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A H oman Never Eats When She Has Anything Else To Do
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The Last of This Great Series
The Seven Mistakes
of Matrimony
-NO. 7—
ao
IMS' MAGAZINE ]
A1
BAY A Thrilling Story of Society Blackmailers
THE FAMILY CUPBOARD
A Dramatic Story of High Society Life in Hew York
By DOROTHY DIX.
T HE seventh deadly mlBiake of
matrimony l»:
NOT TO MAKE MATRIMONY
A PROFESSION.
Perhaps thr gr*at*st mlstaks of
all, and th* onf that mms all th«
fibers up, consists In regarding auc-
c*»s in marriage an an accident In
stead of a pr*rri*»#11 at ed result.
The most mlachtevoua Idea that has
ever been promulgated Is that mar
riage is a lottery. In which everything
tf determined by Mind chance, and
ir which it Is h mere matter of luck
whether yon get a desirable life pari
ner or an undeal’-able one. or are
happy or miserable
Nothing on earth is further from
the truth than this. Nowhere eiso
does the inevitable logic of cause and
, ffect work out so relentless!),
lie domestic relationship.
in
Now hen
two men in husineaa together do.
Find a husband and wife who work
together with the same Interoat ’n
view, who are (limbing tip together,
who rh.tre equally in the profits of
their Joint labor, who talk things over
together and have an equal voice in
dec iding things, yet who allow each
other in their individual capacity per-
f-onnl liberty, and you have got a
husband and wife whoae domestic
felicity I* wtrong enough to draw
money on at the bank.
Furthermore, a man who has any
Intelligence iries to get along with
the people with whom he deals. If
be was always quarrelling with hh
partner he would know that the
house was hound to oome to disaster.
He Would be aware that If he did not
exercise tact and diplomacy toward
his clients that It was a mere matter
of time until the sheriff sold him out.
Women know these things too, and
there is nobody who is more long suf
fering, und patient, and filled with
forbearance than the business or
professional woman who has to ca-
(Novelised by>
(From the play by George Hcar-
1 borough, now being presented at the
Thirly-nlnth Street Theater, New York.
Serial righth held and copyrighted by
; International News Service.)
TO DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
H 'K started toward her he would
execute a flank maneuver and
• drive the wounded creature Into
corner.
"Give it
me’” ordered Flagg.
l agg, with murder an/1 lust lighting
for place in hJ» evil eyes.
The wounded animal—at bay—driven
to the wall fights hard.
"You’re choking me!" the girl man
aged to articulate
Tighter, tighter closed the fingers.
"You’ll be unconscious soon." gloat on
her captor, "and then I’ll have my way
and my pay, my fine lady ’’
Frenzied, desperate, the girl reversed
the paper file and plunged the long,
sharp end into Flagg’s breast. He stag
gered back—and In the suddenness of
her release Aline fell across the table
I
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(Novelized byl
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else do we so absolutely reap as we j lo j,, the m en above her In order to
sow as in the family circle, and, given
certain people and certain conditions,
it is Just na demonstrable that a
marriage will work out well, or badlj
;:s It is that two and two make four
The trouble with us Is that we have
never yet elevated matrimony to the
dignity of a profession, for which we
have thought It worth while to pre
pare That Is why we fall in the
most important thing In lit*. No
young man would expect to m: ke a
howling success as a surgeon or a
lawyer if he had never even contem
plated seriously medicine or the law,
\«-t a poor deluded woman marries
him unoer the Impression that she is
getting a first-class husband, and he
himself has no doubt of his qualltlca-
t.ons on that score.
A young woman who wants to be
sji opera singer devotes years of
arduous labor to fitting herself to sing
on the stage, but she does not spend
an hour preparing herself to fill the
far more difficult and complicated
role of a wife and mother.
A \\ Hrt\ti A SSI MPTION
People sc.em to think that a knowl
edge of how to be good husbands and
wives comes by nature, us Dogberry
thought the knowledge of how to
read and write did Both assump-
are
bold down her Job.
JUST hi i»i»os»:.
Suppose these men and women, who
are so plausible and suave In order
to succeed 1n their business should
apply an equal amount of diplomacy
at home: suppose these men and
women, who arc so careful to side
step the little peculiarities of their
customers, would be as nimble In
sidestepping the little peculiarities of
their husbands and wives, wouldn't
they make matrimony as great a suc
cess hr they do law. or medicine, or
the grocery business?
Yea, verily. We quarrel with those
with whom we live bcause we do
not think It worth while to keep the
peace. We say brutal things to them
because there Is no money In our
pocket foi being polite We wound
them In their tender sensibilities be
cause they can’t get away from us,
anyway. We make marriage a fail
ure because we are too ignorant and
lazv and ■ areless to make It a success.
And the shame la on our own heads
It ought to be Just as much a reflec
tion up »n any man’s or woman's abll
Ity to be a bankrupt in domestic hap
pinesH as a bankrupt in business. And
it will be when we take marriage out
A SKI RKT.
It is literally true that almost any
marriage could be made happy, or at
Fast endurable. If either husband or
w ife would pursue the method that
he or she would in trying to attain
success in any profession or business,
and all that would be necessary to
•to this would be to use the same tac-
ti< 8 that are used in the practise of
business or the professions.
Take the matter of the husband's
and wife s relationship. That is merely
a partnership, and all that any mar-
led couple need to achieve Ideal
nappiness is Just :o rise to the point
wnerc they can treat each other mb
Up-to-Date Jokes
Too Very Queer
People
tion» »rc equally falxe It take. »£ the amateur claaa and put It In
effort and perspiration, as well an ln-- th ® t>rofcailonal.
• piration. to succeed in any calling, |
and especially the domestic calling.
Undoubtedly the matrimonial situa-
|!6n would be enormously eased If
!nen and women would begin married
life by a thorough understanding of
Just the elementary things. If every
woman knew how to keep house and
make a comfortable home when she
marries Instead of having to learn |
her trade on her husband, and If
fivery man could be brought to real
ise befoie marriage Just how much
money it costs to support a family, a
jyoung couple would start out with an
infinitely better chance for happiness
than they have where the wife gets
hysterical over her Inability to cook
s meal that Isn’t a menace to life It
self, and where the hunband Is in a
perpetuai grouch when it dawns on
him that matrimony in conducted on
a cash basis, inatead of the hot air
currency of courtship.
The hope of the future is for In
telligent people to regard marriage
as a profession that Is worthy of
profound study, and in which it la as
much a disgrace to fail as it 1s In the
practise of any other profession.
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At last Aline roused herself from her shrouding leth
argy. Fear impelled her. The instinct to escape claimed
her—and she turned to escape. Then as she faced the door
What had
and safety—just as she stood under the full glare of the cen
ter chandelier and was face to face (if she had lifted her tired
eyes) with Flagg’s masterpiecce of art, the painting of Justice
—just then, there was a blinding flash i
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX
lJp;AH MISS FAIRFAX
I haven’t been married quite
a year, and my husband and 1 are
very much In love with each oth
er—but the worst of it is he Just
wants me to be one of his family
and not niysolf at all.
He has cousins and uncles and
aunts, and he thinks it's terrible,
and they all seem to think so.
too. if I want to go anywhere
■with people who are no relation
to any of us.
I think they're queer about it—
but my husband says I’m the one
that's queer. Is be or am I?
KINFOLKS.
W
An irascible elderly gentleman or-
jBLL, the chances are, Kinfolks,
that you're both queer—most
people are when you come
right down to It.
But, from my point of view, your
husband la the queerest of the two.
Kinfolks are all very well in their
way. but what's the use of limiting
your life to them und to them alone?
Why not broaden out your circle
of friends and learn something differ
ent while you are about the business
of living?
1 know some people let's call them
i^mith well, the Smiths never talk
about a thing on earth but their "in
laws and the queer things their "in
laws are always doing, or saying, or
looking or being, and the only queer
thing tliat 1 can see about most of
the "in-laws’’ is that they weren t
born by the name of tsimth and
haven’t the Smith nose or the Smith
*• *Ock, sir?” said the waiter. “Yes,
dered a bot... of hoc* with his ,unch. j “ the
Smith memory for figures—that's all.
Now, don’t you be like the Smiths,
little srtster, and don’t you let your
husband be like them, either. Maae
your own circle of friends—don’t say
mean things about your "in-laws’* -
don’t even think tliem—-Just be so
busy with your own friends and the
friends you hope to make for that nlc->
husband of yours that you haven’t
time to think very much about it one
way or the other. It is the woman’s
place to make the friends of the fami
ly—it is your business to have pleas
ant friends and acquaintances—if not
for your own sake, tor your hus
band's.
Choose them—ask them to your M‘-
tle flat—have some simple little re
freshment--a cud of really good cof
fee and some thin slices of bread anu
butter are not to be sneezed at. let
me tell you. Be friendly and unaf
fected and kind and you’ll soon have
so many friends that you won't know
what to do.
Then hang on to them—for they’re
about all there is in t .*» world that
makes life worth living-
"Not ’ock.” said the customer;
"hock—hlc, hac, hoc. D'vou under
stand ?”
The waiter disappeared, and some
twenty minutes elapsed, while, the
elderly one sat nursing his wrath to
keep it warm At last, catching the
errant waiter's eye. he veiled, furi-
ou*l y
"Where’s that hock': '
"’pek, sir?" sruid the waiter, in a
grieved and surprised tone. "1 thought
you declined It.’’
Doctor." said the caller. Tm a vic
tim ef insomnia (’an you cure me?"
1 can.’’ replied the physician "But
before 1 take the case 1 want to ask
you one question Are you in busi-
rcas for yourself, or do you work for
• «t hers ?”
’Tm employed as an assistant at a
gl*0‘ erv, answered the patient.
"Then you'll have to pay in ad
vance." said the doctor. "I’m not
doubling your honesty, but after i
gci through with you the chances are
you will sleep so soundly you'll lose
your job. Then you can't pay me."
• * •
Not long ago a North-county vicar
c ttried an elderly couple at 11
lock in the morning At 3 in the
ai' i noon his duties took him to the
neighboring cemetery, where he mot
the same, couple seated loving on one
• f he benches
You see sir." the husband ex-
piained, "my wife is a real un fot
Pleasure. 1 wanted to goo back to me
' nrk this afternoon, but th' mi>sus
I
f'hi ami niak’ a day on ’t."
Misunderstood.
It was at a country ball at which
the regular printed ball program with
the dainty little pencil attached, was
being used for the first time. A voting
fellow from the city, noting that a
stout and not very attractive young
woman was being a good deal of a
wall dower, took pity on her and said:
"Is your program fu!!?’’
My .vhat?"
"Your program."
After a moments reflection she
1
;n t
but one dough-
"What the h 1 do you think i am?”
She thrust the infamous yet precious J
pink paper into the bosom of her gown. J
caught back the clinging, impeding j
soft draperies and fled in wild efrort j
to escape* her pitiless hunter fled to i
the great door—toward the outside
world—-toward sanctuary and Home!
In His Hand.
She reached the threshold, her fingers
fumbled against tin* wood touched the
knob and Judson Flagg reached ber in
an evil, spiderlike leap and caught her
white wrist In a quick twisting grasp.
Innocence tan not bear the physical
horror of the clammy touch of evil.
"Don’t put your hand on me!'*
screamed Aline, shrill with horror and
degrading fear. That this creature of
slime and crime should touch her!
"I’ll put both hands on you you vix
en!" cried the man. 'Phis was a game
fish, thought he it struggled well,
more joy when he landed it In his arms
and at his feet.
Vie caught the girl in bis arms, lie
drew her roughly and violently into an
evil embrace and set his lips on hers
with the menace of his tainted life for
her sweet youth.
"That letter! That or my days by
the sea! ’ he said. “Give up- -my girl—
t have you!"
"I won’t! I won’t!” cried Aline.
Her desperate resistance taxed his
wasted and dlsipated strength, he
dragged her from the door, over to his
heavy table, he forced her slender body
back against his edge Dully she felt
the bruising pain of the wood.
In the grim light of the room they
struggled, untaxed youth with clean
longing? and aspirations against wary
age. with evil desire and overtaxed and
outworn energy.
To which the victory , and would vic
tory not mean defeat, too?
The girl was a creature at hay. Life,
honor, happiness, a chance for existence
were being hunted by n merciless crea
ture who would scarcely enjoy the fruit
of his victory. To Aline that tight was
for more than life, to the man it was
less than dust, and there was a price
both must pa>
Aline freed her arm. She groped
wildly for h weapon. She must hive
aid. Her woman’s strength was going
She was fighting in a struggle for which
life had offered her no training. Her
blindly, groping hand knocked papers
and books to the floor: wild disarray-
claimed the desk and room. Flaggs
heel ground deep into one of the cap
tain’s roses.
Suddenly he pinioned her free arm
hack of her. The pain was excruciating
-but she could bear it for her fingers
had closed on cold heavy metal a great
iron hill--file. She shrieked hysterically,
and he loosed her arm to draw her
whole form closer—to kiss her again.
"Let me go’ Let me go!"
She struck him on the shoulder with
the flat base of the bill-holder.
"Put that down! I’ll break your
arm!”
She gave a sob of pa n and stuck at
his forehead In a L ry he laid his long
rapacious fingers on her white throat.
"And your b n neck, too!" hissed
Horror marked her face
sho done?
She had been at bay—she had fought
—and now grim struggle was to be fol
lowed by grimmer quiet.
"Ah—ah—-try,” gasped Flagg, "to
murder me!"
lie staggered to his feel from the
chair into which he had fallen in utter
collapse.
“I didn't want to hurl you!” breathed
Aline, in a whisper of horror.
WHAT, WHAT HAD SHE DONE?
she questioned her fast beating heart.
WHAT HAD SHE DONE?
"I didn’t want to hurt you!” she
moaned. Tall and slim and white, like
a withering lily, she stood by the mas
sive desk. Her brown gold hair had
fallen in disarray from its coronal on
her head Her eyes were wide with
terror her lips were bleached.
WHAT HAD SHE DONE?
“Tommy!” called .Judson Flagg.
He sank into the chair again, his face
distorted with pain, his hand fumbling,
fumbling to pull the lung needlelike file
from his breast.
Paralyzed by fright and fascinated by
horror, Aline stood and watched him.
Strangely enough, he hail become the
victim now
Suddenly there was a wrench, a spurt
of blood, and Flagg pulled the needle
point from hjs breast. He stiftjgered
toward the desk and Aline shrank
away at his approach. Flagg seized tin*
edge of the desk for support and, too
late, the girl, who had moved away",
J divined his purpose, for he caught her
emerald brooch in bis left hand. Then,
still clutching the weapon of doom as
he had pulled it from his breast, he be
gan groping groping
At last Aline roused herself from
her shrouding lethargy. Fear Impelled
her. The Instinct to escape claimed her
—and she turned to escape. Then as
she faced the door and safety—just as
she stood under the full glare of the
center chandelier and was face to face
(if she had lifted her tired eyes) with
Flagg’s masterpiece of art. the paint
ing of Justice—Just then, there was a
blinding flash!
Flagg's groping hand had found the
electric button!
He gasped for breath—-and then, with
a final chuckle, Judson Flagg spoke his
epilogue to life.
"1 got your brooch-—and I got your
picture for the police!"
The noise of the explosion died—the
light faded again.
"Tommy!” screamed Judson Flagg-
gurgling the death agony. But he
voiced his cry to the one human being
who lovetj him.
"Coming Uncle Judson!" came a
far-off voice.
The girl ffed back into the shrouding
night She made her way to vjie home
she had left that, fear might be de
stroyed and, instead, fear triumphed.
What had she done?
Across the table in a grim den of
gloom sprawled Judson Flagg—dark,
saturnine, like a giant spider, and in
his hand was the emerald brooch Gor
don Graham had given his wife when
their baby girl was born. But across
the table, a tiny stream of blood was
trickling toward the bills—the ?200 that
had been too small a price for honor—
or life.
Silence and darkness!
Then a boy’s anguished cry—“Uncle
Jud! Uncle Jud! Speak to me! Uncle
Jud! DEAD! MURDERED!’’
The flash of light from every corner
of the gloomy chamber, the jar of an
opening window, a quick glance un and
down the empty st *eei. and then a. bov s
treir.Uing voice steadied to a w;«1
sc'catti. Police P*pe!”
* * *
The Secret Service.
In the office of the Chief of the Se
cret Service of the United Stales three
men sat talking. They were Captain
Larry Holbrook, Chief Dempsey and
Father. Shannon.
“Larry,” said the chief, “you have
been arrested once by this Govern
ment.' There was a bit of quiet in
sinuation in his tone.
“Yes, Chief, once in New Orleans.
You arrested me for trying to get some
rifles over to General Garcia. But re
member this, six months later the Uni
ted States sent the whole army over on
line same job.”
“But the Government regarded you as
an offender then,” went on the insinu
ating voice.
"Not too much to make me a cap
tain in the Philippine constabulary a
year later."
"Why did you quit- vour GOVERN
MENT job?" went on Dempster.
"Somethin* in the blood."
"Fever?’
"Born there—1 couldn’t ride herd on
a people fighting for their own liberty.
You see. Chief, if 1 were two scars old
er I’d been born in Ireland. As it was
1 was born on Second avenue. <>pi*res-
sion drove my father from home. 1
think it was the stories I heard at my
mother’s knee that made me ready to
take filibustering jaunts UNDER \
FLAG FoR FREEDOM. THAT MADE
ME A PERPETUAL MEMBER OF
THE MINORITY.”
"He is that." said Father Shannon,
warmly, "the rascal saved my life in
Manila. I was In the minority and the
flames were a vast majority!”
“What nonsense. 1 made him get
out of bed when a house was on fire.’’
"He carried ltie unconscious ” be
gan Father Shannon.
‘‘Some friend is apt to do as much
for me any Saturday night.” laughed
the merry Irish lad of 38.
"Chief, he touches no drop!” said
Father Shannon, and a twinkle came to
the chief’s eye.
"Holbrook!” said he, “there’s a big
expedition on foot for Nicaragua.
What can you tell me about it?” There
was a steady gleam in his eye—he
would not be denied.
“Dutch Dugan busy again!” exclaimed
the captain.
“That’s the man, but we can’t get
our hands on him. captain.”
"I’d tell you. Bob, If I knew, but ’*
The two men eyed each other, and the
steady twinkle never faded from Larry
Holbrook’s eyes.
“But tell your men to go easy with
Dugan. He’s not a bad chap!”
The chief smiled, and a glint of steel
came into his c.Ves and over the settled
lines of his mouth.
In the further office a telephone
sounded its insistent call.
"Excuse me. gentlemen." said the
chief with grave courtesy.
Holbrook turned to the father. "Well
now. I’ll tell you something in confi
dence, as a'man to his priest, mind
ye. in the most sacred confidence. You
will give it?”
Father Slianon smiled. “You know
well you can trust me. Larry.”
• •Well—then—I AM DUGAN S expedi
tion!’'
”,You. me lad?”
To Be Continued Monday.
(From Owen Davis’ play now being pre
sented at the Playhouse. New- York, by
William A. Brady —Copyright, 1913, by
International News Service.)
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT '
"Ken!" she said In her sweet ca-
denced voice—the. music inherited from
the far off isle of Erin, the Gaelic tones
that come down through long genera
tions to the daughters of Ireland.
"Mary!"
The boy leaped to his feet His shoul
ders straightened to manhood, his eyes
filled with purpose, with some dim emo
tion he scarcely sensed as he faced hia
boyhood sweetheart, the only loyal
friend of his whole wasted young life.
"Mary!”
It was as if'sunshine and the breath
of springtime had come with Mary Burk
to his garish, gloomy and tobacco poi
soned rooms.
"Thank you. Mary, for just—coming
—here.” said the boy in a dumb misery
that was brightened with perfume and
sunshine that he felt were across a high
w r all he might never climb. There w r ere
roses In the garden spot that was
Mary’s life—well, he thought, he might
inhale the perfume for one more min
ute—and then good-bye to Mary Burk.
But a love like Mary Burk’s never dies
—and perhaps, perhaps—“quien sabe?”
—who knows what it was yet to mean
to Kenneth Nelson?
The boy stood staring at her as at
some wonderful vision. Mary laughed a
bit—and softly and kindly to relieve the
tension.
"Ken, 1 read your letter to your
mother.”
"Did you?” said the boy. nervously—
ill at ease before this girl who breathed
the purity and fine sweetness that he
had unconsciously been missing from
his life.
"Did you—the last one—you mean it
—it was funny—wasn’t it, Mary?”
"It was very sad. Ken—it almost
broke her heart—and mine,” added Mary
in a frightened little hushed under
tone.
“She did not even answer it,” said
the boy. But you cared, you sympa
thized, Mary!” He concluded his sen
tence with an abrupt self-consciousness
that a tender tone was creeping from
his hungry heart to his voice. And
what right had he to talk tenderly to a
girl like Mary Burk?
"She could not! She just could not!
She is very proud, Kenneth, and very
unhappy. She* could not send you mon
ey to spend on something of which she
did not approve—and your father has
written asking her not to help you.”
"My father lias written to her? Why,
they are getting together over the prod-
j igal,” exclaimed Kenneth, cynically.
“No!" said Mary, sadly. "I had to
j read that letter to her and we did nol
j answer it. And it only said not to
I help you under the—circumstances. He
j is proud, too!"
And Mary, who had the fine pride that
t is ashamed only of a wrong intention
! and an evil deed, sighed at the tangle
j of life that held the people she loved
I as if they were lost in a noisome jun
gle.
Kenneth's pride flared anew.
"I won’t ask again!” he declared,
stubbornly.
”1 felt that—so I came. I *. m no*
proud, you see, Ken. I have some mor
ey here. Not much—but it Is qut»e
quite my own. I'll leave it, Ken."
The girl took a little roll of mb,
from her bag and dropped It on the
table.
"NO!" There was surprise mingleP
with horror of what he had become In
his tone But Kenneth Nelaon knew
that Mary Burk was offering him the
kindest, truest friendship his Ilf* m,
ever to know.
"Why not? We have ben frieodd at
ways. You can pay me big tatereet
It will be a good investment," coax*,
the girl, trying to make her love offer
j lng appear only a business traneactioi,
i "as man to man.”
"NO!”
"How silly! I would not hesitate to
ask a favor of you! I—I will never
hesitate to come to yon if I am In need
of a true friend, Ken. Why, yxxi are
more than that—you are almost like my
brother!”
When a woman wants to serve tbs
man she loves with that peerle.se devo
tion that can come only onoe in a life
time—with that love that most men.
worthy or unworthy, miss—she will da
ny her love—she will call him "friend
I and "brother" so that he may the more
willingly accept the sacrifice that pots
! his love beyond her claiming, and gives
j it to the woman he has ohosen.
The door to the side corridor opened
With a little air of being perfectly at
j home, Kitty May entered the room.
The Two Girls.
At sight of Mary she affected pretty
1 confusion.
"Hello!” she began—“Oh! I ” ahf
| trailed off.
Mary turned and looked at her. Then
with a friendly little gesture she step
ped forward.
"This is Kitty?” she asked.
Kenneth hung his head in the most
genuine shame he had ever felt, at ths
thought of what he had done with his
life for love—If love it could be called -
of Kitty May.
"You’d better go,” he said
"Why?” asked Mary genuinely.
Kitty braced herself against the table
and spoke with a hard little show of
bravado.
"Because all his fine friends are too
proud to know me.”
Mary smiled gently. Some of ths
sweetness of that old-fashioned flower
garden was wafted to Kenneth's imagi
nation again. The two girls faced each
other. The boyhood sweetheart—the
girl he might have loved, except that
the son of Mrs. Charles Nelson, leader
of society, could not marry his mother’*
social secretary, was smiling with gen
tie kindness on Kitty Claire. And the.
girl whose evil spell, like a fog from the
sea. had hidden shoals and rocks from
the eyes of that same boy. was staring
back at Mary with Insolent hardness
Kenneth had a queer little vision of •
thin alley cat, eyes aflame, back up.
spitting and snarling and scratching at
the little child who was stooping with
friendly hand to smooth ruffled fur. He
dashed’ his hand across his eyes—what
a fool he was, thought he—seeing gar
dens and fogs and cats and smiling chil
dren with trusting eyes! This was just
Mary and Kitty! Just Mary and Kitty-
but the good ami the bad angels of his
life would war for him to-day. Mary
und Kitty! Which would win?
To Be Continued Monday.
• mini wil_. IMOUU|L
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Schedules Change
Dec. 7,1913
ON AND AFTER SUNDAY, DECEMBER 7TH,
CENTRAL OF GEORGIA RAILWAY
TRAINS WILL LEAVE ATLANTA, FROM TERMINAL
STATION, AS FOLLOWS, EXCEPT AS NOTED:
No. 2, 8:00 a. m.—DAY EXPRESS, for Macon, Savannah, AV
bany, Americus, Jacksonville and intermediate points. Parlor Car
to Albany, Ga.
No. 98, 9:47 a. m.—DIXIE LIMITED, first train December 8,
for Macon, Cordele, Tifton. Waycross and Jacksonville. Observa
tion Libra ry Car, Pullman Sleeping Cars, Dining Car and Coache*
to Jacksonville, Fla.
No. 10, 12:3G p. m.—For Macon, Milledgeville, Millen, Valdosta,
Americus, Albany and intermediate points. Parlor Car to Macon,
Ga.
No. 12, 4:00 p. m.—For Griffin, Macon and intermediate pointa.
Parlor Car to Macon, Ga.
No. 94, 8:30 p. m.—DIXIE FLYER, - For Macon, Cordele, Tif
ton, Waycross and Jacksonville. Observation Library Car, Pullman
Sleeping Cars and Coaches.
No. 4, 9:00 p. m.—NIGHT EXPRESS—For Macon and Savan
nah. Connects at Macon with G. S. & F. for Cordele, Tifton, Val
dosta and Palatka. Sleeping Car to Savannah, Ga., and Palatka.
Fla.
No. 32, 10:10 p. m.—SOUTH ATLANTIC LIMITED—For Mv
jeon, Cordele, Tifton, Waycross and Jacksonville. Sleeping Car*
j and Coaches to Jacksonville. Broiler Buffet Car serves breakfast
! Tifton to Jack«nnvillf!
NO 8, 11:45 p. m.—MIDNIGHT MAIL—For Macon,
j Americus, Albany, Thomasville, Dawson, Cuthbert, Eufaula and
| Southwest Georgia and East Alabama points. Pullman Sleeper to
Thomasville, Central Sleeper to Montgomery-.
NOTE,—All trains will arrive in Atlanta at Terminal Station,
as at present, except No. 15 from Macon, Southwest Georgia and
East Alabama points will arrive at 7 :55 p. m. instead of 8 :10 p. m.,
and No. 99. DIXIE LIMITED, from Jacksonville, Waycross, Tifton.
Cordele and Macon, will arrive (first train December 9th) 8 :03 p. ui
NOTE.—No. 4, NIGIIT EXPRESS, for Macon and Savannah,
carrying Savannah and Palatka Sleepers, will leave at 9:00 p. m
j instead of 9:35 p. m. No. 98, DIXIE LIMITED, first train South,
j will leave Atlanta Monday, December 8th.
For additional information, ask the TICKET AGENT, corner
I Peachtree and Marietta streets, and at Terminal Station.
W. H. FOGG, District Passenger Agent, Atlanta, Ga.
CENTRAL OF GEORGIA
RAILWAY