistening with dew—
But one sweet flower I saw that day; but
one—and that was you!
Your eyes were like forgetmenots: as blue
as summer seas.
And ah! they held such depths of love,
beneatli the graveyard trees.
The scarlet sage was not more red than
your sweet lips that day;
And when I bent to kiss them, love, you
did not turn away.
And unrebuked and close my arm was
clasped about your waist.
The vestal lilies at your feet than you
were not more chaste.
The treble of the mocking bird, the deep
bass of the bees.
Made music, as we sat and loved, be
neath the graveyard trees.
Where are you now. my little love? Where
are the dreams, so sweet.
Which we two sat and dreamed that day,
with flowers at our feet?
The flowers still are blooming, dear; the
dead sleep, as of old:
And still t,.e netted sunbeams fleck the
long green grass with gold.
But we have quaffed life's bitter draught,
and drained it to the lees:
Since, long ago. we sat and loved, be
neath the graveyard trees.
—G. CONWAY BOKER.
Montrose, Va.
BESIDE THE SEA.
O clasp me in thy strong, white arms.
My head rest on thy knee.
And' far away from life’s alarms
I’ll listen to the sea.
O soft the song the billows sing,
How mournful tis to me!
What is the message that they bring?
“Death, death, it is. thou lowly thing.
Death is the message that we bring
To thee.”
My heart! How weary is the day—
And yet to feel the air
Of early spring about thee play
Is sweet beyond compare;
What joy to see the budding tree.
The flower blooming fair.
To hear the songbird's melody—
(Would that my heart as light could be
As that same songster's is, as free
From care.)
Thou, too, dost feel the springtime breeze,
The billows’ moan dost bear;
And glad the songbird's melodies
Unto thy waiting ear.
And yet how different to thee.
Untouched by daily fear.
Is all sweet Nature's harmony,
With life thv future—but with me?
Eternal sleep each day I see
More near.
O do not turn thy head away
And gaze with tear and sigh
Where clouds above thee onward stray
Across the azure sky!
O do not weep that day by day
Yet nearer death am I!
Can naught thy grief at parting stay?
Sweet Angel! Tn that parting may
Thy God, thy suffering to allay.
Be nigh!
Thou weepcst and the mists arise
Where late ihe day was fair;
Thou weepest and the azure skies
Are clouded far and near;
And still is heard the billows’ moan.
Yet louder and more drear—
Thou weepest. O but not alone.
For in that sadly solemn tone
The [phantoms of a pleasure flown
Appear.
And days of happiness gone by
Come forth in sad array.
With all the joys which thou and I
Have known to pass away.
Yet. though the morrow hopeless be,
As hopeless as it may.
Still from the depths of memory
Recall the vanished past will we,
And through that past the present see,
Today.
Do you owe us back dues?
Do you want to renew?
Why not send in now and enter
our two $3 00 contests? It will
pay you to do it.
niMIM'S will) BIDE
How He Went From Dublin to Lifford to Repay a
of Gratitude.
On a swelling eminence that overlooks
the picturesque bay of Donegal, on the
north coast of Ireland, may still be seen
a range of romantic ruins that once con
stituted the noble castle of Montgomery.
It was the baronial mansion of the
proud race of the Montgomerys, known
as “The Wild Riders of Ireland” two
hundred years ago. But the glory of the
haughty habitation has long since de
parted and only the ivy-covered ruins
now mark the spot where stood a mansion
that was the scene of many festivities
and quite as many tragedies.
The Baron Montgomery who lorded over
that extensive domain about the close of
the seventeenth century was a wild and
impetuous young man who had inherited
all the faults of his ancestors, together
with many of the noble and generous
traits of character that had endeared the
race, in spite of their failings, to the
peasantry of Donegal.
A friend who spent some time in that
part of the island relates an interesting
legend connected with this wild riding
youth as recounted to him by a country
gentleman whose estate lies not far from
the famous castle.
In addition to his hunting preserves,
his well-filled stables and other features
calculated to contribute to the amuse
ment of a wealthy young Irish peer, the
baron had his own private pleasure boat,
or yacht, its they are now termed, and
in which lie was accustomed to make
long excursions up and down the const
during the pleasant summer weather.
He was affianced to a beautiful young
lady, the daughter of Lord Loring, whose
lands adjoined his own, and on one occa
sion he made up a party, including the
Lady Alice Loring, for a trip on the wa
ter. Right merrily the party sailed away
with music and jest and merry laughter,
well equipped for a pleasure trip along
the green shores of that lovely coast. All
went well until they had turned the prow
of the vessel homeward and were almost
in sight of the towers of the castle, when |
a sudden gale sprung up with such fury
as to render the vessel unmanageable.
Vainly the seamen endeavored to direct
the course of the vessel toward the little
sheltered cove, where she was usually
moored when not in use. The winds and
waves detied the feeble powers of the
sailors, and night coming on they lost
their bearings and in the midst of the
darkness and the storm the frightened
passengers heard the horrible roar of the
breakers on the reefs off Malin Head.
Signal guns were tired and ever}- method
of making known their peril and dis
tressed condition invoked, but suddenly,
with a shock that threatened to crush
every timber in the frail vessel, she
struck on the cruel rocks and lay at the
mercy of the bounding billows that broke
over her decks.
Just at that instant a faint cheer was
heard from the direction of the shore, and
in a few minutes the flash of a torch re
vealed the form of a Asher's boat making
its way over the seething waters, manned
by several of the rough fishermen of the
locality. The torch was extinguished al
most as quick as it flared up. but the
momentary flash put heart in the terri
fied voyagers.
A rope was flung out to the boat, but
such was the tumult of the waves that it
was almost impossible to bring the boat
near enough to the vessel to relieve the
passengers. But at length the ladies on
the vessel were transferred to the little
craft, which quickly made its way to the
shore, and they were landed in safety.
Then the boat returned to the vessel for
the male passengers.
It was found that the boat would not
safely carry all on board, so a council
was held to determine who should re
main behind with the crew while the gen
try went ashore. The young baron in
sisted on remaining behind rather than
Imperil the life of a single one of the
brave rescuers, to whom he owed the
safety of his promised bride, but one of
the crew of the boat sprang up the side
of the vessel and exclaimed:
“Divil a bit av it, yer hanor! Not while
old Tim Hogan is alive shall the Bar'll
Montgomery be lift to the dangers av the
sthorm. O'ill remain wid de vlssil.
O'im an ould salt an' niver sthood back
from the say in all me loife, an' O'im not
the man to deshert me lord on a noight
loike this. Git aboard, bar'n. an' my son
Tim'll land ye safely. So be as the vissii
sthays afloat til! he kin return, sind him
back fur me. If it plase Goil that she
sinks, then the heir av the Montgomerys
will at laste be safe!”
So saying he shoved the young man
over and forced him into the boat. The
crew pulled swiftly for the shore and was
soon returning, and in a little while all
were safely landed.
“Tim Hogan.” said Baron Montgomery,
"if you should ever need my services in
any way. it makes no matter what the
cost or trouble, you have only to com
mand me and I'll ride the length of Ire
land to repay the debt that you have
placed me under this night.”
The members of the party reached the
castle in safety without tiny serious re
sults from their misadventure, and in the
autumn following the nuptials of Baron
Montgomery and Lady Alice Loring were
celebrated with great festivity at both
the Castle Loring and the Castle Mont
gomery, and Tim Hogan and ills stal
wart sons and buxom daughters came
down from Malin Head to participate in
the merrymaking among the peasantry
of the estate.
Several years passed and Baron Mont
gomery had taken his place among the
notables of the kingdom, spending much
of his time in Dublin, the then brilliant
capital. He had given up many of his
wild habits and had settled down into a
dignified gentleman, that is, possessed of
as much dignity as an Irish peer was
able to assert in those rollicking, royster-
ing, wine drinking, duelling days.
It was long before the advent of rail
roads and telegraphs, and even the con
veying of messages by post was slow
and tedious, and over the indifferent roads
subject to ail sorts of delays. Baron
Montgomery held jurisdiction over the
county of Donegal, and under the old
feudal system, was possessed of far
greater powers than now rests in the
governors of the different states of the
Union here.
He had the authority o? reprieve and
pardon for capital offenses, but it was
beginning to be the custom to let the law
take its course, except in extreme cases
and the gentry were allowing their feudai
powers to fall into disuse as the machin
ery of the courts increased in efficiency
and public respect.
One night in November there was a ball
to be given at Dublin Castle, and all the
nobility and gentry of Dublin were in
vited to be present. Grand preparations
had been made for the entertainment of
guests as the viceroy was to be there,
and with their inherent love of lavish
ness and display, the people of the Irish
captial had made every preparation for
the success of the grand gathering.
Baron Montgomery had just descended
from the hall of his elegant town resi
dence and was ready to step into his car
riage. when a stalwart figure rushed up
to him, his dress, in the light of the car
riage lamps, showing signs of travel.
“Bar’n, me lord, this is Tim Hogan! Fur
the love av God listen! My son Tim is
sinteneed to be hanged at the noon av
wan day but wan. and I ax ye, fur the
love av all the saints, fur a pardon. Do
vez moind yort dark noight at Malin
Head, when ye tould me to call on yez
whin I should be in throubie? The
Blessed Virgin knows I niver dhreamed
av the. loikes av this!”
"What was his crime?” asked Baron
Montgomery, pausing with a look of anx
iety on the ragged form of the old man.
“His loife was shworn away, me lord,
an’ ef yez 'll give me a fair show I kin
prove it, but it's a long ride from Dublin
to Lifford, and yez are the only man kin
save a boy an’ give him a fair showin'.”
Baron Montgomery held a hurried con
sultation with liis wife, and then, order
ing the driver to proceed to the castle, he
called to Hogan to follow him as he
walked quickly in the direction of the
stables.
“How are the roads, Tim?” he asked.
“Middlin’ bad, yer hanor, hut if yez
s-thill moind the way yez used to roide
'cross country, O’ive no doubt, wid de
help av God, Yez kin make it by roidin’
stlddy.”
Calling to his head groom, Baron Mont
gomery ordered him to bring out two of
his favorite saddle horses to the water
ing place. One was a fine bay. of high
breeding, and the other a noble gray,
of thoroughbred lineage.
"Now watch whicli one thrusts his head
deepest into the watering trough while
drinking,” said the Baron, “and bring
him to the front door saddled for the
journey.”
He then ran up stairs and exchanged
his dress for one suitable for such a long
ride. The groom brought around the
gray and reported that he had thrust his
muzzle much deeper into the water than
tile bay. Baron Montgomery hurriedly
gave him a few instructions, and vault
ing into the saddle, dashed off along the
street leading in the direction of Drog
heda. Mile after mile, league after
league, he moved along at the same
swinging gallop, the noble animal seem
ing to realize that his mission was one
of life and death.
At dawn he drew rein at a small vil
lage. where his panting steed was hastily
rubbed down, refreshed with a draught
of water, while his master swallowed a
goblet of wine, and mounting, was off
again, at the same undiminished speed
across the wild hili country in the direc
tion of Donegal. Hour after hour he
kept on at the same untiring gate, leav
ing town after town, village after vil
lage, behind him; up hill and down vale
and across bleak tracts of moorland with
the chill wind of November in his face.
From time to time, as the horse showed
signs of unbearable fatigue, Baron Mont
gomery would dismount and have him
walned and rubbed down, giving him now
a light fed, nnd again a generous draught
of water, as he judged the animal needed
them, but never relaxing the speed of
that wild ride any more than was abso
lutely necessary.
The distance from Dublin to Lifford
was much greater then than now on ac
count of the roundabout roads, and
across the north end of Ireland in an ob
lique direction. But the wild riding Baron
Montgomery was not to be deterred nor
intimidated from his purpose by dis
tance or difficulties, and on and on and
on he moved with his mission of mercy
uppermost in his mind. None but he could
save young Hogan, and none but he
could redeem the pledge given to the
brave old fisherman on that night of
peril.
The sun rose on the second morning
over the blue hills of Donegal far away
from the starting point, but there w re
still many miles to traverse before the
spires of Lifford would come into view,
and Baron Montgomery nerved himself
for the supreme effort. Mile after mile
melted away behind the fleeing hoofs of
the gallant steed, and higher and higher
the sun rose in the, cloudless autumn
heavens.
The streets of Lifford were filled with
an expectant crowd, wending its way to
the scene of execution, a gibbet was erect
ed on a rising ground just beyond the city
gates on the northern side. The hour of
dread was rapidly approaching, and al
ready the sheriff and his assistants were
...’'intone th. wretched culpri' preparatory
to swinging him to the dread Instrument
of death.
Suddenly there was the sound of faint
cries and shouts in the direction of the
town. Nearer and nearer came the yells
until the great crowd around the gibbet
caught up the refrain:
'"1 ne Barn! Tne Bar'n! A pardon!
A pardon!”
And then galloping across the narrow-
valley came the gallant gray, his nos
trils distended and eyes bloodshot, and to
his quivering back clinging the rider who
was just able to signify by gestures that
he had brought a reprieve, ere he reeled
from the saddle completely exhausted by
his long ride without sleep or refreshment
other inan an occasional glass of wine.
The horse staggered forward and fell
prone on the ground within a dozen feet of
the gibbet, but the crowd rushed to the
rescue. Water was brought for both man
and feast, and in a short time they were
sufficiently restored to return to the town
whither Tim Hogan had preceded them,
borne in triumph by the crowd.
The legend goes on to say that through
the interference of the generous noble
man the young man was enabled to es
tablish his innocence and to prove the
guilt of those who had conspired against
him. The gray horse was given a spe
cial stall and exempted from furtner
work the balance of his life. Baron
APPLICATION FOR CHARTER.
STATE OF GEORGIA—County of Fulton.
To the superior court of said county:
The petition of William M. Otis, J. R.
Holliday and K. R. Lvnan. all of said
state and county, respectfully shows:
1st. That they desire for themselves,
their associates, successors and assigns,
to become incorporated under the name
and style of "The Otis Lumber Com
pany.”
2d. The term for which your petitioners
ask to be incorporated is for twenty
years, with the privilege of renewal, as
provided by law.
2d. The capital stock of the said cor
poration is to be five thousand ($5,000.00)
dollars, divided into fifty shares of one
hundred ($100.00) dollars each.
4th. Petitoners ask the privilege of in
creasing said capital stock from time to
time, with the assent of two-thirds of the
stockholders of the said corporation, to
a sum not exceeding twenty thousand
($20,000.00) dollars.
5th. Fifty per cent of the said capital
stock of live thousand ($5,000.00) dollars
has already been paid in.
Oth. The object of the said proposed cor
poration is for pecuniary profit to its
stockholders. Petitioners propose nnd de
sire to carry on a lumber business: to buy
and sell lumber at wholesale and retail,
both rough and manufactured lumber for
building purposes: and to buy and sell all
other building material ns may be neces
sary for the purpose of carrying on the
business of the said corporation. Peti
tioners desire the right to buy, build, own
and control such lands, mills, machinery
and p'ant or plants as may be necessary
to carry on the business of sawing and
manufacturing such lumber as may be
required, within the scope of their busi
ness, and to take contracts for the sup
ply of lumber and other material; for the
purchase nnd sale thereof, and to exer
cise all the powers usual and appertain
ing to corporations of like character, and
such as are accorded by law.
7th. The principal office and place of
business of the said proposed corporation
is to be in the city ot Atlanta, Fulton
county, state of Georgia.
Wherefore, petitioners pray to be made
a body corporate under the aforesaid
name, with all the rights and privileges
of such corporations as by statute pro
vided.
This 15th day of May. 1899.
SIMMONS & CORRIGAN,
Petitioners' Attorneys.
Filed in office this 17th day of May, 1899.
G. H. TANNER, Clerk S. C.
Montgomery lived to a green old age,
beloved and revered by his tenantry and
respected by his associates for his great
benevolence.
And there on the shores of the beautiful
Bay of Donegal remain to this day the
ruins of the famous Castle of Montgom
ery, where lived the most generous, rol
licking, chivalrous, and wild riding race
in all the land of Green Erin.
MONTGOMERY M. FOLSOM.
LARRY THE WANDERER.
(Continued from Page Nine.)
As he concluded, the other boat came
up within hailing distance.
“Hullo, Bruin!” sang out the young
man at the oars. He was smoking a cig
arette, and had quite a sporty air at
tached to him.
“How are you, Gregory?” returned the
artist, somewhat stiffly.
“Out for a row?”
“We are going fishing.”
“Oh! Say. want to race?” went on the
young man. addressing Larry.
“I wouldn't mind.”
“I'll bet you a dollar I'll beat you.”
“Thanks, but I haven't a dollar to bet.”
“Bet you a good cigar, or the drinks.”
“I don't smoke or drink.”
“Phew! You must be a genuine model!”
whistled Gregory Kennington.
“I am.”
"You’re cool about it!” sneered the
young man.
“Why, not? It's too warm a day to get
worked up.”
"I'll race you for nothing. Come on, if
you dare!”
Gregory Kennington threw away the
end of his cigarette and bent to the oars,
liis craft soon shot ahead several yards.
'I'll go you!” cried Larry. “I’ll beat
him if I have to burst every button off!"
he declared to his companion. “Please sit
right in the middle of the seat, will you?”
"Certainly, Larry. But don't kill your
self. Gregory isn't worth it."
"I won't have to kill myself."
Larry dropped his oars into the water
and bent his back to the task at hand.
Soon the flat-bottom boat was rushing
after the light-built craft at a lively
rate.
Gregory could see the second boat
creeping up, and he renewed his efforts
to keep the lead he had gained: but
though he tried his level best. Larry
gradually lessened the distance between
them.
At last the flat-bottom boat was within
two feet of the other. Then Larry tried
to steer to the right, in order to pass the
craft ahead. He had about covered half
of the distance when an evi! look came
into the eyes of his opponent, who felt
that he was about to be beaten.
“Look out, you're running into me!” he
cried.
“No. I'm not!” returned Larry. “Keep
your course, just as you were before.”
But Gregory ICennington did not heed
him. He swung his own boat around, in
tending to tangle up Larry’s oar in such
a way that the boy would have to let go
of it. Larry saw the movement just in
time. He backed water, and this brought
the oar free from danger.
"Keep your course!" he shouted. “What
do you mean by trying to run down my
oar?"
“Didn't run it down,” growled Gregory.
Larry started to pull ahead, and at the
same instant so did his opponent. Greg
ory’s light craft got directly in front of
the flat-bottom boat. A crash followed,
and the bow o? the craft belonging to the
artist went through the side of the boat
in which the young man was sitting.
“You rascal!” spluttered Gregory Ken
nington. “Look what you have done!”
The boat began to fill rapidly. It w r as
just settling when the young man made
a flying leap into the other craft.
“You’re a first-class blockhead!” roared
Gregory, as soon as he had steadied him-
{NO USEf
TRYING*
I can’t take plain cod-liver
oil. Doctor says, try it. He,
might as well tell me to melt <
lard or butter and try to take'
them. St is too rich and (
will upset the stomach. But i
you can take milk or cream, v
so you can take ^
Scott’s Emulsionf
It is like cream; but willd
feed and nourish when cream *
will not. Babies and chi!- S
dren will thrive and grow®
fat on it when their ordinary j*
food does not nourish them. ^
Persons have been known to .gain v
a pound a day when taking an <j&
ounce of Scott’s Emulsion. It gets *
the digestive machinery in working T
order so that the ordinary food is x
properly digested and assimilated. ^
50c. and $1.00, all druggists. x
u SCOTT & BOWNE, Chemists. New York.
self on the bottom of the flat-bottom
boat.
“It was your own fault!” retorted Lar
ry. “You had r.o business to get in the
way!"
“In the way? What are you talking
about, you scamp? In the way? I’ve a
good mind to throw you overboard!”
“Better try it.” said Larry, with a dan
gerous look creeping into his fearless
eyes.
He had hardly spoken when Gregory
Kennington launched forth with his left
hand and struck him a smart blow on
the cheek.
The next second Larry's right arm shot
out. and the young man went toppling
over the side into the deep waters of the
lake.
(To Be Continued )
ONLY A_30Y.
“And the boy is there—a barefooted,
freckled, backwoods iad. whose age might
be anywhere from eight to twelve, fish
ing pole in hand. There are bramble
scratches on bis bare brown legs, like the
marks of a wildcat's claws, while patches
of sunburn show rosy red through the
opening of his cotton shirt. A single sus
pender and a brim torn straw hat com
plete the tout ensemble, if we may except
a yellow, switch-tailed cur, with one ear
silt and a sinister cast in an eye, sitting
close at the fisher lad's back.
“But sunburn, scratches and tatters,
even the dog, are all forgotten, as the
boy watches breathlessly the wabbling
cork that buoys his fishing line. A king-
fish'-r utters its harsh, rasping o-o*est
against this invasion of its vested rights;
a red squirrel chatters hysterically just
out of reach of the owner of the switch-
tail, who dares not resent the intrusion.”
$100.00!
a missiK
WORTH $1009 IN SOLO.
E 7fWmvffliiT^a
The Sunny South presents to its subscribers a most interesting contest-
one which is instructive and which will lead to interesting reading. We give
below the sentence which we have taken from a well known book, one
which should be in every household. \Ve have omitted one word from
this sentence, and you are to supply the word that has been dropped out.
The sentence is as aoIIows: For the sun is no sooner risen wdth a burn
ing heat but it withereth the and the flower thereof falleth and
the grace of the fashion thereof perisheth. So also shall the rich man fade
away in his ways.”
The book containing the sentence has been sealed up and placed in the
vault of the Capital City bank of Atlanta.
This contest is to test the knowledge of all regarding one of the most use
ful and interesting of books. Y'ou will be allowed one guess at the missing
word for every $1.00 sent, to us account of back dues, renewals or new sub
scriptions.
As stated in the headlines, we propose to give away $100.00 to the person
or persons who supply the missing word in the above sentence according to
the conditions of the contest. If only one person should send in the correct
word together with $1.00 account of subscription, the $100.00 will be secured
by that person. Should more than one correct guess be sent in the amount
will he equally divided among those who guess correctly. Be sure and spoil
the word- correctly and write it out plainly so no mistake can be made
This contest closes June 15th. See the conditions which are necessary to
enter the contest:
The Condition for Sending a Guess
■ — and every guess
must be accompanied by one dollar account subscription to THE SUNNY
SOUTH; the guess must be sent in the identical envelope that brings the
money that pays for the subscription; forgetting it, or leaving it out bv
accident or otherwise, or not knowing of the contest at the time you sub
scribed, or any other reason will not entitle one to send a guess afterward
The guess must come with the subsoriotion or not at all. Should a partv
send more than one guess, he or she will be entitled to a share of the
fund for each correct guess sent; there will he no capital prize—every one
will get a first prize; if more than one person names the missing word nron
erly, the money will be equally divided and all stand exactly on the same
footing. Persons may guess as many times as they send subscriptions
Address
THE SUNNY SOUTH PUB. CO.
ATLANTA, GA.
NOTE: As you will observe, in order to enter the above contest it
is only necessary for you to accompany your answer with $1.(10 ac
count of subscription, either for back dues, renewal or for a new subscrip
tion.
Jg@=» See what wln K‘ ve YOU for $2.00! If you send us $2.00 we will
send you The Sunny South one year, Weekly Constitution one year,
will allow you a guess in above contest and will allow you a guess in
contest $100 FOR THE WORD “GIRL," and will also allow you a guess in
our Five Thousand Dollar Cotton Contest. The guess in each contest must
come in the same envelope in which you send the $2.00 subscription to both
papers.