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It was a long, dry spell in May.
Fannie Corbitt has luit writing.
The crops in Coffee county were
never finer before the rain.
Lucena Spivey must have been
washed away—no letter in a month.
Vental Jackson, who has been vis
iting in Douglas some time, has gone
home.
Eva Adams, down at Fales, has
quit me. Won’t even answer my last
letter.
The picnic at Arnie for last Sat
urday was not a failure, but was
rained out.
I didn’t go to the picnic at Arnie
last Saturday, in fact, 1 don’t think
many others did.
Cordelia Quinn is a long way from
home, but she manages to get two
two letters a week to me.
All the girls imagine they could
love a soldier, and some poor fools
go off and get killed on that account.
I have to be mighty careful and
keep my letters from the girls out of
my sight, or some other girls will
read them.
Let every boy and girl who likes
to read the Note Book, wrtie me a
postal card every Monday and tell
me some news.
Lilia Tanner is down at St. Simons
and writes for me to ome down and
go in bathing with her. She will be
home tomorrow.
One of our McDonald correspon
dents intimates that Mr. Jesse Smith,
of that district, will oppose Mr. Stew
art, for the legislature.
We have another letter from Kin
Starling this week. It will be of in
terest to a good many readers, and
will be found in another place.
John Dorsey says he has seen a
good many girls in his time, but Ma
mie Burkett can “out talk him on any
subject.” Yes, Mamie is some talker
Dora Kirkland writes and wants me
to announce that the big meeting at
Saginaw begins on the 21st and con
tiues until the 30th. Everybody in
vited.
Will Bennett, down at Millwood,
■wants to know “how it is that I get
along with the girls so well.” Can’t
tell, you, lod fellow; it is a mystery
to me.
Mary Peterson, up on Brokton R.
F. 1). No. 1, near the “Rocks,” hasn’t
written to me yet. Mean thing; first
thing she knows I will tell something
on her.
Miss Maudie Corbitt, of Willacoo
chee, is spending this week with Miss
Pearlie Corbitt, and Roy Sutton will
be there tomorrow if the traces
don’t break.
Been doing all I can for a week to
'get Frank Hancock off to the army,
but every tjme I give him a push he
turns around and starts toward
Stokesville.
My office is with the Chero-Cola
people, and Mr. Bailey, of the Coco-
Cola bottling company, is one of my
neighbors. I live in the bottom, he
livis on the hill.
Quite a number of farmers in town
Monday looking blue and out of
heart on account of too much rain.
God sends the rain and the sunshine
on all just the same.
Two car loads of tourists from Vi
enna, enroute to Jacksonville, Fla.,
over the Dixie Highway, passed thru
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last Wednesday. I am afraid
they have had a had trip,
j Prof. Adams is teaching a singing
I school out at Sunny Side, and has a
nice attendance. He sent me an in
vitation to come out there yesterday,
but I couldn’t make the trip.
Last Sunday was a rainy day, but
I Dan Corbitt, over at ’Cooehee, made
the trip between showers to see Miss
Effie. Of course she doesn’t deny
[that she likes hig consistency.
“Little Rosebud," up on No. 4, says
she didn’t write any news last week
because she didn’t have any envel
opes. Wonder what she used to send
her letters to the other fellow?
Rev. Mr. Williams, of Montgomery
county, is assisting Bro. Meeks in his
meeting at Mt. Zion.He is doing some
powerful preaching, it Is learned, and
his hearers are deeply interested.
Preston Burkett is still thinking
about the pretty girl he saw at Dan
Peterson’s and the nice peach-pie he
had for dinner on the 4th. Bet he’s
wanting to go back with me up there
i again.
Ethel and Gussie, down on Rfd. 1,
Nicholls, says if I’ll come down there
they “wiil wash my face in water
melon juice.” What other mischief
will these girls think of to get off
on me?
Dora Kirkladn, at Saginaw, writes
Ito inform me that she and her sister
have named one of the Polan China
pigs Jim, Floyd, Eunice and Pauline.
Bet a quarter they named that little
| runt Floyd.
| I told Tom Courson the other day
| that grub was running mighty close
at my house, and in a day or two he
sent me a bag of potatoes. That was
right; he had more than he wanted
and I needed them.
If you want to hear some hair
breadth escapes, and narrow drive
stories told, just get a Chero-Cola
and Coca-Cola truck driver to sit
down and tell their experiences. No
use to say anything.
Annie Mae Hutchinson and Tessie
Harper came to see me Tuesday. They
were afraid to tell me anything about
“Aaron, of St. Augustine,” but there
must have been something they did
not want me to know.
The Coffee county soldiers in Ma
con were in trouble last Sunday. The
heavy rains and strong winds leveled
all their tents to the ground, and they
had to put them up while the rain
come down in torrents.
Noah Burkett was the first one of
the Chero-Cola truck drivers to get
through to Nicholls this week. He
says he crossed Seventeen Mile creek
on two six-inch planks. It’s my opin
ion Noah has forgotten his Sunday
school lesson.
Bib meeting commenced at Mount
Zion last Sunday and will close to
morrow possibly. So much water on
the ground, the roads in bad condi
tion, made the attendance small at
first, but the congregations have grad
ually grown.
Ethel and Gussie don't like to
think about my quitting writing the
Note Book and say “no one else could
write the Note Book.” You may
think so, but there are others that
think they could make an improve
ment on my style.
I was told last Wednesday evening
THE DOUGLAS ENTERPRISE, DOUGLAS, GEORGIA. JULY 15, 1916
that the copy for the Note Book must
be in every Wednesday morning. If
I cannot hear from any correspon
dents on Tuesday, of coarse I cannot
get the copy ready, and, therefore,
there will be no Note Book.
Myrtice Corbitt, out on Kirkland
RfcL No. 1, writes me this week, and
says the baby has been siek and she
didn’t have a chance to write, but it
is better now, and she is going to
write every Monday. Won’t her
friends help this little mama girl?
I had an interesting litter from
Cordelia Quinn a few daysd ago. She
is at Little Rock, Ark., at one of the
big hospitals, where she will remain
for three months and then join the
“Red Cross” nurses on the regular
army line. One of my chums at the
front.
Lizzie Meeks hasn’t written me a
line in a month. First thing I know
she’ll get in some kind of trouble,
write me on Thursday and say “I
will be in Nicholls Saturday and want
to find a letter.” If that girl doesn’t
think she’s bossing me what does she
think?
Ethel Cothern and Gussie Herrin,
down on No. 1, were hid off in a room
to themselves last Sunday, “talking
up the boys.” One of the boys down
there says his ears are tinging yet,
another one says he is like a poor
convict listening for his doom. It is
hoped the girls will be as merciful.
Some of the soldier boys from Cof
fee county, as they sit around the
camp fire, their thoughts on loved
ones at home, are singing: “When
this cruel war is over, we shall meet
again.” And the girls are standing
under shadows in the yard, looking
down the road: “We are praying for
you dearest, and long to hear from
your low, sweet voice.”
Bessie Henderson, near Pearson,
wrote me last week that her little
brother Willie, who had been afflicted
with a cancerous sore on the side of
his head for some time, died on the
17th of June. Strange that she never
let me know of it before, but poor
girl, she and Laura and Mrs. Hen
derson had so much trouble they
could not do everything.
Bro. Williams, down at Mt. Zion,
is preaching some straight facts and
his hearers are sitting up and taking
notice. He says, in effect, that a man
hasn’t any more right to go to a bar
room, billiard room or lewd house,
than a woman.” He is preaching the
truth, just as the Note Book has con
tended. “Thou shalt not commit
adultry,” means on e as well as an
other.
Just as I was getting ready to go
down to see my chums on Nicholls
Rfd. No. 1, on Friday after the En
terprise is printed some weeks, spend
Saturday ducking Agnes, Cadie, Ar
lo, Gussie, Ethey and some others,
and go to church on Sunday, the rains
came and filled up the creeks, and
now the fish are all over the woods
hunting grass hoppers, and the water
is too deep, the girls might turn the
joke on me.
There is an old pop-gun looking
thing clerking for Hart Furniture
Co., who says he’s a Cannon, but he
doesn’t look it. He despises my cor
net, and says he’d rather hear a conk
shell or cow-horn anytime. He also
says he wants me to help him get a
wife, but no woman that ever saw
him would have him, and I do not
know any blind ones that w-ant to
marry, therefore I think his chances
for wedlock are slim.
I heard a woman say once that she
would neve tell a man that she loved
him until after they were married.
Well, she is married now, and the
fellow must have taken her on faith,
not on her profession, and if she does
any kicking (married women kick
worse than single ones) and he pro
tests, she will likely remind him that
“I never said I loVed*you, did ?” It
is hard to tell a woman’s mind—
they’ve busted many a poor fellow’s
heart, and have mighty nigh punc
tured mine.
One of my chums pu on No. 4 is
being effected by too much rain, and
has gone to writing poetry. Here’s
what she said in her last: “Peaches
are good, but apples are better; if
you love me answer this letter.” I
had an answer off on next mail, be
cause I do love her and she knows it,
but you will ontice she never said
that she loved me. And that is just
like most girls. They want you to
love them but never hint that they
care for you. The criminal code
says “getting something for nothing”
is swindling and cheating.
Miss Dollie Freeman’s Fidela class
of the Baptist church, went on their
annual picnic to the home of Mr.
and Mrs. H. Kirkland, near Chatter
ton, on Friday of last week, July 7.
They go out there once each year, to
get something to eat and dabbles ar
ound in the water, and that must last
for twelve months. On this occas
ion there were, of the class, Misses
Gertrude and Hazel Jardine, Annie
and Bessie Butler, Mattie and Mirian
Merier, Mrs. Reason and Miss Minor
Lott ar.d T. P. Wilcox, of Jeff Davis
county, came across the country from
meet with them.
Little Janie, the Soap-maker.
Lorer.a Shiver, up in Worth coun
ty, says she can’t go anywhere on ac
count of the high water, and she and
| her sisters are doing some quilting,
' and wants to know if I don’t “want
jto come and thread needles.” Now,
that’s like ’em. These girls think I
i ought to help in anything. Mandy
: Webster, in Sumter, wrote to me a
i few days ago to come and see them
(her mama and papa) and help her
make soap. I remember the time
when we used to go out hickory
level, strike a camp, all of us had
sharp axes and hatchets, and cut
down oak and hickory trees, piled and
burned log heaps, and hauled the
ashes eight miles. Then ash hoppers
were made, filled with ashes and the
dripping of lye began. That was
generally just after pulling corn,
when the leaves began o turn yellow,
the fields were full ofdoves and bob
white was inquiring if the “peas were
ripe.” All the cracklings from hog
grilling time, all the meat skins, and
everything from which any grease
could be extracted were gotten up,
put in pots, lye poured in and the
soap making began. Two or three
barrel fulls were made, some made
hard for hand use, by putting salt
in it. Rosalie, Annie and Jane, sad
eyed Jane, we called her, and she
was as true a girl as ever lived—
never was a boisterous laughter, like
Rosalie and Annie, but always had a
smile when she answered you, were
the soap makers. They would put
deer tongue, parched rose leaves and
dried tube roses in some of the sopa
that they made for hand dse, make
it smell nice, Janie said, and when
Sunday came and there was preach
ing at Hebron or Mount Olive, these
three girls would go, walk four or
five miles, and were the best singers
on the ground. Wasn’t any organs
and pianos then, just singing, and
they used The Temple Star. When
the singing master raised his hand,
one hundred sweet voices would say,
“Do-o-o.” Bass, tenor, alto, sopra
no, would all say, “Do-o-o.” Then
the male and female voices would
sound high-tenor. And now, all were
in unison, with a full chord, and sing
ing Bob Cobb would give a sweep of
his arm, and one hundred or more
voices were going up in a grand
chorus of praise to God. Not a bob
ble, not a false note, everything just
as even and smooth as sould could be
made. Rosalie sang high-tenor, An
nie soprano, and Jane sang the ow
est, sweetest alto you ever heard.
Singing Bob Cobb said these three
voices were intended by God to go
together, and I thought so too. Ro
salie and Annie were twins, just 20
years old when I was there, and Ja
nie, the girl with the sweet, low
voice, was nearly eighteen. Annie
and Rosalie married the two McCor
kle brothers, down in Lee, and Janie
found a nice little home in the grave
yard at old Hebron church, and those
who knew what a sweet singing
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Christian girl she was say they “ex
pect Janie is singing in that choir
close up to the sacred feet of her
Savior.” I expect so, too, and if ever
I get to heaven I’m going to see if I
can find her, and I’ll find her and
my poor little mama together, for
they were cousins. Dear little Janie,
the sad-eyed soap maker. I can al
most see her now.
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A wedding, a ring, and we will
write again.
Mr. and Mrs. Wiggins visited at
Mr. Jas. A. Moore’s last Sunday.
Miss Verma Brantley and brother,
Herbert, attended the sing at Bly
stone last Sunday.
Mr. and Mrs. Luther Griffin visited
their uncle at Broxton last week.
Mr. John J. Gay will start a sing
at Blystone next August, the 14th.
Everybody invited to attend. A big
dinner on the ground and lemonade
to drink the last day.
Messrs. Mathew Bolan, Henry and
Joe Griffin, Henry and Dock Johnson,
visited our sing last Friday.
Uncle Jim, I think w-e have had
enough rain dowm here.
LITTLE ROSEBUDS.