The Future citizen. (Milledgeville, Ga.) 1914-????, July 15, 1916, Image 3

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f. THL Nluftt \ —Mr. J. T. Hale made a business trip to town one day last week. —Ivey Hutto was paroled to his home in Hazelhurst, Ga. this week. —We received two new boys this week they are Darwin Woods and Grady N»n*. —Mr. E. B. Cohran has had a squad of boys digging a ditch for the sewerage system. —The steer wagons are still hauling chert while a squad of boys are busy tamping it down. — Mr. W. L. Hodges has had a squad of boys busy hoeing the potatoes at the Walker place. — Dr. J. A. Price came out and vac cinated all the new boys who had not already been vaccinated. —At last it has auit raining! We hope it will stay cpiit for a while, it come very near ruining our corn. —Tho boys received a wagon load of peaches this week and they sure are glad to sae the peaches come. —Mr. John Howell and Sister Mrs. Myrtle Hardeman of Macon, Ga. paid their brother a visit last Wednesday. —The boys will soon be getting water melons as they are ripening very fast. Here's hoping that they get ripe soon. —The boys who received boxes last Sunday were Bill Salters, Quincy O’Steen, Weston Bryan and Lucius Roberts. THE CHRISTMAS HA’NT Christmus week an we-all wuz feelin’ fine, Egg-nog flowed in a silver bowl wid de juice uv de muscadine. We fiddled all day in de cabin, we danc ed all night in de hall, An’ now de Big House all lit up fur de white fo’ks Christmus ball. Dey danced de old ferginny, dey ri pped and r’ar’d to de jig, An’ when dey got ernuff uv dat t’wuz whisky an’ roasted pig- (lut dat ain’t de tale a pesterin’ me — jes, listen at dis ole nig!) Den cum de nuts an’ de apples, de speechifyin’ an’ toasts; “Did you ur’r see a nigger,” ole Mars- ter axed, ‘‘dat didn’t b’Teeve in ghosts He sed it wid winks a-laffin’ an’de cump’ny all sed, “No!” An’ den I bowed wid a curt’sy bow as a backward scrape uv my toe: “May it please you, Marster,white fo’ks all, now dat’s intended fur me, But heah’s a nigger dat ain’t a-skeered of ghostes,es you shall see! Trot out yo’ sperrits,“sez I, “dis night- funs spooks to good whisky!” Den Marster laff, an’ wink wid a mighty wink— Sez he: “Heah’s ten uv de Eagle’s coin ef you ha f es game es you think. Now you go up to de ha’nted ho use nigh de graveyahd whar dey sleep, An’ if you stay tell de break uv day, dis ten am your’n to kee p !” “May it please you, Marser, white fo’ks all,” sed I wid anu’rr bow, “I nuver heerd nuthin’ servig' ous es dat,nur look es good, So I vow. It’s pickin’ it up in de road,” sez I,“an. I’ll start fur dat money now!" —We have got the new dormitory nearly ready for the boys to move in. The boys are looking forward to the time when we shall move in. —Mr. E. H. Snow had a squad of colored boys cleaning out our well after they got through with their well, and they did a good job. —Albert Jordan one of our old boys who is out on parole visited the in stitution this week. Albert is doing fine and we wish him success. —Judge R. E. Davison one of the Prison Commissioners, accompained by Supt. J. M Burke of the State Prison Farm, paid the institution a visit this week. —Mr. C. A. Herndon an expert lumber from Miller Bros. Macon, Qa. as started to work putting in the plumbing in our new building and he seems to know his business. —Mr. J. R. McCullough one of our old officers came out this week and paid us a visit on business taking back with him Sidney McKenney one of our oldest boys. We hope Sidney will make good. I tuck three drinks an’ started out fur de house in de lonely wood, I trotted along in de moonlight dim an’ whistled es loud es 1 cu’d. I seed de spot by de cabin do’ whar de muhdered man wuz foun’, An’ it wuz ba’r, fur de grass wouldn’t grow on dat ar spot uv groun’. But I knowed I hadn’t done nuffin’ to him, so I opens de creechy do’, An’de win’hit moan th’oo de crevice crack an’ den hit moan some mo’:— Zo—o o-Zoo, it say, an’ den—my Lawd! Meow-me—o! My blood froze stiff, fur dar in de room a great big black cat stood, Wid eyes es big es a risin’ moon an’ a tail like a bushy wood. An’ he sot his great big yaller eyes on mine fur a cunjer spell, » An’ roun’ an’ roun’ he circled roun’ ’ enticin’ me to hell! ! But I kep’ my eyes on dem demon eyes fur I knowed ef de spell wa’nt broke He’d gallop wid me to hell an’ back in de twis’ of de witch’s yoke ! Roun an’roun’ wid his witch’s eyes, an’ na’r one uv us spoke. Maxims for Business Men We often 'hear the expression that so and so failed in business because "he bit off more than be could chew in other words, took on bigger job than he could man age. In the opinion, however, of Hertrert Casson, who has been speaking in behalf o* the conven tion ot business men which was held at Toronto, Canada, recently, an excellent maxim for the business man to bear in mind is, “Hite off more than juu can chew—and chew it.” Among other maxims he gave are the following : System is not everything. You can go to the bad systematical* ! y- An advertising man is a saver built like a spender, just as an oys ter is a fish built like a nut. The right place to cut prices is in the factory. The man who cuts prices in the shop does so be cause he luis not the brains to sell h«s goods. The development of the motor industry is due to the skill of the salesmen who were selling cars for seven )ears before the manufactur ers knew how to make them. Sell good goods. We have found out that it doesn’t pay to beat. We have found that the Golded Rule brings in gold.—Industrial School Times At las’ he sees it wouldn't wuck, au, den he clum on a cheer An’ put his paw right under his jaw an’ spit out blue ambeer! An’ den he tuck sum brimstone snuff f’um a box uv fiah, an’ shakes His tail tell ev’ry ha’r stood da’r, an Lawd! dey wuz little snakes! An’ den he laff a’ sateful laff an’sez he, “How-do-you-do’r Does you kno’ dar ain’t nobody heah but des’ us bully boys two? Sez I, as I tuck a runnin' start, sez I, “Dis leaves des’ you !“ I run tell I drap on a san’ bank five miles by de wildgoose trail, Wid little witches playin’craps on de flap uv my ole coat tail. Behussed an’ winded I had to drap, but I’d hardly hit de san’ Befo’ dar cum in his grabe-clothes de deades’ kind uv a man! But he hilt de head uv a still deader man in ’is arms an’ hit grinned an spit, ’An puckered his lips au’ sod: “ole man you sho’ly kin run a bit!" “My Lawd!" sez I, a startin’ erg’in, ‘you hain’t seed no runnin’ yit!” —Tayior-Trotwood Magazine. Can You Ymagive A Time WbeD Tb* Fut*re Citizen WiP * Tb^*? of T^.e Patt?—W*