Newspaper Page Text
Father Takes a Trip to Coney
man
Things Have Changed Since He Went There As a Boy
By T. E. POWERS,
The Famous Cartoonist
tF)
^
Summer
Briog#
the Blooming
Rose
THE MORNING SMILE
Wex Jones, Editor
And Also
the
Wilted
Cellar
V:
VOL II.
ATLANTA, GA, SUNDAY, MAY 25, 1913.
No. 24
The Cruise ol
the Cachalot
A STRONG TALE OF WATER*
ADVENTURES ALONG THE
CHATTAHOOCHEE
RIVER.
Chapter II. The End.
A S readers of this great
motor boat story will re
member, last week we
brought the log down to the
point where we and the crew
got the Cachalot afloat.
Owing to the fact that, fortu
nately for the reuser, the wJtLie
thing blew up wnen we tried t“
start her, the story comes to an
abrupt ending.
*As a chaser.
Our Platform
No Japanese or mosquitoes.
Every man who tells stories
to be licensed. To obtain
license he must tell a story to
the examining: board and make
every member of the board
laugh. Board to be composed
of Homer George. Anthony Com
stock. \7. J. Bryan and Dill
Pyekl«L
Flexible straw hats.
Free taxi rides, thus reducing
the high cost of living.
Fond Mamma—They say Sylvia’s arms are so well shaped because
I have made her do a great deal of sweeping.
Young Man—Er does she walk much, Mrs. Ridgely?
A cool summer
steins.
and bigger
CLASSIFIED ADVERTISEMENTS.
EXCHANGE Will exchange
Cemral part of doughnut for mos
quito netting. Smith. Smithville.
TO LET—Fishing rights in full
sized bath tub regularly supplied
with river water. A. Rubber Plant,
Decatur.
FOR SALE-
shlngle bottom,
fice.
Brick house-boat.
Mariner, Smile of-
IN THE SMILE'S
LETTER BOX
A RACIAL QUESTION.
TO THE EDITOR—As the
kids say, I should swallow a
spoon and get all stirred up—
but at the same time I’d like
to ask. Why are Japanese?
CORNELIUS O’SMITH.
(You'll have to
write Mr. Bryan.)
A PUZZLER.
TO THE EDITOR—Why does
a mouse go into a mouse trap?
PETE PEWEE.
(It’s made for
’em to go into,
J isn’t it?—Ed.)
Did You Know Thai
There is one firm that never
dissolves partnership, and that
is Bacon & Eggs?
Nobody knows what makes
the sun so hot, unless It be that
he gets Into a baseball argument
with the moon?
I should eat snails and slow
up?
When a hen won't lay it’s be
cause she hasn't got an egg?
When a hen does lay it s just
because she feels like It?
Alexander was surnamed the
fireat because he used to lead
Alexander's ragtime' band?
NOTES or
THE CAUSE
(From the London Suffragist.)
Mrs. Lina Hammond advanced
the cause of liberty yesterday
by destroying the stock of a
poor stationer.
The fire of liberty burned so
brightly in the heart of Miss
Sylvia Spankhurst that she set
fires burning In the heart of
Dorking’s residence district.
Odd lties in
tlie News.
Woman sues for divorce be
cause her husband’s hair is red
and it doesn’t match her new
rug, which is mostly blue.
Hens in .the East have gone
on strike because one of their
number was recently condemned
to be fried a la Maryland for not
laying any eggs.
Some citizen of wrote
a letter to Mayor Gaynor and
didn’t receive a reply. Note:
One is probably in the mail.
Temperance lecturer kicks
because Secretary Bryan serves
grape juice. • Says water is
strong enough.
By WILLIAM F. KIRK
SOCIETY NOTE
The Imperial Hotel Hungry
Five Club gave a picnic at East
Lake last Monday. It was ex
tremely exclusive, only the Hun
gry Five being present. Every
body else sent regrets.
Copyright, 1018, by th« 8t«r Company.
O N a bright May day In the Spring of 1913 a
stranger swung from a passenger train at
Oshkosh/ Wls., and gazed moodily about him.
Something In the square, capable shoulders of the
man, not to mention an alertness and ready poise
In his every move, suggested a born leader of hosts.
"So this is Oshkosh!" he exclaimed. "Oshkosh,
the home of the greatest baseball pitcher the world
has ever known. Oshkosh, where Harold Hangover
was born and brought up—Oshkosh!”
Ceasing his musing as abruptly as he had begun
it, the stranger beckoned a little newsboy.
“Where does Harold Hangover live?" he asked.
"Over on the corner of Fourth and Fifth avenues,"
replied the urchin. "Gee, but him and his folks has
got a swell home since he quit drinking and became
Atlanta's L'si pitcher. The number of their house
is 411. Go right up and ring the bell, mister. Harold
Hangover don’t put on no atrs. He even lets tramps
come there and eat."
Smiling inwardly at the boy’s last remark, the
stranger called a taxi and was whirled away toward
the corner of Fourth and Fifth avenues.
In the bearttlful drawing room of his Oshkosh man
sion, one of the most regal buildings in that city of
palaces, Harold Hangover was seated at the piano,
attired In a flowered bathrobe and Oriental slippers.
He was munching dreamily at a grape fruit which
he held In hiB left hand, and his right—the wonderful
right hand that had thrown so many "sneeze” balls
in other baseball seasons—was roaming over the
ivory keys, rendering the accompaniment to a pa
thetic little ballad. Harold Hangover always played
the piano with the forefinger of his right hand, but
be played exceedingly well. Taking a huge bitd of
the luscious grapefruit, he sang:
“A weeping wife was speaking to her husband—
She was speaking In a city far away.
Her husband he was very hard of hearing,
He scarce could hear the words which she did say,
Her gestures was so pitiful and pleading
They ought for to have touched his heart of stone;
But nothing she could say in that city far away
Could move him, so she loudly then did moan:
CHORUS. j .
“Jake, my darling, let’s stop quarrelling; ] r
Jake, my husband, do no* shun me; *V
Though you’ve said that I am fickle,
From our home, dear, do not thrun mel
If I go, I go forever,
All because of a mistake. —
I will even do the laundry— *-
That’s how much i love you, Jake!’’’
The low, melodious voice of the great pitcher died
Great Britain Righta Rawerred.
away as he took another bite of grapefruit. Sterling
athlete though he was Harold Hangover was also a
true poet, and the words had stirred him deeply.
The doorbell rang, and a servant brought Harold
Hangover a card.
“A gentleman to see you, sir.”
“Hold my grapefruit a moment, please,” said the
great Oshkosh pitcher, “that I may examine the gen
tleman’s card.”
“I never hold grapefruit, sir!” declared the servant,
viewing his master haughtily. “I wasn’t hired for
that, sir!”
With a gesture of annoyance, Harold Hangover
swallowed the troublesome remainder of his break
fast, and then took the slip of pasteboard.
“Bill Smith,” he exclaimed. “Well, by all that’s
good and glorious! Show him up, Zeb.”
Another moment and the greatest of all managers
was embracing the most wonderful pitcher in or out
of organized baseball.
“Harold 1”
“Bill!”
Their first greetings over, Harold Hangover mo
tioned gracefully toward a convenient chair, and
wheeled about on the piano stool.
“Are you going to sign for the season?" asked
(smith.
“Am i going to sign?” echoed Harold Hangover,
scratching his ear with a tuning fork. “Well, I
hardly know. How much are you going to pay me?
I didn’t draw down enough last year, and you know
it. 1 wouldn’t have cared so much at that, because
you and me is good pals, but when I heard about,
the fancy salary that Cobb jimmied out of the Detroit
management, 1 made up my mind that I wasn’t go
ing to live on dog biscuits no longer. I ain’t going
to do It, and you needn’t ask me to 1”
"Don’t get, excited, Harold,” said the manager of
the Crackers, I learning on the splendid young athlete.
“Listen to me. The Atlanta basebull club feels
that it needs you more this year than ever before.
The other clubs have developed unexpected strength,
and I am iiere, after a meeting with the owners of
the club, to offor you the largest salary ever paid to
a ball player!”
Smith leaned forward and whispered a sum into
tlie pitcher’s ear.
Harold Hangover, strong man though he was,
turned pale, then almost green with astonishment.
“Zeb,” he whispered hoarsely, “another grapefruit,
please. Bring Mr. Smith a grapefruit, too.”
i’Yes, sir.”
“And Zell”
“Well, sir?”
"Have a grapefruit yourself, Zeb."
This will be continued.
Why the
MILITANTS
Are So
MUSSY .
By Our Spyess.
Ccpyrtiht. 191.1. bT the Stir ComrinJ.
Orect Britain Bight* Krefrred
r llE CITY LIFE SECTION
has a correspondent with
the militant suffragettes in
London. Yesterday she dtsiutsed
herself as a Nuttess and gut into
the secret headquarters of (1EN-
ERAL DINAH MYTE, and listened
as the general would read an item
from The London Times, then give
an order; then read another item
and give another order, and so on
Our Spyess has cabled fust what
happened yesterday:
“The Home Office has decided
to remove the tax on boomerangs
in Australia." The idea, how out
rageous. Major Annie Bang, go
right out and burn a church; burn
a big onel
“One of the Cabinet Ministers
neglected to spread marmalade on
his toast at yesterday’s tea.” Hor
rible. Some poor, down-trodden
woman slaved to make that mar
malade to sell. The men must
eat it. Captain Ida Rare, run
right out and wreck a passenger
train, and pick out one with a lot
of politicians and Americans In it
“Premier Asquith’s health shows
a marked improvement.” More
bad news. Oh, dear me. Well,
Private Aggie Tate, you hurry up
now and puncture thirty se>s of
motor tires and leave your Votes
For Women cards about
"Women will not be allowed to
attend any public functiona unless
they are properly attired." Well,
of all the mean, man-made laws I
pver heard of. Sergeant Mary
Slasher, you take six bombs and
put them to the pulpits of six big
churches. I’ll teach the men to
dictate.
••Reports frhm Canada say the
Governor-General agreed that the
local militia shall adopt its own
uniforms.” What nerve these men
have Lieutenant Sally Atthem.
you go out and kidnap some mem
ber of parliament’s child at once.
“The Spring season at the Ber
muda hotels was the best on
record.” Oh ho. it was, jvas it?
More money for the men who own
the hotels. Colonel Dora Bangs,
you go right out and burn eighteen
houses. Burn the houses of
widows because they got their
money from their husbands and
their husbands were men.
"The Home Office has received
word from the north country that
the sheep raisers have doubled
their flocks on account of the In
creased demand for both wool and
mutton." Indeed, well, we’ll see
if these despised men are going to
succeed so well in everything.
Private Irma Baddun, run out and
burn ten pavlllions. blow up three
golf links and scuttle a dozen rac
ing shells.
“From Calcutta it Is learned the
Viceroy of the Indian Empire will
visit the native Sepoy regiments
during the June maneuver.” Oh,
he will—a man in charge of India.
Wo won’t stand auch Injustice.
We’ll get square. Corporal Maude
Terrorette, burn ten bridges and
break all the windows of poor
shopkeepers’ shops on your way.
“Members of Parliament are be
ginning to appear to their new
straw hats.” New hats, eh? And
we poor women can scarcely get a
ten-pound hat a month. Outrage
ous Private Lotta Killings, rush
right out now and throw a bomb
into the Bank of England.
“Captain Oliver, from British
East Africa, has brought in twelve
tons of ivory." Men are trying
to gobble everything. They still
control the shipping. To get re
venge, Captain Tillte Krokes, yore
go into the country and burn
twenty hay-ricks and forty farms.
"The Chancellor of the Ex-
chequor approves of the loan of a
million pounds to China.” Oh
the brutes! He wouldn't lend me
ten shillings, but will give a yel
low Chi never mind. Major
Dottle Frevver, dynamite four
blocks of tenements to-night when
all the tenants are asleep.