EDITORIAL PAGE
THE ATLANTA GEORGIAN
Published Every Afternoon Except Sunday
B> THE GEORGIAN COMPANY
At 20 East Alabama St.. Atlanta, Ga.
Entered as second-class matter at postoffice at Atlanta, under act of March S. 187 S.
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<
To the Next Mayor
» r »
No Matter Who Is Chosen, There Are Some Vital Issues He Must
Not and Shall Not FORGET.
rhe people of Atlanta will nominate a-mayor today. Presum
ably, that nomination will be ratified legally in due course.
Into the campaign that is being finished today have been inject
ed many ‘‘issues” so-called—some of them important, many of them
cheap and of no ultimate consequence whatever.
No matter who wi«is today’s victory, however, and no matter
how soon—or how happily—some of the so-called “issues” of the
campaign may perish and go their way to oblivion and forgetful
ness. there are some live, pulsating, vital and highly important
things that Atlanta's next mayor SHALL NOT FORGET.
There are some things he must keen well, and healthily, in mind,
as his administration shapes itself and undertakes to put into effect
a program.
ATLANTA'S STREETS MUST BE SUCH STREETS AS AT
LANTA IS ENTITLED TO. They must be good streets, serviceable
and lasting—-and they must be kept that way. Makeshifts and
botch work have had their all too sufficient day in this city.
ATLANTA'S SEWERS MUST BE SUCH SEWERS’ AS AT
LANTA IS ENTITLED TO. They must be ample, sound, and built
for more than a season or a passing satisfaction. Sewers laid to
accommodate one thousand people must not be required to serve
two thousand. The health, the rat ional sanitary balance, of this city
must be preserved.
ATLANTA'S PUBLIC SCHOOL BUILDINGS MUST BE
SCCH PUBLIC SCHOOL BUILDINGS AS ATLANTA IS EN
TITLED TO. There must be erected no more cheap buildings. The
education of the children of Atlanta is a continuing process—it goes
on today, and it looks forward to tomorrow.
Here are THREE things, Mr. Mayor-To-Be. regardless of your
personality, which is relatively unimportant, per se, anyway, that
you will NOT be permitted to forget, once you are sworn in and be
gin your duty as mayor.
Frenzied utterances in the finish of a municipal fight may be
wilder and cause confusion as to the genuine issues Atlanta is to
face in the future, or faces in the present, but neither the bewilder
ment nor the confusion shall continue long.
After the smoke of the battle has died away, and after the false
“issues” of the campaign have gone to oblivion, these three
things—and other things yet to be discussed will be insisted upon
by The Atlanta Georgian.
Mayors come and mayors go, but Atlanta goes on forever!
Don’t Buy From Book Agents
Every man who can afford it should buy, own and read good
books.
.Many more could and would own good books if the sale of
books was properly managed.
The difficulty is with the vicious, extravagant, often dishonest
system of bookselling through ‘‘book agents.”
Against these agents, as individuals, there is nothing that need
be said.
The trouble is with those that handle the book agents, that
give to the book agents suggestions for misrepresentation, and
swindle the public through the extortionate charges that the book
agents make inevitable.
'Phis newspaper, and others associated with it, hopes, before
very iong, to make the hook agent as extinct as the dodo, and also
as extinct as the peddler that used to sell nutmegs made of wood.
An ordinary, good book sold for a dollar costs to make ABOUT
EIGHTEEN ('ENTS.
When that book which costs a dollar is put in the hands of the
book agent, that agent or his employer must add to the actual cost
ami value of the book THE SALARY. THE TIME, THE FOOD
AND CLOTHING OF THE BOOK AGENT.
When you want to buy a book, YOU WANT A BOOK.
You are spending your money for the book, for the knowledge
or entertainment that it contains. You do not want to spend your
money for the time of the book agent, or to buy his conversation—
however rare and entertaining.
For today, these suggestions are offered :
Spend your money on books- NOT ON BOOK AGENTS.
Every book that you buy from tin agent is sold to you for at
least twice—and usually four times—as much as ought, to be
charged.
Every book that is sold to you by a book agent is sold for at
hast TEN TIMES \S MICH AS IT COSTS TO MANUFACTURE
THAT BOOK.
You can make up your mind for yourself whether or not you
want to buy a book.
\\ hy pay a dollar to a book agent to waste your time and his
tiim pelsuading you that you want the book?
The fact that a book agent calls upon you indicates that he or
yer considers you RATHER A WEAK -MINDED INDI
V IDEAL.
The book agents are sent to those that are supposed to be “of
the mental lower class.”
Read tor yourself the reviews of books. Go to the man who
manag. s ihe library in your city, or town, and if you want informa
tion about books get it from him.
Don 1 get it from a book agdnt who is paid to sell you some
parimt.l.ir and, usually, worthless—production.
M. .• up your mind what books you want, get them AS FAST
AS Y< >1 ( AN BAY FOR THEM, and no faster.
GO books as fast as you can read them, and no faster.
i ’i'' ac' that a man oilers you a book on the installment plan,
am! I hut x on can pay for it little by little, is no argument in favor of
buying.
Only an idiot agr< os to spend money in the future simply be
cause In hasn't got to pay right away.
W uen a hook is offered to yon for so much down, and so much
r r mom o. i < uh inm-r 1 hat t lie price von are expected to pav at first
BIG EN'Ol GII TO guarantee the seller against
LOSS. IN ( \s| vol DID NOT MAKE THE OTHER PAYMENTS
Ih< Gaik e 'l'lll sells usually an interior product, and onlv an
inlerior product offers a large margin of profit, made necessary,
' 11 •' "I'Hi must spend Ins whole dav traveling from house to house
vitii a book under his arm.
'he liig manul'aetur< rs of books that sell direct
’ 'l* ’l'" from whom ymi should buy.
IJt "bo calls upon yoi' c ~-,,id< rs you rut her weak
" . ' tee every synipiitlix for him. but if you are wise.
‘‘‘iiii to get into some better Imsim ss and not to
*' me and x our i ime, AND TRY I’o GET FROM \ til I
H'L II H - THE VAI.I E<t|' WHAT HE HAS FoR SAI E.
The Atlanta Georgian
|[ DROP IT! 11
! ’ By HAL COFFMAN.
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lAII pistol “toters” should be given the limit of the law. That’s the best and only way to get ?
rid of them. The law is ample; let it be enforced. s
The Changing Seasons
By WINIFRED BLACK.
1~ U~ONK, HONK." they are -J
| I Hying South, the wild I
birds. Last evening, deep
in the purple mystery of the gath
ering dusk. I heard them. "Honk,
honk," they cried, far. far above the
circling hills; "honk, honk,” flying
South.
"Good-bye, Summer," cried the
wild voices of the flying birds;
"Good-bye, Summer, good-bye,
good-bye." Farewell, sweet .-print
ing flowers; adois, long days of idle
pleasure Good-bye, light laughter
of the flying hours under the sum
mer moon. Idle time is going, play
time is passing, the roses have
packed their fluffy nifties and de
parted, the poppies hang their
heads in the quiet garden, the tall
holly hocks are not quite so straight
and tall as they were.
Gone are the delicate wild flow
ers on the hills and in the valleys
and meadows the wild red lily
flaunts her beauty in place of the
shooting stars and the wake robins
that lived there just a little week
ago.
Good-bye, Summer, good-bye,
good-bye The Jeweled humming
bird that has fluttered to and fro
in the hop vines, threads his shim
mering needle less often now. I
wonder if all his tailoring is done.
The Birds Have Flown.
The birds have all gone, they
went a week ago except such as
stay by choice around tlie houses
where people live, and last night
there was a party of falling stars.
Wh-i-i-i-z, the first one flew
across the purple of the autumn
sky like a silver pendant falling
from the robe of some great Court
Beauty decked for pleasant dal
liance WTi-i-i-z. another followed,
wh-o-o-o. there goes the third, why
it's a regular tireworks of a night,
and tin milky wav how soft and
fair ami white It gleams, a broad
pathway across the heavens, lead
ing when I w ondei
The Little Girl had never hap
pened to remember it feast of fail
ing stars !>■ foie
"oh," she cried joyously, "oh! It
is a message, >om< one is sending
us a signal Yes, yes. w* **.**, we
see, but oh, "* do not Unde' S|,(lid, ‘
and the Little Gi spread Iler slen
der aims wide and held them oj < n
to th* giorv of tin night, and tip
* of
<•11 sigil*.', "if ~ll’v
| i ylHg i | I
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 15, 1912.
■J* us, if we only knew.” And her soft •
! eyes grew large and luminous, and
she was silent for a long time.
I told her the best I could about
the stars and their ways and about
the great shining planets that roll
on and on in space, and do not
even know that we are here at all,
we and our tiny little whirling
globe, and she listened with widen
ing eyes and cheeks that glowed
with soft excitement and vital in
terest.
"Oh." she said, "we are so little
and they are all so big, no wonder 1
get lonesome sometimes and don’t
know what I am lonesome for.”
Where the Wild Cat Purred.
Good-bye, Summer; good-bye, ■"
good-bye. The asters are purple
on the ridge back of the little cot
tage where we lived this summer,
the ridge where they saw only
three nights ago a wild cat leaping
from rock to rock, and heard him
purring in the moonlight like some
giant tabby.
The Goldenrod shakes out his
yellow pennants to flaunt in every
vagrant breeze, the milk weed pods
are full and the stiff leaves of the
Spanish Bayonet are sharp as the
ingratitude of the one we love and
trusted. .
The thistles shake their crowned
heads in every by-path, and in
some green valleys high above the
rest of the world there stand the
dandelion sentinels ail white with
age.
Puff, puff, does your mother want
you; what time is it, Dandelion;
puff. puff, go sew your yellow but
ton seeds for the coming of next
spring.
Puff, puff, the air Is white with
the wool of the cotton wood. Good
bye, Summer, good-bye, good-bye.
How stiff and prim the dahlias
stand; look at that red one there
with the double ruffle around her
old maid's cap. Why. she wouldn't
speak to you without an introduc
tion for alt the world, and all th**
watering pots in It.
How shv ami delicate the cosmos
ix-side her. blue, pink, white, faint
yellow butterflies ( hanged to flow
*rs the last offering of summer
Good-bee, sweet Hummel good
by*- good-bye 1 have learned much
during th* drowsy dam. much that
ought io niiiki Lie world a brighter
I " lot tin*-. »i And tin ir h.ip-
piness through me. May I never
forget any of that I have learned.
Here is Fall whistling down the
road, lusty, ruddy, open-eyed Fall.
What/ a great boy of a customer he
is. anyway, this Fall, with his
shoulder cap of russet and his shoes
of yellow and his throat-latch of
scarlet and brown.
See, his arms are full of fruit
and of strange brown woods! How*
they will burn in that friendly fire
place in the real home in the city!
What’s that he carries on his
back? A sheaf of books? To be
sure, we’ve almost forgotten how
to read out there in the shade and
rhe moonlight of lazy summer, and
, crowding behind him at his very
heels, what a horde of kindly faces,
old friends every one.
Coming home to the every-day
life of work and strife and en
deavor and accomplishment, and
things attempted, and things done.
Welcome Fall, you're a friend of
mine and I love you. sometimes I
think, almost better than luxuri
ous Summer.
There’s a glint of frost in your
hair, so looks the old friend of my
heart, tried and true, the one I can
trust with the secrets of my life.
There's a sparkle of splendid vig
or tn your eye, so looks, or so
should look the man and the wom
an who is getting into the fall of
the year of life.
Let's Walk to the Glowing Forest.
Vigorous, friendly, sane, kindly,
the hot hates of the youth of sum
mer passedr. the wild wishes of
the winds of spring forgotten, or
on[y remembered with a smile.
Hurrah, good Autumn! Hail,
friendly, cheery, lusty Fajl! Here's
my hand; take it, it is yours.
Come, let us walk the red and
brown ami yellow road into the
glowing forest that is your home,
together with light hearts anti fcood
cheer Io spare for all we meet upon
the high road of the journey we
love to call life.
Come, gooil Fall, I'll cut me a
stout staff, wind a wreath of brown
and yellow leaves about my head
and set forth, singing at the top of
my voice.
Good-bye, Summer, good-bye,
good-bye ami perhaps some one
fallen into sail thoughts at the sight
of the waning year, and at ths
thought of the youth w’hich flits
.•way through th* trees like mine
vision will take hi art and sing, too,
ail along the w ny.
THE HOME PAPER
Garrett P. Serviss I
Writes on **
Is Crime a Curable r ■
V'-'” I
Disease? > JEI
The Great Experiment That
Governor Hunt Is Trying
With Human Nature
Gut in Arizona.
By GARRETT P. SERVISS.
THE late Professor Lombroso •
taught that crime has its
earmarks, like genius. The
criminal is an imperfect man, ac
cording to Lombroso. He carries
the mark of Qain upon him, fixed
from his youth. He is a crooked
stick, which can only be straight
ened by breaking. It is not the
fault of his will, but the decree of
pitiless nature that makes him
what he is. With his misformed
cranium he can not go straight.
The man of genius, on the other
hand, is also, according to the same
authority, an abnormal product. He
is a genius because he can not
help being one; he was born so.
Few would probably dispute con
clusions of the great Italian scien
tist as far as they apply to genius.
You Can’t Smother Genius.
We recognize that no school can
make a Napoleon or a Shakespeare,
and that no adverse circumstances
can keep such men from manifest
ing their power. There are few of
us who know life and history that
believe in “mute inglorious Mil
tons,” or “Cromwell’s guiltless of
their country’s blood,” sleeping un
der unmarked stones in country
graveyards.
But there are many who are be
ginning to believe that the mark of
Cain is not ineradicable, and con
spicuous among these new proph
ets is Governor George W. P. Hunt,
of Arizona, who writes a remark
able article in HEARST’S MAGA
ZINE on the novel Western ideas
■ of criminology which he is using
all the influence of his official posi
tion to push ahead.
Governor Hunt believes that the
worst criminals can be reformed,
and he is putting- his theory into
practice fn a way which "warms the
heart of the reader. His success
has b°en astonishing, as you may
read in his article.
The secret of this success is com
prised in one word—HONOR. It is
not the sort of honor that Faistaff
ridiculed on Shrewsbury battle
field; not the "bubble reputation”
that the soldier seeks even in the
cannon’s mouth; but the inward
sense of honest tmanhood that is
never entirely extinguished in any
human breast.
Governor Hunt's way Is to ap
peal to this slumbering sense of
honor, and awake and strengthen
it. Neither turns condemned crim
inals loose in his state nor overloads
them with sentimental kindness in
their cells. He does not have flow
ers sent to them by hysterical wom
en, to awake in tkeir minds the
idea that they are suffering mar
tyrs for whom tender hearts are
breaking. .
The Intermediary I
By ELLA WHEELER WILCOX. "
/ Copyright 1912, by American-.Toumal-Examiner. H
XX7 from the prison of its body free,
» V My soul shall soar, before it goes to Thee,
Thou great Creator, give it power to know
The language of all sad. dumb things below. ■
And let me dwell a season still on earth
Before I rise to some diviner birth :
•: Invisible to men, vet seen and heard. ■
And understood by sorrowing beast and bird— ■
Invisible to men. yet always near. B
■ To whisper counsel in the human ear; ■
And with a spell to stay the hunter's hand, B
And stir his heart to know and understand; B
j To plant within the dull or thoughtless mind ■
The great religious impulse to be kind. B
Before I prune my spirit wings and rise B
To seek my* loved ones in their paradise. I
i Yea! even before I haste now Io see ■
That lost child’s face, so like a dream to me, B
, 1 would be given this intermediate role, B
And carry comfort to each poor, dumb soul; B
! And bridge man’s gulf of cruelty and sin E
IBy understanding of his lower kin. B
Twixt weary driver and the straining steed fl
On wings of mercy would my spirit speed. B
And each should know, before his journey’s end, H
That in the other dwelt a loving friend. fl
> From zoo and jungle, ami from cage and stall, fl
I would translate each inarticulate call. H
Each pleading look, each frenzied act ami cry, H
Ami tell the story to each passerby; fl
> And of a spirit’s privilege possessed, fl
I Pursue indifference to its couch of rest, H
\nd whisper in its ear until in awe fl
It woke and knew God’s all embracing law H
> Os I'm versa I Life the One in All fl
is s s • fl
Lord. i< , .nission to mt lot befall. fl
No. he sends them—thieves, bur
glars, murderers—on missions O s
letting them go by rail, or
on horseback, hundreds of mil <
with monej’ for expenses in their
pockets, and nobody to watch
them, and no Restraint put upon
them except that of an honorable
man’s promise to do his duty and
come back to resume the place in
which the authority of the law has
put him!
This looks like a bold program
and so it is. It looks revolutionary
and sc it is. But IT SUCCEEDS
If you doubt, read the stories that
Governor Hunt tells, and be con
vinced. Not once has the worst
criminal trusted by the governor
betrayed him. When he meets
prisoners he treats them as men;
he lets them see that, in his opin
ion. they are not bad all through—
that they are still men, with the
instincts of true manhood in them.
He shows them, not by words,
but by deeds, that there is yet an
honorable place for them if they
will but take it. He lets them serve
i out their sentences, as a duty which
they owe to society, but he en
courages them to a better after
life by developing their higher na
ture, while they are still under con
demnation for their former crinu s.
Read, I say again, read what he
says about the effect upon these
men.
The experiment is new, and there
are not many such governors. It
may be a long tim% yet before this
method of treating criminals be
comes common, but it seems worth
trying elsewhere than In Arizona.
It may not succeed in all cases, but
if it succeeds in a few it is worth
while. At any rate, Governor Hunt
is justified by accomplished facts
in believing that he has discov
ered a cure for crime. He is no
pessimist. He knows that a crooked
stick may be made straight with
out breaking.
How He Makes Them Over.
The cane-maker knows that se
cret also. He takes a stick that
nature and circumstances have
formed crooked, and softens it with
steam, puts it under pressure,
makes its fibers lie straight, as
they would have grown in the first
place* if they had had the oppor
tunity, and finally turns out a gold
tipped staff on which age can lean
with confidence for support. Gov
ernor Hunt straightens his canes
with the warm pressure of common
democratic brotherhood.
And, after all, there is nothing
new in the method. It was prac
ticed in Palestine 2,000 years ago.
The Founder of Christianity was
no pessimist, either.
