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VOL UME TWO
NUMBER EIGHT.
WHAT WE THINK OF WHAT WE SEE
A New Orleans man who won $45,000 in a lot
tery was fined SIOO for playing policy. That shows
the progress being made by our courts in the ef
fort to exterminate gambling. It is convincing
proof that public sentiment will not stand for this
sort of thing any 7 longer. Look at the swift and
terrible punishment meted out to this transgres
sor. Out of his ill-gotten forty-five thousand dol
lars he had to shell down one hundred dollars.
Such an example as this will read a wholesome
moral to others who are tempted to gamble. A
man just can’t afford to win forty-five thousand
if he has to pay out a whole hundred to the courts.
The members of lowa’s last Legislature had to
make a decision as to the expenditure of $75,000.
They had that amount, and there were two fac
tions in the House when it came to the question of
its use. One faction wanted to build a mansion
for the State Executive; the other said that there
was urgent need for more pavilions for the hogs on
exhibit at the coming State Fair. There arc al
ready acres of hog pens on the fair grounds, but
as the lowa hogs were increasing in size and num
bers with every passing year, more pens were ab
solutely necessary. After a bitter fight the hogs
won; that is, the hog faction was victorious; that
is, the members of the Legislature who wished to
apply the money to building more hog-pens tri
umphed. So the Governor will continue to rent his
mansion—while the hogs will occupy free quarries
in the fair grounds, with a car line running right by
the door. In lowa, as everywhere else, hogs is hogs,
just, as pig’s is pigs.
Professor Hopkins, of Yale, recently read a pa
per before the American Oriental Society in which
he traced the origin and development of the kiss
from the time when it was an infant industry to
the important position it occupies today. We learn
from him that there was a time, ’way back, when
the people didn’t know anything about the kiss. It
was invented by a woman. She lived in India
years and years and years ago, but her name has
been misplaced through the carelessness of some
one. Just at this time this subject is one of great
importance. It is Spring, the birds are singing
and all Nature is preparing to go a-picknieking.
Latter-day scientists have attacked the kiss, and
have claimed that it was full of germs; there has
been an attempt made to bring it under the require
ments of the Pure Food Law; and like all other
institutions which involve anything approaching
the nature of a trust, it has been investigated, ex
posed and denounced. But it still remains. We
are glad we didn’t live in that benighted time when
people didn’t know about the kiss. For one rea
son, life wouldn’t have amounted to much, and be
sides, we have no doubt we would ere now have
been dead a long, long time.
ATLANTA, GA., APRIL 11, 1907.
fly A. E. RAMSAUR. Managing Editor.
The world is growing better; the signs of the
times are brighter than for years. There are indi
cations here and there that there is coming into ex
istence again in some quarters what was known in
the times of our fathers as the individual con
science. A Methodist minister in New York City
some time ago wrote a book. The manuscript was
turned over to the publisher and the book was
being prepared for the press, when the au
thor’s conscience began to manifest some activity.
No man knows how he wrestled with it; but at a
meeting of the Conference a few days ago he ap
peared and stated, on his own initiative, that he
felt that the book might be misunderstood; that he
had not meant any harm —but that rather than let
it go out to the world he would destroy it. His
hearers, being good men and wise in their genera
tion, and having some knowledge of books, prompt
ly and sincerely applauded this announcement.
With this encouragement, the Rev. Mr. Warren, the
author in question, seized his hat and coat and
started post haste for the publisher to order a halt
in the printing. It is too much to hope that all
authors’ consciences will be awakened by this in
stance, but maybe the leaven will finally penetrate
the whole lump, touching here one and there an
other, until in time, authors everywhere may be
more considerate of their fellow beings, and that
of the making of books there may be, finally, an
end.
* *
We are very slow, as a general rule, to allow the
weight of our disapproval to fall upon any policy
of dear England, our Mother Country, but the re
cent action of King Edward in approving the ap
pointment of Sydney Olivier to succeed Sir James
Alexander Swettenham, Esq., as Governor of Ja
maica, fills us with surprise, indignation and alarm.
This convinces us that some radical action should
be taken by the House of Lords or The Times, or
Punch, or the Horse Guards, or somebody, to pre
vent this ruthless trampling upon all the higher
traditions and requirements of diplomacy. Mr.
Olivier may be all right so far as we know, as an
individual, but as a representative of his country
in a post once filled by Sir James Alex. Swetten
ham, he cannot be less than a most regrettable fail
ure. He is too young and raw and untrained. He
lacks repose. He cannot repose at the proper
times. Now repose was Sir Alex’s long suit. No
matter what happened; if a fight occurred on the
Bowery 7 of Jamaica and the whole police force
turned, out to restore order, Sir Alex, wasn’t
moved. If the Salvation Army held services right
under his window, little did he reck; he kept on
reposing; and even amid the trials and distractions
of an earthquake, he could still wrap his dignity
about him and lay him down Io diplomatic repose.
Alas, that old age should creep upon such a man
and compel his retirement! But he shall have his
reward. Long will we of America point to him as
the greatest reposist of all time; and history will
embalm him in a reposeful nook where he will
never be disturbed. But as for Olivier, we can pre
dict nothing favorable. He can’t last long. What
can we liken him to, save the chaff which the wind
carrieth away?
* H
There is no doubt that the Jamestown Exposition
will be the greatest in some respects this country
has ever seen. There will be a long list of unique
attractions, each one well worth the expense and
the time necessaay to making the journey to see.
The latest announcement that fills us with peculiar
interest is that the celebrated “ John Smith Rock”
will be exhibited there. It has been taken trom the
old Powhatan estate and will be exhibited to those
Americans who journey to the cradle of this Re
public, and no doubt their breasts will be filled
with emotions too deep and too tender for utter
ance. Every one knows the history of this rock;
how that Captain John Smith, nobly engaged in
founding an abiding place for the pilgrims, got into
some little discussion with stern old Powhatan, an
Indian chief. Powhatan, after some light persi
flage, ordered the head of Captain Smith removed
from his shoulders. Probably he intended to re
place it later; but the annals of that time, neces
sarily meager, do not go so far as to make his ulti
mate intention clear. The only authentic narra
tive we have is that of Captain Smith himself. He
states that he could actually see his finish; that he
had been placed in a most uncomfortable position,
with his head upon the stone and his neck resting
in a neat little groove prepared for that purpose,
when Pocahontas, the young and charming daugh
ter of stern old Powhatan, rushed to the rescue.
She threw herself down upon Captain Smith,
called him her “own Dear John,” and stated,
firmly, that she would die if he were executed.
This put a different face upon matters. Captain
Smith was released, and could do no less than
propose to his rescuer..
Thus goes the beautiful story 7 ; true and vouched
for in every detail. And is it not remarkable
'that we now have the privilege of looking upon
that very stone? There is no doubt that it is the
one. It is as sure as it is that Mark Twain saw the
grave of Adam. He tells why it is a safe and pet
rfied certainty that the grave he saw was the grave
of Adam. This is how it is proven: “It is a
singular coincidence that right under the roof
of this same great church, and not far away from
that illustrious column, Adam himself, the father of
the human race, lies buried. There is no question
that he is actually buried in the grave which is
pointed out as his—'there can be none —because it
has never yet been proven that that grave is not
the grave in which he is buried.” There will arise
no doubt in any mind as to this stone, until some
one proves it is not the stone on which Captain
Smith was about to be beheaded.
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