Newspaper Page Text
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Little Bobbie’s
Pa
By WILLIAM F. KIRK.
T HARE was ii yung man cairn to
our house the other nite wlch
has jest graduated from West
I’oint. He was a nice yung man. He
was as strate as a arrow & his clothes
fit him fine He is a friend of Ma s
unkel, wich also went to West Point
«&• was shot in the buck yecrs ago in
a Injun campaign. Ma never likes to
talk much about her unkel, heekaus
Pa is all the time wanting to know
how it was that he got shot in the
back
The nairn of the yung man was Gal-
4 braith Denton. His naim. was like the
naims of the army ossifers in plays &
stories & he was vary handsum. The
only thing I didn’t like about him was
that he was all the time bragging. He
is the only West Point man I ewer saw
that bragged. Moast of them knows
better wen they git thru school.
I ha vent the faintest idee ware they
will send me, he toald Pa & Ma. My
only wish is to be sent to some post
ware thare is plenty of action & danger.
Danger is my middel naim, he sed.
The direst peril in the world is like
that much custard pie to me. 1 think
I grow taller & broader on a diet of
danger, he sed. Doant you feel that
way? he asked Pa.
Pa Is Modest.
I think Pa was going to say Yes.
but he saw Ma grinning at him & he
sed Well, to tell you the truth, 1 am
not so full of Are & recklessness as
I was wen 1 was a yung man. In
those days. Pa sed. I cud put my hand
in a mad dog's mouth with a smile,
or face the charge .of a en-raged bull
w ithout batting a eye, but my advanced
veers have sobered me down a bit &
made me think of other & greater things
than fiteing.
Well, sed the yung man, Mister Den-
tion. it i^ this way with me, he sed
to Pa. I do not imagine that I shal
grow' less feerless with the added yeers.
Tn fack.f beeleeve that when I am a
old man I will be eeven moar dauntless
than 1 am now, & wen the grim reaper
cums he will find me in the hour of
Deth as I ever was in life, unafraid.
That is a fine way to be, said Pa.
You will find, sed Pa. wen you go to
the front, many things in aoktual war
fare to try yure currage sorely. In the
dark days of the Civil War. Pa sed.
the days that I dred to recall to any
grate extent eeven now, 1 went thru
nardships * faced dangers that wud
; have killed any ordinary man or made
him crazy. 1 wonder now' & then, sed
Pa. that that terribul war dident maik
me reelv insane. Dont you. wife?
Oh, 1 suppoas so, sed Ma Sumtimes
I think you are a littel dippy at that.
Ma Gives Him Away.
Pa got kind of red in the face, but
ne kept on talking. My boy, he sed
y t<** Mister Dention. wen you have gone
thru a baptism of fire such as me &
my braiv comrades went thru at Mis-
shunary Ridge or in the battel of the
Wilderness, or at Shiloh or Chancel-
lorsville. Pa sed. ypu will show them
how reely braiv you are. < >ne night 1
was surrounded by a W’hole company
of cavalry Pa sed I newer lost my
superb nerve, 'raking advantage of a
blue mist that hung nave.’ a fray land
scape. I mingled freely with the enemy
& thus made my escape.
I suppoas yure face was blue with
leer, sed Ma.
Mr. Dention beeleeved F’a until Ma
sed: Lissen. Galbraith; this deer hus
band of mine was never in war ex
cept with me.
C2
Polly and Her Pals
Pa Grasped the General Idea
•’opyrtfht, 1018, International New* Herv’ce,
Bv Cliff Sterrett
■ ^ ■
H4M6ED II 1 Kin]
See wdT'f 7hA
Double wnu
"The din6 BuStfd
Out FiT l
vy/ELt Tot? pnv
SakeS, /4Sk Some
Bony! it W/omT
Th47S a s'
CojCh! \
r —
MEV CAP{ D‘VOU
\XUo\HJ 4Uy"Tntw6
/ 4bou'j
/otto mobiles’ :
7
$URE!!
Th/7T my
I G6\ me
A MORSE
AU’ Bu66V
gr
. V\".
VER GAS LiiJES A Bi r Clouded,,“The
PM-fiMUM PoiMT^ of Vbup uibp^Toel
ARE SET Too “TIGHT" AW’ THEVVE s'
Burnt out 1 vbuR magneto is I
WWEAK AMD VOUR BRUSHES (— J
ARE ouT OF T/ME.. r ->
O'THTjtyjtSE. IT SEeMS"
S 5* Od<JJ
WHAT DID]
he (Ay, \
PA 2
1
HE yez.
“THEY SEEM^
TBE SoME-
-TtflfJ’ 'T'HE
MATTER-
VyyiTH IT!
THE TRIPLE TIE
A Story for Baseball Fans That Will Interest
Every Lover of the National Game
SYNOPSIS.
Gordon Kelly, a young North Geor
gia mountaineer, comes to Atlanta
to get a place with B'lly Smith’s
Crackers. It is raining when he
reaches Ponce DeLeon and he is
nearly run over by an auto, in which
are two persons—a man and a young
girl. The driver of the car is an ar
rogant fellow. The girl makes him
stop the machine. She gets out and
inquires if Kelly is injured. She
apologizes for her companion’s
brusque manner. Kelly sees Mana
ger Smith an l te’ls him he has never
played a game of ball. Smith con
sents to fiive Kelly a trial. The girl
in the auto is Mildred Deery, daugh
ter of Galen Deery. a crafty and
wealthy speculator in timber lands.
Her companion is Forrest Cain, a
rich young man about town. Kelly
owns timber land that Deery would
like t6 possess. Kelly is invited to
the Deery home, where he is intro
duced to Mildred. Cain hears Mil
dred order an auto to take her guest
to ids hotel. He takes the driver’s
place and carries Kelly out into the
woods. Kelly thrashes Cain. Man
ager Smith tells the newspapers about
his new find and the reporters print
all sorts of ‘joshing ’ stories about
Kelly.
Now go on with the story.
By A. H. C. MITCHELL.
Copyright, 1913, by International News
Service.
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
At the same time the newspaper
photographers unlimbered their bat
teries and began bombarding every
thing in sight. The reporters took
possession of the players’ bench and
passed intimate remarks with
their friends in uniform. The train
ing season of the Atlanta club was
on and Manager Smith, in full charge
was right in his element. Next in
importance, judging by his own per
sonal estimate to himself, was Whis
key, the colored man-of-all-vvork.
Ed Gillespie, the groundkeeper.
had the field in fine shape, despite
the severe rains of the preceding
week, which had nearly driven him
to d rink.
Then minutes of tossing the ball
sufficed.
Far More Important.
The old man had given his son a
ver\ fair education, and had taken
him into his shop The young fellow
was over-particular about a great
many little things, hut the father
made no comment. One day an order
came in from a regular customer.
’’1 w ish to goodness.’’ ext'.aimed the
.‘■on, “that Jones would learn to spell.”
‘‘What's the matter now ?’’ inquired
the father cheerfully.
"Why, he spells coffee with a k.’ "
"No—dors he? 1 never noticed it.”
“Of course you never did.” said the
son. pettishly. "You never notice
anything like that.”
“Perhaps not. my son," replied the
old man; "but there is one thing I do
notice, which you will learn by and
" md that is that Jones pays cash.”
Batting Practice.
Speedy Courtship.
A man recently in New York laid a
wager that he would woo. win, and
marry within an hour a young lady
whom, with his companions, he had just
se^n arrive at the hotel where he was
living
There is nothing in the American
marriage law to prevent this dispatch.
Hr introduced himself to the damsel,
she smiled upon his suit, a minister
was called in. and they were married
within an hour.
The wager, of no inconsiderable
amount, was handed over to the bride
groom, who left with his bride the fol
lowing day It was shortly afterward
discovered that the couple had long
been man and wife, and that they had
been traveling about playing the same
trick at various hotels.
Jack London s new story,
“The Scarlet Plague,” begins in
the American Monthly Magazine
given free with every copy of
next Sunday's American.
"Batting practice!” suddenly yelled
Bill Smith. 'Dunn, put on your shin
i guards. Brady, go into the box and
toss up a few. I'll just take first
t rack at that ball myself. Gee, boys,
i It feels good to get a bat in my hands
! again."
To the player all the joys of base-
! ball are confined to batting and pay
days. and it is believed that many a
bail player would waive his salary
if he could make a base hit w henever
he wanted to. Every player would
bat for 1.000 if he could have his way
and pitchers would be driven out of
; the profession.
Smith took his place at the plate,
a dozen negro boys spread them-
I selves in he outfield to shack the
I balls; Brady went to the mound and
! threw up a straight ball. Smith pasted
it to left and ran gleefully to first.
“A hit!” he shouted. "I'll lead the
Pinch Hit League this year.”
One by one the players took their
. turn at bat. Most of them hadn't had
a club in their hands for six months.
Many of them swung wildly at the
ball. Their eyes had not yet become
accustomed to the novelty of the situ
ation.
Gordon Kelly, being the "kid" *»f
the party, was the last man to face
‘.he pitcher. He assumed the same
pose that filled Bill Smith with aston
ishment the day they first met
Whiskey crept up to the players'
bench and stood grinning behind tin
reporters.
"Here's Billy’s phenom," remarked
Percy Whiting, the dean of the re-
portorial corps. "Watch him miss
the ball a mile.”
‘‘He looks like business, anyhow,”
observed Murphy, a confrere
Behind the plate Dunn spat in the
big mitt and pounded it down with
his right fist
'‘Look who's here.” he cried to
Brady in the box
“Whatyer got. kid, something now,
demanded Brady, with a grin.
"The only way 1 know,” replied
Kelly, smiling. "If I’m wrong you
fellows will have to teach me some
thing dif”—
A Great Hit.
His remarks were cut short. The
ball was sailing up to the plate. Kelly
stepped forward and with a tremen
dous swing met the sphere fairly and
squarely with his bat. There was a
crashing sound and the ball, describ
ing a huge arc in the air. cleared the
bull by thirty feet and fell to earth
far beyond that rampant figure.
An ear-splitting yell, such as t in
only be emitted by a negro under tno
pressure of pleasureable excitement,
issued from the throat of Whiskey,
nearly bursting the ear drums of the
three reporters seated on the bench.
‘‘Some hitter, gem'men, some hit
ter: Wow!” shouted the colored at
tendant.
The instant he hit the ball, Kelly
dropned his bat and circled around
the bases with the speed of a .Mott
Haven sprinter. Percy Whiting
jumped to his feet.
"Hey, Hypo!” he shouted to his
camera man, "come here.” And when
that individual rushed up he whis
pered hoarsely:
“Snap that fellow in tweny differ
ent poses—standing up. lying down,
‘ roll over, say' please, play dead and
/everything on the calendar; catching
; the ball, running the bases and at
i bat—especially at bat. Hustle now
(and we’ll spring a good one in the late
editions of The Georgian this after
noon.”
"Do you hit all the ptichers like
that kid?” laughed Brady, as Kelly
raced over the plate.
"I don’t know," replied Kelly, pleas
ed at the question. "You see I never
faced a good pitcher in my life. What
1 mean by that Mr. Brady,” he added
hastily, running out to the b*»x in
fear his answer had been miscon
strued. "is that 1 never played a game
of hall in my life and what I will be
able to do with your pitching when
you get in condition and cut loose is
something 1 know nothing about. I'm
afraid I will fall down hard. You
see all you did was to toss up a slotv
straight one that time."
"That’s ai right, kid." said Brady.
"No one ever made such a long hit
off me before, and if you can meet
the fast one and the curves tin* way
you did that one they will go just as
far—further if you pickle a curve
ball. Stick around, kid, stick
around.”
Kelly thanked him for his enouor-
aging words and walked away.
"How fast can you run, Gordon?”
asked Bill Smith.
"I have done a hundred in nine an 1
four-fifths.” replied the recruit, with
a laugh, "hut I’m afraid the record
You see I timed my-
TOO MANY KIDS
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T HKY told old Watkins, the show
man. that there was no use giv
ing his show in Kornshueks.
There were too many kids there.
Old Watkins was in the free show bus
iness. and others in the same business
had said to him: "The kids crowd in
ahead of the old folks and monopolize
the show They absorb all the humor
ous offerings, and actually Interrupt the
doctor just at the important point when
he unloads his wares, including cures
for toothache, rheumatism, and colds
and complexion beautiflers, at 50 cents
a whack.”
These kids, as far back as tradition
goes, had spoiled everything in Korn-
shucks. They had interrupted sermons
and lawn fetesand comic operas: and
once when there was a sham battle the
shooting could not be heard for them.
But in spite of all he was told about
those kids, old Watkins went on put
ting up his tent for his medicine show.
He merely listened politely to the people,
who wagged their heads and warned
him of failure. By the time his te.nt
was up the kids filled the entire land
scape back to the horizon. But he went
ahead.
About fifteen minutes before the time
the show wi % supposed to stact some
thing occurred «.n another vacant lot a
little distance off. A man built a bon
fire. Then lie produced an explosion.
It was no little explosion, but a regular
Fourth of July affair. Then came more
explosions.
Along about the third of the series
the vacant lot where this was going on
began accumulating kids. They came
at the rate of 1.000 per bang from that
time on. By the sixth bang all the kids
in town were there, and only the old
folks were left for the free show.
Old Mat kins said: "You need not fol
low the kids to see what is going on
there, my friends There is nothing
there but a bonfire and an ear-splitting
racket. But it will keep the kids occu
pied and happy, and we can now pro
ceed to have a show in peace."
"Hooray !" applauded the grow r n peo
ple. "Go ahead! Isn’t It delightful'.'"
The performance proceeded. The
mothers laughed and the fathers
laughed Why shouldn't they? There
was no one stamping on their toes and
pulling their arms off. There was no
fighting and scuffing and crowding
nothing disagreeable at all. Only the
refreshing jokes of the medicine man,
made up as a negro or a Dutchman or
some other inhabitant of .the realm of
mirth!
It was great! They laughed and en
joyed themselves and listened with
breathless alarm to the dreadful things
that might happen to them if they did
not avail themselves of the providential
chance to buy medicines that would heal
all known diseases.
The show was over and all the money
to had was acquired b; old Wat
kins. th* fre* show medicine man. be
fore the explosions and the bonfire died
down and released the kids.
won't stand
self.”
"You timed yourself?’’ queried the
manager, in surprise.
"Yes. sir."
Bill Smith looked at his ‘‘phenom '
long and earnestly. He said at last.
‘‘Can that stuff, boy; can that stuff.
If you don't, you'll drive me bug
house."
CHAPTER XI.
I T is to be presumed a ball player
would look foolish if. just as a
game was about to start, he step
ped to the home plate, faced the as
sembled throng, removed his cap and
sang the following from the prologue
to “Pagliaeci:”
"E roi. pruttosto che If onstre
porere gabbane d' istrioni. If
nostr’ (mime considerate, poichc
not Siam unmini di came f d'
ossa, f che di quest’ or/a wo month >
nil pari di voi spiriamo /’ aere!"
He would doubtless appear equally
foolish if he sang the same words in
English:
“Ah. think then, street people.
W hen pc look upon us, clad in our
motlen and tinsel
Ours are human hearts, beating with
passion.
TTc are but men like you. for gladness
or sorrow.
’Tis the same broad Heaven a bore us.
The same wide lonely world before
us
There might be some scattering ap
plause. but a vast majority of the
unfeeling crowd would yell: "Cut
it out!"
Fine Men Among- Players.
Yet ball players are men. They are
human beings, a fact often lost sight
of by those who pay to see them per
form. Frequently they are jeered and
hooted and insulted by men of a low'
order of intelligence in the crowds;
men who would not dare to say the
same things to the players, if they
met them face to face on the street.
There are those who say the life
of a ball player is degrading: that
baseball is a trivial profession. Yet
the Governor of Pennsylvania was a
professional ball player. So was
"Billy” Sunday, the revivalist. So
was A. G. Spalding, millionaire and
near-Senator from California. .So was
Edward Hanlon, one of Baltimore’s
most successful real estate operators.
So was Ted Lewis, a professor at
Amherst'College. So w’ere hundreds
of men who arc now successful in
other walks of life.
Things happen in baseball w'hieh
never reach the ears of the public.
There are tragedies and sorrows, joys
and happiness in the national game
that the outside world wots not of.
All of which in this roundabout way
leads up to the introduction to the
reader of Thomas P. Morrissey, fa
miliarly known by the sobriquet of
"Long Tom.”
For fifteen years Long Tom
caught behind the bat in the big
leagues. In his prime he was reck
oned among the best men that ever
wore a mask. One year he caught
14k games, handling the delivery of
all kinds of pitchers—those that were
as wild as hawks and those that had
fine control; the ones that had
"everything” and the ones that had
nothing but a prayer; the curve balls
and the treacherous “spitballs.” But
Long Tom had seen his best days
and he was now down in the minor
All of which, in the roundabout way,
leads up to the introduction to the
leagues, with only a brief baseball
life before him. His fingers were
gnarled and distorted. His right arm
was no longer the terror of base-
stealers. His legs had gone back on
him.
Bill Smith, manager of the Atlanta
club, had taken a chance and signed
Long Tom to a contract. He wanted
him principally to coach the younj
pitchers on his staff and he had an
idea that the hot Southern climate
might boil the old fellow out and
put him into something like his real
form. Long Tom was not old except
in a baseball sense. He had just
turned thirty-five, but in baseball
youth must be served.
Made Him Jealous.
Long Tom reported for practice the
first day. He arrived in the club
house just as the others began their
practice on the field. He slowly un- (
dressed and put on a uniform, and. I
picking up his mitt. mask, chest pro- I
ttector and shin guards, walked •
through the runway that led to th** j
field. He came on the scene at the;
very moment Gordon Kelly was |
standing at tfoe plate w'aiting for
Brady to pitch to him. and when
Kelly made that tremendous drive h
stood stock still and watched the ball
in its flight far into right field. Then j
he turned his eyes on the young man I
and followed the tall, powerful, lithe- i
limbed figure as it sped around the
bases. Something in the sight of
the youth filled the veteran with r-r
and Jealousy.
‘That’s the kind t He t is puttin
veterans out of the business,’
muttered. |
He sauntered up to th'* group that
stood around the home plate and was
cordially greeted by those who knew
him of old. He was then made ac
quainted with the young players,
who, of course,while they knew him
by reputation, had never met him
on the ball field. Included in the lat
ter was Gordon Kelly, who shook
Long Tom’s warped hand and gave
the customary greeting. Morrissey
eyed the other critically and re
marked :
"You’re the fence buster of the
Southern League. I take it.”
“Nothing like that,” laughed Kelly,
"hut I’d like to be.”
“I guess you would, all right,” re
turned Long Tom.
A Star Catch.
It wasn’t what he said, but the
half-sneering way he said it that
caused Kelly to look up quickly.
“You must be that correspondence
school guy 1 read about in the paper.
1 see another paper calls you a ‘cotil
lion leader.’ Well, that’s where you
belong. I’m a-thinking."
Kelly flushed and a look of surprise
came over his face at the sarcastic
tone of Long Tom. But he merely
answered “Maybe so” and walked
away. There were some unpleasant
things connected with baseball, he
thought. He could not understand
why Morrissey should go out of his
way to belittle him. Long Tom’s re
marks were entirely uncalled for.
There was no occasion for them. He
finally came to the conclusion that
Morrissey was of a crabbed and
morose di position. Yet he recalled
having read columns and columns in
the newspapers about this veteran
catcher and there had been no word
that would lead one to think he was
other than normal in his disposition.
As a matter of fact. Tom Morris
sey's disposition was naturally peace
ful. He. like most ball players, had
had his clubhouse scraps, but they
had not been of his own seeking.
They had seemed to come naturally.
He had the reputation of being as
game a man as ever went behind the
bat. and by hard work and strict at
tention to business he had earned
the respect of his fellow players. But
his relegation to the minor leagues
had seemed to work a change in him.
The truth had come home to him
that his baseball days were number
ed. The realization of this fact came
to him on this fine day in Man’ll
when he saw' in Gordon Kelly the
perfect picture of youth. It had sud
denly made him angry with himself,
and, contrary to his nature, he had
proceeded to vent his spleen on Kelly.
When Gordon Kelly walked away
from him. Long Tom continued to
keep his eyes on the young man, and
he watched his every movement. At
last he was interrupted by Bill
Smith, who yelled:
"A little infield practice now. boys.
I'll bat the grounders. The rest of
you go in the outfield. Tom. get a
bat and knock up some fungoes.”
Bailey, Nixon and Long journeyed
to the outfield and Kelly went with
them. Morrissey selected a lightweight
fungo bat and began sending up easy
flies. He served Bailey, Nixon and
Long in turn and then shouted, "Here,
y’are, kid.” At the same time he put
all the force he could command be
hind his bat and drove the ball high
in the air and labeled to land far
over the head of Gordon Kelly.
With the crack of the bat, however,
Kelly had turned suddenly and raced
with all his marvelous speed toward
tiie center field. After covering more
than a hundred feet he .‘lopped and
turned again, faring the grandstand
and an instant later the hall settled
in his uplifted hands. He had timed
the hit to a hair.
When Long Tom had signified his
intention of sending up a fly ball in
Kelly’s direction. Bill Smith suspend
ed his work to watch the result
"If he gets under that one. he’s a
wonder," murmured the manager
Since the newspapers had spoken so
facetiously about his “world-beater”
he had become harassed by ttie
thought that he had made a mistake
in saying anything about the young
ster until he had demonstrated his
ability in a more substantial man
ner. There wap little or nothing at
stake financially and that end of it
did not trouble Smith at all. But no
manager of a ball club cares to have
anything “put over" on him. so that
he becomes the btitt of the baseball
public. When, therefore, Kelly made
a really wonderful catch, the worried
look faded from Bill Smith’s face, he
sighed deeply and his somewhat fu- '
nereal smile shone like a candle
through a hollow squash.
-Is that your correspondence school
ball player. Billy?” asked Long Tom
Morrissey.
"That's him. What do you think
of him?” replied Smith.
To Be Continued To-morrow.
FREE, NEXT SUNDAY.
The American Sunday
Monthly Magazine, contain
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London’s new story, is
GIVEN FREE with every
copy of the next Sunday
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All Work Guaranteed
•otin M Fh^n? M 1TW SiiMhri M
$250 in Prizes for Best Solution
of “The Triple Tie”
\ T OF read the first eight installments of the gnat baseball mystery
story of "The Triple Tie" and now you have a fair idea of the
simplicity of the offer The Georgian makes—how you may win
$100 by working out the solution of the mystery as nearly as Its au
thor. A. H. t.\ Mitchell, has clone as you can.
Mr. Mitchell has written the .ast chapter, but his copy is sealed
up in a vault at the American National Bank W hen all but this final
chapter has been printed. The Gei.gian readers will be asked to submit
to three competent judges, none of them connected with this newspaper,
their version of what the grand denouement should be.
To the person who most closely approximates Mr. Mitch
ell's final chapter $100 will be awarded. Other prizes, making
the total prize list $250, also will be distributed.
Here is the list of the awards:
No. 1 $100
No. 2 $50
No. 3 $25
No. 4 $15
Nos. 5 to 16, each 5
Read this ninth installment of the great mystery story and you will
not need to be urged to read the succeeding chapters. The story will
grip you. As you read, try to foilow the author's channel of thought
and when the time comes for you to sit down and write that final
chapter, be ready to win one of the big cash prizes in The Georgian’s
great offer.
Asking Too Much.
"I suppose you’re going to Dr. Ma
son's funeral, grandpa?”
JLLJ— L gg
“Oh,” snarled the infirm old mi
"don't talk to me about other pcopl
funerals It’s as much aj» I shall
able to do to get to my own."
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O' course, yoti know that home-made ice creams, sherbets or ices art
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