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EDITORIAL, PAGE THE ATLANTA GEORGIAN f*ubltßhed Every Afternoon Except Sunday R> THE GEORGIAN COMPANY At 20 East Alabama St., Atlanta, Ga. Enters ■ «« secend-claas matter at postoffice at Atlanta, under act of March S. 1871. eubsc’ lp on Price—Delivered by carrier, 10 cents a week. By mail. 35 00 a year. Payable In advance. j ~ ! The Smiles and Stockings of Atlanta r » r The Genuine Happiness of Christmas Lies in Bringing Happi ness to Someone Else. There's Nothing Easier Than That. Try It For the Next Week and See For Yourself. Once a year there comes an opportunity Io make yourself happy. Xo matter whether you are a sour-faeed. pessimistic, money-<rrabhin<r man. or a high-heeled, tight-laeed. pleasure-lov ing woman, or a person very different from either—-the oppor tunity comes just the same. Os course, that opportunity is Christmas. And the genuine happiness of Christmas lies in bringing hap piness to some one else. There is nothing easier than that. Try it for the next week, ami see for yourself. \s you come down town tomorrow morning through the haze of smoke which is so effectually hiding Atlanta from the outer world, try to get that frown off your face. Notice the people around you in the car. See if they don’t look a bit more pleasant than you generally supposed. Try to find a pleasant word for the people with whom you come in contact. If you spend the day at work, don’t snarl and snap at your co workers. Remember particularly the persons over whom you have authority. Probably their lot in life is hard enough already Don’t hurt their feelings just because you can. A kind word ami a little forbearance might have a much better effect. If you are a woman, and have to spend several long and weary hours in the stores, remember the girls who wait on you. Keep.it in your mind that the girls who wait on you have to stand there hours where you stand there minutes. A smile or a word of encouragement to one of them is worth a half hour’s rest. Prom now until the day after Christmas try pleasantness. (f y<>ii don 1 fee) happier, and if you don't realize that you have ntad ' others happier, you might go hack to your old manners. Certainly you won t do tiny one. even yourself, an injustice by be ing agreeable for a week. As to Christmas presents, every person must regulate the amount of money to spend on them. If, however, there is a single child in Atlanta who fails to find a generous stocking-full on Christmas morning, The Georgian will feel it has'failed in a work that it has carefully and con scientiously begun. Ihe Georgian's Empty Stocking Fund was started with the idea of providing presents for every child in the city who other wise would know no Christmas. Don 1 think this number of children is trifling. There are hundreds of them. Some of them probably live within a stone's throw of your own home. The Georgian already has a list of gi gantic proportions. Every child on it will have a Christmas, hut the kind of a • hristmas depends on the readers of this paper. As the subscriptions come in the money is spent as advan tagi i»us|\ as possible. Merchants and manufacturers have volun teered io furnish shoes and toys and clothes at cost prices, so that the largest amount for the money is being bought. A package for each child will be made up in The Georgian office, iml they will lie turned over to the mothers so that thev rail lie Santa Claus to tlwir own. THEH-E IS XO WASTE IN TIIE ITKCHASE ok the distribution. So try the smiles ami the pleasant words for a few days. If .'<»« Eel better tor them think of the youngsters in your city you eati make happier. Xe matter how small the contribution is. it will help. i i Empty Stocking Fund will do the rest. i oo Late to Pull Down the Mag A pic, ure is often better than many words. I he earl am at the top of this page gives you the situation as regards the Panama canal. I’m American people built that canal with niotiey from their own pro kvts We didn't go begging to England for the cash. We •He canal is built < »X AMERK AN TERRITORY We< >W X that territory. It is just as much a part of the United Stales as Peachtree street in Atlanta. I his country has spent hundreds of millions of dollars to give to ail the nations oi the world a short cut from ocean to ocean. We shall with Ol K canal sate millions to the commercial fleets of all the European nations, ami we shall add to the profits of Great Britain more than to the profits of the United States by far. W e throw the canal open to the world, we make our own ocean going ships pay as much as the ships of other nations, so that all of the ships that cross the ocean use the canal on equal terms. We simply reserve to’ourselves the right to let our coastwise steamers use the canal tree and that is no competition with foreign ships, sim-e we do not permit foreign ships to engage in coastwise trade AT ALL. And we reserve the right to fortify the canal, which is simply common sense. Ihe earn,l is a quick road, a new door, leading to our West. When we I‘iult that canal, it was as though a man had put a new door into his house. And tvhen England objects to our fortify ing that mw door, it is as idiotic as though a man should object to his neighbor putting a lock on a new door into his house. England s request to this country to pull down the American Mag over the Panama canal, and allow the English to use that piece" of American territory as they please, is not at all new. A good many years ago. as early as 1776, the English objected to any i iml <>t an American tlffg, dr any’ kind of American territory. It took soiui'i hing ol a st niggle to make them give up the notion that the flag ought to come down then. England is wiser now And after a little while she will give up the loolish i Hurt even though it be encouraged by treacherous Amei .can newspapers and American officials - to put American ter- and American enterprise under English control. • 1 The Atlanta Georgian Says John Bull to Uncle Sam: "I SAY, PULL DOWN THAT FLAG, WILL YOU?” WSL i 1 • ? *** 4 ’"—- c-—• ”—‘ The Wreath Man §> By WINIFRED BLACK. HE'S here, the man with the 4 wreaths. Hurrah for him and the wares he carries! Oh. I know it isn't the thing to make a fuss over in these days. Chrlspnas has gone quite out of fashion, they tell me. It's proper nowadays to groan whenever you hear the name Santa Claus, and it’s the correct pose to wish the hideous holiday season were over and done with before it has fairly begun We are awfully out of fashion, the little boy and 1, hopelessly be hind the times. We love Christ mas; why, we can’t even think of sleiglibells without wanting to prance, and as for wishing It were over, we'd thank people with such wishes as that to keep them to themselves with their other gloomy views of life. Such folks don't know what fun It Is to live at all, do they, little boy? I'll warrant they don’t even like mince pie. and the very idea of a plum pudding would give every one of them indigestion for a week. No Foreign Stuff! What they want is tea and toast, or zwiebach and mineral water, or, cocktails and caviar. Well, they are welcome to them for all of us. aren’t they, little boy? We’ll tsike cider, and eggnog, and roast turkey, and a round of beef, and mince pie with lots of raisins, and plenty of good, rich crust, and pumpkin pie. too, with old-fash ioned American cheese to go with it. None of your foreign stuff this time of year. Imagine Santa Claus speaking with a French accent! Nuts and apples, and cider, and or anges, big. yellow ones, and little fat, comfy, plncushiony fellows, reddish and easy to peel. Citron, too. candles and preserved ginger, and candy, sticks of It. red and white, and candy canes, and old fashioned chocolate creams with a little white button on top of them, and ginger bread with nuts chop ped up In It. and raisins, too Hear me. little boy, what a world full of good things It Is, to be sure! And 1 can stneli them all whenever I look at the man with the wr/aths, can't you? He's a funny little man, isn't he? Sort of withered and ragged and tired-looking, and yet there's a twinkle in his eye. I wonder if he knows Santa Claus and got those wreaths right from Santa Claus’ own wreath garden. 1 shouldn’t w under, would you '.' Hello, there, wreath man, how did you leavt the reindeer, and havg the toy trees borne a good crop this year? What! Better than ever! 1 . Hurrah! and the candy bushes are 4 fairly bent down with glorious fruit, all colors and sweeter than ever. Snow! You’re surely going to have some of that by Christmas, aren’t you, wreath man? There may be a new sled, a regular sled with low runners and a screaming eagle on the side, and we’ve got to have a chance to try that. Dollies are Prettier. Dolls prettier than ever this year, are they, wreath man? And soldiers, regiments of them. T-r-um, t-r-um, t-r-um—can't you hear the drums, little boy? Hark! they are faint and far away, but drums for all that. Hurrah! Christmas is coming, Christmas, the jolliest, happiest, gayest, kindest, most generous time in all the year. Hurrah for dear old Christinas and all that Christmas brings! Show us your wares, wreath man That’s a splendid fellow with the berries. I’ll take that, and what a glorious green that holly Is! One of those, please. Why, we couldn’t eat a bite W’ithout a wreath in the dining room window and one for the light above the ta ble. Festoons? Well, yes. we’ll take some of that, too. Hurrah! We’ll look like the very home of the blessed old Santa Claus, won’t we. little boy? We like you, wreath man. and ; :: Night :: By MURIEL GARFORD. ' V) ANTHER-LIKE through the J | dusk On creeps the night, S Pale stars like yellow birds i Flutter with fright. ? Gold moon her amber tree ? Quickly withdraws; > Who would sec topaz buds Crushed by black paws? < Close by the city wall < Crouching it lies, ? Bats like swift eyelids glide ' ( Over its eyes. ( S Shadows are round its throat, S Collar and ba is. s Holding it lest it spring t Wild at the stars. ’ Ah! see it forward rush ) Out of its lair. ’ Hear all its broken chains < Fall through the air < Deep is the thunder growl, ? Mad with delight. I God! hear the City gasp ? Under the Night. ’ we love the thoughts the sight of you brings to us. Happy thoughts, tender thoughts, generous thoughts. How is the little sewing woman who worked so hard to get daugh ter ready for school this fall; how is it going to be with her Christ mas? Lives all alone somewhere, doesn’t she, on the top floor that is none too warm? Invite her and her best friend to dinner at the best restaurant in the neighborhood. You can’t be there? Well, what of that; she can be your guest Just the same, can’t she? Go and see the restaurant man about it, hav« a table deco rated, and send the little seam stress to dine in style for once. Won’t she be proud to show her friend what fine friends she has up there in the big world where people wear real furs and ride in real au tomobiles? What has become of the old French teacher who used to say "bonjour” so cheerily every time he came into the house? He looked a little pale the last time you saw him? Why’ not send him a bottle of French wine and a Merry Christmas to gladden his heart? What a time it is, w’hat a time! No one can possibly be offended at any sort of kindness now’. The stiffest ramrod on earth must bend a little in the wreath season, the friendly season, the Joyous season. Isn’t it a good thing it comes once a year, anyhow? Let Me Help You Up. Isn’t it fine to get all the queer kinks out of our queer kinked-up brains, and remember only that we are all human, all sick and sorry sometimes, all foolish and stupid once in a while, all lonely and sad when our turns come, all brothers and sisters, all one big, kindly, hop ing. fearing, striving, stumbling family, all to be laid alike in the brown earth some day? Come, sister, you have stumbled there on that rough bit of road; come, let me help you up. I came near to slipping there myself—what a gasp of the breath it gives me to think of it. even now. Here, brother, things went badly with you there at that turn in the dark. I had a friend went over the bank in that same place last year. See. the lights are shining down there, ill along the load, the gay lights, the friendly lights of Christ mas. Let’s all hurry and stand to gether among them, just a little wiiile before we start on again alone on the hard, puzzling Journey along the dark road. He's here, the man with the wreaths. Hurrah for him and the wares he brings! 4 - THE HOME P4PER Garrett P. Serviss Writes on The Heavens T Deceptive b Its Wonders, Forty Trillion Miles Away, Can Not Be Truly Measured Because of Their Re- I moteness. But the Inspiration Awakened Is True Astronomy, Not the Prediction of Eclipses or Mathematics That Treats the Uni- jlLxft®* verse as a Soulless Machine. By GARRETT P. SERVISS. / ■ iHE other Sunday night, at i;. I about 11 o’clock, I glanced out of my window and could not restrain an exclamation of de light mingled with wonder. Vast shadowy buildings rose high on all sides of the broifd inner court across which I was looking, and screened off the light from the street lamps, so that the view was like that from a huge square crater with steep, irregular walls all around and a perfectly black sky overhead. In the midst of this square of sky, glowing and scintil lating like a hundred Kohinoor dia monds pinned upon a screen of black velvet, were the stars of Orion, the most magnificent of the constellations that make up the universe as we see it from our earth. It was veritably a sight to make one gasp! I think I have never seen Orion so brilliant. Those far away suns seemed to have drawn nearer, as if the great constellation were actually descending from the sky. Below, toward the left, blazed the immense star Sirius, its rays flickering with every color of the rainbow. At this sight the mighty truths of astronomy burst upon my mind with an intensity of meaning which I have seldom known equaled. The Earth Dwindled. i As I gazed the earth dwindled to the Insignificant point that it really is, and Sirius grew and grew before me until it became supernal in its splendor, and in the sense of bound less power that its ceaseless flash ings conveyed. Space and time vanished, for the moment, and I seemed to be standing in the imme diate presence of that mighty star, in its light familiar facts assumed a new and grander significance, as if my human intelligence had been lifted to a higher plane. Then, in imagination, I returned and seized our sun in my hands to fling it out into the depths of space yonder. When it started it was an all-enyeloping blaze of quenchless fire, which swallowed the world, and licked up the planets like motes of inflammable dust. But aS it spun away, it began to shrink like the receding light of a steamer speeding out of a harbor at night; and when it had arrived at the dis tance of Sirius it was but a twink ling point, 40 times less brilliant than the great star flaming beside it. Although it had made day when near the earth, now It could not cast the tiniest shadow with its microscopic beams! Distance had revealed it in its true dimensions I and stripped from it the false pre dominance with which it dazzles our nearby eyes on the earth. It had become but a tiny star in the :: Henry Heine :: By REV. THOMAS B. GREGORY. IF was 92 years ago—December • 10, 1820—that Heine gave to the world his first piece of signed writing, “Gedichte,” and thus began one of the most mar velous literary careers that the world has ever known. Do you know Heine? If you do not, you have missed the acquaint ance of one of the brightest intelli gences that was ever robed in flesh The “brightest,” remember, not tin greatest or the noblest. In intel lectual brilliancy there has hardly been another like him. There is but one Heine. Marvelous was the light that shone forth from the little man of Dusseldorf, even if It was. to a cer tain extent, a baleful light. The spirit of the world Beholding the absurdity of men— Their vanity, their fears—let a sahionic smile For one short moment wander o’er her lips. That smile was Heine. It was not a venomous smile. The matchles irony was tempered with compassion; the masterful sarcasm was mingled with a genuine sym pathy. No man, not even Shake speare. ever saw more deeply or unerringly into the follies and weaknesses of mankind, but while he gibbeted them as they were never gibbeted before, he did so w ith real pity in his soul. Heine's wit was quite equal to Swift’s, but it was not bitter, like Swift’s. After taking off the masks of the hypocrites who disgusted him, Heine would say to them as they stood exposed and trembling > sky, a satellite of the giant Dog Star. • Then I bethought me that even Sirius imposes upon us with un warranted pretensions. It LOOKS the mightiest sun in the universe, but it IS not. It, too, derives a false advantage from relative near ness. Its distance is only about forty trillions of miles, but I knew that before me there were stars so far that THEIR REMOTENESS CAN NOT BE MEASURED with any means at our command. We know that their distance can not be LESS than a certain unthinkable amount, but how much GREATER it may be we can only guess. It Looks the Mightiest. Thereupon. I glanced back at Orion, and fixing my attention upon the bright star Rigel, on the uplift ed foot of the pictured giant, below his sparkling “belt.” I once more, in fancy, seized the sun and flung it away into these profounder deeps. Smaller and smaller It again be came, as it swiftly receded, until at last it was not even a visible star It faded away tike a-spark swal lowed up in tlie darkness. In my imagined omnipotence ! had imparted to the flying sun , speed of a thousand million miles per second, but I now saw that I had been too moderate, because in my night watch I could not wait for its arrival in the presence of Rigel. it would require TWO WHOLE MONTHS, even at that frightful speed, to reach the destination that I had intended! And when It ar rived 1 knew that it would find itself in the withering presence of a sun at least TEN THOUSAND TIMES more brilliant than itself. What goes on in that region where Rigel reigns; where even tlu mighty Dog Star, that makes our sun seem but a Jack-o'-lantern, would be as insignificant as a tal low dip beside a ship’s searchlight ’ In that part of the universe are all energies grander than here, in pro portion to the stupendous magni tude of the suns that illuminate it .' Mysteries Abash Us. We can not doubt that there are living creatures, and intelligeii' there, but could we compreher, them if we met them? in tli-i presence might not a Newton hint self feel that he was less than a lit tle child? These tilings abash us. and yet at tile same time, they stimulate us There is a deep meaning in the it spiration that every human beiu.' feels when he contemplates tin heavens. That inspiration with thoughts which it awakens is ti true astronomy— not the predictii. i of eclipse or the mathematics th.; treats the universe as a soulless > machine. before him: “Gentlemen, 1 am so . for you. And tie meant even word of it. Heine was a pessimist, but he was perfectly honest in his pessi mism. Looking out upon the “ex cellent foppery of the world,” he blistered it out of a sense of duty as deep as that with which the Cru sader of old turned his face toward the sepulcher he would rescue from the hands of the infidel. Superfi cially a mocker, Heino was at hear’ a profoundly serious man. venerai ing every real sanctity—freedom, truth, love and justice. He claimed in all seriousness, m be a ILKnight of the Holy Gho.-i and the claim was a sound one. It was not his to toll men what w • true he did not know what was true, and for that matter where he does?—but he could, air did. tell them what was false; hi he who fights to down a LIE is do ing as "holy” a work as he who battles in the cause of a truth. But Heine's real greatness s seen, not so much in what he wi >ti-. brilliant as his writings were, as in tlie way he stood up under his fea’- ful sufferings. For more than ser i years prior to his death he lay ur n what he called his ‘'mattress grave. " suffering continuously ‘h most excruciating pains that tvet racked a mortal frame-and yet ’ was during those terrible years . that hi did his finest literary warn- It was the grandest victory of mm oyer matter, of will power over pit and misery, that tlie world has ever i. itnessed. Heine died in 1856, at 57. and roe rave will have to wait a long time before his equal appears.