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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.