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THE ATLANTA GEORGIAN
Pubifehed 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, IB7J.
Subscription Price—Delivered .by carrier, 10 cents a week. By mail, J 5.00 a year.
Payable in advance.
Whisky and the Law
» r r
Will the Solicitor General Do His Duty in Savannah? Will
the Judge of the Superior Court Direct the Grand Jury’s
Attention to the Facts in the Case?
Those enterprising people of Chatham county who are in
dustriously violating the prohibition laws of this state, 1 particu
larly in brazenly soliciting mail orders for whisky to be tilled in
Savannah and shipped broadcast, should be promptly and vigo
rously prosecuted.
It is bad enough that Savannah seems willing to wink at the
outrageous violations of law in that city, and permit the whisky
traffic to flourish unrestricted, unmolested, and undisturbed, but
it should not be permitted to reach out into other parts of
Georgia, with a deliberate intent to make the entire state an
accessory to its crimes and an accomplice in its misdeeds.
It seems that by sending the price to certain Savannah peo-*
pie, one may obtain, by quick shipment, any brand of any old
liquor desired. Hundreds of citizens of Georgia know this, for
hundreds of them have received neat little circular letters in
forming them of the same, and especially calling their attention
to the fact that a little wine for one stomach’s sake is opined
to be about the lit and proper thing around Thanksgiving Day,
ind doubtless will draw their own conclusions.
It. may be that Savannah glories in being ‘‘soused and satis
fied.’’
It may be that Savannah thinks it a tine joke that ‘‘blind
tigers” can not be convicted in that metropolis, no matter how
boldly they ply their trade. It may be that Savannah fails to
see in the keeper of an open whisky shop, despite the laws pro
hibiting that, an undesirable citizen. It may be that Savannah
is a lot of things that other cities are not, nor yet hope to be.
But Savannah is not the state of Georgia, and Savannah law
breakers should, at least, be made to operate inside their own
illegally permitted field of endeavor, no matter how disgrace
ful that may be to Savannah, unless it be determined to call the
Savannah law breakers’ hands entirely.
Every lawyer knows it is against the lav to solicit whisky
orders in Georgia, by mail or by word of mouth. It should be
an easy matter to convict one of these mail order “tigers” in*
Savannah—if not in the state courts, then in the Federal courts.
And now that the authorities of Chatham county are aware
of the names of persons alleged to have been violating the prohi
bition laws of Georgia by soliciting mail orders for whisky to
be shipped out of Savannah, it will be interesting to watch and
see what comes of it.
Will the solicitor general do his duty in Savannah? Will
the judge of the superior court direct the grand jury's attention
to the facts in the ease?
If not. inquiry’ might be made of the Federal authorities,
with an eye to seeing whether the United States mails may be
used io defy the laws of Georgia inside the state of Georgia?
Legal Victory for Wilson’s
Policy
The refusal of the United States supreme court to hear argu
ments for the constitutionality’ of the South Dakota “Unfair Scales
Law” virtually’ settles the legality and practicability of a far-reach
ing Federal anti-monopoly plan proposed by Mr. Wilson on the
stump.
During the campaign Mr. Wilson advocated a Federal statute
that would send monopolists to jail for selling goods at lower prices
in one place than in others for the purpose of driving local com
petitors out of business. Such statutes already exist in nine or ten
states of the Union. The settlement of their constitutionality’ opens
the way for congress to apply the principle to the whole field of
interstate commerce.
The effect of such a Federal law would I** far-reaching. It
would mark an epoch in the development of the commercial con
science of the country—an epoch as important as that signalized
by the abolishment of railroad rebates.
The action of the supreme court is a striking indorsement of the
political and economic prevision of the president-elect.
Haste in Eating and Drinking
A German merchant visiting this country made some comments
recently’ on our method of drinking.
“A on go to a bar," said he. ‘‘and gulp down one or two drinks,
preferably ice cold, which is injurious. There we Germans surpass
your people. If you would sit down and slowly’ sip your glass of
beer, it would benefit you more and act as a medicine.”
None of us has to verify this statement. The habit of most men
is to order some mixture either off the ice or shaken up with ice
and then pour it down into an unoffending stomach.
This is probably a growth of the ice-water habit, which has un
doubtedly done more for the cause of dyspepsia than any other one
vice save swallowing food without chewing it.
Contrast a scene in a German beer garden with a scene in an
American bar, and you get a tangible idea of the difference between
peace and excitement.
Perhaps after we have ruined our stomachs we will come to our
senses ami learn the value of taking our time in luld ters pertaining
to eating and drinking
The Atlanta Georgian
Turkey: “Let’s Call It a Draw!”
By HAL COFFMAN.
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Out of the Mouths of Babes
<’ VA HE little boy was wet and
| muddy and mussy, and his
face was dirty, and his
stockings were down, and his hat
was torn, and you could see the
marks of the pup's great, awkward
paws all over him from top to toe.
“Dear me,” said the little boy’s
mother, twisting her face Into a
hard knot to keep from laughing
and crying at the same time. “Dear
me. what a dreadful little boy you
are—you are so naughty, so dirty.
Why can't you ever be good like the
little boy next door?"
The little boy's mother was tired
—vefy. very tired. She had had
some bad news in a letter, and she
had received the grocer’s bill, and
she was balled on the phone to
come right up to school and see
why tile little girl didn't get on
better in her number work, and the
plumber sent word that he really
couldn't come that day, us lie had
promised so faithfullj in the morn
ing. and the tooth that grumbled all
night was lamenting almost aloud
now. And the little boy had looked
so neat and pretty a few minutes
ago, and the little boy's mother was
really cross and didn't care wjio
knew it.
When she told the little boy how
naughty he was, and told it In a
cruel, hard voice that made the lit
tle boy look up quickly to see if it
really was his mother speaking, the
little boy's eyes filled with quick
tears.
The Reconciliation.
He hid his ehubby fart- in his
stubby, grubby hands. "This morn
ing." said the little boy brokenly,
“this morning you said I was
sweet.” and the little boy’s mother
caught him in her arms with sud
den remorse.
“You are a sweet little boy," she
said. “Oh, you are, you are! I
think so now. Do you think I am
sweet, too?"
And the little boy. alarmed, threw
his sturdy arms around his moth
er’s neck and kissed her, and said:
"Yes. Muvver, 1 do —1 surq, sure
do." And then, he laughed, and the
little boy's mother took him up
stairs and dressed him all over
again, and told him a story while
she brushed his nail—a nice story
that be always loved—about when
I’L’ESDAV, NOVEMBER 26, 1912
By WINIFRED BLACK.
•• the little boy's mother was a little ■
girl, and the dog was stung by the
bees, and every one thought he had
gone mad.
And then she gave him a red ap
ple and took one herself, and they
were all very, very happy—to
gether.
That was it —that's tvhat made
the happiness—together. The little
boy and the one who had been
angry with "him, and the puppy who
never was angry with any one.
Together—and nothing but that
mattered.
Oh, little boy, little boy, I hope
you will never have to say that
again—“This morning you said I
was sweet." It is such a sad thing
to say and still sadder to think and
not say it.
How Bitterly He Speaks.
"This morning you thought I was
sweet.” That's what turned the
corners down at that poor woman's
mouth. Her husband used to think
she was sweet. Everything she did
was lovely to him, and now—what
ever she does Is wrong, and she is
never right at all.
Oh. if she could only throw her
self into his arms and say, “This
morning you thought I was sweet."
Perhaps even his hardened heart
would soften and he would remem
ber a little.
The man with the tired eyes and
Our Language
A MANIKIN'S a little man—
That simple fact no one would
stump;
But a napkin's not a little nap,
And a pumpkin's not a pump.
Foundlings are little babies.found —
That's very plain to any chump;
But a stripling's not a little strip,
And a dumpling's not a little dump.
A kidlet is a little kid—
That's seen by e'en the dullest nut;
But a hamlet's not a little ham,
And a cutlet's not a little cut.
A princess is a lady prince;
But it is not held by any bloat
That a mistress is a female mat,
Or a buttress is a nannygoat.
Oh, English, you are strangely made!
You're not a tongue for chumps ol
fools!
I'l. never master you. I’m afraid—
You've more exceptions than you’ve |
rules. |
•£• the shoulders set, to mean "What’s
the use?” This morning, when they
first met—this morning, when love
was young—the woman the man
loved thought he was good, she
thought ne was brave, she thought
he was wise, she was proud of
him and believed in him, and now—
How bitterly the man speaks of
love and of what love brings. If
he could just say as the little boy
said—but no, he can not; he must
stub along the hard way, the cruel
way, the rough way of life, alone —
all alone —for the woman who walks
beside him is only there in body;
her heart and her mind are far,
far away, and that is the saddest
loneliness of all.
When we are parted from those
we love, by land or sea, by miles
only, it is nothing; but when it is
indifference that parts us, or anger,
or hard-hearted cruelty, or the
wicked influence of those who
would make us miserable, that is
suffering indeed.
“This morning you thought I
was sweet.” So you did, old friend,
so you did. You loved to be with
me, you liked to hear what it was
that bubbled from my heart to my
lips, you were proud of my confi
dence. Tonight I’m afraid I should
only bore you, so I will keep away
—-as far away as I can—and try to
make myself believe that you would
be just the same as ever if we were
together again.
How pretty it was, the foolish
little laugh that caught your fancy;
good, sir, with the discontented
eyes. How empty and silly you
think it now. She doesn’t know
why, and are you quite fair to
blame her?
Yon Have Changed—Not He.
How due you thought his calm
repose when first you knew hint,
little Mrs. Disillusion. Is it only
stupidity, you think? Yet it is you
who have changed, not tie—not he.
- “This morning you thought I was
sweet.” Little boy. little boy, I am
glad you said it straight out, child
fashion, and did not nurse the pain
of it in your deepest heart, as some
of us less wise do. For when I
saw you and the puppy and your
mother all together on the porch,
| you looked so very, \ery happy
1 together.
THE HOME PAPER
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Writes on
Radiating |ggH
Happiness
It Is the Only Sure Way
to Happiness For One’s
Self in the Future Life. Rg%7' * (
Peace in the Home.
Written For The Atlanta Georgian
By Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Copyright, 1912, by American-Journal-Examiner.
HOW are you treating the peo
ple with whom you associate
daily? What sort of mem
ory are you creating in the minds
of members of your family, io re
main with them after you pass on,
as you may pass, any day, any
hour?
And just what kind of a home
are you helping to build?
What does the word "home” sig
nify to you?
Possibly you are a religious indi
vidual, and have in your mind an
ideal of heaven.
If so, it is, of course, a place
where there are joy, love, peace,
song and praise.
It is bright, beautiful and attrac
tive —a spot where every dream is
realized and where nothing mean
or unkind or disagreeable can en
ter.
But unless you are constantly
making an endeavor to establish a
similar condition within your own
home, you will never be allowed to
find such a heaven when you pass
on.
Not Way to Make Angels.
Unless you are employing the
qualities which would render you a
suitable citizen of Heaven, you
can not receive a pass to enter that
kingdom.
Angels are not made in a mo
ment.
A man or a woman who brings
into use the devilish characteristics
of quick ugly tempers, sulky modos,
selfishness and fault-finding in his
or her home will not be trans
formed into an amiable angel and
enter Heaven by the mere act of
dying.
Such individuals will be taken on
fast flying airships of their own
manufacture to the purgatories and
hells of their own manufacture.
And they will associate with de
mons like unto themselves until
they learn their lesson of self-con
trol and ■work their passage into a
better place.
Perhaps you do not believe in any
heaven or any life beyond this. If
not. you are to be pitied.
* But in that case you should quite
as fully realize the need of making
a place on earth where you will ob
tain and give all possible happiness
while you remain.
What is the good of all your work
and worry and starving and strain
ing after success, unless you are
forming habits which give peace
and pleasure and love and content
to those with whom you associate,
whether they are blood kin or not?
If you are single and live in a
boarding house or club, or if you
-The Farmer’s Idle Wife
By JAMES J. MONTAGUE.
The farmer’s wife is now so occupied with social affairs that she
has lost tlie art of making butter and jam and doing the vtork of
the farm that her grandmother did. This results in a great eco
nomic loss to the country.—The substance of a government report is
sued from the Agricultural Department.
THE farmer's wife, In early days, got up at half-past two.
And shined the plows and milked the cows and put the prunes to st
rhe breakfast for the hands she'd set upon the stroke of four,
And then she’d bake her bread and cake and scrub the kitchen floor.
But nowadays the farmer's wife has time to call her own.
“Good gracious!" says the Government, “how idle she lias grown'.'
The farmer's wife, in times gone by, brought up the calves and lamb:
And sacked the oats and fed the shoats and smoked the hickory hams.
And when she’d cooked three great big meals she cheerfully arose
And with her churn sat down to earn the money for her clothes.
But now she often visits 'round and gossips, like ar not.
"My goodness,” says the Government, “how worthless she has got!
The farmer's wife, some years ago, was wholly free from nerves;
Twelve hours a day ?he’d slave away at putting up preserves.
Six children dangling at her skirts, a seventh on her arm,
She'd gamely set herself to get the mortgage off the farm.
But now she sometimes takes a rest, like city women do.
“Great heavens!” cries the Government, “what is she coming to?'
The farmer’s wife departed from this vale of toil and tears
For happier climes, in those old times, when under thirty years.
The farmer got another mate, he somehow always found
The ideal wife who toiled through life and rested —underground.
But now sometimes her years add up their full allotted sum.
“Great Scott!" exclaims the Government, “how shiftless she’s becom
■ are married and have a family, 0?
if you are one of a family, the sam.
obligation rests upon you to BE
AGREEABLE, TO BE KIND, TO
BE THOUGHTFUL, TO BE GOOD
NATURED, AND MAKE MUCH
OF THE VIRTUES AND LITTLE
OF THE FAULTS OF YOUR
COMRADES AND COMPANIONS
Correct Without Nagging.
If you are the head of a family,
it may be necessary—lndeed, will
be necessary—for you to sometimes
correct the faults of your younger
charges. But there is away to do
these things which brings better re
suits than continual nagging and
fault finding.
Begin by saying how dear your
children or other dependents are
to you. how you long to see the
best in life come to them, and how
deeply it pains you to have them
fail of being and doing their best.
, That will make whatever criti
cisms follow more telling in their
effect. While if you are always
nagging, always scolding, always
complaining, your words fall with
out any effect save to make others
dread the sound of your voice.
Do not carry home* a despondent
manner and a hard luck and hard
work cry continually. And if you
are a woman, do not greet the
members of your family with these
things.
Many a well cooked meal has
been ruined by the wail of the
woman who prepared it, and by her
drooping mouth and fatigued man
ner. And many a household, which
has been cheerful all day, has felt a
sudden gloom fall over it after the
husband and father entered with
his groans and grumpiness.
Mottoes For a Home.
Here Is a little mantram or rosary
which you might paste on a card
and place It where every member of
your household will see it.
It is from “Simplified Lessons."
ley F. Harly:
“Every one In this house wants to
do right.
“We are all peaceful, calm and
harmonious.
“We love one another. We feel
kindly toward one another.
"We do not condemn each other's
faults.
“We are all children of God.
and by our'every thought and act
we are trying to help other mem
bers of the family.”
This can only result in bettered
conditions for your home, if >'° u
read it over daily and try and live
up..to its words.
Peace be unto you and your
. home.