The Dawson news. (Dawson, Ga.) 1889-current, 1923-04-03

couraging.
my eyes did not deceive me | stopped
and tasted a bit of each. Then this
sign greeted me:
walk in; help yourself. w. 5. Gull
pepper Candy Forest"
Now | had always wondered whence
Mr.. Culpepper's candy came, and you
may be sure | hurried into his forest.
There was every kind OF candy mag
inable-chocolate creams were grow
ing on trees and as fast as | picked
one, two grew back in its place. For
once | had enough candy.
Coming out of the forest | saw
village before me. The cottages were
built of all sorts of dainties, and shin
gled with soda crackers. While | was
gathering a cracker from the roof an
old woman came out and filled my
pockets with every conceivable goodie.
| She let me peep through doughnut
window and there | saw table made
of eskimo pies and bed made OF
cheese straws. For coverings 1t had
cloth made of white cotton candy.
Fountains poured forth cold drinks
sweet milk, milkshakes, lemonade
| ana CIlGIO-GOld. IlClC quSlNilNh ny
thirst and enjoyed the sights. On
| bearing fruits and nuts of every va
rietv; while in front stood the court
house, made of pink and white brick
ice cream. Now and then handsome
young man would pass with a lady
on his arm. Each was dressed in cost
" array and bedecked with jewels.
Occasionally an old man or woman
would walk near me, leaning on a gold
or silver studded cane. Everybody
seemed to be living in luxury.
In the distance | heard band play
ling, and down the street a grand pro-
cession proceeded. At its head was
host of men dressed in satin suits and
PLAYING all kinds of instruments Next
| came pages, wearing green velvet
pants and white silk jackets; these
spread a carpet of velvet for the hand
some white horses which were draw
ing a golden chariot. In it sat the
most beautiful woman | had ever
seen. Her long golden hair hung loose
and her cheeks were like roses, her
eyes like stars. She was Princess Mar
malade, who had just returned from
her morning bath in the Fountain of
Beauty. | thought / would go and
search for it but a black cloud had
arisen and soon rain and hail began
! to fall Imagine my amazement when
found that it wasn't raining rain
but buttered larks instead, nor was it
hailing hail but dill pickles and olives
After this peculiar downpour | wan
dered in to roast goose slowly turn
ling himself around. Determined to
take him home | began chasing him.
| Have you ever tried to catch a goose
before he was roasted? If you thought
lit was the hardest job you had ever
attempted | am sure you never have
tried to catch one after he was roast
ed He certainly led me a chase SINH
lar to those our grandfathers have
! termed wild goose chases. We rae
| ed over hills, meadows and fields I'M
| til we came to brook, which ran
with water as clear as crystal and as
cold as ice. In crossing the brook my
! foot slipped and down l went. But in
stead of finding myself at the bottom
of the brook | was in the chair be-
fore the fire. The rain was pouring
outside and soon l forgot all about
that roast goose and Luxury Land.
king TUT LEADS"
(Bv Ella Mae Hollingsworth)
Lord Carnarvon strolled down a high
way of Egypt
Before him a purpose did loom, i
To follow the footsteps Of friend
Phillip Carter, =.
And rescue King Tut from his
tomb.
His spirit had writhed long enough in
its casket,
maiden with jewels and gold,
T. appease the dire wrath OF the idols
he worshipped,
When each should lay claim to his
soul.
For fame and renown were his por-
ton just then,
When everyone bowed to his name. |
His splendor, his treasure, his idols, |
his slaves
Put 'Laddins gay trinkets to shame. |
A thing so uncommon as King Tut
Being raised from his tomb of B. c.
Is blessing, in truth, to designers
! for youth,
| OF frocks in our own twenty-three.
Supreme on the street corners, papers, |
museums,
In the eye OF the public he reigns;
With his grand former exit, no doubt
he now reCks it
| No more than is due his remains.
The mummy glide" now on the
dance floor we see,
Tut" styles in the show window
dummy;
| "Tuta- Khamen Blues" jazz from the
trombones and flutes.
Fen the baby cries, Mummy, oh
mummy"
It's a SOLDERING thought. It's quite
fearful to think
That he with whom all are so
chummy.
Whose name fills the journals, style