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I
IN THE HAUNTED CASTLE
SUDDENLY BOTH HEARD
THE SOUND OF MUFFLED
FOOTSTEPS. AS IF SOME
ONE WERE RUNNING ON
HEAVY CARPET, AND THEY
KNEW THERE WAS NO CAR
PET IN ALL THE VAST
STONE HALLS. BEFORE
THEY COULD ATTEMPT TO
LOCATE THE SOUND THERE
CAME TWO THUDS, ONE
LIGHT AND ONE HEAVY, AS
IF OF A BLOW AND A FALL,
AND THEN A LOW HEART
CHILLING MOAN THAT
SEEMED TO COME NOT
FROM ONE OF ALL THE
HALLS, BUT ALL OF THEM.
THIS WAS IMMEDIATELY
ANSWERED BY A MOAN
THAT CAME UNMISTAKABLY
FROM RUSTY.
"I WANNA GO HOME! I
WANNA GO HOME!”
The Most Exciting Serial
of the Year.
SERIALIZED
By J. W. McCONAUGHY
(Copyright, 1013, by Star Co.)
TO-DAY’S INSTALLS!ENT.
Moaning feebly. Rusty shook his gray
nead.
"I'se so scain I don’ remember noth
in' "
"They’re nothing but suiU of armor
£tay on your pins and don't hump into
ne again The next one of those n-ar-
end collisions and I’m liable to let some
moonlight into you You’ve b«»n tread
ing on rny heels every step I take and
when 1 stop you bump into me
"I'm powerful ucairt I might lose
you "
"A fine chance" snorted hi* master
He swung the lantern about ami pc,red
Into the corners of the apartment
"Well. Rusty," he went on In hi* nat
ural voice, "we’ve been through ibis
old castle pretty thoroughly now from
dungeon to tower, and not a sign of
Duke or Prince or anyone else unless
they pound or carrj a smok\ lantern
It’s a clew. Uustj . it’s a clew wvii
stick right here till we find out where
it leads. I’ll swear the Puke never went
to Madrid, hut came, right her.- from th,
inn Get away from me, 1 tell you!
A Little Cheer.
He struck a match and resumed his
examination of the fireplace, hoi. \ < K i>. t
light well inside.
"There’s a fine chance fur a tire. The
chimney's clear .V w then, but up u ,,i
little table and start a fire Y
feel halt bo scared when
good blaze behind you
By virtue of his great weigh
reduced the old table to tire\
the simple process of sitting \
he was building the tire, .larv - sugg< •
©d that he would scout ar<»ui
"Don't you do no scoutin'
this here room!" ordered the • d .
straightening up. Jarvis Uvug' .
told him to g<< on with the v.
sat down on the stone floor an
removing his shoe with many p*
"Now. what’s the matter V
wrong with your shoe?"
" 'Taln't my shoe it's my foot,"
grunted Rusty. "You know, when I was
holdln' the busses an' waitin' an’ wait
in’ fer you to come out dem guns went
off and all dem bosses jumped right on
me!"
"There were only two horses. Rusty,"
smiled the young man
"I was countin' dey feet,’ grumbled
the servant, as he bent over the tire
once more He had sufficiently recov
ered from his fright to be disgruntled
and make pertinent addenda to his
master's comments on the lay of the
land.
"This way leads to the m'ltiii gate,"
remarked Jarvis, thoughtfully, peering
through the other door.
"That's where dat black thing fol
lowed me," grumbled Rusty. He ap
peared to locate every Inch of the cas
tle through its connection with some
personal disaster.
The Death Trap.
"Well, there's been a black thing
following me. retorted Jarvis, "tread
ing on my heels every step I’ve taken.
Ilm! And that door goes to the ar-
”’! hat's where I fell <fbwn dem slip
like the winds among the empty
echoing towers.
"It certainly sounded like a groan,"
muttered Jarvis, tiptoeing cautiously
around the trap toward the little door.
"Shut up, Rusty!"
The faithful hut terrified servitor was
giving vent to Hounds more dreadful
than those that issued from the walls.
"Marse Warren! look out!" he
begged.
The Portrait.
"Listen!" He stood for a few mo
ments in silence, peering in at a little {
, 'light of stone steps that led up through
I ihe wall. Then he turned back to the
fireplace.
1 guess it's the wind. This place is j
; getting on our nerves."
"This warn't no wind. Marse War
ren," protested Rusty, solemnly. "Ah
hope to iie if dat warn't sure-nuff
groan. An’ ah wants to tell you some*
'tilin' else.' lie lurried and stared ac-
J cusingly at, a large portrait of some
grand* of Charles Y s time which
hung beside tin* broad steps that mount
ed to the corridor of the armory. "Hah
you <\.r been in church or somewhere
! an' all of a sudden a feelln' come over
‘you that there was eyes starin’ at the
back o' your ha id” You just k Mowed
jit? until you couldn' stan’ it no longer
: and just ha<i to turn 'round and see who
Suddenly
intentlv into
fireplace. T
pull.
» stopped and stared
ir corner beyond the
was a small door
though some one had
behind him as he
Rusty ." agreed Jarvis
"I’ve had that happen.
it's it" he exclaimed, triumph
darting forward. "Where cai
Hi* foot went down suddenly through
the floor. He hurled himself forward
and the floor seemed to rise and strike
him violently In the chest. The next
l instant he rolled to one side and was
on his feet
"My God!'' he muttered brokenly, the
cold sweat bathing his face. "My God!
That was a close one!"
I "Why. yf
wonderlnglv
Why ?*•
"That's just the way I foci now—like
they was eyes lookin' at me. You see
dat picture? Seems like dat feller was
lookin' at me like he'd step right out
o' de frame: or dem two battleship
boogies' he pointed to the knights be
side the staircase "jump right down
here!"
"It's been a good many hundred y ears
since those boys jumped. Rusty," smiled
bis master. Sh-lC Listen!” There was
the sound of swift footsteps again. Jar
vis softly cooked his pistol. "Somebody
| running coming this way."
\gain it elided in the two thuds, like
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*I-only, Marse \V
a i ron -wha*
dat?”
a blow and fall. And
ill
was still Jar-
e«l Rusty, starting
to his feet.
\\ ar-
vis swore.
l s lantern had tn
on dashed a
gainst
"1 wanna
go hum
moaned the
h\ » 1
■ wall and he stoi
<1 in the urn.
crtain
darky.
\ ft fir
'light.
His master
set his
te
eth
"What do
’Get back!" he
ordered si
larply.
you know ab<
ut that?
Ht
had walked
t LI
ght that other lari
tern."
swiftly to tb
e little
d<
or
in the wall
of n
lusty cautiously a
>preached wi
th the
and was peer
ing in.
hted lantern. \Ya
rm. took it
iti Ins
■ I don’t kn
w noth!
n‘
ah
ait."
mri j ifi
t hand mid held o
it his right.
"I thought
so!" exc
ai
me
1 Jarvis and
He
rake u good grit
. Rusty r.
n you
he whistled s<
iftly, as
f
in
itter amaze-
inent. Rusty
s curiosi
v
again overcame
‘>*s. sab’." Rusty
crouched bat
k and
his terror and
he drew
near
Besides, it
was more «•»
mfortab!
in
the shelter
Jarvis cautiously
stepped out
with
of his master
s .45.
left foot. \ fou
r-foot strip
>f the
"What is it
V" he as
ke
d.
il
oj sank under the
light weigl
t and
"Rusty, th
s man
w
ith
the smoky
o other end of th
end
lantern has I
een up 1
h*
stairs!”
at< st the wall, roe
e. If bo bar
1 boon
" ^ ou am t
i-goin’ i
P'
"
irotested the
liking at an ordi
nary gait n
othing
old darky.
uld have saved h
tn. The sj.
s»ed of
"1 am not!
was th
e
em
phatic reply,
irkable akilit
y car-
” cause the 1
Hike or
Hi
me
of his men
the tr;i
' I th
uO* i
¥
Rusty
fore he
beyond
funded
ever.
gh for the weight
strike the rising
bus shut It again.
>!" he murmured
fter a timid peep
>olo\v. He wiped
trembled slightly
it night. "Water
wonder people
*tlo. Good Lord!
went down there!
ppons. keep clear
or this you’ll
main tor sure!"
rplo lips, but be-
groan came from
were facing It
' re human than
off into a sound
art* probably at the top of the stairs
with a long gun -and I'm no book hero."
"Supposin’ it am the Prince,” sug
gested Rusty, with awe
"Well, suppose it is the Prince. He
might blow my head off because be
doesn't know what 1 came for. And
if it's some one else—they’ll blow my
head off because they do know."
Without warning the sound of the
running feet reached them again, but
I now it seemed to oolrte from every quar-
! '.er of the surrounding area. Jarvis,
with Rusty cowering at his elbow, back-
j **d out into the center of the room, the
j iong blue barrel of his revolver making
i iuiek play in all directions.
To Be Continued To-morrow.
A Bachelor’s Diary
He Is Mistaken for a Kidnapper
By MAX.
J - ULY 1.—Our days are so mo
notonous that if I were to at
tempt to set down in detail
what happens, it would sound like a
chapter from Genesis: And Arpasha
begat Khelah, and Shelah begat Eber,
and Eber begat Joktan, and Joktan
begat Almodad, etc., etc., an endless
chain of begats.
For I would relate in the mime
sing-song strain that a bath in the
lake followed getting up and break
fast follow* the bath, and a nap fol
lows breakfast, and lunch follows the
nap, and a walk in the woods follows
the lunch, etc., etc., a monotony that
is growing pleasing to me now that
I have learned to find thrills of ex-
eltement in Mrs. Allen’s dally report
at breakfast that she found a rat in
the trui-. I do not recall a market
report in *ix months previous that
has excited me more.
Manette is growing brown and fat
and sturdy, and with no one near to
remind us that she has a delicate
stomach, al] such trouble has passed
away, proving my contention that we
keep our physical ailments alive by
recognition of their existence. If
Richards could see us eating our pic
nic lunches off a log in the woods,
stopping occasionally to brush off an
inquisitive ant or a ladybug that Is
lost from home, and regarding these
little creatures of another world as
friends, instead of germ-infested en
emies, she would steal the child from
ine and bring suit in the court charg
ing that I am not fit to, be its guar
dian.
Her Future.
"I am convinced." I said gravely to
Manette this afternoon, taking a
chicken sandwich from her hands,
for she in always the hostess at our
picnics, "that a man-cared-for child
is healthier than one that is cared
for by a woman. She is neither
nudged nor pampered so much. Now
if Richards were here she woula
make you throw away that sand
wich because there la an ant on it—
brush it off, my dear—and she would
worry you because there is a streak
of dirt on your cheek and a rip in
your dress. I don’t. I just let you
forget all those things and be happy.
I never want you. my baby, to be so
much of a woman that you can't en
joy the Lord’s big outdoors because
you have left your powder rag at
home. You must rise above yourself,
little one."
She looked at me gravely with
those big blue eyes, and then, rob
bing her sandwich of the meat that
she might temporarily rid the brown-
eyed pup of the look of longing he
had fastened on her. said. "When 1
get big, I won’t be a woman at all.
I’ll just be your wife.”
"How I wis«h you were old enough,”
I replied fervently.
That* would be a glorious thing.
Diary. To take a child and train her
in the. ways one desired, and then
marry her when she is grown.
"You will ma.ry some nice young
mail,” I argued, "and go away and
leave your Uncle Max. It Is the way
of nature, and I can’t keep you al
ways.”
1 suppose I unconsciously sighed,
for in another moment she was on
my lap. rubbing a greasy sandwich
down the back of my neck, while she
protested between hugs and crumby
kisses that she never intended to
leave me, unless, and it gave me a
twinge to hear her say it. "Lisbeth
sent for her."
I was holding her tight with one
hand, and with the other was trying
to make the brown-eyed pup leap
over our heads for a piece of chicken
when 1 heard the sound of approach
ing horses, and a girl’s merry laugh.
There was an abrupt turn in the
bridal path near us, and a minute
later they appeared in view, all un
conscious of three interested listen
ers, for the pup had also paused in
his play to cock wise-looking ears
their way.
"I don’t.'' the girl was saying, “be
lieve in the kind of love you talk
about. It would make of woman a
sort of domestic chattel, like a cook-
stove or a table. The fundamental
principles of liberty—here her atten
tion wag attracted to us by the pup’s
shrill bark—I think that term, "fun
damental principles," made him fear
a procession of women were coming
—and she stopped abruptly, staring.it
us with eyes that were first aston
ished, and that changed to admiration
when she saw Manette.
An Admirer.
"What a beautiful child,” she said,
swinging lightly from her horse, and
coming across the grass toward us.
her horse following, with his nose
pressed lovingly against her shoulder.
“Whose is she," impatiently, "and
what is she doing here in these wilds
alone with a man like you?”
My disguise was plainly perfect. I
hadn’t shaved in three weeks, and
wore that morning a suit of Allen's
overalls, for we contemplated a jaunt
across the lake in an improvised raft.
I laughed. I do not know when I
was more amused.
"That." I replied, making nr. at
tempt to rise or remove my hat, "is
not the affair of every wayfarer on
the road.”
She colored angrily. “I intend to
make it my affair. T,ook at her shoes
with holes In the toes, and the
scratches on her poor little arms and
legs. You poor baby,” getting down
or. her knees, "has that man been
abusing you?”
I do not think at first Manette com
prehended what the girl meant, and
when it dawned upon her, her indig
nation was fine to see.
“I am not a poor child,” she cried.
“I am a rich child; everyone says so.
Nurse says I’ll be worth millions some
day; and I don’t want them. I want
only my Uncle Max!”
I think there Hashed across her
brain a recollection of the woman
who kidnaped her, for in a frenzy
she threw her arms around my neck
and screamed: “Make her go ’way!
Make her go ’way! I’m afraid; I’m
afraid! ”
I was amused no longer, for the
child was plainly suffering. Rising
to my feet. I lifted my hat and said
very coldly:
"You are trespassing on private
property. Please ride on.”
"We will go,” she answered, angri
ly, “but this doesn’t end here. I will
find out who this Uncle Max is the
child wants, and take steps to restore
her to her guardian. She plainly
doesn’t belong to a man like you."
He Laughs.
Then, though Manette still whim
pered I threw back tny head and
laughed till the woods rang with it.
I had a vision of what my friends
and associates in the city would say
if they knew’ some pert young suf
fragette was preparing to have me ar
rested for a tramp and abductor of
small children. It even flashed across
my mind that if those men afflicted
with the kind of softening of the
brain that fits them for getting out
the Sunday papers knew of it. they
would give it three pages, with pic
tures of all of us. including the pup
and the sandw’ich Manette still held
in her grimy fingers. They might
even give a picture In magnified pro
portions of the ant that this little j
baby-heiress to millions had brushed I
off her bread.
I laughed so long that Manette
stopped whimpering, and lifting her
face from m.v shoulder said in tones
that breathed defiance, “Go ’way,
please. I want my Uncle Max.”
The girl turned to her escort, who
had jumped from his horse when I
began to laugh, and said something
I did not catch. Evidently his reply
restrained her from tearing the child
from my arms, for with a protesting
air she suffered herself to be helped
to her horse, and they rode away.
The last look I had of her was of
a face crimson with indignation and
anger. The last she had of me was
of a man doubled up with laughter.
"Manette," l said gravely, taking
my share of the lemon cake, “those
briar scratches you got on your arms
and legs yesterday are giving your
Uncle Max a bad name."
Advice to the Lovelorn
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
LET YOUR MOTHER DECIDE.
DEAR MISS FAIRFAX:
I am in love with a young man
with whom I have been keeping
company for quite some time. We
have broken off friedship for a
while, and my mother strongly
objects to his return. I love him.
(’an you tell me what is best to
do? H. V. E.
Mother always knows best, par
ticularly w hen the girl is very young,
which I am judging is your case.
If he is worthy of you he will wait.
Relieve me, my dear, if he is the man
set aside to be your mate he will not
be easily discouraged.
THAT IS HIS PLACE.
DEAR MISS FAIRFAX;
Will you kindly enlighten me
as to w hether it is proper to thank
the gentlemen after returning
form a show or a ball? BABY.
The good old-fashioned courtesy
makes all the pleasure his. He ow’es
you the delight he has had in your
company.
LET YOUR MOTHER KNOW.
DEAR MISS FAIRFAX:
I am sixteen and deeply in love
with a man two years my senior.
For six months he took me home
from school, and after I was grad
uated he expressed his love for
me. He has given me a ring.
The only thing that makes me
hesitate is that we are of a dif
ferent religion. ESTELLE.
Your mother should know of your
love affair at once. Not only because
of the dlifference in religion, but be
cause of your extreme youth.
DUTY, MY DEAR.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I have been engaged to a young
man two years. The man is 33
years old. We love each other
very much. Owing to our aged
mothers, we think it’s impossible
to get married, as he is the only
support of his mother and I am
the only child leftAu home to
take care of my mother, who is
86. Between love and duty, which
will we do? M. S.
Your mothers are so old that your
time of waiting will be very short.
I am sure if either of you failed in
your duty you would live to regret
it. Unless you can marry and tak»>
your mothers with you, which is not
advisable, postpone your marriage till
you can enter it feeling that your
happiness is not purchased with an
other's woe.
LET THE MATTER END.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I had the pleasure of meeting
a young man at a public dance.
He asked to see me home and I
consented. He made an appoint
ment with me that we both kept.
When he left me he failed to set a .
definite time for a next meeting,
saying he would try to visit a
place where 1 frequented. Now,
do you think that I should have
anything to do with him in the
form of writing, etc., or drop him,
as I am positive that he never
will visit this place?
ANXIOUS.
You are very sure he will not keep
any appointments he makes, so why
concern yourself about him? Let
the acquaintance drop before It is
more serious.
No Tunes Allowed.
Not long ago a certain brass band,
which shall be nameless, was engaged to
play at a local village feast. On the
way there the conduoter suggested that
they should “have a tune," but the
driver of the wagonette at once ob
jected to the project.
"No toons w’hlle I drive," he remarked.
"But. why?” persisted t*e conductor
"Surely the horses wouldnR run away?"
"No." said the driver, "they wouldn’t."
"Then why object?"
"Simply becos the poor beggars could
not run away if they tried." was the
grim retort. "Their running away days
is over, an' so long as T drives you ain't
a-going to take no mean advantage of
'em. That's why I sez no toons"
The conductor subsided, and there
were "no toons" on that journey.
Hints to Social Climbers How to Attract Notice
Dine at a smart restaurant and forget your table mannera,
(From London Punch.)
jfj * ejlfl Jk*ji\ | >*V’v SB
jkuifv Mr
zkrilMt&k.
:: The Temper Curse B ? dorothy mx.
T HE real problems of life are not
the big problems , nor are its
tragedies the great sorrows of
existence. The conundrums that no
body can answer are offered by Just
little everyday complications, and the
things that break our hearts, and
wreck homes, are not great sins, or
afflictions, but small, miserable, sor
did worries and aggravations that
blot out the sunshine and take all the
joy out of life for us.
As an example of this I submit the
case of one of my correspondents.
She is a good, conscientious woman,
married to a good man, and they
have had a happy home. Recently,
however, the woman's mother has
died and she had to offer the shelter
of her home to a young sister, a
beautiful and talented girl of 20, who
has the temper of a virago.
The girl has nowhere else to go, for
although she is amply fitted by her
abilities to support herself, she can
keep no situation because of her un
controlled temper and tongue. To
have to support her Is a burden on
her sister, but the worst feature of
it is that the girl has made a peace
ful and happy home such a storm
center that it is wrecking it, and the
woman’s husband is very naturally
threatening to send the sister away.
Fears the Worst.
The poor wife and sister is between
two fires. Bhe fears the worst for
her sister if the girl, young and beau
tiful and headstrong, is deprived of
all guardianship and restraint, and
even of shelter, and at the same time
she feels the injustice of sacrificing
her husband anti her home to the
girl’s tantrums, and she asks what
she had best do under the circum
stances.
I side with the husband. I think
that there i* nothing else in the
world in which the most of us show
ourselves so cowardly as in the
craven, meachin’ way in which we
give into people with tempers and
let them ride roughshod over us. Be- j
fore a redheaded temper and a ven- !
omous tongue we are all arrant cow
ards. and that is why the possessors'
of tempers don’t try to control them.
Among my acquaintances there is
a certain child who holds the world’s
championship for crying. She shrieks
and shrieks until she maddens every
body about her. Not long ago, catch
ing her for once in a smiling mood.
I said. "Mabel, why do you cry so
much?” She looked at me in round-
eyed amazement and calmly replied.
"Why, if I didn’t cry. how would 1
get anything I want?”
That is the philosophy of the indi
viduals with high tempers. They
know that the balance of us are so
terrified at the thought of their rag
ing that we will give into them with
out an argument; that we will walk
on eggs to try to keep from ruffling
their sensibilities, and that we will
put up with any injustice or imposi
tion rather than (J ?o through a scene
with them.
So They Rage.
Therefore they rage. It's, the easi
est way to get what they want, for
the perron without a temper is no j
more fitted to cope with the individual
with a temper than an infant in arms '
is to engage in a prize fight with Jack j
Johnson.
Every one of us knows some great,
big, strong, splendid man who is so
afraid of his wife's temper that he I
lies to her about having to see some
man downtown if he wants to stay
out a few minutes longer than the !
curfew she rings on him, and who j
doesn’t dare to even treat an old
woman friend with common civility
if he meets her when wife is along.
All of us know women who live :n
such terror of their husband’s temper
that they tremble at the very sound
of his keys in the front door, and who
spend their lives in falsifying house
hold accounts, and trying to conceal
everything that happens in the house
hold that could possibly vex their
violent spouses.
Ordinarily these men and worn- n
are not cowards. They have the cour
age to lead a charge in battle, or face
death without a tremor. They even
have the moral courage to endure
their hell-on-earth of being married
to a high tempered wife or husband,
yet before that temper they become
abject worms of the dust, without a
fight in them.
So far as 4 know, no psychologist
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14 Whltshall St., Atlanta, Ga.
has ever attempted to explain the fear
we have of the tempers of those with
whom we must live. Perhaps the
struggle for existence takes so muen
out of us that we have no strength
left with which to wage a perpetual
battle at home. Perhaps w r e have a
sense of decency that the high tem
pered lack which keeps us from
retaliating in kind. Perhaps no real
lady or gentleman is fitted to deal
with the woman or man who has not
the finer instincts that consideration
for other people and self-mastery
give.
At any rate the fact remains that
we all do stand in such shaking,
quivering fear of the high tempered
that we encourage them in giving
full reign to their evil dispositions.
This makes us to a degree accessory
before the crime. We need more grit
and backbone in dealing W’ith them,
and it's dollars to doughnouts that if
the evil tempered knew that they
would be chucked out of house and
home unless they controlled them
selves they would curb their passions.
Temper should be made the first
cause for divorce.
If every woman was perfectly
aware that she would have to be
gentle and amiable in order to hold
down her job. and have a husband
to pay her bills for her instead of
having to hustle to support herself,
there would be no more shrewish
women, nor men who had heart fail
ure every time they thought of what
their w’ives would say to them when
they got home.
If every man knew that he woo Id
ha\> to answer to a divorce summons
and pay alimony if he didn't make
himself pleasant and agreeable at
home, we should have no more do
mestic bullies and tyrants who talk
to their wives as they would not dare
speak to any husky man who could
knock them down.
And if all of our sisters, and our
cousins, and our aunts, and our
mothers-in-law, who come and live
on us, and who keep us dodging their
ways, and trying to keep from pre
cipitating an avalanche of fury and
abuse on our hearthstones, were per
fectly sure- that they would either
have to he good-natured or get out.
we should see such a sweetening up
of dispositions as the world has nev
er known.
For the person with the temper Is
never anything but a selfish bully.
We could call his, or her bluff, if we
had the nerve to do it.
Just Sampling It.
For a long time the pale-faced man
regarded the sandwich on the counter
before him suspiciously. At length he
carefully lifted off the top slice of bread,
took out a piece of ham, ate it, and re
placed as before. In a few seconds
he again removed the top piece, ex
tracted another piece of meat this time,
and replaced the top again; and again
the performance was repeated until the
ham had gone. A bystander tapped him
on the shoulder.
"Excuse me,” said the inquisitive
one, "but why don't you eat up your
sandwich, instead of picking at it in
that fashion?”
“Well, you see." whispered baek the
other, glaring around suspiciously, “t
can not very well eat It. It isn't my
sandwich.”
Historic College
For Women
Wesleyan
MACON, GEORGIA
Delightful climete. Thorough and extensive
course of study. Music, Art and Oratory of
the highest order. Ilhistrioua body of alum
nae, choice student body, ideal home life, stu
dent government, excellent faculty, splendid
boarding department and good athletics. The
oldest and one of the choicest great colleges
for women in the world. Address. Dept. M.
C. R. JENKINS,
Macon Georgia
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