Newspaper Page Text
3 CL
ITEARST’S SUNDAY AMERICAN, ATLANTA, C.A., SUNDAY, MAY 25, 1913.
Father Takes a Trip to Coney Island, But---
Things Have Changed Since He Went There As a Boy
By T. E. POWERS,
The Famous Cartoonist
THE MORNING SMILE
Wex Jones, Editor
And Alto
the
Wilted
Cellar
VOL II. ATLANTA, GA., SUNDAY, MAY 25, 1913. No. 24
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?
The Cruise of
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 reader, the whole
thing blew up when we tried to
start her, the story comes to an
abrupt ending.
•As a chaser.
Our Platform
No Japanese or mosquitoes.
Every man who tells stories
to he licensed. To obtain
license he must tell it story to
the examining board and make
every member of the hoard
laugh. Board to be composed
of Homer George, Anthony Com
stock. W. J. Bryan and Dill
Pyckle.
Flexible straw hats.
Free taxi rides, thus reducing
the high cost of living.
A cool summer and bigger
steins.
CLASSIFIED ADVERTISEMENTS.
EXCHANGE — Will exchange
central 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—Brick house-boat,
shingle bottom. Mariner, Smile of
fice.
IN THE SMILE'S
LETTER BOX
A RACIAL QUESTION.
TO THE EDITOR—As the
kids say, I should swallow a
ppoon 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,
isn’t it?—Ed.)
Did You Know That
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
Great because he used to lead
Alexander’s ragtime band?
NOTES OE
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.
Oddities in
the 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.
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.
By WILLIAM F. KIRK
Copyright, 1913, by the Star Oompeny.
N a bright May day in the Spring of 1913 a
stranger swung from a passenger train at
Oshkosh, Wis., 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 /ivenues,"
replied the urchin. “Gee, but him and his folks has
got a swell home since he quit drinking and became
Atlanta’s best pitcher. The number of their house
is 411. Go right up and ring the bell, mister. Harold
Hangover don’t put on no airs. 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 beautiful 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 his 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 bite of
the luscious grapefruit, he sang:
•A weeping wife wa» apeaklng to her husband—
She was speaking In a city fpr 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. t „
"Jake, my darling, let’s stop quarrelling; -
Jake, my husband, do not 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, _t_
All because of a mistake. ?au-
I will even do the laundry— "“l}—
That’s how much I love you, Jake!’"
The low, melodious voice of the great pitcher died
Great Britain Right* Reserved
away as he took another bite of grapefruit. Sterling
athlete though he was Harold Hangover was also a
true poet, and the words hud stirred him deeply.
The doorbell rang, and a servant brought Harold
Hangover a card.
“A gentleman to see you, sir.”
“Hold my grapefruit a moiqpnt, 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.
“Rill 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!”
“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 hLs 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
1L I 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 I”
“Don’t got excited, Harold,” said the manager of
the Crackers, beaming on the splendid young athlete.
“Listen to me. The Atlanta baseball club feels
that It needs you more this year than ever before.
The other clubs have developed unexpected strength,
and I am here, after a meeting with the owners of
the club, to offer you the largest salary ever paid to
a ball player!”
Smith leaned forward and whispered a sum Into
the pitcher’s ear.
Harold Hangover, strong man though he was,
turned pale, then almost green with astonishment.
“Zeb,” hq whispered hoarsely, "another grapefruit,
please. Bring Mr. Smith a grapefruit, too.”
“Yes, sir.”
"And Zeb”
“Well, sir?”
“Have a grapefruit yourself, Zeb.”
This will be continued.
Why the
MILITANTS
Are So
MUSSY
By Our Spyess. ^
Copyright, 1913, by tfc* &tnx rotapmr.
Great Britain Itichta JtaMrred.
r UB CITY LIFE BEOtWH
has a correspondent wtfft
the militant suffragette* In
London. Yesterday she disguised
herself as a Huttese and got into
the secret headquarters of OBJf-
ERAL DIR AH MYTB, end Hstmad
as the general would read an item
from The London Timas, then give
an order; then read another item
and give another order, and eo on.
Our Spyess has cabled fust what
happened ye s ter day t
"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; bun
a big one!
’’One of the Cabinet Minister*
neglected to spread raarmaladOiOn
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 Kara, run
right out and wreck a passenger
train, and pick out one with a lot
of politicians and Americans in 1L
"Premier Asquith's health shows
a marked Improvement" More
bad news. Oh, dear me Well,
Private Aggie Tate, yon hurry up
now and puncture thirty sets of
motor tires and leave your Votes
For Women cards about
"Women will not be allowed to
attend any public functions unless
they are properly attired." Well,
of all the mean, man-made laws I
ever beard of. Sergeant Mary
Slasher, you take six bombs and
put them in the pulpits of six big
churches. IH teach the men to
dictate.
"Reports from Canada say the
Governor-General agreed that the
local militia shall adopt its own
uniforms" What nerve these men
have Lieutenant Sally Atthem,
yon 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, was 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.
“Tbe Home Office bas received
word from the north country that
the sheep raisers have doubled
their flocks on account of the In
creased demand fur both wool and
mutton." Indeed, well, we’ll see
if these despised men are going to
succeed so well la everything.
Private Irma Baddun, run out and
burn ten pavilllons, 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.
We won’t stand such 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 In 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 ot England.
•'Captain Oliver, from British
Ea3t Africa, has brought in twelve
tons of ivory.” Men are trying
to gobble everything. They still
cohtr.ol the shipping. To get re
venge, Captain Tfflie Krokes. you
go into the country and buna
twenty hay-ricks and forty farms.
"The Chancellor of the Ex
chequer 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.