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The Dalton Citizen
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY
T. S. SHOPS Editor
T. 8. McOAMY Associate Editor
Official organ of the United States Circuit and District
Courts, Northwestern division. Northern District of Georgia.
OFFICIAL ORGAN WHITFIELD COUNTY
Terms of Subscription:
One Year $1.00
Sir months *50
Three months . 25
Advertising Rates Furnished on Application.
Entered at the Dalton, Ga., postoffice for transmission
through the mails as second-class matter.
DALTON, GA., THURSDAY, OCTOBER 22, 1914.
Well, Hoke did Ms derndest.
All play and no work makes Jack a useless boy.
As a letter writer Wilson gets there on all four
feet.
It has been estimated that the war will destroy
one-fourth of the world’s wealth.
Germans are great people, but Prussian militarism
is gnawing the very heart out of them.
"
Give ’Em Hell Hutchens has not even made a
pmn ll ripple. Deserters can never amount to very
much.
Oscar Underwood predicts peace and prosperity for
the American people. Truth to tell we already have
both.
BEING CONGRATULATED.
Governor Slaton has received many messages
of congratulation on the very satisfactory manner
in which he handled the Western and Atlantic
railroad matter. Under severe criticism and con
stant nagging he pursued the even tenor of his
way and quietly reached an agreement with the
parties at interest that made it unnecessary to as
semble the legislature in extraordinary session at
an expense of $75,000. It must be admitted that
Governor Slaton handled ^his matter in a wise
and patriotic manner, and he has the thanks of
the people of Georgia regardless of political align
ment or prejudice.—Dawson News.
Governor Slaton very ably handled the matter,
and did it in a way that is to his everlasting credit.
An extra session of the legislature would have been
expensive, and" would have been necessary if the
governor had not been able, through diplomacy and
tact, to prevail upon the Louisville & Nashville offi
cials to hold their extension plans in abeyance until
the legislature convenes next June. Neither friend
nor foe can justly find fault with the governor for
the direction he has seen fit to give this railroad mat
ter.
Sir Lionel says he didn’t say it, and the British
government says he didn’t. The newspaper man is
the goat.
Hard times is merely a state of mind as a re
sult of a general letting down without any reason
able cause.
Mr. Harriman is learning railroading by running
a hand car. A millionaire can do most anything and
get advertising out of it.
The per capita money circulation in this country
is now $37.15. We are short exactly $37.00 of our
part.- P. S.—Since writing the above we have spent
the 15 cents.
THE OUTLOOK BRIGHTENS.
More rapidly than could have been expected
by anyone -who measured the magnitude of war
influence upon world trade, the situation . is be
ing cleared up so far as business conditions are
concerned.. The nations at war as well as other
nations are coming into our markets heavily for
food stuffs, manufactured products are in demand,
the cotton situation is tending toward betterment,
the banking interests are being put into shape, the
Reserve Banking system with all its power for
good is being mobilized, the first rude shock of
war to world finance is being overcome, and we
are preparing to go to work. With faith in our
selves and faith in our country’s limitless poten
tialities we dan now plan to do business. The
clouds are beginning to break away. Manufac
turers Record. y
It would seem that the best thing to do is to get
jusy and quit looking for something in the way of
egislation to relieve the situation; It is impraetica-
fie and nothing will be done, in our opinion, either
it Washington or at the state capitals.
Business is getting better all the time, and will
mprove more rapidly if the wailings will only cease,
rruth to tell there is too much politics mixed up
n the affair. One crowd in Georgia, for instance,
wants aid from Washington, while another wants it
:rom the state. One crowd wants to hit Hoke while
;he other lambasts Jack. It seems to us the best thing
,o do is to forget it and get busy. We are up against
t, but we are by no means ruined. The farmers have
received far less than 6% cents for their cotton and
lived through it all right.
As the Manufacturers Record says, the outlook
is brightening, and it will continue to do so if we
all set ourselves resolutely to the task of making
the best of the conditions that envelop us.
It is up to the farmer to reduce his cotton acreage
and he knows it, therefore it seems that all this talk
about legislation to force him to do what he himself
acknowledges he must do, is foolish.
Another thing the farmer “with energy and as
sets” <»»n now get all the money he needs at the
hfinVn at the same rates of interest charged she busi
ness men of the cities. After all our blessings axe
many. We are at peace with the world, and have
plenty to eat and wear, so what’s the use complain
ing? The outlook is brightening every day.
THE FAIR.
.%■ ■—
Notwithstanding the fact' that Monday, Tuesday,
Wednesday and Thursday of last week were rainy
days the Whitfield County Fair turned out all right.
The attendance Friday was the best we have ever
seen. The crowds, were immense and orderly. Every
body present seemed to be enjoying the fair and
day. The exhibits were indeed fine, and the fair
association naturally feels proud of its achievements.
One thing was strongly in evidence at the fair
namely, the live stock exhibits. The fair is^ now
thirteen years old, and each year has witnessed live
stock improvement.
This section of Georgia is a splendid section for
stock raising, and it is a good sign to see that the
farmers are becoming more and, more alive to the
necessity of stock raising and grain growing. There
are few all cotton farmers in this end of the state
and it is well. Where the farmers diversify their
crops low-priced cotton does not hurt so bad.
The Whitfield county fair is filling well its mis
sion. It is bringing our people together in friendly
relationship where ideas are exchanged and experi
ences worth while are related. The man on the west
side is very anxious to know Jfow the man on the east
side made sixty bushels of corn to the acre, and
vice versa. An interchange of ideas and experi
ences are bound to be both helpful and profitable.
Everybody should encourage and help the fair.
It is not a money-making institution. It is an in
stitution that has for its mission the betterment of
the farming conditions in the county. It has done
much, and with the friendly cooperation of our peo
ple it can do much more.
Next year’s fair should be the biggest and best
ever. Boost it all you can.
The Atlanta Georgian says it isn’t necessary to
have horns in order to be an assistant to the devil.
The. latest paper to appear on the Citizen’s ex
change table is the Laurens County Herald. It is
from Dublin, Ga. It is a neat paper and has prom
ise of a splendid future.
The legislature is in session in the Philippine
islands. Thus are they having their experiences with
the agencies of high civilization.
As noted in these columns a few weeks ago, Bour
bon county, Ky., went dry. However, we failed to
state that Christian county went wet.
The Citizen doesn’t take any stock at all in this
business of trying to legislate a small crop of cot
ton. It still believes in individual initiative.
General von Kluck has been succeeded by General
von Somebody else, which leads the New York World
to suggest that it must be success or a successor.
“We trust St. Louis will be smart enough to dis
tribute that $150,000,000 before Billy Sunday begins
his meetings there,” remarks the irreverent Houston
Post.
Atlanta is again advertising herself via the vice
route, and the Atlanta Journal is yelling for the bellig
erents to “shut up! ” Possibly this would be the best
thing to do.
The historian Macaulay said the Puritans’ objec
tion to bear baiting was not on account of the pain
to the bear, but because the operation supplied pleas
ure to the spectators.
An evangelist is reported as saying there are thir
teen roads to hell. Well, the more routes there are
the more evangelists it wih take to keep the people
off of them. Who said salvation is free?
The Savannah Press wants to know who it was
that predicted a short war? We suppose it was the
same kind of a fool who said the south would be
whipped by the north in about thirty days.
The Rome Tribune-Herald says a great many of
the superstitious are predicting the end of the world.
They have been doing it for full two thousand years,
brother, and no doubt will be for the next two thou
sand.
The farmer should not complain. He has about
two bales of cotton this year to where he had one
last on about the same acreage. Last year he got
$65.00 for one 500-pound bale, while this year he can
get $70.00 for two bales.
We have had one week of court and grand jury.
The blind tigers still rage, while the devotees of soda
water must content themselves with mill creek cock
tails on Sunday. Justice is a peculiar animal when
it takes the form of a stalking horse for the law
less.
The man who sells whisky in Dalton is guilty of
a misdemeanor. The man who swears a lie to pro
tect him is guilty of a felony, the minimum punish
ment for which is four years in the chaingang. There
is some work for the grand jury when it reassembles
in December.
Wilson and Watterson have buried the hatchet.
It takes big men to acknowledge their faults and
prove their humanity. Little fellows snarl and snap
a lifetime, feeling they are impressing the world
with their tenacity of high purpose, when what they
are really doing is to convince the people about "them
that they are merely bull-headed.
Those partisan papers and prejudiced politicians
who think they will gain anything by abusing Hoke
Smith about the cotton situation, will have to guess
again. He did everything he could to have so-called
remedial legislation passed, but the powers at Wash
ington were against him, and in our opinion correctly
so. Sumptuary legislation of any kind is reprehensible
to a free people.
The Citizen is in receipt of a copy of the Star,
of Sparta, N. C., which has recently been purchased
by Mr. Frank Wrench, a former resident of this city.
Mr. Wrench was associated with his father in pub
lishing the Dalton Argus a number of years ago,
and is a capable newspaper man, being a gifted writer
and one who thoroughly knows the newspaper game.
The Citizen predicts that he will make the Star shine
with added luster, giving to the people of his section
a wide-awake and readable newspaper, which will
prove a substantial factor in the upbuilding of Sparta
and the surrounding territory.
'THE NEW CLARION.'
‘ < They say morphine and other drugs will induce
sleep, but I hain’t never ‘run across anything that
’ud send me adrift as quick as smellin’ clean leaves,
pine-needles, an’ wild flbwers.”
This sweet and wholesome philosophy of Abner
Daniel’s is the shining motif in Will N 1 . Harben’s
recently published book, “The New Clarion.” We
of Dalton, and the section of which Mr. Harben
writes, are proud of the pen which has given as much
literary prominence to our hills and valleys as Barrie’s
has to Thrums or Kipling’s to India. In this new
novel the elements which have combined to make the
charm of its predecessors are not lacking.
To feel in need of a cheerful friend and have him
not—to find one’s self shut’in upon a day of cloud and
rain—to long for a book that does not attempt the
psychic or the problematic—each and all of these con
ditions find alleviation in the reading of a sane, in
teresting and delightful story such as Mr. Harben has
given us in “The New Clarion.” When we are in
trouble or sorrow, worldly diversions are like the nar
cotics of which kindly old Abner Daniel speaks, and
nature alone, as was intended from the beginning, is
the healing salve for our wounds. And so a book that
has nature and humanity for its key-note can always
And a welcome in the homes and hearts of true readers.
The story itself is interesting, with a fresh and
appealing love theme running like a silver thread
across the darker background of passion and preju
dice that helps to place’ the young hero, Howard
Tinsley, in a somewhat tragical situation. Happily
the home-spun humor of our old friends Pole Baker
and Abner Daniel supplies many other bright inter
weavings, while a new figure, the frankly acquisitive
merchant, J. L. Tarp, introduces the gayest colors in
the whole woof and warp of this well-turned tale. In
fact, Tarp is a character worthy to stand in that im
mortal row where Sam Waller and Joseph Sedley have
their everlasting place.
Mr. Harben’s art ripens with each succeeding book,
and critics have always conceded the fact that the
gift of telling an interesting story about simple folk
and everyday events is the most difficult art, and the
highest. To this art, then, Mr. Harben has attained,
and thereby his place in contemporary literature is .
a permanent one.
“The New Clarion,’’ by-the-way, is the name of a
weekly newspaper, published in the little town of
Darlev. An evidence of recurring literary coinci
dences is the appearance of Samuel Hopkins Adams’
book, “The Clarion,” also a newspaper’s name, and
printed since Mr. Harben’s novel left the publisher’s
hands. L. W. C.
A great deal of farming is being done these
days on the editorial^ pages.—Macon News.
As we observed last week, perhaps too much of it.
What has become of the old fashioned sub
scriber who sent his editor a ham after the au
tumn’s first" cold spell?—Macon News.
He is still with us, but he brings the ham in and
sells it for twenty cents a pound.
Showing the strong support given England by
her colonies, we observe where Canada has just
sent two thousand pounds of cheese to the front.
—Macon News.
The beauty about such a contribution \ is that it
will not be necessary :to await its arrival to know
that it is coming. :
The one comforting feature about the business
crisis produced by the .European war is that,
thanks to the democratic banking and currency
system, Wall Street can’t dictate to the national
treasury, hog all the money in the country and
bring on a moqey panic.—Albany -Herald.
But under the old system wouldn’t this great coun
try be in a fix now? Honestly, wouldn’t it?
The editor of the Dalton Citizen admits that
he is still in the land of the living and blind tigers,
and his neighbor, the Rome Tribune, tells him he
ought to be thankful for both.—Albany Herald.
Dalton tiger venders are a sorry set, and the
stuff they sell is in keeping with them. However,
we are thankful that we live in Dalton, the best
town in the world—too good to tolerate much longer
the blind tiger system.
The Right Rain.
Robert Loveman’s lyric, “It Isn’t Raining Rain
to Me,” is parodied as follows by M. T. C., in The
Kansas City Star:
“It isn’t raining rain to ine,
It’s raining forage crops;
In every dimpled drop I see
Alfalfa green as hops.
With pastures green for horses lean,
And rye and wheat for sows,
It isn’t raining rain to me,
It’s raining food for cows.”
Life and
Laughter
BY JAMES WELLS
“The Printer-Poet”
“I Should Worry”
Imagination a Trouble-Maker.
Imagination is one of the most active of trouble
makers.—Albany Journal.
Once a chesty guy imagined
He could whip a shriveled guy
Said, ‘ ‘ That shrimp can do fighting;
I can whip him and not try.”
But when they brought him back to life
Then he sang another song:
“Thought he wasn't much on fighting,
But I just imagined wrong.”
Once a Georgia mule looked sleepy,
And a simple sort o’ chap
Came a-slipping up behind him
And he gave a gentle rap.
Then the mule’s heels flew out quickly,
And he joined the angel throng.
He thought that mule was docile—
But he just imagined wrong.
Once a fellow wed a girlie
Who was very fair to see;
Her golden hair was curly
And it fell down to her knee.
When she went to bed she locked it
In a dresser stout and strong.
He thought it grew upon her—
But he just imagined wrong. r
Once some nations, out in Europe,
Started up a little war.
Each one thought she’d whip the other,
And ’twould not be carried far.
Now the whole blame thing is scrapping;
Bitter is the strife and long.
Certain countries thought it easy—
But they just imagined wrong.
♦ + ♦
Since You Went Away, My Dear.
Oh, dark is the night and dreary the day
Since, you went away, my dear.
And shadowed the sunlight, of life’s weary way
Since you went away, my dear.
The birds jojn in singing a sad roundelay,
And the trec3 seem to whisper and sadly to say: •
Lenore, sweet Lenore, we will miss you for aye,
Since you went away, my dear.
The sun seems to shine through a mist of tears
Since you went away, my dear.
As if it, too, thought of the long drear years
With you gone away, my dear.
And even the angels at night come to weep
Anl leave precious tears on the grass where you sleep;
On the grass beneath which yon now slumber so deep,
Since you went away, my dear.
+ + +
Drop It, Kid.
Drop it, kid—that ugly frown,
Don’t be “totin’ ” it aroun;
Just be glad ’at you’re alive,
Glad ’at you can live and thrive—
Drop it, kid.
Drop it, kid—that grievance dope—
See, the future’s full of hope!
Just forget the fall you had,
Butt right in again, my lad,
Drop it, kid.
4- ♦ ♦
Poor Fido!
Poor Fido’s tail is very sore,
The end is mashed, you know,
And everywhere that Fido goes
He takes his tail of woe.
♦ + ♦
Misery Has Company.
If “misery loves company,”
It shouldn’t seem so queer £
That when a tooth begins to ache
It hurts the others near.
♦ + ♦
Wear a Smile—and Fight.
Every time a trouble-cloud
Comes a-floatin’ ’long,
Meet it with a manner proud—
With a smile and song.
Ain’t no use a-whinin’,
_ Uselessness repinin’;
Wear a smile,
An’ watch a while
For the silver linin’.
If a thing you’re bettin’ on
Doesn’t come your way,
Don’t you be a lettin’ on
’At it spoiled the day.
With a courage strong,
Sing a little song;
Wear a smile
A little while,
Trouble won’t last long.
When the thing is runnin’ wrong,
Nothin’ comes just right;
Smile and sing a little song
While you bravely fight.
Simply do your best,
Never be oppressed;
Wear a smile
And fight a while,
Trust God for the rest.
♦ + +
♦ ♦
♦ Letters From The People. ♦
♦ ♦
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦
Back To The Jungle.
To the Editor of The Dalton Oitizen:
Perhaps no one will seriously object to a further
discussion of the problems which the European war
presents for our consideration.
It is certain that we cannot affect the progress of
the war by, talking about it, but as it is the most
appalling thing that humanity has ever encountered,
a desire to discuss the issues involved should be M
couraged. ea ‘
These questions are being constantly asked- “T«
Christianity a failure?” “I 8 re Iigiou a failure?” “t
our civilization a failure?”
It will take more than a moment’s thought to gi-e
an intelligent answer to any of these questions. The
fact stares us in the face that there is failure some
where. In two short months we see the civilization
and culture of the twentieth century hurled back into
the primitive jungle. The warring nations disregard
every rule of civilized warfare. It is becoming a war
of extermination. How much worse were our primi
tive ancestors? They fought to the death to defend
the borders of their jungle or the confines of their
cave. The distinction between the man and the brute
seems to have broken down. Humanity seems to be
going by defanlt and the talon and the beak are again
in the ascendency. This war is an indictment not so
much against our Christianity as against our eiviliza-
ton.
Christianity is a system built upon our religion,
and our religion is a product of our civilization. This
statement may shock many people who hold that civil-
ivation is the product of religion, but under aT-iating
conditions I think the former view far more charitable.
The German kaiser says he is shooting culture into
Belgium and France. And no one will deny that
German culture is of the highest order. But the
everlasting shame of it all is that the shots have gone
through the bodies of thousands of helpless women and
children in order to reach those for whom they were
intended.
It is evident that civilization is far from its ideal.
We have had visions of beautiful ideals—the brother
hood of man—Christ-like sympathy—Godly forbear
ance—but they rested upon unsubstantial, eloud-like
stuff, and behold they have tumbled about our ears!
The church is supposed to be the great humanizing
agency in our system, but has the church always stood
for the ideals for which we strive? The men who
have preached and proclaimed these ideals have often
been the most eager to substitute the book for the
sword and enter the fight in the name of the god of
battles.
The church militant has ever been foremost to
flaunt the red flag of war. It is so easy •'to cause
patriotism and religious zeal to coalesce and then to
hitch both on to the war chariot of an angry diety,
and then to “Sail through bloody seas.”
We stated in a recent letter that churchianity is a
failure. In the attainment of all that it ought to
stand for it is a failure; but in the attainment of the
things for which it has actually stood no one can dis
pute its success.
It has taught a theology of force. It has waged
wars of extermination. It has stood under and behind
every cause for which man has ever spilled his blood.
The logic of the German military party is the logic
of St. Augustine. The methods of the armies of
Europe are the methods of Calvin as he consigned
Servetus to the flames, and of Cromwell as he hurried
the Catholics of England to their death. During our
civil war the churches of the north fired the hearts
of the people with a fanatical zeal for the abolition of
slavery. Many preachers went into their pulpits with
guns and battle flags,and set their hearers on fire
with patriotism. (?) The god of battles has always
been a favorite with the church.
They who represent divine providence as being a
party to war and bloodshed are doing the cause of
humanity and civilization an irreparable injury.
It is constantly becoming more apparent that we
must reconstruct our ideals from the very foundation
before we can. eliminate the savage from humanity
and begin to accomplish that hoped-for condition—
disarmament.
I append the following quotation as being very
pertinent at this time:
“A Dream of the Almighty.”
“'P’he Eternal sit upon the judgment seat and
caused the great throng of humanity to pass before
him. The Judge said to Moses: ‘What didst thou
give to the people?’
“The Law.”
“What did they make of it?”
“Sin.”
Then he asked Charlemagne: “What didst thou
give to thy people?”
“The Altar.”
“What did they make of it?”
“The Stake.”
At last the Eternal asked his only begotten: “My
beloved, what didst thou give to men?”
“Peace.”
“What did they make of it?” •
Christ answered not. With pierced hands He cov
ered His face and wept.
JUNIUS.
Philom Buys Potato Peeler.
To the Editor of The Dalton Citizen:
Last Friday found me shaking hands with the
largest crowd I have ever seen at the Whitfield county
fair. The exhibits were very fine. In the stock line,
the • hogs took the lead. Uncle Josh says there was
one pictured with three legs, and thinks he glimpsed
one with just two.
Before leaving home I took a solemn vow before
Mrs. Philom that I would not be “tuck in” by them
“fakirs” this tims. I kept my vow until late in the
afternoon, when I ran on a-nice man selling a combi
nation tool for peeling and slicing potatoes. I had
always felt grieved that science had failed to invent
just such a thing. It looks so dangerous to see the
cook slicing with a knife, and I had known some
hands to be cut in the operation. The gentleman
demonstrated its worth to my entire satisfaction. I
brought the thing home and the family was convened
in “ solemn form ’ ’ to witness the process of the
procedure.
A fine sweet potato was brought and I proceeded
to demonstrate just how I could take the hide off in
a “jiffy.” To my astonishment the thing wouldn’t
demonstrate. Seeing my perplexed look and awk
ward expression, Mrs. P. explained that the thing was
only intended to work things that were “soft.” I
told her it worked well on Irish ’taters, but was in
formed that of them kind we were not possessed.
Beat again! Catch me foolin’ with them fakirs
any more!
I tip my derby to the young man from “Arkan-
saw”—such a nice compliment to The Citizen and its
contributors. A little' encouragement now and then
is helpful to the dullest mind. My sympathy follows
the young man—am so sorry he had to occupy that
filthy porch, where the flies did so pester his “ankles.”
Seems I’ve heard it hinted that sox were not much
worn in “Arkansaw,” but supposed that all commer
cial men were allowed to don them in fly time.
But it is only an ill wind than blows no good. I
rejoice that those yellow butterflies came around the
puddle and brought visions of the past—visions of
the good things back at home—in God’s own country,
and filled him with an earnest longing to hear of
the “marriage” of that seasoned piece of “intellec
tual” timber. Now lean this way jes’ a minute while
I whisper that sometimes one uses his intellect well—
uses it so wisely that it keeps him out of trouble and
much weariness to the flesh.
PHILOM.