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' Nights 17ith Uncle Remus ..2.:...
SISTER JANE (Continued).
SPHAER BULLARD remained on his
C plantation, looked carefully after
his interests, and thrived. He de
voted himself so closely to his business
that his wealth .
grew apace. By the 3
time he was thirty
be had made asg . !
nueh money as his § e S i
jather had hee i.% M¢ 4 ‘,”‘:4‘ ;
abie 10 make after ~';:’ B “’B{ 1
years of hard la- B 3
bor. By that time §i% ¥ '%
too, he came to be o 5 b o di¥id
known as the bach i o o ‘-?
elor planter, and L ’4‘"
he showed no more C i Al
disposition to mar L 4
ry at that age than Sy
he had shown at SRyl A
twenty. He set up
& grist mill on his
pince, and invested m a wool-carding
machine. He raised his own mules and
hormes and they were fine omes. He
made his own corn, meat and all his
plantation supplies except the clothing
necessary for his negroes. He bought
#hoes, cloth, hats, and blankets from
the wholesale houses By the time he
was thirty-five he haé formed the hab
. R of going north every year, for the
pu¥pose of laying In these supplies.
. It was on one of these trips (and
' while the stage-coach was journeying
- through Virginia) that he met the lady
who became his wife, and she herself
~ i# the authority for the facts concern
ing that episode. 1 heard her tell them
to Sister Jane with many dalnty ges
. ftures, and in a manmner not without
sugmestions of humor. Her volce was
soft, dlow and well modulated, and she
made it more effective by the air of
vivacity I have tried to describe, ‘
; She was the daughter of Cecil Bn.n-‘
"My Boy, Go t
;
. To Church
- ByDr.W. A McKeever,
~ One of the Nation's Bast-Known So
e ciological Writers.
46 HE churches are no good any
: more. Everybody s quit- |
" ting them and attending
some kind of Sunday entertainment
E
uw 1 have not been in & church
~ for two months”
. These statements taken from the
*ijlttlr of an 18-year-old boy living
~ away from home without doubt typi
fy a new youthful attitude of mind
~ here in America, and they relate to
:fj , cduse for general alarm. There I 8
© Mothing in the history of mankind|
" 1o show a continued period of general |
Eg,‘?ulhrfl among any people that ran
- contemporaneous with a weak and
~ debilitated church.
. There is absolutely nothing in hu
- man experience of the past or human!
_ Inheritance of the present to warrant|
g;;m in the belief that soclety can uumdL
long, much less improve, unless the|
%fip‘wn: are kept constantly In touch
~ with wholesome religion.
* But, my young friend, yon uml
. wrong. The churches are not gnlng'
‘:Mn any more than they are going|
}’ 1 You have been reading qmta-‘
'n& from the chureh alarmists. Does
. It occur to you that these denuncia- |
f.xfy?_hnu of the church would not get into
. print if they were not unusual? That
_ the thousands of good things which
~would be saild about the church do|
;fint get Into print because they are
’b commeon ?
- ~ What ehurch do you like best, young
%? 1 have my preference, but tho
. one you like best is the one you
‘i.‘ ould attend, and regularly, If it is|
Very good, make it better by going
_ there. And do not expect some siran
_ #er to come forward and wring your
"{s iand after the service. This may or
,’»‘ MY not happen. You may repel
- peo by a forbidding look. The point
*iß, go early, or stay late, and got ac
" Guainted with someone. Tell him who
.;,( are and ask him who he {s. The
_ ¥ery first man you approach may be a
f Lrar like yourself. At least, warm
_up to somebody &t the church. Ask
-z'*‘s‘i’ Pind out about the Bupday school
~or the young people’s soclety. At
| tend one of these and say something
| there to arouse a fellow feeling in
Wour behalf. § Read a verse from the
Bble: usk for 'a certain hymns tell,
fthe others how you have felt hungry
. for spiritual kinsiip with somebody
And that you came there to find h.!
el them how much you need the
“Eympathy of the church people and
h | glad you would be to render
LRome sevice to others.
= Catholic and Protestant, Jew and
Gentile, and Christian Scientist—
(these are all ready to help you, my
Oy, provided you feel drawn to them
L 8 nd l\'lfl'r to them seeking soul nur- |
-‘Av. ¥ not go at once? |
£ You. and thousands like you, are
Bisine about Ithe big city on Sunday
bl 0t night trying to find unf.\r-‘
#itn in mere entertainment and sen
#ial ldulgence. But you know that
iese things do not satisfy the hun-
S @er of your soul. You know that oft
-8 they leave you with a heavy hua‘
0 8 ead. depressing spirit. You
Know that all this is little better than
a kind of coarse intoxication. 1
Go to church somewhere and work |
BUL your own salvation with fear and
“trembling: otherwise, sooner or later
You will damn yourself and sufler‘
by bitter remorse. o to church
Mistermined to find a way to do some
Wind of gcod. Go to give something
Lw Pprecious little that you have
rat] than to get something.
gi‘_ boy, 1 wish 1 could make you
' me for just one trial. PBreak|
LAy from the dizzy whirl of mere
L Bleasure and excitement and give the’
;) A test for just one month. Go
(& 10 win senetl ing for your soul's
i sake. And in time you will wmost
_dertalnly feel like thanking me for
RLEiTT ¥o'' to go to church
T MIAGCAZIINBEAND+-SOCIHE IS EHRAGTES
don, of Brandon-on-the-James (she
!nrunounmd it Brondon-on-the-Jeems),
| and must have been a very lively youug
[ lady according to her own accopnt—
i!«md of horses, dogs and of going to the
| play when the players strolled to Rich
| mond.
“I was nothing dbut a ohild, Jane—
only seventeen Just think of that
positively a mere child. [ can see it all
| now, but then I thougbt I was a grown
lady. That was my father's fault. You
have heard of Cecll Brandon, of Bran
don-on-the Jeems. The family is older
than the history of Kngland. He was
the best man that ever lved, Jane—
A perfect gentleman. But he was like
an mentlemen. For months -yes,
months, Jane-—he'd allow me to have
my own way, never crossing me in any
thing, and then all of a sudden—p-r-r-t*
she made a sharp, chirping sound
with her Hps—*his temper would be
zone, and peace would take wings and
fly from the place. At such times he
forbade my most innocent amusements.
He was a man, Jane, and you know a
man Goesn’'t know when to be rough
and when to be tender. Why, if | were a
man, T'd be mean and cruel sometimes,
but always at the right time*
The Colonel's wife laughed as she
sald this, and her eyes sparkled almost
as brightly as the jewels that flashed
on her fingers. |
The upshot of 1t was that once, when
Oectl Brandon of Brandon-on-the-James
wa# In one of his tantrums, Fanny Bra
don mounted her horse, rode to Rich
mond te the house of a kinsman, and
sat the play that might in borrowed
she: Her father concluded that this
prank was part of a disposition that
should be tamed, whereupon he had hh‘
daughter's trunk packed, bundleg hep
in the ecarrfage, got in himself, and set
out an a journey to Washington, in- |
tending to take Fanmy to a convent
school in Baltimore,
“Think of that, Jane!” exclatmed the
Colonel's wife in telling of the episode.
“Think of a convent for a young girl
who had been used to having her own
way except at odd times!’
The second day the carriage broke
down, and the break was so serious
that it could be mended mneither by
Cecll Brandon nor his negro driver. Stil)
overwhelmed in the tantrums, Mr. Bran
don determined to walt for the stage
coach, which they had passed on the
road an hour or two before. He bade
the mnegro driver to take the horses
home, pald a farmer not far from the
roadside to haul the wreck of the ocar
riage away and hold it untii sent for,
hatled the stage-coach when it came
along, and with little or ne palaver,
found & place for Fanuy Brandon in
‘fldt. while he rode on top. Evidently
he was a man who did even small
[thlnn In a large way, and before such
‘men all difficulties are apt to disap
pear. )
| An accommodating passenger surren
‘domd his seat inside to pretty Panny
Brandon, and when she had fairly set.
tled herself, the first man on whom
her eves fell was Colonel Cephas Bul
lard, the man who was to be her hus
hand,
“I never dreamed of such a thing,
Jane. Why, he was old enough to be
my father; but you see how it is; we
never know what Providence has in
store for us.”
Colonel Brandon, swinging his legs
from the top of the coach, was not long
in finding congenial eompany, and was
soon telling Jokes and laughing heartily.
He found, too, some gentlemen of the
green oloth, and as few things suited
hm better than a long today and o
brisk game of cards (the statement is
his daughter's word for word), he made
arrangements for a tussle with chance
‘when Washington was reached.
; Now, Fanny Brandon, though she was
Good Night Stories
OBBY was busy with paper and
twine when his little friend, Tom
my, eame running up.
“Making a kite”' he asked. Bobby
never answered, “Wish | had one.”
“Make one!” exclaimed Bobby, hold
ing 1t up to look at his work. "It you
think I'm going to Jet you play with
this one you're mistaken, ‘cause I'm
not!”
“Can't 1 even hold it while you give
——————————————————
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““Too Much Tail.”
it & start™ asked Tommy, eagerly,
stooping to plck up the string
‘Let that alone!” erded Bobby, snatch-
Ing it out of his friend's hands
Tommy backed away, leaned against
the fence and then he ran on home,
“Fine day for flying,” mused HBobby
“Any kite ecould fly in this wind. Let
him get a kite of his own. That's what
1 diad”
But with all the lovely breege. Bob
by's kite would omly go up in the air
Just a little way. then drop to the
ground again .
“Too much tail,"” laughed Bobhy, but
Lady Duff Gordon Will Have an Exceptionally Interesting Page in Next Sunday's American.
doubtless looking very pretty, was far
from happy, and when she heard her
father's Jolly laugh nothing would do but
she must fall to erying softly. ‘This
|being ®o. It was natural that Colonel
‘f'ephnn Bullard, sitting opposite, should
'umnd his sympathies, and offer his
services, and make all efforts to con
luole her. He was 80 successful that
Fanny Brandon was soon able to smile
glh.vly at him, At the next stopping
piace, which was a tavern where they
]hm dinner, Colone! Bullard made hold
|to introduce himself to Cecil Brandon,
,und it turned out—these Virginians hav-
Ing a great knack of knowing in person
or by repute everybody that is worth
knowing--that Mr. Brandon knew of
the Bullards and had & good part of
their family history at hig tongue's end.
Indeed, he hinted that there was kin
ship somewhere in the background.
When the travelers reached Washing
ton, Cecll Brandon placed his daughter
in charge of Colonel Cephas Bullard,
begging him to see her safe to Baltimore
and to the conventual school, and be
took himself to the card table. This
was providential. Fanny Brandon had
no more idea of entering the convent
school than she had of flying, and when
they arrived in Baltimore she turned to
Colonel Bullyrd and said (1 can imagine
with what a charming air): :
“I'l not go on, and 1 can't go back;
so what ghall 1 do?™ |
Colonel Cephas was taken by lurvfinl
He was helpless. He could not com
mand, and he would not desert. While
he was considering what was proper to
do under these unparalieled cireumstan
ces, Fanny Hrandon threw her heldi
back defiantly, erying out: *1 wish
#ome respectable gentleman would ukl
me to marry him!™ : |
I Colomel Cephas strods up and down a
few moments, paused in front of the
|yo:u lady and said simply: “Would
You marry me?"’ 1
“Would 17" exclaimed Fanny Bran
don, and placed her hand in his
“Don’'t you think that was a queer
courtship, Jane?’ the Colonel's wife
paused to inquire when narrating these
circumstances. And Sister Jane repled:
“There’'s nothing quare, Fanny, after
you get used to it.”
They married, and Oolonel Bullard
instead of going on to New York went
back to Washington with his wife,
sought out Cecil Brandon, of Brandon
on-the-James, and informed him that
‘his daughter, Panny Brandon, had nr.w}
become Mrs. Bullard. Mr. Brandon was
varalyzed for a moment, and it was the
fall of an eyelash whether he 'ot!d‘
seime Colonel Cephas by the throat and
cane him. PBut Brandon’s humor came
to the rescue. ¥e burst into a roar
ing laugh.
“Damn it, sir, give me your hand! 1
like you. I'l] lay you five to one, at!'.i
that Fan popped the guestion. Come,
Fan! Didn't you?’ And when Fan
demurely admitied it, Brandon of Bran
dom-on-the-James roared so loudly that
the windows of the room rattled. |
That was the way Fanny Brandon be
came Mrs. Cephas Bullard. The Colonel
bhrought her to his plantation home—a
very fine place, not far from the Ogo
nee. But after a time she grew tired
of the quiet life, whereupon the Colonel
bought the Clopten mansion in the vil
lage, furnished it in grand style, and
brought his young bride there. The
soclety she found here was probably
different from that she had been used
to in Virginia; it may have lacked re
finement, as it certainly wanted gayety;
but for one reason or the other, or for
all together, young Mrs. Bullard grad
ually secluded herself. 1
(Copyright, 1881, 1883 and 1911, ™ fln?
Century Company; 1883 by Joel Chandier
Harris; \H;‘ mflhn Laßowse Harrll.‘
ALL RIGHTS KERVED. Printed by
permission of and by special arrangements
with Houghton. Miflin Cempany.)
(Continued Monday.)
when he went to tear off a piece he
found a queer little elfin hanging on
to it with all his might.
“Who're you, and where did you come
from,” exclaimed Bobby, who could
hardly believe his eyes.
‘The little elfin laughed while the two
big tears ran down his funny little
face.
“I'm Fear Fire Imp Selfishness from
Out of Sorts Land! he cried. “And
don’t say you don't want me when
you invited me yourself ™ b
“I nevor either!” Bobby eried. “T've
never seen you before, and, besides, if
I wanted any one to play with me it
would be Tommy. You let go my kite
tail so 1 ean fly
"“I'd dearly love to do as you wish,
little boy,” replied Fear Fire Imp Sel.
fishness, “but as long as you refuse
to let Tommy or any one else play with
your kite, then | must. You're simply
calling on me when you're acting self
ishly."
“Let him get & kite of his own”
exclaimed Bobby crossly.
“And if he did have one and you
didn’'t, wouldn't he let you play with
him?' asked Feur Fire Imp Selfish
ness. “Certainly he would, It really
makes me very unhappy to have you
call on me this way, and not only does
it make Tommy unhappy, but also you
Yourself. Selfishness will make anyone
unhappy. I'm Selfishness, and here I
am making you unhappy. But I'm sor
vt
“And I'm sorry I made Tommy un
happy, too,” laughed Bobby,
Then forgetting all about his Nttle
fmp playmate, Bobby ran after Tommy
and called him back, and when they
went to fly the kite away she leaped
up among the clouds, her long tail
switching in the bLreese, for the little
Fear Fire Imp Seifishness had disap
peared. |
Bobby never forgot his visit from the
Fear Fire Linp Selfishness, though he
never saw him again, for Bobby had
learned that seifishness ouly brings un- |
happiness. J
PHONOGRAPH'S EARS MOST
DELICATE, SAYS PONSELLLE
- Miss Rosa Ponsclle, lately of vaude
ville, but now a star—~and a most bril
linnt star—of the Metropolitan Opera
Company, was in a graciougs mood
after singing to the wounded soldiers
at Fort McPherson. But Miss Pon
selle is always gracious, for her pretty
head has not been turned by her un
precedented rise
“And how do you like singing to
the largest audience in the world?”
asked the interviewer,
| “Do you mean the audience at the
Auditorium 7 returned Miss Ponselle.
“It is wonderful. But 1 am not sure
it 18 the largest we are ulnzm‘ to.
'You forget another audience which
jmay be listening to my voice today.
It may not be in silks and satins—
part of it may be miles away from
even the tiniest theater. But it may
be larger than even that which filis
\your great Auditorium here, and it
may be even more hungry for music.”
“You mean the Fhonofraph?"
Sings For All
“Yes” sald the young soprano.
““There is nothing that gives me more
pleasure than to think that my voice
may be pleasing someone far away
from a center of music—perhaps
someone who can not hear opera or
coneerts, like those poor boys at the
McPherson hospital, for instance,
“But it is hard work, singing for
the phonograph. The Columbia peo
ple will have nothing but one's very
best. In concert or in opéra one pre
pares very carefully and tries very
hard, but when you have sung you
have sung, and whether it is very
good or not so good, it is done for that
time and you can not improve it.
“But for the phonograph recording
there is much to be done. One must
learn to sing for the record, to sing
in a certain way. It takes practice
and training before one is ready. And
then, it must be perfection. Why, an
artist might sing wonderfully until
the very last note, but if that last
note were imperfect, she must begin
again and make an entirely new rec
ord. It is trying work, but it is a
great help to a singer, as it teaches
her much.”
The Best?
“And which of your records do you
like best?”
“1 really can not say,” said Miss
Ponselle. *“Of course, 1 am fond of
the big aria from ‘La Forza del Des
tino,’ for it was in that opera I made
my debut in New York and in At
lanta. But there are few more lovely
airs than ‘One Fine Day' from ‘But
terfly,” and the air from ‘Cavalleria
Nusticana’ requires a fine bit of emo
tivimd sugiig which the Columbia
pegple are kind enough to say Ido
very well. You heard me sing Tosti's
L ape . |
|
{
‘Biscuits That
g .
~ Will Keep
2 1 eep |
Here are reclpes for various forms
of biscults and cakes suitable for
packing up with a lunch or dinner.
The quantities given below are for
those who make on a large scale, but
they can be halved or quartered.
Thick Biscuits.,
@'wo pounds of brown or whole
meal flour, half a pound of white
flour, half a pound of lard or marga
rine, four ounces of moist sugar, a
quarter of an ounce of cream of tar
tar, a quarter of on ounce of bicar
bonate of soda, half a pint of milk.l
If margarine is used a little salt must
be added. Sift into the flour, mix well
with the meal, rub the fat and sugar
in finely, then mix up to a wvery stiff
dough with the milk. The dough must
‘be stiff. Roll it out as square as you
ioa.n to half an inch in thickness, with
‘u sharp knife cut a gtrip three inches
wide, and divide into mm-mchl
squares; use all up in square pleces.
Prick the tops with a skewer, put,
them on a tin, let them stand for ha.ltl
an hour, then bake in a hot oven, |
Fruit Biscuits. |
These biscuits, containing fruit, are
of a richer kind than the other, but
will also keep for a long time.
One pound of wholemeal, one pound
of white flour or two pounds of all
white or brown flour—-six ounces of
sugar, four ounces of margarine, half
a pound of cleaned currants, two
ounces of finely chopped peel, three
eggs, three gills of milk, a quarter of
an ounce of volatile. Mix the flours
together, rub the margarine and sugar
in finely, beat up the eggs and add
them to the milk--also the volatile;
then mix the whele up to a stiff
dough, adding the fruit to the last; it
should be fairly stiff. Roll it out to
half an inch In thickness, prick all
over with a skewer, cut into three
inch squares, put on flat tins, and
bake in a moderate oven.
Cocoanut Biscuits.
Three pounds of flour, half a pound
of arrowroot, half a pound of fine
cocoanut, half an ounce of cream of
tartar, a quarter of an ounce of bi
carbonate of soda, one pound four
ounces of margatine, one pound eight
ounces of sugar, six eggs, a little lemy
on extract. Sift the powders, arrow
root and cocoanut together, cream up
the sugar, margarine and eggs, add
the lemon, then mix the flour, ete., in
(0 make a firm paste; no liquid is
needed. Roll ¢ out thinly, cut out
with a two-ineh cutter, put apon tins,
wet the tops, dredge with cocoanut,
and bake In a moderate oven.
Currant Meal Cakes.
These are very nourishing and can
be made plain or with fruit.
One pound of wholemeal, half pound
of white flour, half ounce of cream of
tartar, quarter ounce of bicarbonate
of soda, half pound of margarine, a
pinch of salt, half pound of sugar, half
pound of currants, one pint of milk.
Sift the chemicals into the flour, rub
the fat and sugar in finely, add the
currants and mix up to a paste with
the milk. Let it lie a little while,
then roll out to quarter inch in thick
ness. C'ut out to any sige, put on tins
and bake in n moderate oven, |
Wholemeal goods should never be- |
baked in an oven that yould bake a
white loaf, as a crust is not desirable
upon whole moal goods.
pr 4 . i
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4 %5 1"-.-..., . “
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£/ 3 ”/’{ 2 B 2 . "'-:: 3
e Py oA 5 ‘i . 3 ¢ ;
A\PR 5 ‘ i o
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b 7 £ 4 4 3
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Ts oy R ee A ‘Te e B .
Rosa Ponselle, great new singer of the Metropolitan, who tells
of thrills in singing for records that will outlive her.
‘Good-bve’ at the hospital, and 1 only]
hope the sublic likes my record of
that as well as the soldiers seemed to
like it. And I have also made a rec
ord of a song I like very much and
which will perhaps reach thousands
whe @0 not care for opera—Keep the
Home Fires Burning.' And ne—v you
must excuse me, for I have a bit of
study to do. If you think we opra
folk sing like larks, without thinking
about our work and preparing for it,
Brilliant Audience
Al Laßoheme Event
At Puccini’s charming opera, "la‘
Boheme,” Friday evening the audi- |
ence was marked by prominent and
distinguished Atlanta matrons, mem.l
bers of the younger set and hundreds
of opera visitors, who are in the city
for the week, and others who arrived
Friday for the week-end.
The boxes were filled with beautiful
women elegantly gowned, and many
handsome women were noted seated
in the arena of the Auditorium. With
Colonel and Mrs, Willlam Lawson
Peel were Judge and Mrs. Price Gil
bert and Mr. and Mrs, E. P. Mcßur
ney.
Mr. and Mrs. Frank Ellis enter
tained as their guests Rear Admiral
and Mrs. W. E. Beattie, of Charles
ton, 8. C.
Judge and Mrs. William Bailey La
mar, of Washington City, entertained
as their guests Mr. and Mrs. Hollins
Randolph.
With Mr., and Mrs. Clark Howell
were Mrs. Albert Howell and Miss
Louise Martin, of Augusta.
Bt. John Courtney entertained “1
his guests Miss Bland Williams, of
Camden, S. C.; Mrs. H. B. Richard
son, of Columbia, S. C.; Mrs. David
Hemphill, of Chester, 8. C.; Mrs.
Charles Northen, and Campbell
Courtney, of Newry, 8. C. 4
With Mrs. Frank Hawkins were
Mrs. Paul Norcross, Miss Norcross
and Mrs. J, S. Cohen.
Mr. and Mrs, Ten Evcek Brown and
}Mr. and Mrs. Frank Inman occupied
a box together.
) Mr. and Mrs. Milton Dargan enter
tained in their box Mrs. Dozier
Lowndes and Mrs. Milton Dargan, Jr.
With Mrs. John Marshall Slaton
were Mr., and Mrs. James Rhgan
and Homer Hunt.
~ Mr. and Mrs. Eugene V. Haynes'
guests were Miss Margaret McCarty
‘and H, R. Calif.
.~ Mr. and Mrs. Willfam Kiser, Mr,
‘and Mrs. Robert Maddox, Dr. and
Mrs. Dunbar Roy occupied a box to
l gether,
Mrs. Albert E. Thornton had as
’ her guests Mrs. Walter Gordon Roper
L;nd Mr. and Mrs. Albert Thornton,
r,
. With Mr. and Mrs. Preston Ark
wright were Mrs. William Marshall,
of Washington City: Mrs. Orton
Bishop Brown, of Berlin, N. H,, and
Dr. and Mrs. Charles Giddings.
Miss Maude Jones entertained as
her guests Dr. and Mrs. S. 8. Wal
lace and W. W. Beck.
With Arthur Beall were Misses
Martha Louise Cassels, Lois Mcintyre
and Frank Beall, ‘
fi)o You Know---
Broarilian cecoanut palms are delieved to
live from six hundred to seven hundred
years, and the date from two hundred to
three hundred years. 1
e 8 |
Willlam the Conaueror introduced horse
shoes in England. Stirrups were, however,
unknown to the ancients, who had posts
erected on their roads to epable horsemen
to mount. ‘
. - . ‘
Bugar is extracted from sixteen varieties
of palms which grow in Ceylon |
s P 1‘
It has been noticed that & bat can not]
rise faom a perfectly level surface. J
. . .
Soldiers once received sait as part of |
their pay. When the salt was commuted
for cash, the latter was called ‘sablerium ™
#alt meney or “salary
you are very, very much mistaken”
Miss Ponselle sings in Atlanta two
of the numbers which she has done
for the Columbia Graphaphone Com
pany. The first’ was on the opening
night, when she sang in “La Forza
del Destino” the aria, “May Angels
Guard Thee.” The second will be on
Saturday night, when In “Cavalleria
Rusticana” she sings the confessiow
of Santuzza, “Well, You Know, Good
Mother.”
Mr. and Mrs. S. C. Dobbs enter
tained Mr. and Mrs. Charles How
ard candler.
W. Morris Fuller had as his guests
B. 8. Awtrey, . W. Porr and R. F.
W. Watkins.
With Mr. and Mrs. R. J. Flournoy
were Mr. and Mrs. Fred Waters, of
Macon.
Mr. and Mrs. John D. Little’s guests
were Mrs. Louis O. Stevens, of Ma
con, and W. W. Miller, of Baltimore,
Ma.
With Mr. and Mrs. John W. Grant
were Mr. and Mrs. Richard Wilmer,
of Panama, and Mr. and Mrs. Wil
liam D. Grant, Jr.
Major and Mrs. Phinizy, Mr. and
Mrs. Cobb Caldwell and Mr, and Mrs.
Edwin Johnson formed a congenial
party.
Miss Marjorie Brown entertained as
her guests Lieutenant Colonel and
Mrs. Frank Boland, Miss Louise
Walker, of Monroe; Miss Mary
Mitchell, Lieutenant Dan Sullivan and
Lieutenant Bohm Linloch,
Mr. and Mrs. Andrew Calhoun, Mrs.
W. 8. Witham and Mrs. Stuart With
am occupied a box together,
Dr. and Mrs. W. 8. Elkin, Mr, and
Mrs, Edward H. Inman and Mr. and
Mrs. Daniel McDougald were togeth
er,
Mr. and Mrs. L. H. Beck enter
tained as their guests Mrs. Jacob
Phinizy, of Augusta; Mrs. Fontaine
E-:d Dr. and Mrs. Willis Westmore
nd.
Mr. and Mrs. John E. Murphy en
tertained Miss Julia Murphy and
Miss Katherine Murphy.
Miss Leone Ladson, Mr. and Mrs.
Ronald Ransom and Lynn Werner oc
cupied a box.
W. B. Welborn entertained as his
guests Mrs. Charles Graves, of Rome;
Mrs. J. F. Matthews, of Anniston,
Ala., and Mrs. W. F. Dgnt, of Mont
gomery, Ala.
With Mrs Margaret Stewart Dil
lard were Miss Anne Bucher, of New
Mexico; Mr. and Mrs. Frank Calla
way, Mrs. Herbert Spennser Struble,
Mr. and Mrs. Dudley Cowles, Mrs.
itewnrt. Major Gill and Remsen
ing.
Mr. and Mrs. Charles Adamson, of
Philadelphia, Pa., and Cedartown, en
tertained Misses Sarah and Kath
erine Adamson, Miss Margaret Cook
and Alonzo Richardson., '
Miss Flizabeth Morton entertained
Mr. and Mrs. J. T. King and Lieuten
ant Van Burgin.
Mr. and Mrs, . N. Conrad enter
tained Mrs., Otis, Mrs, Bohannon,
Misses Freeman and Miss Clark.
|
| AT |
| :
I : |
I : fi "
HTHER |
l At Keith's t’?
] “The Girl n-¢sn Milwaukee” in one of
the nu'ml’\'e features of the bdill ap
| Keith's Lyrie Saturday. = Five standard
acts are on u}e program in addition to the
latest news pictures. There are four per
formances on BSaturday starting at 1:30,
4, 7:30 and 9:15.
At Loew's Gramnd.
i _Five acts of vaudeville will be present.
i ed at Loew's Grand today as well as the
smmm- pioture, “The Leve That Dares™
sturing Madeline Traverse, comedies and
| Loew's Current Eveats. The show is con
itmuou- from 1 to 11 p. m. with four vau
i deville performances starting at 2,4, 7
sand ® p. m, The vaudevile bill is headed
hy the celebrated Golden Troupe of Rus
sian singers, dancers and instrumentals
ists.
—— — ”
BRITISH LABOR BACKS WILSON,
LONDON, April 26-A British laber
sroun bheaded by Arthur Henderson, Fri
ay telegraphed congratulations to Presi
dent Wilson's in his stand against the
Ttalians,
lThe Revelations of a Wite
! . A New Story of Married Life,
By Adele Garrison.
“IF | CAN."”
BOUT that servant question,”
A 1 began, after Dicky was com.
fortably settled and smiling
over his cigar. “I will employ one, a
first-class, really competent houukew-‘
er, if you will make no objection to
this.” l
1 opened the letter and handed it to
him. He read it through, his face grow- |
ing angry at every line. When he had
finished he threw it on the floor. |
“Well, 1 guess not,” he exclaimed. "l‘
know that club game; it's the limit,
There's nothing in it. They’ll pay only a
beggarly sum, and you'll be tied to that
same afternoon once a week for a year.
Suppose we had something we wanted
to do on that day? We would have to
let it go hang."”
I suppose if we had something we
wanted to do on a day when you had a
commission to execute you would leave
your work and go,” 1 answered quietly.
““That's entirely different,” returned
Dicky. “T'm responsible for the support
of this family. You are not. All you
have to do is to enjoy yourself and
make home comfortable for me.”
We were interrupted by the door bell
Dicky went to the door while I hastily
dropped the portieres between the living
room and the dining room. 1 heard
Dicky’'s deep voice in greeting.
“*This is good of you, Lil,” and Lillian
Gale came Into the room with out
stretched hand.
“Perhaps I ghouldn’t have come so
soon,” she said, “but you see 1 am
bound to know you, even if Dicky does
spirit you away when we want you to
join us.” i
She threw him a laughing glance as
she clasped my hand.
“I am so glad vou have come,” | said
cordially, but inwardly I flercely resent
ed her intrusion, as I deemed it.
But what was my horro rto hear
Dicky say casually:
“You've come at a most opportune
time, Lil. Madge has had an offer from
some woman's club to do a lecturing
stunt on history, her specialty, you
\knov. and she wants to take it. I wish
you'd help me persuade her out of it.”
| *“I can not imagine why we should
I trouble Mrs. Underwood with so person
‘al a matter,” I heard myself saying
faintly.
Mrs. Underwood laughed boisterously
“Why, I'm one of the family, my dear
child,” she said heartily, Thea she
looked at me keenly.
} “l might have known that one man
would have no chance with two women,’”
Dicky growled. His tone held capitula
tion. I kmnew 1 had won my battle.
But was it my victory or this woman's
I so detested?
“Don’'t let this man bully you,” she
advised, half-laughingly. “He's per
fectly capable of it. I know him. By
‘all maens. accept the offer if you think
When a Girl Marries
A STORY OF EARLY WEDDED LIFE
By Ann Lisle.
(Copyright, 1919, King Feature Syndi
cate, Inc.)
CHAPTER CXIV.
HERE in the grim and secretive
T apartment which Terry and Car.
lotta Sturges and 1 were ran
sacking for some clue to Betty, a sud
dea inspiration came to me.
Betty had said, ‘“Not tonight--soon,
perhaps, Anne,” when I begged for the
opportumity of standing by her as she
always did by me—and 1 felt that was
almost a promise. I became certain
that she had written to me—l would go
home and find a letter there.
Terry leaped at any suggestion that
meant action, moving toward some clue
in his search. Carlotta volunteered to
try to find what taxi company Betty
called just before leaving,
“That girl's a brick,” said Terry,
quietly, ag we rode down town in the
elevated. Anthony Norreys had used
‘hu very words,
Our taxi was waiting when we got
rdovn to the street. We falriy leaped
into the car and in almost complete si
lence drove to my apartment.
~ When we arrived there 1 hurried at
‘once to get my malil
~ There were three letters in the Har
‘rison box. I jerked them out. One for
me from Neal, a typed envelope for Jim
and an announcement from a milliner.
That was all-—no line from Betty.
I tried to ignore the sudden sinking
of my heart,
~ “Come up and waft for Jim. Ho's
fond of Betty, too, and he'll teil us
what a pair of sillies we are to fuss just
because she goes off on some affairg
of her own and doesn't consult us™
Word From Jim.
“Yes, I'd like to see old Jimmrie,™
agreed Terry, as he stumbled into the
elevator after me.
The grinning eclevator boy turned to
me with an announcement:
| “Mistah Harrison, he phone. Yas'm,
he do. He say tell you he de here di
reckly--no later than ‘leven.™
“It's after that now,” declared Terry,
glancing at his wrist watch as he spoke.
“Nine forty-five,” he reported with an
Alr of amazement. “T thought It was
midnight.”
He smiled at me wanly but apolo
getically as we left the elevator, and
added with a little effort to poke fun
at himself: 4
“It's been a wretchedly long even
ing, even though I've spent part of
it with you, dear lady.”
I turned from fumbling to locate the
keyhole and laid my hand on Terry's
arm. |
“Terry, I know,” I said. “1 love Bet-
Ly, too. I only found it out last night,
but it's been trying te come through to
daylight for a long while. ™
Then 1 got the door open, switched
on the lights, ste out an ash tray, ci
garetes and maiches and hurried into
my bedroom. «
1 took a long time removing my oan
teen cap and apron ane Janging away
my cape. When ] felt I'd given Terry
M....Nn.m
o /% ,u» # o
H ¥(g P
" b . i B i "
li ; ol 7 *\;’ ™ i
/‘g ‘ AN
:;' /('4 B o P g ,'q’:&.‘:: ;:
pLI - '.% oXI Nok
it's worth while. All these husbands
are a bit archale yet, you know, They
don't realies that women have joined
the human race.”
“Come, Dickybird,” she rattled on as
she saw his darkening face, “Don’t be
silly, You'll have to give In. You're
just 50 years behind the times, you
know."
During the remainder of Mrs. Un
derwood's brief call she ignored Moky,
and devoted herself to me. There is
no denying the fact that she has great
charm when she chooses to exefcise it
Dicky, however, appeared entirely ob-|
livious of it, sitting in moody silerss
until she rose to go.
“You ought to preserve that grouch™
she carelessly advised, as he stood hold
ing the door open for her. “Carefully
corked in a glass jar, it ought to keep
to give to your grandchildren as a horri
ble example.”
Dicky grinned reluctantly and bowed
low as she passed out of the room with
a cordial adieu to me, but no sooner
had the door closed behind her than he
turned to me angrily.
“Look here, Madge,” he exclaimed.
“are you really In earnest about taking
that blasted position?"
“Why, of course 1 am,™ T answered.
“It seems providential, coming just as
you ingist upon having a mald. I ean
engage one with a clear conscience
now.”
Dicky sprang to his feet with a mut
tered word that sounded suspiciousty
like an oath, and began to walk rapidly
up and down the room, his hands be
hind his back, and his face dark with
anger. Up and down, up and down he’
paced, while I, sitting quletly in my
chair, walted, nerving myself for the
scene I anticipated.
When it came, however, It surprised
me with the turn it took. Dicky stopped
suddenly in his pacing, and ocoming
swiftly over to me, dropped om ons!
knee beside my chalr and put his arm
’a.round me.
~ “Sweetheart,” he said softly, *I don't
want to quarrel about this, nor do I wish
to be unreasonable about it. But, real
ly, it means an awful lot to me. I
‘don’t want you to do it. Won't you
Iglvo it up for me?
I returned Dicky’s kiss, and held hm
tightly as T answered:
“Dear boy, I'll think 1t over wvery
carefully. If I possibly can, I will do as
you wish. But, remember, I say if 1
‘can. I havent made you a definite
promise yet.”
} “But you will, I know; that's my owa
dear girl. Good-bye. Tl'll have to rush
back to the studio now.”
~ Dicky’s tone was light and confident
‘as he rose. Life always has been easy
for Dicky. I heard him say once ha
never could remember the time when
'he didn’t get his own way.
} (Continued Monday.)
time enough to adjust himself to the
disappointment of finding no word from
Betty even here at my home, I went
out to him. He was striding up and
down the room, his hands clasped be
}hind him, his head low, but at the
sound of my appraoch he hurried to me
almost shyly.
| A Qualification.
1 “Anne,” he said, accepting the new
status my calling him *“Terry” had
established. “Anne—you just sald—you
loved her.”
' He stumbled over the words a bit. ¥
tock his hands as if he were a little boy
—as, indeed, what man in trouble isn’'%
—and led him to the big couch. §
pushed him down in the very com
flest corner and sank into a little low
‘cha!r, facing him. Then, looking at
him with the big-sister smile that mo
one had needed since Neal left me, L
sald, slowly and quietly:
“Terry, what I said was that I loved
Betty, TOO!"
Terry looked at me In the greatest
astonishment. He daldn't dream how
very evident his feeling for Betty had
always been to me. For a second, a
boyish, almost shamefaced grin flicker
ed out on his face. It made me like him
better than ever, and I held out my
hands in pleading.
“Oh, Terry! can't you trust met
You've been ®mo loyal to Jim and me.
Aren't we really friends? Betty said
friendship has to—go two ways.”
Again Terry smiled—a man's smile
now, & little wan, perhaps, but very
real and true, for all that. And as
his first words I knew that the bar
riers of his reserve had gone down—s
swept away not by chance but by his
own choice. Terry did trust me,
“So you've guessed that I-care? On,
Anne, I'd die just to have Betty happy.
)And she’s ghost.ridden!™
~ “Ghost-ridden? Jim said that wery
thing, Terry. He sald you both were-—,
for a man who probably aid not deserwy
it. Oh, Terry, Terry, don't you think
you need some one to look at things for
You and see them simpiy and withont
any of the awful background of the war
and bloody flelds that seem to be sti
fling—stifling things for you and Betty!
Don't your
After 1 had sald 1t I was frightened.
I could fairly see Terry withdrawir
from nae, repulsing my eager efforts 5
imo wia B 10l bt
of stons. Then he leaned forward,
clasped his hands and dropped them
between his knees. A tiny smile etched *
itself across the sombreness of his face,
‘‘Ghost-ridden. Both of us, Perhaps '~
he said, slowly. *““Well, Sister Anne, you
love Betty, too. And so I'm golng to
tell you the whole story—hers and mine
and Atherton's.”
(To Be Continued)
Professional Fees,
‘“T'eil the doctor,” said a cobbier aftey
& brief examination ee a pair of bonis of
fercd him to repatr, “that these bhoots
ain't worth mending.” “Then, of course '
sald the doector's servamt, turning aws.,
"1 don't want anvthing Aone te them **
“But I charge you a quarter jonst tl:a
Same.” “What for?™ “wel, YOur muaster
charged me $2 the other oy telling
m-“a_hvrn WwWasn't anythiug the matter with
me