Newspaper Page Text
Editorial
Page
Here You Are, Dear Friend
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2%,
The auéstion is, How, if ever, are you to get away? .
You don’t see or feel these balls and these chains fastened to you. But the man who looks at you
SEES THEM.—(SEE EDITORIAL.)
Here Is Your “Independent Business Man”
We all live on a very fine planet, a world really worth
study and admiration. ; ‘
We rush to the office, we rush home, we rush to bed, we get
up.
And we think that we are FREE MEN ENJOYING THE
BLESSINGS OF CIVILIZATION.
Ninety-nine in one hundred are like this man in the picture.
They are fastened with chains of steel and held down by
balls of iron that they do not see or feel.
Expenses for food and rent. :
We worry about the bills of to-day.
We worry about the poverty of old age just ahead.
We worry about the fate of the children when we are gone.
And finally, in a very neat, black, undertaker’s automobile,
with imitation curtains carved out of wood, with a good reliable
gas engine in front of it, and nice folding glass doors in the back
of it, we rush to the cemetery—and get a leisurely look at the in
side of the earth WITHOUT EVER HAVING HAD A CHANCE
TO LOOK AT THE OUTSIDE OF IT.
That is about what life amounts to for most of the people on
this earth after they have passed their early boyish or girlish
days of playing, thinking and dreaming.
What is to be done about it?
Nothing much.
We stand what we HAVE to stand, wait for the better day
which is coming to the human race, find consolation in the in
finitely worse days of those that have lived on our earth.
Let us suppose that this man at the desk is of French
descent.
If so, his great-grandfather of the seventeenth century per
haps sat up all night beating the nobleman's pond with a stick to
keep the frogs from disturbing the nobleman’s sleep, or he was a
miserable farmer, working half of his year in the nobleman’s
field, forbidden to destroy’the nobleman’s deer, pigeons and rab
bits that ruined his crops, and - nmpelled by ‘‘le droit du seig
A = o eE —— e—— !
A Y i ,:}“.»_ ‘-’"_:_' =8 oy - :
WEERKLE SN “\GEGRGIAN
neur’’ to send his daughter up to the nobleman’s castle on her
marriage night.
Things are better for the man whose ancestors were French
men—thanks to the fighting that the Frenchmen did in the
Revolution of the eighteenth century.
Suppose that this man is of Irish blood—another Celt, not so
different from the French.
He is perhaps descended from a man who saw his children
killed by English soldiers, who went through starvation, who
obeyed the laws that forbade him to own a horse worth more
than five pounds and compelled him to sell any horse that he had
at that price to an Englishman. The Irishman to-day carries
his heavy load, but at least he sees the better time here in this
country than his great-great-grandfather had in Ireland. And
he sees also in Ireland, which interests him, the birth of a better
time.
So it is with every nationality and with every kind of man.
We carry heavy balls and chains, but we have dropped
heavier ones.
We are not to be envied, rushing from feverish, half-edu
cated youth into bald middle age and into a premature grave.
But, as individuals and as a race, we must find consolation
in the fact that we get about what we deserve. And, tied down
as we are, we must hope and work for the day when men will
free each other, make slaves only of the iron machines that have
no feeling, have a chance to enjoy this earth, the sunshine, the
flowers, the stars at night, and, above all, FREEDOM FROM
THAT FEAR OF A FUTURE THAT LIES LIKE A LUMP OF
LEAD ON EVERY HEART.
As you pity this man, remember that one thing may make
those iron bills as light as feathers, and those chains like threads
of silk.
If he is working for others, if that face on his desk means
more to him than personal happiness or comfort, if he knows that
the weight he carried to-day means a h#htor weight for those
who have a right to depend upon him—YOU NEED NOT PITY
Week Ending
May 19, 1914,