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THE ATLANTA GEORGIAN AND XEWS. SATURDAY, JUNE 1, 1907.
A FLOWER STORY.
The (lowers In the garden, gay.
Held a fete one summer day.
And every thrush and every lark.
Came to call, before the dark.
Miss Marigold In yellow gown
Won new friends and new renotvn;
But Lady Rose was queen of all,
And met the guests who came to call.
Down every row the flowers grew;
Miss Violet, In dainty blue,
Bowed sweetly to her neighbors fair—
Miss Primrose and Miss Malden Hair.
But Just outside the garden wall
Miss Clover stood and saw It all;
•■Ah, me," she sighed, "to dwell within!
Would that a rosebud I had been."
Soon Mr. Bee came buzzing past;
He'd been a guest until the last.
He stopped to call on Mistress Clover
And tell her that the fete was over.
He bent to whisper In her ear,
When to! he spied a dewy tear:
He touched the tear—a honey kiss
Thrilled Mr. Bee with untold bliss.
"Ah, fairest one," said Mr. Bee,
"There’s not a rose us sweet as thee,
I love you, dear, and every day
•Tis true he came and stole a kiss;
I have her neighbor’s word for this.
Til come and steal a kiss away."
MISS HARTLEY’S BIRTHDAY GIFT.
Miss Hartley sat by her sunny win
dow, her lap full of pretty girlish notes.
Ter dim eyes were full of tears, as she
looked wistfully out on the old-fash
ioned garden, which had marked so
many spring times for her. It might
be the last spring she would ever see
It bloom. She was growing feeble, and
was no longer able to teach; as she had
done for so many years. There was
nothing to live upon If her hands and
brain were Idle, so the house had been
sold the day before.
The piles of notes In her lap were
birthday greetings, a day nhcad of
time, to be sure. Her girls had Invited
themselves to luncheon, and a day was
scarcely a long enough notice. In spite
of the pleasure their coming would
give her. Miss Hartley could not help
some anxious speculation ns to ways
and means to provide for twelve hear
ty, happy, hungry girls, whose delight
had always been "a spread at Miss
Hartley’s."
She could no longer afford "spreads,"
hut she would do the best she could,
trusting to the girls’ offering to eke out
her scanty supply. Meantime, the girls
were in quite a flutter of excitement,
and their mammas, who had also been
"girls” once, were almost as excited.
By half-past 12, on Miss Hartley's
birthday, a flock of bright-faced, sweet,
ly dressed little maidens presented
themselves at the well-known front
door, to be welcomed by an eager, smil
ing hostess, who looked quainter than
ever In her gray silk gown and cap.
The girls' offerings proved substantial
Indeed, so that when they sat down to
luncheon, It was at a groaning table;
and laughter and talk flowed merrily,
w hile the dear old lady forgot her wor
ries and Joined In the fun.
"Now. tell us ull about the house,"
said Alice Dent, who, being the oldest
of the dozen, was naturally the spokes
man.
"There’s nothing much to tell, my
dear," said Miss Hartley, with a little
quiver In her voice, 'it was sold yes
terday."
"Sold!" they echoed credulously.
"Tes, the business was concluded
yesterday, and the sum paid for It will
make me comfortable for the rest of
my life. I ought to be very happy, but
—but it’s hard to get used* to u new
place at my age. I’m 65 today.”
"A health to 65!" cried Alice, raising
her glass of water. Every girl enthu
siastically followed her example, and
the old lady's eyes Ailed with tears.
"And now,” said Alice, "I'm going
to make a speech.”
"Hear—hear!” cried the others, and
they settled themselves to listen.
"Once there was a dear, sweet lady,
whom everybody loved," here Alice
bowed to Miss Hartley. "She had
spent long years In teaching, and at
the close of every school year there had
been a great time for diplomas and
medals und prizes of books were
awarded for excellence In standing. All
the graduates, of course, received di
plomas, and though they drifted away,
and married—and had daughters of
their own—they kept their diplomas
carefully, for they loved their dear
school teacher and remembered her
gentle Influence, and 'sent their daugh
ters to her in after yeur& But Ono
day a queer thing happened; tha tables
v • e turned—for the teacnef oaelded
i itiatc: so at thg ttrag sho ap
pointed there was a (nod htnciieon.
Dear Little Women: Here are sev
eral of you whom we have not known
before, nnd how glad I am that you
have written. Do not forget to write
on one side of the paper only, and to
address your letters very plainly to
Marjory Daw, care The Atlanta Geor
gian, Atlanta, Ga. As I have said be
fore, we are glad to have you send sto
ries also, and I think that you will not
only enjoy writing them, but seeing
them In print.
„K Th i*^ w ,^ e,c rVlra Mae Bond writes
nfT. J*" 0Wfi . ,one Pilrk ' which many
of us have not seen, and which we are
always glad to read about.
H , ln ' "f Chlpley, Oa„ writes
about her teachers, and how she is to
her vacation, and Allle Mae
Wooten tells us that she Is to have
month's vacation. How Is
this, Allle. I think you deserve three
months at least. You know we some*
times learn as much from our play as
from our work.
Maud Loehr Allen, of Hoschton. Ga..
tells us about her school days at Bre-
nau, and asks that many of you will
answer her fetter through these col
umns.
And best of all, two little girls, who
sign themselves “E. E.” and “Golden
Curls, write clever little stories, which
I enjoyed, and which f am sure you
will like, too. And now, little women,
goodbye for another whole week.
Your loving friend,
MARJORY DAW,
Dear Marjory Daw: I am a little
girl, living on a farm. My father takes
The Georgian and I look forward with
much anticipation to Monday, so that
I can get the ‘ Saturday's Georgian. I
read “The True Story of the Stage,”
and I liked It.
Our school closed Thursday and I
was rather glad. I am In the seventh
grade, and like my studies very much.
I have taken up one eighth grade
study, which Is science. I will not
have but one month’s vacation, so I
suppose I will spend that at home, go
ing to picnics, spending the day In the
woods. gathering flowers, nnd playing
with the neighbors’ children.
Hoping to see more letters from the
“Little Women," I will say au revolr.
Your friend.
ALL1E MAE WOOTEN.
Moran, Ga., May 21, 1907. 7
Dear Marjory Daw: Yellowstone
Park lies In northwestern Wyoming.
It Is about 2,000 miles square.
It contains thousands of geysers and
hot springs, a mountain of naturul
glass, petrified trees, and, grandest of
all, the canyon nnd falls of Yellow
stone river. Many of the animals
native of the Rocky Mountains
protected In the park by law. The
animals come to the hotel door to be
fed. They have names such
“Grumpy.” “Wab” and “Johnny."
would like to write more, hut I w
have to stop. Your friend,
CORA MAE BOND.
Dear Marjory Daw: This Is the
first time I have tried for the answer
to your charade. I think I have^he
answer: “Shamrock.”
Yours truly,
WINIFRED YOUMANS.
College Park, Ga., May 24, 1907.
(This refers to the puzzle printed on
our page of May 18. You give the
correct answer, Winifred.)
Dear Marjory Daw: I am a little
girl 9 years old. My papa takes The
Georgian. I enjoy reading It very
much, especially the funny pictures
and the Saturday edition. Our school
closed May 21, and the exercises were
fine. The teachers* names are Profes-
x? r HvA York * Miss Bessie Adams,
Mrs. Wi8ham and Miss Norris. The
music teacher was Miss Minnie Wil
liams. I expect to spend part of my
vacation In Macon Ga., with *my sis-
J® r * * expect to have a nice. time.
Goodbye. Your little friend.
_ , , LUCILE HILL.
Chlpley, Go., May 22, 1907.
My Dear Marjory Daw and Little
Jriends: Our vacation time Is now’ at
hand, and, oh, how perfectly delighted
I am to get to the dearest spot on
earth, “home, sweet home.” I’ve been
going to school at Brenau College,
about 18 miles from my dear home.
I’ve spent many a sweet hour at that
school, with teachers kind and loving
playmates. We have one teacher who
makes the girls toe the mark, and that
Is Miss M. 1 love her very much. My
mamma und grandma say she Is the
right teacher in the right place. 1
think so, too. When I arrived at my
dear home I found everything so nice
and sweet. Mamma hus so many
beautiful flowers and nearly two hun
dred pot plants. Our veranda Is such
a lovely summer parlor with swing
ing chairs and swings, and lovely ta
bles with pot plants on them.
Guess what I found nt home? I
found six little kittens and a baby colt.
My little brother, Myron B. f is still go
ing to school: also my sweet little
brown-eyed sister, Myrtlce. Their
school will be out aoon, and, oh, how
glad they will be to get back home.
We have three colts now’—Lee. Jack
and Lula. Papa gave Lee to Myron,
Jack to me, and Lulu to little sister,
but I can’t ride him. Papa has four
teen horses. I wish I had some of my
dear little friends here. I have my
playthings in the upstairs hall. I love
to play. I often go to the office and
write on the typewriter. I’m writing
a little hook. I will conclude for this
time. All my little friends that chance
to see this must write me.
, Your loving friend,
MAUDE LOEHR ALLEN.
564 Green Street, Hoschton, Ga.
A SUMMER STORY.
My Dear Marjory Daw: I will
write to you under an assumed name.
I send you a short story and I hope
you will like It I have acted this
myself, and found It a good way to
learn my Sunday school lesson, so 1
decided to write It In a story, so some
other girl could try It. I like B. A.
M.’s story. Tell her to write again.
I have a book that I write stories In.
and If my first story Is accepted I’ll
try again. Oh, won't It be fun to see
my story In print? Then all the Little
Women may read It. I'm afraid I’ll
write too much, so, with love to you
all, my unknown friends, 1 am, as ever,
“GOLDEN CURLS.”
ROWLIE.
Rowlie, as he was commonly called,
was a fat little boy of 5. One day
Rowlie was In his mamma’s room (it
was raining and he could not go out
to play) and his pet dog, Neal, bit his
finger. Rowlie, of course, cried, little
dreaming to what a purpose he was to
use this bite. The very next day Row-
lie was left alone, while his mamma
was busy at something else. Rowlie
at once took advantage of her ab
sence to climb up Into the chimney,
and get his nice little apron dirty. His
mamma started to switch him, but ho
cried out loudly:
Poor little Rowlie! Poor little
Rowlie! Neal bit his finger! Oh! Oh
Mustn’t whip Rowlie.”
“Why?” his mother asked.
” ’Cause Neal bit my linger,” h<
answered.
Now, wasn’t Rowlie bright?
E. E.
The Indians thought of summer as a
beautiful maiden. They called her
Nlpon, and sho came among thejp in
June. She built her wigwam near the
sun, covering It with green leaves and
flowers,
Nlpon had a grandmother, the Rain,
who often came to visit her. and who
always said to her when she took
leave:
“My child, never turn y our steps to
tke £ I orl I | * * or Stater lives there, your
deadliest foe. If you meet him face to
face your beauty will vanish, your
green gown will fade, your hair will
turn gray, and uti your great strength
will go from you.”
But Nlpon gave no heed tu the warn.
Ing of the Rain. The forbidden coun
try of the North looked strangely
beautiful *in 5 the distance. It was n
wonderful land, with shining hikes and
high blue mountains and bright rolling
rivers. She was drawn toward it
against her will, but all the lime sha
heard the voice of the Rain saying:
"Go back—go back lest the Winter
kill you.”
Still she gave no heed, but journeyed
on till It grew bitterly cold, ami h*r
green garments grew yellow and faded.
At last the wind blew them away, and
her long dark hair turned gray—und
then white with frost, and she lost her
strength and could not go back.
The Bain-mother missed Nlpon from
her wigwam. The boughs of /eaves
were yellow nnd the flowers v.cro
faded—then she knew what hud hap
pened; Nlpon was a prison of grim
Winter, way In the North Country. 3o
she called her bravest warriors, the
South Wind, the East Wind, and tho
Warming Breeze, and she bade them
hasten and rescue Nlpon from tho
clutches of Winter, und they flew to her
bidding.
As they entered the North Country,
Winter felt 111 at case, so lie called
his chieftains, the North Wind, the
North Wester, the Northeast Wind,
and all the frosts and sleet and snow
•spirits.
“Fly!” he cried, “fly to the battle!
Our foes are coming from the South!"
and he grew’ smaller as he spoke.
There was a mighty battle, but tho
driving Rain, and the mild South Wind
broke down the Winter’s strength un
til he was forced to set Ills prisoner
free. And Nlpon, looking weary and
old, with her white hair, set out on
her homeward Jourftey, but as aha
wulked the sun grew warmer and tho
days were longer and the air was soft
er.
She grew’ younger and younger at
each step, until she was fair and beau
tiful once more. She went on and
on, until at last she reached her own
wigwam, where she found her grand
mother, the Ruin, nearly spent with tho
battle.
"You were dlobedlent, my daugh
ter," said the Rain, “see that you never
stray again.”
But Summer—born again each year
—Is ever willful, and grim frozen Win
ter Is her sternest foe.
vlted (or rather who
selves) decided to present her with ft
diploma. Elsie, bring it up.”
Elsie, who was tho youngest, and
therefore tho messenger, ran out, re
turning In a few moments with a long.
Interesting looking box. Alice took off
the cover—and there lay the “diplo
ma"—rolled as all diplomas are, and
twelve long ends—one for each girl.
At a signal from Alice they all rose,
and each taking her end, carried it In
state to Miss Hartley, and placed It Jn
her hands.
“You are to open It,* said Alice.
There may be some mistakes; you
know we never made out a diploma
before.” . , . .
Miss Hartley smiled and obeyed,
drawing off the complicated bow with
old maid precision.
But as her eyes fell upon the con
tents of the paper—she gave a cry—
which was as girlish as any cry of her
pupils, and stretched out her hands:
•*Oh—my girls—my girls; she cried.
’’What have I done to deserve this!
They could not answer, because or
such a queer feeling in their throats;
they could only cling to her as one by
one sha. held them c lose—for the di
ploma” was the deed to the dear old
home, and the name of every pupjl .he
had ever taught was signed to the gift.
—May Leslie In New Orleanastern.
AN odd bequesT. *
A rare axatnplo of discerning patl-
tnflo la given by tho late Marchimew
Isabella Luelnt of Pavia. DO has left
a legacy of 13,000 to o local comic pa
per to which ahe had been a lifelong
subscriber. Her wi|l also Creeled that
1300 in addition should be (pent On a
sumptuous .banquet to whJen the gtaff
of the paper should be entertmea~ln
recognition," so tho will textually reads,
'of the many pleasant hours spent In
•••“ UIIICU US Ull UI|UUIIiik*t UIV, UflU V» Utw — f * 'I
tied with a huge white bow^jwlUt its perusing Us humorous columns.
THE YOUNG DEFENDER.
Philip was a brave boy. All the
other boys looked up to him, and liked
to have him In their parties when they
went swimming or tramping. But they
all agreed that he was queer about
"birds and things.”
The others liked to collect birds' eggs
and did not hesitate to take nil they
could And, leaving many little birds'
homes perfectly empty. Philip never
diaturbed so much as an egg. All aprlng
he watched a beautiful yellow-plumed
woodpecker drilling a hole In a hollow
tree and building his nest there. The
hole was quite high, but one of the
boys determined to get the eggs. He
knew, however, that he would have to
do It when Philip was away.
"The eggs belong to me as much as
they do to him," the boy said to him
self. So one day when he thought
Philip was off on a tramp he took a
small saw and went to the tree. He
bad reached a convenient limb and was
commencing to saw when Philip came
running and shouting.
Tho boy was so startled that he slid
down, dropping his saw, and ran as
though he had seen a ghost
Three weeks afterwariy, when Philip
happened to meet him one day he
called out good-naturedly: "Hello, Bob!
I have been waiting to tell you there
Is a saw up at our house belonging to
you. Come over some time and get It.
By the way, all those little woodpeck
ers’can fly for themselves and they are
as cunning little birds os any one ever
saw.” . .
FIVE-MINUTE PEANUT CANDY.
Shell the peanuts and chop them
line; measure them In a cup, ninl take
the same quantity of granulated sugar
as you have peanuts. Pul In a pan mi
the fire and shake until the augur U
dissolved; then put In the peanuts, and
pour Into buttered tins. You will And
that this Is delicious candy, and Is so
easily made.
THE KAI8ER’S JOKE.
In the course of recent qpnversntlnn
at Potsdnin, the Princess von Buelotv,
wife of the (lermun chancellor, re
marked to the kaiser that her inunslep
needed denning. The kaiser was
amused. ".May I help you to clean It'."’
he usked, and, luklng the remark us a
Joke, she ussented. The next day sev
eral large crates were delivered ut tho
princess’ house and an uutogniph letter
from the kaiser saying that he wa*
doing his share In the cleaning by
sending her a ton of soap.
A NEW KIND OF RAM.
Little Helen had Just come home
from a visit to Grandma’s nnd was
telling Mother all the wonderful things
she had seen.
'One day I saw a whole flock of
sheep,” she said, "und there were a
lot of old rams, too. Grandpa suid they
were very fine ones, and that he had
one of almost every kind there was.”
The next day Helen started to write
a letter.
Who are you writing to, dear?”
asked Mother.
"Grandpa,” Instantly answered Helen,
‘to tell him of a new kind of ram I’m
sure he hasn't got In his flock. I heard
Mr. Smith over at the water tower
talking of It today."
'What kind la that?” asked Mother.
'A hydraulic ram!” replied Helen.
ANSWER TO ENIGMA.
The answer to the rhyming enigma
printed In last Saturday's Issue I*
‘Birthday,” and was sent In by Iluth
Lamb, of Atlanta, and by “iris,"