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EDITORIAL, PAGE THE ATLANTA GEORGIAN Published Every Afternoon Except Sunday By THE GEORGIAN COMPANY At 20 East Alabama St., Atlanta. Ga. Entered as second-class matter at postoffice at Atlanta, under act of March 3, 1879. The Standard Oil Letters Published in Hearst’s Magazine These Letters Tell Yon SOMETHING REAL About the Gov erament Under Which You Live. And They Cure You of Any Faint Doubts as to the Power of Money in This Country. In the May number oI Hearst s Magazine and the \\ eld loday, which has just appeared on the newsstands, W l» Hearst publishes an article entitled “The Lesson of th“ Standard Oil Letters, and presents a certain number of the »* famous documents, of which a great many have not as yet been made public. To a rnan who studies the government of his country and who is interested in the relative importance of men and of money, these letters, revealing the inside of political activities, arc most valuable and instructive. One of the letters—not published hitherto, and printed in fac simile in ‘ Hearst’s Magazine was written by Mark Hanna to John D. Archbold, of the Standard Oil. And it reads as follow? UNITED ST A FES SENATE. Cleveland, Ohio, September 22. John D Archbold. Esq. My Dear John . I am in receipt of yours of the 18th instant.• with enclosures as stated, for which lam obliged lam hold ing the bag." and this is going to he an expensive cam paign. 1 can see where I will land before the thing is over, so 1 have no doubt I will have Io call again. I feel a delicacy about this, a: it is my funeral. I can bog for others better than when I have a personal interest. There are many important interests in this fight. Should Johnson carry the legislature, corporations will catch it, ar, 1 am their representative so called. Sincerely yours. M. A. HANNA. Is, not the wording of tbit letter vow interesting'’ Mark Hanna, the most powerful man in politic . addresser, as “My Dear John" Mr. Archbold, the most powerful man in finance, since he acted as the representative in politics of the Standard Oil. Mark Hanna acknowledges with thanks John L). Archbold S letter “of the 18i.h instant, with enclosures." And he announces at the same time that he will soon be coming back for more. The reader docs not need to be told what, sort oi an enclosure was in Archbold's letter, or for what reason Mr. Hanna would “call again " on the Standard < »il paymaster. As you read this letter, remember that the man that wrote it and the man to whom it was addressed were engaged in an election. Mr. Hanna describes himself as “holding (lie bag that is to say, collecting the money that was to decide an election. And John D. Archhold, of the Standard Oil, is the man to whom he goes T<* F ILL I T THAT BAG. This and other letters of the kind, published in the May num ber of Hearst ’s Magazine, and to be published in a series of issues of that magazine for some lime, will constitute an important page LN THE REAL HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES, when mir Republic and the birth of Hie financial and industrial trust are ana lyzed in days to come. Another letter in the May number of Hearst’s Magazine is written by John D. Archbold to Mark Hanna. In this letter Mr. Archbold, who is called upon when the bag needs tilling, tells why he wants “very objectionable legislation at Columbus killed per manently. Many letters from Mr Archbold, of the Standard Oil. appear in this .May number of Hearst 's Magazine and every one is im portant to the maii who wants to understand HO\V THINGS ARE DONE on the inside of politics ami finance in the United States. A very intelligent man is Mr. Archbold, a good paymaster and political director lor a great trust. And a very good thing it is for Hu country at large that these letters arc <ri vmi to the people. TO \\ HOM TH FA BELONG. prov ing. as they d<>. a conspiracy against government by the people, and a plan to rule by financial organization. The Bungalow By M IN N A th’\’lNG. H.F ar'.- are in the bum! •!-. m- .or m lie , The only water we can uet is carried from th- s.ream. —• ti lp farmers will not ’•! th'-! . bus, they ■<y th. % -ait th 1 m down And al' thei fruit and u-grtahh < th-y -■ nd awaj m town. The planks Iwrmath out air tu ! of ,-r,v k, bmb <-.<p an.l wi<b, And snails and slues, and crawling hues . <>m<- . rc-pms up inside. 1 found a caterpillar one- <-n iit|« i).«n my toe. But that is what you must expert when in a bungalow. We can not sit upon the pon-11. - cornet's nest Is ih»n . At every sound they all tiw out with ti.■ • . and angry air. The - hingle roof c leaky, too. , <> u wak< and And the bed ~ soaking from the -honei bath in action overhead M-- face and arm are a'! t,-’t -• i wit - re m .jnito hit-.. And concerts by the owl and make horrible the nights Bu' when «e write to city friends " -a "U r dor t you jo Aaid buy an acre tn the woods and build a bungalow 7" The Atlanta Georgian THURSDAY, MAY 16. 1912. IT MIGHT BE WORSE H By T. E. POWERS. Copyright, 1912. by International News Service. — ——l ————————— 800 Moo They , j [ tell y ou -ne WANT lb RECALL I w. COUNTRY Judges J 'aillcototme 00 . 5 ir Then keep on 2 ATTACKING, US I x J 1 Judge ' a WHAT 5 OWt I i The MATTER/ g Vi JBIh? 6 IB CL • ■ ig L '— Ye TisTool That THE PEOPLE SADI Do NOT TRUST " . > yTME JUDGES I 'wU J** ‘ gv :: stry vKr A LETTER. ' TTWEMBER i hamEht'i \ HAD A CHANCE To / • \ < EXPLAIN ! -tfoufauw! W' UL. Iteaas; . 7--M / DOROTHY DIX WRITES ()} I'he Married W Oman Who Flirts With Boys Meanest on Earth fTAHERE are men who are ivolvfvs I in : hecp's clothins. who pryy upon young g'irlr. and " hoare one of the menaces of society. There are women who are ser pents in satins ami laces ami dia monds. who prey upon young boys, who are equally dangerous, and who do just as much harm In the world. Everv mothci is on her guard against the evil man. and does the best she can to protect her daugh ter from him. but few mothers ever realize the danger their son is in from the unprincipled woman, or seek to guard him from an expa t-feu,-,, that may lie as blighting to him as any misfortune that could befall his sister would he to her. I do mu speak here of tin so called. bad woman.'' the recognized and publicly branded painted, lady. She is an enemy out in the open, who may be openly fought. Re sides which, she is not half so dan gerous to a boy as is the woman who is smug and good without and a charnel house_jvithin; who ob serves the lettei of morality while breaking its spirit. At th, worst, the scarlet woman only pilfers his pocket, but the white robed hypo crite robs him of his soul. Therefore, w hen your Jimmy sud denly begins to hang around Mrs. Blank, and to be always at her '. house, and running her errands, and driving her • ar for her. and plac ing tennis with her. and is out on the links with her. don't be idjot enough to laugh good-naturedly at his infatuation, and congratulate yourself that he's fallen in love with a woman old enough to be his mother instead of with some girl of his own ago that he might want to marry . Send Your Boy Far From the Temptress. And don t talk about what a good • -man Mrs- Blank if and -a- hew glad you are tha’ hi has fallen un- I der such a noble and refining infiu- By DOROTHY DIN enee. Break up.the intimacy before - Jimmy is 24 hours older. Send him away for a while, as far from .the temptress as you've got tlte nhbney to buy railroad fare. Pull him back as you would if lie stood on th. brink of ihe pit Itself. Every married woman who flirts is a courtesan at heart, Coward ice. or greed, or the desire to hold her plat e in society, may keep her w ithin the hounds of reaper lability and make her short of,actual' criminality, but at the core of her. being she is immoral, and there is neither truth .nor honor in her. Meanest Woman on Earth Is Married Flirt. Th* married woman who. not content with her husband's affec tion plays at love with other men. and seeks their admiration, the while she eats het husband's bread and weats the clothes be gives her as she drags his name through the mud. is a contemptible enough fi& - tire, heaven knows, but the meanest woman on earth iS ' the married flirt who is a cradle snatcher. Such a woman does not even play the game squarely, because she pits her knowledge of life again*! a boy's ngnorance. her. experience against his inexperience, her art’ and wiles against his unsophisti cation. Against her flatteries, her cajoleries, he is as helpless as a bahw in the hands of a giant. It is as easy for any married women who is a flirt to make a boy fall in love with her as it would be for | a prize fighter to take candy money away from a child. And about as reputable As a matter of fact, it is only the timid among flirtatious married women who go in for kidnaping. The bolder sort prefer to have their affairs with men. but the for mer ar® too much afraid. People would talk if Mr. Jones and Mr. Smith "ere too much in evidence in their company, but their friends only laugh when the Jones hoy or the Smith boy is forever dangling at their apon strings The boys are safe gams Therefore the: “ w omen, whose hungm vanity must be continually fed by the flatteries of lovers, and who play wi.tb pas sion as.a'child play swith ttrC. sac rifice—the lads to their egotism. They lure the boys ofi.“ They coax the very hearts out’jjj! their bosoms They bind therri'ltand and foot, and make ■ slaves of ■'-them. They fan every flame of desire. and then, when, their evil w ork is done, and tlte buy. no.longer a toy. but suddenly, turned man., gulps out some w ild love appeal to-them. they turn and laugh at . him. They are so surprised. So virtuously indig nant. They never should have thought it of Jimmy. Or Tommie, whom they thought such a nice lad. It is the fashion to, ridicule calf love; it is the best and purest love of a man's w hob- life, and the pity • of it is that so .many boys brqak the alabaster casket ,at their tin worthy feet For no.youth eve comes out of a flirtation with a married woman unscathed It loaves him with broken faith and blasted trust, and' every ideal of . womanhood smirched. In the beautiful odd play of Name Oldfield” a voting toy. w ho is a poet, falls in love with an ac tress who is much his elder, and the lad's father ind.uc.es her Jo cure him of his romantic fancy. Sh* does this by dispelling the Illusions with which he has sur: minded her. and by showing herself to him so fat. and middle-aged, and sordid, and vulgar, that he turns from her in disgust. The father comes back and asks: "Did you cure him?" "Tes." answers the actress. "but I have done a terrible thing. I have put out the light upon, the al tar for him.” Parents' Duty to Guard Young Boys. That is what the married flirt does for every young boy who comes under het baleful influence. She kills the high and holy things for him. She slays his enthusiasm. Such an affair leaves a wound, on his soul that never heals. It is the duty of parents to pro tect their young toys against these vampires as much as thev can. and they are found even among your own friends, fie craftily suspicious of an v married-woman who has a horde of young cub; following her. There i; only one woman on earth who lya; .a legitimate liking for the socletv of a young boy, and that is his owa mother. THE HOME PAPER The Easy Way Out By LOUIS E. THAYER. ___ HAVE you ever been tired of living and felt that it wasn t worth while? Have you ever been tied to a miserable grouch that wouldn 1 per mit you to smile ? If you have, you have been where the whole world looks black and the minutes actually crawl, And you couldn’t help thinking how easy 'twould be to just put an end to it all. You’re right, it is easy to just put an end to all of this trouble and strife; The river is waiting for those who despair and for those who are weary of life. You say you hare fought just as long as you could —yott have toiled just as long as you can. AH. WELL. IT IS EASY TO DIE LIKE A DOG. BUT IT'S HARD TO LIVE ON LIKE A MAN 1 You say you are bitter to all of mankind, and even God s goodness you doubt. There’s nothing but darkness and trouble around and never a brighter way out. You've faithfully toiled at your task, you declare, but everything seems to go wrong. And your eyes have lost sight of the beauty around, while your ears have grown deaf to all song. So you think it is better to simply withdraw—to just take a leap . from the dock : The ripples will hardly close over your head ere your friends will be over the shock. ' There’s nothing else left for the chap who’s in bad. whom Fortune has held under ban— BESIDES, IT’S SO EASY TO DIE LIKE A DOG, AND SO HARD TO LIVE ON LIKE A MAN. Ah. yes. it is easy to say you are licked, to give up thb struggle and yield; \ It's a cinch to turn your back on the foe and heedlessly run from the field. It is easy to throw down the burden because you find it too heavy to bear, And it's easy to shy at your duties because you know that some trouble lurks there. But don’t be a weakling and do easy things, but go to the work of the strong. Go wage your fight where the-labor is«hard and the hours are weary and long!; . Cling to your smile as you go on your way and sing as each trouble you scan. FOR. REMEMBER. IT'S EASY TO DIE LIKE A DOG. BUT IT’S HARD TO LIVE ON LIKE A MAN. My Old Friend’s Son Bv WINIFRED BLACK I, SAW him at 'the theater the other ; day—my old friend’s son. He had only a few lines to say in the play, but there was something in his voice and In the way he carried his head' that at tracted tny attention. I'looked on he bills—yeW it was the same name —let's see. ten. fifteen, sixteen, sev enteen, ~iust about that by now, my friend's son—the little tyke who dragged me to the nursery to see his new rocking horse—January’ he called him, I remember, the last time l saw him. - What bright eyes he had. and what a smile! ' He looked as. if there never , was going to be anything for him in the world but music and laughter. And now’ his .father’is dead and’his• mother lies in her tlow grave, too, and he!s • out in the world alone, fighting bifl., . own flgh».- "Shall. Look him up,” I thought. "No, he’ll think me a bore —he looks happy- and prosperous. I'll just send him a-loving' thought “ over the-footlights and let it go at • that.” . , , But in the next act the boy stood silent for a while and watched the star and her troubles, as his part hade him do. and there was some thing wistful and stramed about his face that called to me like a w‘ell loved and well remembered voice, and 1 cahnged my mind. I went back and hunted up the boy. and he looked at me with eyes full of unshed tears when I men tioned his mother's 'name, and all the rest of that - week we- were friends, the boy and,]. And now we shall be friends as long as we live, the tw.o of us. And he did need me that very day. too. ’ He was trying to make up his mind about something, and we talked th» whole tangled, foolish, complicated affair all over, the boy and I. and I helped him decide to do the . square thing, even if it did turn out to be a little troublesome, and I almost heard my old friend's voice calling to me in the March wind, and-it never sounded sweeter in all the times I have ever heard it. What's become of the children of our old friends? Some of them are little yet and some are at school somewhere away from home, perhaps in the very city- where we are. What's become of the girl that was the. idol of the home we used to visit? Wonderfully clever w e all thought her—she bored us some times w’ith het caprices and her little spoiled ways, but we never dared let her mother think so. Foor child, she's spoiled no longer She is making her own way now alone—and nobody marvels a’ her cleverness or thinks the gray old world not good enough for her —• j now. . -. ■ The little hands that were so white arid so useless —what heavy work they- do now, and’ how well and courageously they do it. too! *"• Let us-look her. up and. tell her about the good times we used to have with her mother, when .all the world was full of love songs and the only thing the moon was for . was to lodk.pr.etty for us and tqrn an ordinary walk into a romantic adventure. Who is that hobbledehoy over there? Come to town tn go to school, they say. Doesn’t seem to know many people, and he's always on the porch waiting for the. post man every morning Some of the boys in his' class call him “the ’Jay." I wonder if he's sb-very homesick yet, ■- Why. his father used to drag you on his sled when you were not half so big as this boy of his Why not tell the hobbledehoy about it. and tell him what a fine fellow his fath er was. and is, too" ’He is a little worried about it now. he is so dif ferent from the rest of the kind in his class. Who is so lonesome on earth as a boy away from home among strangers? Rest light, little mother, in your low grave. I knew you once and ■ loved you. and for your sake that boy- of yours shall never w-ant for a friend as long as J shall live. Give me your hand, dear boy -with your mother's eyes. No. T won't senti mentalize over you. I won't lecture you I'll just love you and never say a word about it—boy fashion. Hard! Whose voice was that in the March wind—the voice that used to sing so clear and gay? "Chillen keep in de middle of de road. Oh. den. chillen, keep in de middle of de road; Don't you look to de right. Don't y ou look to de left. But keep in de middle of de road." H hat a quaint darky accent he could make and how we used .to love to hear her sing the old jubilee song. 'Des Keep to de Middle of de Road." Deal- friend, your little dancing feet walked down shadowed roads before you came to the end. didn't they ? But you sang all the way . they tell me "Keep in de middle of de road.” Well, that boy of yours shall keep there too. if there 1= any virtue tn love and earnest effort to help him to remember.