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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,"