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EDITORIAL PAGE THE ATLANTA GEORGIAN Published Every Afternoon Except Sunday Uy THE GEORGIAN COMPANY At 20 East Alabama St.. Atlanta. Ga. Entered as second-class matter at postoffice a: Atlanta, under act of March 3. 1873 Subscription Price —Delivered 1 > dAn ler, 10 cmts a week. Ry mail, >5.00 a year Pajab'tf in advance We Long For Immortal Im perfection—We Can’t Have It • All our longinsrs for immortality, all our plans for immortal life arc based on the hope that Divine Providence will conde scend to lei ii> live in another world as we live here. Each of us wants to be himself in the future life, and to see liis trbnds as he knew them. We waul io preserve ind'viduality forever and ever, when the stars sliall nave faded away and the days of matter ended. But what is individuality except imperfection? You are dif ferent from Smith. Smith is different from Jones. But it is sim ply a difference of imperfect construction. One is more foolish than another, one is more irresponsiblv moved to laughter or anger- that constitutes his personality. liemove our imperfections and we should ail be alike—smooth off all agglomerations of matter on all sides and everything would be spherical. What would be the use of keeping so many of us if we were all perfe-i. and therefore all alike? One talks through his nose, one has a deep voice. But shall kind Providence provide two sets of wings for nose talkers and idlest talkers.’ Why not make the two into on • good lalker and save one pair of wings? Why not. in fact keep just one perfect sample, and let all the rest placidly drill back to nothingness.' Or, better, why not lake all the goodness that there is in all the men and women that ever wore and melt it all down into one cosmic human being? Th ■ raindrops the mist and the sprays of Niagara all go back to the ocean in time. Possibly w all go back at the end to the sea of divine wisdom, whence we were sent forth to do. well or badly, our little work down here. Future punishment .' W e think not. One drop of water revives the wounded hero another helps to give wet feet and vonsumption to a little child. It all depends on circumstances. Both drops go back to the ocean. There is no rule that sends the good drop to heaven and the other to boil forever and ever in a sulphur pit. Troubles beset us when we think of a future state and our reason quarrels always with our longings. We all want in heaven—to meet Voltaire with his very thin legs. But we can not believe that those skinny shanks are to he immortal. We shall miss the snuffs and the grease on Sam Johnson’s collar. If an angel comes up neat and smiling and says. ‘‘Permit me to intro duce myseif— I am the great lexicographer,” we shall say, ‘‘Tell that to some other angel. The great Samuel was dirty and wheezy, and I liked him that way.” And children. The idea of children in heaven flying about with their little fluffy wings is fascinating. But would eternal childhood be fair to them’ If a babe dies while teething, shall it remain forever toothless.' How shall its mother know if it is allowed to grow up? Listen to Heine that marvelous genius of the .Jewish race: "Yes, yes! You talk of reunion tn a , transfigured shape. What would that be to me.' I knew him In tits old brown surtout, and so I would see him again. Thus he sat at table, the salt cellar and pepper caster on either hand. And if the pepper was on the right and the salt on th left hand he shifted them over. I knew him in a brown sin tout, and so 1 would see him again." • Thus he spoke of his dead father. Thus many of ns think and speak oi those that are gone. How foolish to hope for the prCsert at ion of what is imperfect I How important to have FAITH and Io feel that reality will surpass anticipation, and that whatever IS will be the best thing for ns and satisfy us utterly. A Woman’s Political Speech t* E » Hew Many Men Do You Know That Could Talk More Sanely and Usefully Than Jare Addams? •Jane Addams. of Chicago- one of the millions of good wom en hi this country hitherto disfranchised has joined the Roose velt part\ because that party is pledged to fair treatment of women to woman suffrage. Those that are unintelligent will believe that women are in capable ot understanding political matters, unable to discuss public questions intelligently. In order Io dispel this idea we print here conspicuously Jane Addams wry short address in favor of Roosevelt and in praise of his convention. It is short. It emphasizes that which is important. It proves intilligent knowledge ot' public affairs. How many men m public life do you know that are capable of making a speech as short or as good? This is Jam- Addams' speech: Measures of in. tri a ano lloration, demands for social justice, long discussed by smalt gi up> i . bariti . nf. r< n. < and economic associations, have here been consider. .; in , gr. at national convention and are at last thrust into the stern ar. na ■ p-’itieal a tion. "A great party has pl. dg. .' its. It't . the protection of children, to the care of the aged, to the r. I . f of .o. rw ■ i s i r i s . to the safeguarding of burdened men. Committed to tics, imiane undertakings, it is inevitable that such a party should p; ■al to w. >. n, should seek to draw upon the great reservoir of th. ir mo. .1 . , vtgx. long and. sir. d and unutilized in prac tical politics—one is .the .or ila .. <1 th oth.r. . program of hut an welfare, the necessity for woman's p • • iiipai lon. ”"’e ratify this platform not only tx.au>. it represents our earnest jßoavlctions and formu tes opes, but because it pulls upon our faculties and calls up t • deficit- W< tl d it a prophecy that democ- racy shall be actually realize ■' until n .-roup . f our p. ople certainly not ten million of them >.. 0.,. : issurance—shall fail to bear the responsibility of self-gov. tnin.-nt and-‘.at no class of evils shall lie be yond redress. “The new party has become tn. \m. rican exponent of a world-wide movement toward juster social ■ ■ i.-. a movement which America, lagging behind other great nation . 1,..~ I • n unaccountably slow to em body in political action. “I second the nomination of Theodor. R 0.... veil bonus, he is one of the few men in our public life who have be. n >. sp n.-ivi to modern movement. Because of that, because the program will taquit a 1 >,l.r of invincible courage, of open mind, of demoeratlt sym thh-. ..n < ml. wd with power to interpret the common man and to identify himself with tut common lot, 1 heartily second the nomination " The Atlanta Georgian “Gee, It’s Great to Meet a Friend From Your Home Town” By UAL COFFMAN. "Tj-d I L'j. I I .—-x ' | || % I 'Y | ■ —”- V - a.-?,-. Ab* ■— je^f v sWr i (■ t .' I I -~rW ~r j - • nHiw \ i ' v - wffigL yaSjM; a '■ wSt Raw C - - SR. JBj , STAGE STRUCK AT FORTY SHE'S going on the stage, my friend of forty. She has a pretty town house, a rather stunning country place, a good husband, two groyvn children, a circle of friends, a good cook, five new frocks every season, a fair automobile, two pet dogs, a thumb ring, five sets of dangling earrings, a rather decent figure, good eyes, a voice like a peacock, well manicured hands, a fad for actors and about as much ability to act as—as, oh, as to cook a good dinner, and if her cook should leave lier you'd starve to death rather than dine at her house. But for all that, she’s going on the stage. "I have the temperament, the physique, the face and the am bition.” she said when she told me about it. "I’m tired of this empty life of teas and bridges and auto trips: I want to live, to breathe the higher air; I want to express my soul.” What piece have you selected f”i your debut?” 1 ventured th nA. Th. Vampire,’ ” she replied pH.mptly. “They are dramatizing it for me. It’s a glorious part," and tl woman of 40 looked at herself in the mirror, settled her hair, nipped in her waist, made eyes at th- looking glass and laughed lightly," like her favorite heroine in lier favorite book. I Couldn’t Stand It. 1 couldn't stand it a minute long er: I really couldn’t, so I yvent home. On the way home I met the actor 1 know. I told him about the wom an of 40. He threw up his hands. “Save us." he said, "what is the stage coming to! They are all there it tile stage door, the women of 40. Tlie girls have all got some other fnd these days it's the women yvho drive us mad now. What is she going to play The Vampire?'” "How did you know?" I asked. “Have you met her?” The actor laughed. "Not this one." lie gurgled hysterically. “I didn't have to, they are all going to play that ’The Vampire’ or Zaza.' or ’Camille.’ They all fan cy themselves ■sirens, the poor things of 40, who are going on the stage. “One pursues me night and day trying to get me to put her on in something rather sensational, don’t •you know, where my face and figure would be the thing.’ and if I had my yvay I'd put her in an old ladies home and get her to knit tidies for the parlor chairs. “What on earth has got hold of them. Who is it that is telling them they can act, and yvhy, oh. why. do they want to be vampires, and sirens, and ladies who lure? Scarlet frock in the first act. black and spangles in tile last act, cigar ett' « all through. That's tile way good old ma laid it all out for me the other day and the only place In tin wori l th it good, kind yvom n would look like herself Is out in i the Kitchen making jam. FRIDAY, AUGUST 16, 1912. Bv WINIFRED BLACK. “Crazy—every one of them —cra- zy as bats. Think they can go on tlie stage and fascinate the public after they’ve brought up all their children and got father comfortable at the club. It’s really too bad.” And, really, do you know, I be lieve it is too bad. I yvonder yvhat on earth it all means? What has become of all the good comfy women we used to know— women who were forty and glad of it; women yvho let out their cor sets and put on loose shoes, and tied their hats on with a rubber, and let it go at th it? All gone—disappeared, vanished into the beauty parlois to be made over into tyventy. 1 wonder why? Forty Is the Fine Age. Forty is the fine age. the most comfy age in tlie world, if we’d only live it. No more weepy hours because “he danced oftener yvith that CREATURE than with me.” no more miserable nights trying to figure out just how to manage to make over the old frock so your dearest friend wouldn't know it. You had a struggle of it that first year or so. but the business is set tled now, and things are going pretty well. Fat? Ot course you’re fat. You ought to be at forty. You know yvhat to eat and how to eat it: you know when to rest and how to en joy it; you can pick out the kind of book you like at one glance; you can tell the summer bore with one look, and you understand just The Restaurant Habitues By JOHN D. WELLS. A DULL, monotonous life we live. *-X With no reyvard and with non to give— We breakfast, dine and sup, and then We breakfast, dine and we sup again. And the world wags on. nor knows nor cares How one of the Host of the Lonely fares, Nor spar, s the pity that might atone For sitting here at our bread —alone. No heads to bow in a fervent grace, No sunny smiles in the baby’s place, No table chat of the blessings wrought Or love and cheer that the daytime brought; No soft caress when the day is done, No evening hour for romp and fun No word or smile from our loving own. For us wlio sit at our bread—alone. And yet, there’s tears in a passer's eye. He quickens his pace as he hurries by; He cherishes closer the visions of The home that waits and the arms of love; His smiles new hope and his thinks express, That's stirred by us and our loneliness! Then who shall say we no mission own. Who sit in the shadows and live alone? exactly how to get rid of him. Tanned? Pooh, what do you care! Y’ou can throw back your veil and love the wind and the sun and glory of all outdoors, while poor lit tle Sweet-and-Twenty has to swad dle herself in gauze to keep that complexion that is the only thing she has. Friends? Hosts of them—all the sort you want; you’ve learned hoyv to get rid of the other sort. Enemies? Not one in the world. You have found out what a nui sance it is to stay awake nights and hate anybody on earth. Moonlight, music, love, and flow ers—you’ve had them all, and have them yet if you amount to any thing; and you can wear your old shoes out into the moonlight and be comfy. Forty is the glorious age. the comfy age. the age of reason, the age of delicious understanding, the time of quiet friendships and help ful companionships. Why, you can speak to the lone some young ft How in the train at 40 and say something to comfort him. At twenty you would have to bridle if ho even looked your way. Life, life, life—full, rich, abun dant, friendly. open-eyed, sane, joyous, understanding life—that’s what 40 means at its best. Who would give it up for the longings, the wondeiings. the uncertainties, the anxieties, the sad hopes of twenty—who but my friend who is “going on the stage?" Poor thing, what a miserable time she’ll have when she wakes up from her fool ish dream! Get the char.ee? Why, of course she will. She has money, and some one wants some of it She’ll get the chance, all right—in Peoria, or Metuchen, or anywhere where the sad. sail spectators sit some wretched night and gaze at each other, and wonder what it all means, and what she is trying to do in the red frock in the first act ' and the spangles in the second, and the cigarettes all through. All Ashamed of Her. And husband, and the boy in col lege, and the girl at home from boarding school? Poor things, they'll all be ashamed of "Mama," and when all her money is gone, , and all the spangles are off the black dress, and the scarlet frock Is in the pawnshop, she’ll telegraph home to husband and he’ll take the first train and go after her and bring her home from Podunk, or Saskatchewan. or somewhere— home to common sense and com fort and kindness. And maybe, some day, she’ll see what a goose . sin's been, and she'll tell husband all about it. and he’ll pat her shoulder and say. “There, there, ft’s all right: they didn’t appreciate you, that’s all." And then maybe my friend will ; look at tlv good man she humili at'd and the children she deserted, and be a little, just a little, ashamed —but not too much: "tem peramental" people don’t seem to know \i ry much about that sort of thing, do th v? THE HOME PAPER Garrett P. Serviss S Writes on The Search For the Soul We May Find It When We Find the Origin of Thought By GARRETT P. SERVISS. A FRENCH rvriter of reputation, Henri Bordeaux, has just been visiting a school for blind deaf mutes near Poitiers, and his astonishment over what he saw leads him, in one of the great Paris newspapers, to a characteristic outburst of sentimentality. But out of the bushel of literary chaff which he offers, one can pick a few grains of very interesting facts, yvhich are well calculated to in spire reflection. We will take simply his account of a young girl named Marie (Mary) Heurtin. She was born blind, deaf and mute. She has never seen the yvorld around her, nor heard its voice, nor been able to communicate with it in any other evident way than by touch. She comes of an humble family, ignor ant of all the higher studies, by means of which we imagine yve at tain an intellectual elevation that must be incomprehensible to crea tures less fully endowed than our selves. Her relatives could do nothing for her or with her. Having themselves all the ordinary faculties of human beings, they thought that she, who seemed to lack everything, was doomed to pass her life in dull, blind ignorance, without wish, or thought, or aspiration—eating, drinking and sleeping; incompara bly more helpless than a brute animal. Perhaps they thought she had a mind, but they believed there was no way' to reach it. But a, good sister of charity found the way. I do not know the details of her operations, but they can not have differed essentially from those practiced in the cases of Helen Keller and Laura Bridg man, whose histories are so well known In America. Under that dull exterior, which presented to the outer yvorld but a single nar row avenue of approach—the sense of touch—was found a human soul as full of possibilities as that of any person possessing all the senses. Marie Heurtin had only one of the three senses yvhich yve are accustomed to regard as the most important, but with its sole aid she has learned so much about the yvorld around her that she sim ply amazes her visitors. She un derstands what light is, although she can not see it; yvhat sound is, although she can not hear It. Shp has been taught to compre hend the ideas of POVERTY, AGU AND DEATH. Fond of Reading, She weeps when she is informed of the death of a friend. She wept when she read with her fingers, on the types that are furnished for the blind, of the putting out of Samson’s eyes. She pitied him, and she did not want him to become like herself. She is very fond of reading which is done only with her fingers, remember —and she has two favor ite authors —Bossuet, whose grave discourses religion hold her at tention and stir her moral senti ments, and (remarkable to relate) Alphonse Daudet, the teller of vi vacious stories, in which light, color and description of beautiful landscapes ahvays play a conspic uous part. If the pictures formed First Prohibitionists :: By REV. THOMAS B. GREGORY. ONE hundred and seventy-nine years ago, the governing body of Georgia, by a unanimous vote, prohibited the use of rum in the province. Thus it will be seen that this action of the Georgia authorities antedates that of Neal Dow and the Maine people by one hundred and twenty-nine years. So far as our country is concerned, the king's trustees in Georgia were the orig inal prohibitionists. While as yet Maine was an unorganized wilder ness, untenanted save by the In dian and the bull moose, the Geor gia temperance decree was on its way across the Atlantic for signa ture by the king and the commons. The royal signature was obtained, and for ten years the Georgians had to get along without rum. It may be well to state in this con nection that nearly all of the Geor gians of that time were Germans and Scotchmen. As long ago as the time of Taci tus we read of the "thirst” of the Teutons, and from time immemorial the men of the heather have been accredited with being very fond of their "toddy.” Hut the trustees of the crown meant bu.-lmss, and for a decade Georgia was "dry.” Hut in those days, as is the case in our own time, there were power- in her imagination as she reads are not exactly those which we see, they are none the less true and charming to her. SHE WRITES—in ordinary characters, although sne can not see what she writes. In her let ters she says to her friends: "I am glad to SEE you.” She has a cheerful soul, and she laughs and claps her hands yvhen she is pleasbd. She knows exactly what she lacks in physical endowment. She knows that she is poor, and that her friends are poor, and she wishes that she could gain money. She has learned that money Is pow er in this world, but she appreci ates its limitations also. And all this has been gained sole ly through her hands. M. Bor deaux is quite right to call it the “Miracle of the Hands.” But to many It will appear to be far mor* than that—it is the MIRACLE OF THE SOUL. ‘‘Souls in Prison.” It proves that something is born in us which does not depend upon mere physical senses. The senses are simply instruments. They act through vibration. Sight depends upon the vibrations of the ether; hearing upon the vibrations im parted from solid objects. If we had a hundred physical senses yvould the nature of the soul be changed? Do yve distinguish be tween the ideas of right and wrong by virtue of our senses? If none of us had been born with any more senses than poor Marie Heurtin has. would not those ideas still have existed in our minds? Her education has been an education in the true sense of the word (e-duco, to “lead out”). The ideas were not created for her by her teachers; they existed already, and only needed to be taught a form of expression. It Is this which gives its high philosophical Interest to the teach ing of deaf, dumb and blind mutes. They are, as another French writer has aptly and eloquently said, "souls in prison.” We are all pris oners of that kind, but not in the same degree. We all FEEL that we are prisoners, for there is no in telligent person who is not con vinced that his five senses are not enough to place him in complete touch with nature. Just as the - French girl has been led to recog nize the fact that she lacks many things yvhich other human beings possess—although, even yvlth her imperfect physical organization, she is able to show that she com prehends their highes,t ideas—so every one of us, who carefully ex amines himself, knows full yvell that he has impressions, ideas, as pirations which do not depend upon sight or hearing or touch, and to yvhich language can not give ex pression. Is it a very extravagant supposition, then, that there may be beings, far more perfectly endowed than we are, who take in us an interest similar to that yvhich we take in the Helen Kellers, the Laura Bridgmans and the Marie Heur tins, striving to cause us to com prehend things which lie beyond the range of our narrow prison, with its five pitiful little windows? But here we touch the frontier of the domain of speculation. ful "Interests,” and the "interests” decided that prohibition in Georgia should cease. The Lumber trust sent its agents to England with a "tale of woe,” and the parliament, on July 14, 1742, repealed the prohibition law of the province. The lumber dealers ex changed their lumber in the West Indies for rum, which article they sold to the colonists at a big profit, and in consideration of this "profit” the parliament voted to overrule the trustees and make Georgia "wet” again. Os the founder of Georgia, James Oglethorpe, John Fiske does well in saying "his name deserves a very high place among the heroes of ear ly American history.” Fiske might have added that in that history no name stands high er. The associate of royalty and the companion of nobility, he was at the same time a sterling demo crat and plain man of the people. He desired, above all else, to pro mote the happiness and virtue of his fellow men. For that purpose ho founded the state of Georgia, and but for the disturbing influ ences of the mercenary and unprin • ipled ag' iits of Mammon he might have succeeded beyond all the other fathers of American common wealths.