Atlanta Georgian. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, June 13, 1912, FINAL, Image 20

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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. Subscription Price-Delivered by carrier. 10 cents a week. By mail, 35.00 a year. Payable In advance. A Squealing Frog Alive on a Fish Hook Suffers ». M «t It Suffers Quite as Much aa a Small White Mouse Afflicted With Cancer. The Frog Gives the Vivisectionist a Chance To Be Kind USEFULLY. 1 Everybody sympathizes with the gentle heart and redundant goodness of the lady or the gentleman or the society that opposes vivisection. Unless scientifically conducted, under conditions of complete unconsciousness, which means absolute freedom from pain, and for the permanent betterment of mankind, vivisection is horrible and intolerable. But there is the other kind of vivisection in which absolutely no pain is felt. That is the vivisection that sacrifices the lives of a few animals and saves the lives of millions of humans. Vivisec tion that gave to the world a knowledge of the diphtheritic serum, for instance, has already saved the lives of hundreds of thou sands of young children. Experiments with white mice, little creatures, victims of can cer artificially created, are not pleasant to think of. But already, wonderful and encouraging to relate, science has actually discov ered a cure for cancer in mice. The cure has not yet been tried upon human beings. But there is little doubt that the experi ments with the lower animals will eventually lead to an absolute cure for cancer and free the human race from the horrible disease which inflicts suffering so much worse than death. It is always painful to disoonrage virtue or to see it, lacking occupation. So we direct the attention of the kind hearted ene mies of vivisection to some of the work that, they really might do WITHOUT INTERFERING WITH THE WONDERFUL PROG RESS OF SCIENCE. It is painful to think that there are at this moment some thousands of mice suffering from cancer. The fact that the mouse probably does not suffer quite as much as a woman mourning be cause she must die and leave her children does not make the suf fering of the poor Httle mice any less important. But we tell the vivisectionists that this particular moment, for every mouse that is being used in a cMncer experiment, for every animal that is being usefully compelled by science to bear its share of suffering and contribute its share of knowledge, there are hundreds of other animals tortured MERELY “FOR FI N.” Tens of thousands of boys and men are catching young frogs and putting them, alive, on fishing hooks. The frog, with a hook imbedded in its flesh, is thrown into the water. You ask the fisherman why he does not kill it. He says that it is necessary for the frog to kick and squirm and squeal a little to attract the fish. There are other ways of catching fish, without a live frog. Rut the torture of a live frog is one of the easiest ways. And so the frog is tortured. Vivisectionists will not deny that? a frog with gentle green eyes, and legs, at least, that are almost human, is a thing to he pitied when it suffers. Would it not be as well, perhaps, to save a million frogs from agony as to save ten thousand white mice, or five hundred monkeys from a suffering infinitely less acute. Why not, good viviaectionista, concentrate your attention upon those that torture frogs upon fish hooks, and even upon those that torture living worms with fish hooks! For, surely, a worm, compared with a mouse, is as important as a mouse com pared with a man. Tens of millions of worms annually are tor tured in this way merely for sport. Why not make it a rule that worms shall be killed as kindly and swiftly as may be, and frogs killed in the same way, before being put upon the hooks And also, why not spend part of the money which the anti ▼fvisectioDist so generously collects in opposing another kind of vivisection —the torture of children in the mills, of women en gaged in long hours. Vivisection is vivisection, whether the living creature tortured be fully conscious of its suffering, or whether it be thoroughly anaesthetized and investigated by science as it lies unconscious We recommend lhe kicking, squirming, impal ed frog most especially to the anti vivisection sympathizers. You can protect those frogs without fighting science and knowledge. Try it. even though the resultant notoriety be less. — T THE WORLD - © - By ELLA WHEELER WILCOX. ' Copyright 1912, National News Association — ' WITH noiseless stops good goes its way; The earth shakes under evil’s tread We hear the uproar, and ’tis said, The world grows wicked every day. It ia Q-ot true. With quiet feet. tn silence. Virtue* sows her seeds. "rThile Sin goes shouting out his deeds. And echoes listen apd repeat. But surely as the old world moves. And circles round the shining sun. So surely does God’s purpose run. And all the human race improves. Despite hold evil’s noise and stir. Truth s golden harvests ripen fast; The present far outshines the Past Men’s thoughts are higher than they were. Who runs may read this truth. I sav , Sin travels in a rumbling ear. While Virtue soars on like a star The world grows better every day. The Atlanta Georgian HE NEVER HAD A CHANCE That Is What Nine Men Out of Ten Who Are Failures Say. Look Out That You Don’t Say It Yourself. By TAD •P' ’ --T W_-z z \ .. . \ .'l7 \ x J >7//zz. //’*'' / / // •,///) / Stew -W? - -s' ’ No. 11 The boy who drove the butcher wagon in the small town and later became a big man in a big town fixed Yum up right in office. Yum was given a little desk, some new clothes and a regular .job. lie kept at it rath er faithfully for a month or so; then became acquainted with lads who took in the dances of an evening and had card parties. Yum was right at home with the cards. That was his dish. The trouble was that his job inter fered with his pleasure, and he had an aivful time keeping awake at. his desk'. Every aft ernoon now Yum dropped off to sleep, while The Household Pest Known as the Objector The Great Social Problem Is the Extermination of this Creature. AMONG household pests which there should be some pain less, but effective, way of ex terminating is the Objector. Un fortunately, as the law now stands, It does not permit you to consign to a lethal chamber, or use In secticide. or rough-on-rats on this destroyer of your peace and com fort, yet, compared with the Ob jector, the howling of stray eats Is grand opera and cockroaches and mice welcome visitors in your home. There are few families so fortu nate aa not to have an Objector In their midst, and the great so cial problem Is not how to stop divorce, but how to get rid of this ever present affliction, for we are bound to It, as a general thing, by ties that we lack the hardihood to break. The Objector is the damper on enthusiasm, the throttle on ener gy, the extinguisher on ambition, the wet blanket on pleasure, the thing that takes all the snap and ginger out of us, and makes us sit down in weariness and despair and say, "Oh, what’s the use?" It is the Objectors who are at the bot tom of most of the failures In the world, because by the time a tal ented and gifted man and woman have fought down the Objectors on their hearthstones they are so bat tered atid worn that they haven't enough strength left to do any thing else. We are always marvelling at some youth or maiden who stopped short at the beginning of a prom ising career, if we could know the truth we would generally find that he or she had an objector in the family that never rested until he or she had thrown so much cold water on whatever the youth or maiden was trying to do-that the poor, discouraged, disheartened vic tim gave up In despair. For Objectors are always a de structive force. They are never constructive. They throw a million obstacles In the way of the thing you are trying to do. but they never suggest anything better to do. They deluge you with dark blue prophesies of failure, but they never have a word of advice as to how THURSDAY, JUNE 13, 1912. By DOROTHY DIX. you may achieve success. Their motto Is that "Whatever is, is wrong.” but they have never a glimmer of an idea of how to bet ter conditions. It Is a truism that hope is, of Itself, an inspiration, and that the limit of our achievement is our be lief in our own ability. Nobody ever did anything worth while that he or she went at faint-heart edly and doubtfully. To doubt our ability to do a thing is to pre cipitate failure. The Objectors know- this, and yet they can not forego the pleasure of their raven croakings. The queer thing about the Ob jector is that he or she never has any real principle behind his or her objections, and if you had hap pened to do the other way he or she would have been just as much opposed to that line of conduct. Probably Objectors don't even know why they object' themselves. They are only animated by some obscure and malevolent impulse that makes them enjoy taking the edge off of 5 our enjoyment or dull ing your enthusiasm. To my mind the sublime heroism of which human nature is capable is never more marvellously- illus trated than In the fortitude with which we endure the Objector, for few indeed are they who escape having to put up with one. Sometimes the Objector is a hus band and father who visualizes to his family an eternal "No." Does the wife cook a good din ner? Husband finds fault with the seasoning, and w ants to know why she Ims had beef instead of mut ton. and a pie instead of a cake. Does tile wife want a new r dress? Husband berates her for her ex travagance. Has the wife accept ed an Invitation for them for the evening'.’ Husband quarrels about going out. Does wife want to stay at home? Husband insists on going to the theater. Does wife want to go and see one play? Nothing will please husband but going to see something else. Does wife want to •go on a little visit or a trip some where? Husband brings forward ten thousand arguments against her leaving home and prophesies the work on his desk piled up. The boss became suspicious, gave Yum a call and let him go ahead again, but Yum couldn’t play cards well and hold the job at the same time. He was helped in every possible way by his employer, yet Yum had to have his little fling at pleasure. Finally, unable to run his busi ness with a weak link such as Yum was, the boss was obliged to let him go. Yutn’s mind was on games, and back to the old corner saloon he strolled. To Be Continued. that sh© -will be killed in a rail road accident, or the ship she goes on will sink. No matter what the wife wants to do, the husband disapproves of it and objects to it until it takes all of the savor out of every pleas ure. And It’s the same way with the children. If TonCwants to go to work, father insists on his going to college. If Tom wants to study medicine, father objects to his being anything but a grocer. if Mary wants to go to a party, fath er thinks she’s too gay, and if she stays at home he bemoans that she doesn't care for society, and when she goes to get married he objects to every- single thing about the man. from the . way he parts his hair to the way he makes a living. Just as often—perhaps oftener— the objector is a wife and mother. She objects to the kind of a neck tie her husband wears and the way. he ties it. She objects to his reading lhe paper at breakfast and his eating hot rolls Instead of breakfast food. She objects to his stenographer, and his clerks, and his friends. She objects to his having a glass of beer and every single thing he does. And she frets at her children all day about everything they do, and leave undone, if Mary puts on a pink dress, mother objects. if Mary combs her hair a certain way, another objection from mother. If Mary goes walking with one of the girls, mother raises objections. If she doesn’t go walking, mother ob jects to her not taking enough ex ercise. If one of the boys comes to see her, mother objects to her having beaux. It the boys don't come, mother nags her because she doesn't have any attention. And so it goes on until poor Mary qual ities as a first-class martyr. Os course, the Objectors don't realize what baleful creatures they arc. nor how they torture us, nor what helpless victims we are in their hands, since we may neither strangle them on their own objec tions nor fly from them as much as we would like to. If they did, perhaps they’d be more merciful. At any rate. let us each examine ourselves and see that we are not t making life miserable for some ’body else by being an Objector. THE HOME PAPER Champ Clark Vs. Roosevelt Bv JOHN TEMPLE GRAVES. •/ IF Champ Clark should face The odore Roosevelt in this presi dential campaign, let no man think that the Democratic speaker of the house will be overmatched by the ex-president. The opposite will be true. Champ Clark is one of the very best all-around campaign speak ers that the country has ever known. He has every equipment for the magnificent figure which he has always made upon the hust ings. Let us reduce a sweeping asser tion to illustration. I think that no man who has kept in touch with senatorial and political oratory in this decade will deny that Jonathan P. Dolliver, when he died, was easily counted the best debater upon the Republi can side of the United States sen ate, and one of the best, it not the best, all-around campaign speak ers on that side of the political divide. He was everywhere in de mand. In 1903-4 I was lecturing in the middle West and was in touch with the movements’©! 1 men and ideas in that great section between Pitts burg and Omaha. During this period the sensations of the summer Chautauqua plat forms and of the political hustings were the widely advertised 25 champion debates between Champ Clark and Jonathan P. Dolliver upon the tariff. These debates reached high water mark in the state of lowa, where Dolliver was the idol, and in Champ Clark's state of Missouri. On the morning after the great clash of argument and eloquence in Des Moines the morning newspa per, The Leader, Republican and of Dolliver's faith, edited by Allen Dawson, now editor of The New York Globe, had an editorial which in substance declared: "There are few people in lowa who are willing to believe that there is any greater orator and de bater than Jonathan P. Dolliver. But one more such masterful speech as Champ Clark made at the capitol yesterday will reduce Dolliver to second place in his own state of lowa.” The sentiment was almost uni versal throughout Republican lowa that Champ Clark, holding the un popular side of the argument, had Worship of Brains gi Bv CHARLES FERGUSON. IS it possible for a man to have both a powerful mind and a mean soul? If you say yes, beware lest you disqualify yourself for any real un derstanding of the prophets and wise men who tell us that the world is bound to be ruled at length by generosity and heart-power, and that the "meek shall inherit the earth.” For w’hat sense is there in saying that love makes the world go 'round, and that truth makes men free, if smart rascals and liars are forever to sit in the high places, and if faithfulness to the truth has nothing to do with real force ? Perhaps there Is no more sense less superstition than the prevalent worship of brains —mere cold cere bration. Moral chaos lurks in the notion that a man can acquire a titanic intellectual ability without having any character or conscience about the way he uses It. If that were really the case, the hope of the rule of justice and beauty upon the earth would he infinitely post poned. If it were not established in the ground-plan of the world that moral meanness Is related to men tal weakness, the "knaves and das tards” would never be "arrested." Os course, it is obvious enough that intelligent scoundrels have now and again flourished In power for a season. But why he per plexed about that fact? Probably they have flourished because the mob of brain worshipers have raised them upon their shoulders. Modern experimental psychology should put an end to brain worship. For research in this field is bring ing us every day nearer to an ex act demonstration that the intellect tg Swat That Fly By PERCY SHAW. NOW Summer’s here, Cast up your eye. And strike to death The roaming fly; Where’er you find Him spare him not, But join the clans That swat, swat, swat. If twenty times As big. he'd be Wiped out as man's Worst enemy. Because he’s small, We let him go To fill our graves Before we know. worsted the redoubtable lowan on his own ground. I have heard a dozen leading Re publicans say that it was true, and I learned from one of these last week that the debates were prema turely closed by Dolliver's friends because of the apprehension' that the prestige of Clark’s superb work on the hustings would in juriously affect Dolliver's chances in the approaching senatorial elec tion. Champ Clark knows far more about the tariff than Roosevelt does, and more than almost any other man in the house or senate. He has held the aisle in front of the speaker’s desk for ten years against all comers in an annual speech on the tariff, and has never yet been worsted by Payne or Dal zell or Joe Cannon or Grosvenor, at their best. Champ Cla’-k has a much better voice than Roosevelt, a far more majestic and imposing presence, fully as much fire and fervor as the Oyster Bay man, and is better posted upon the affairs of legisla tion for the quarter century in which we live. The massive, rugged, magnifi cent-looking speaker has been so tied to leadership and routine leg islation for a decade that many men have forgotten the superb swing and dash of the Missouri giant when he is unlimbered for battle before the people. It was Champ Clark’s speech nominating the staid and sober Cockrell which created the wildest scene of enthusiasm that the Dem ocratic national convention of 1904 knew at St. Louis. It was Champ Clark's ovation at the great Democratic jubilee at Baltimore (Robert LaFollette be ing witness) which laid in the shade the demonstrations over Bai ley and Harmon and Bryan and Wilson, as it did later atzCardinal Gibbon's fiftieth jubilee, over Roosevelt and Taft and every other man on the program. If the Rough Rider of American politics enters the presidential campaign with the idea that he has anything forensic or oratorical or vote winning on the Lion of the Tribe of Missouri he has a rude awakening In store. The presidential hustings will find Champ Clark equal to its high est demands, and to Roosevelt’s most impassioned assaults. grows out of the emotions, and that the strongest intellects belong to those who have the most ener getic feeling. Thus it appears that men can go, in knowledge and un derstanding, only to the limits of their sympathy or working inter est. Thomas DeQuincy says some where that "the intellect is the meanest of all human faculties.” It was a literary skit, of course; but the meaning was that the intellect degenerates Into a trivial kind of cunning when it cuts Itself loose from the heart of life. The man who said that Francis Bacon was "the wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind” was overfond of epigrams. Wisdom and science are in their very nature public, ex pansive. of universal service. One Is reminded of such things by an editorial in The Globe news paper, which undertakes to explain the qualities of Senator Root. The editorial writer says that Mr. Root “has the best brain among all President Taft's advisers,” but that he is a “conservative by temper ament and self-interest—-by the kind of temperament which per mits self-interest to tell his eye what it shall see and what it shall be blind to.” Certainly, Francis Bacon—the fa ther of inductive science—was not like that; nor any other historic man of intellectual weight and scope in politics or religion, In art or science. If the description of Mr. Root' is correct lf,Mr. Root generally sees things only through the blinding bias of his personal Interest and yet has "the best brain among all President Taft's advisers”—it Is certain that Mr. Taft Is ill advised. A million germs He freely brings As on our food he Crawls and sings; 'Tis time we learned Our foolish lot And saved our Ilves With, swat, swat, swat. Pray say no more Os man's advance Until he leaves Much less to chance: No longer with False ego sigh. But get you up And swat that ti--.