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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.