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EDITORIAL- RAGE
The Atlanta Georgian
THE HOME RARER
THE ATLANTA GEORGIAN
Published Every Afternoon Except Sunday
By THE GEORGIAN COMPANY
At 20 East Alabama St., Atlanta, Ga.
Entered a* second clans matter at postofflee at Atlanta, under act of March 3.1RI3
S inscription Price Oelivered by carrier, 10 cents a week. By mail, $5 00 a year
Payable in Advance.
Humiliation, After the “Pork-
Barrel”
Congressmen Have Laughed to Scorn Conditions of National
Peril and Shame Which Are Right Now Pace to Face
to Every American Citizen.
Rarely in the history of this or of any other country has
there been a sharper and more shameful contrast between the
life and service of the "pork-barrel ’ politician and of the fore
casting and patriotic statesman.
A dozen eloquent tongues, and at least one great series of
newspapers, have forecast for the last ten years just exactly the
condition of affairs that confronts our country to-day
Every position whiqh Japan holds, every advantage that it
enjoys, every preparation which it has made, and every menace
which it carries to-day to the dignity and safety of our country
has been clearly and definitely and reasonably prophesied and
described to the American Congress by patriotic members of
that body and by great and farseeing and disinterested news
papers.
Congressmen have absolutely refused to see these dangers,
BECAUSE THEY DID NOT WANT TO SEE THEM They
have laughed to scorn conditions of national peril and shame
which are right now face to face to every American citizen.
Not being able to see beyond their noses, they have made
fun of their colleagues and of newspapers which from logical
premises have prophesied conditions that are now manifest and
real.
They have patted their fat sides in complacency while Ja
pan, vigorous in individuality, definite in policy and boundless
;n arrogance and ambition, has found this country, thanks to
their blindness and ignorance, in a state of unpreparedness and
comparative helplessness, out of which it is likely to extract new
glory to itself and humiliation to the Republic.
These men see now, if they can see anything, that THEY
ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONDITION OF THE NAVY
and the condition of our coast defenses, which are likely to make
us look ridiculous and impotent in the hands of a little island of
tireless Malays in the Pacific Ocean.
W * W
Never has a more interest
ing story of American enter
prise and adaptability been
told than by James A. Farrell,
president of the United States
Steel Corporation, in his testimony in the Government’s suit for
the dissolution of the company. The increase of exports from
292,000 tons in 1903 to 2,240,000 tons in 1912, with a reduction
in the cost of selling, over the same period, from 8 per cent to
four fifths of 1 per cent; the building up of a business with
Bu. ios Ayres, for instance, of $6,000,000 a year; the training
and employment of 200 agents in foreign lands; the operation of
five of the American Steel and Wire Company's mills, and em
ployment of 40,000 men, for export products alone—all these
facts talk eloquently of the value of combination.
The fact is clear enough that America is benefiting by an
enormous business it did not have before the Steel Trust was
iormed. The problem is to preserve and increase that business
while eliminating any burden on the home consumer, caused
either by lack of competition or by a rush to pay dividends on a
fanciful capitalization. It is a problem not yet solved, and cer
tainly not to be solved by ‘ dissolution" suits.
W W **
i The Romance of
American Steel
The Perfect Baby
and the Scientists
The perfect baby has beei
discovered in New York. I
is the only one the doctor
have been able to find, and i
conforms absolutely to ever
physical standard as laid down by the experts.
Unfortunately it does not appear to be a product of th
modern science of eugenics; it does not even stand as an ex
emplar of the system of baby culture that has formed the basi
of all recent lectures on the subject.
The perfect baby was born in a tenement and during th
three months of his life has had regulation tenement care. Hi
name is Abe Adelowitz and his progenitors are Roumanian im
migrants. His mother says he is bringing himself up; that hi
goes to sleep at 7 o'clock in the evening or 10 o’clock at night-
iust as it happens. She nurses him regularly, sometimes sij
•imes a day, sometimes ten—just as he demands.
There are a moral and a lesson in this, undoubtedly. Maybt
some of our readers can tell what it is. We are in doubt.
PERTINENT PARAGRAPHS
Jim Hill's suggestion that our
<'onKressmen adjourn for ten
.ears might strike a popular
t hord if there were a law to keep
them «‘ff the ehautauqua circuit.
• * •
I' is hard to tell these days,
v\ nether a young man is attempt
ing to dress fashionably or mere-
trying to look like a comedian.
• ■ X
There is a general suspicion
that a member of the London po-
ice force is not in any imminent
<nger of dying of ennui.
• • •
Probably the next move will be
o Investigate the investigators
who are investigating the investi
gator!
* • •
Still. «e never vould hear of
King A lonso if he were not en-
re'y surrounded by anarchists
• * »
The amateur gardener finds it
hard understand why nature
spend* per cent of its energy
in growing weeds.
In considering the tariff on lum
ber it behooves our Congressmen
to remember the large number of
constituent** who eat break
food
• • •
It ia said that the price of
onions is going down, leaving us
in doubt whether to rejoice or
mourn.
• • •
Still, it will be hard to believe
that the suffragettes are sincere
until they have blown up « mil
linery store.
• • •
Mexico will soon settle down
to its norma! condition. aavs
President Huerta. leading one to
expect another revolution •
• • •
A baseball fan is a man who
firmly believes the home team a -
ways plays again* nine men and
an umpire.
• a *
Nobofy ever hears of a June
bndegr^un unless he has a title
or some other failing
| The “Pork Barrel” Navy
*1* Copyright. 1*13. International Mewt Serrlcr
H«re are the Nation's defenses that have been provided by the Democratic Congress The gefitlmen who favored this
particular kind of a navy refused to vote for two battleships at the last two sessions of Congress because they could not
be given all the money they wanted for public buildings. They have already scattered these magnificent edifices abroad
through the country at the expense of the navy. What a splendid fighting fleet they would make can be seen in the picture.
WHEN IS HOME “SWEET HOME?”
By W1GHTMAN F. MELTON.
of Emory College, Oxford, Qa.
OMK Is not h place:
home is folks!” rightly
declare* Thomas Whip
ple L'onnally.
The home of w hich John How
ard Payne sang was an humble,
peaceful cottage, the dwelling
place of his thoughtful, affection
ate mother
Anywhere that mother is, is
Horne, Sweet Home." of course,
whether it be a dazzling palace
of eplendor, or a ‘‘lowly thatched
cottage "
It is a fact, however, that John
Howard Payne was a grown man.
und a wanderer in foreign lands
when he sang so sweetly of his
old home In America
How dear to my heart are the
scenes of my childhood," is the
cry of the middle-nged man, nr
the old man. who can snatch a
moment from his busy years for
n backward glance to the time
of his innocence and freedom.
There is a peculiarly sad feeling
that comes to one who goes back
to his boyhood home to find it oc
cupied by strangers. A man sits
at the window reading, but you do
not know him The voice of some
woman, singing at her work,
reaches your ears, but you have
never heard it before. If you have
the courage to enter, and to say.
"Please, sir, 1 used to live here;
may I take a look at the old
house?" >ou will probabl.x go
away feeling worse than before,
for there is not a picture on the
wall, nor a bedspread that is fa
miliar to you. And they've made
a plunder room of your old bed
room They have a washsfand
where mother s machine used to
be They’ve pu: a door where
the window was that you looked
through at the other children
playing in the snow the time you
! I had measles
Spiders' Webs
It is only worse if the old house
s unoccupied, with mildew on the
walls, and spiders' webs across
the panelew; windows Where
mother tended her flower beds,
with no much care, mullein stalk*
and sassafras are growing Bum
blebees buzz about the place, and
the echo comes across the years:
“Jimmy, call the cattle home.”
and
• Tommy, don’t stay late,"
And “Sally, fix the supper, f\.r
father’s at the gate."
And then there is the memory
of the candle in mother’** win
dow that used to tell you where
to go after the settlement party.
The hand that lighted it now
sleeps far over on the hill;
The candle and the candlestick
have crumbled on the sill.
Coming back to the present,
perhaps you do not own the house
in which you are now living.
Really, it is a right difficult task
to get much music or truth out of
Rented house, rented house, sweet
rented house;
Be if ever so humble.
There's no place like a rented
house
Well, just try to keep the rent I
paid promptly and in full; and
remember, the time will come,
and must come, when all men
w ho desire to be free will be free.
More people own their homes to
day than ever before in the his
tory of the world. More time,
money and attention are being
devoted to the beautifying of
homes and premises than ever
before.
Dollar-Hungry.
The man whose office, shop or
store is a palace, while his dwell
ing house is an old, unsightly
barn, is* a doilar-hungry back-
number. Even the so-called cold
business world frowns upon the
man who cares more for the
transient customer than for the
loved ones God has gjven him
Byron sang.
• Tie sweet to hear the honest
watch dog s bark
Bay deep-mouthed welcome as
we draw near home;
Tis sweet to know there is an
eye will mark
Our coming and grow brighter
when we* come."
It is very pretty to sing, sec
ond-handed of £he "deep-
mouthed welcome. and the
brightening eyes; but when all
that Is poetic is said, or sung, the
cold, prosaic fact remains that
parents and children, especially
the children, are influenced for
noble or Ignoble lives, by the
house in the yard, the yard
around the house, by the furni
ture. the pictures, the book?, the
magazines, the papers, the games,
the topics of conversation, and
possibly moat of all by the tones,
or tunes, of kindred voices.
Always Look Back.
True it is that some great men
and women have come from mere
cabins, where there were no
books, pictures, flow ere. nor any
thing eise to contribute toward
the development of the aesthetic
nature; but, in after years, these
great men and women have
looked back, tenderly and loving
ly. to the little hut that mother
tried to keep clean; and. at the
same time, they have often wished
their early life might have had
a more beautiful setting.
City home or country place,
boarding house or palace, will be
remembered and sung of, fifty
years hence, as "Home, Sweet
Home." Why not begin to prac
tice the song to-day?
The house may not be stately, and
the windows may be -small.
The yard may be quite scanty,
and no fountain there at all;
A fence of rails may stand in
front, a fence with a gate;
The place may not be large
enough to call it an “estate;”
But if, within that quiet realm,
there is no petty strife.
Nor any of the taunts and jeers
that cruah and cripple life.
There would I stay, forever, nor
one step farther roam.
There’s nothing better in the world
than “Home, Sweet Home!’’
r*"si
[STI
El
A]
U
L §3 j
By WILLIAM F. KIRK
W HEN Eve was told, and Adam. too.
To pack their raiment and skidoo.
Poor Adam said “It can’t be helped,”
But this is what his sweetheart yelped;
“If woman had a vote, you bet
We’d be within the Garden yet.”
When Cleopatra, wondrous girl.
Made ail of Antony s senses whirl.
Charming him through the passing hours
Within her Alexandria bowers;
Brave Antony remarked: "My sweet.
I'll lay the whole world at your feet!**
Krom Cleopatra's lovely throat
Came. "Give us girls a chance to vote!”
When pretty little Lucy Gray,
Out in a blizzard lost her way.
She said, "It's wrong that I should roam—
If women voted. I’d be home!”
When cute Maude Muller raked the hay.
She heard the old Judge make his play.
He stopped and asked her for a drink;
She said. "Your honor. I don't think!
I hope you'll have a parching throat
Until us ladies get a vote.” .v-
T
v
DOROTHY DIX
Writes on
Henpecked Hus
bands-- Man
Should Be Head
of House—He
Who Dares Not
Call Soul His
Own Finds Mar
riage a Prison.
By DOROTHY DIX.
R ECENTLY a Chicago man
applied for a divorce from
his wife on the grounds
that his better half was in the
habit of beating him and cruelly
mistreating him.
The judge before whom the
case was tried turned a deaf ear
to the piteous story of the suffer
ings of this poor, helpless hus
band at the hands of a strenuous
wife, and refused him the protec
tion of the law*.
“Your wife cruel to you?"
thundered the Irate justice on the
bench. “It is your own fault, sir.
Take hold of her and make her
behave. Yes. sir. .make her be
have. It is the man's business to
be the head of the house."
It is easy enough to say that
the man should be the head of
the house, but how is he to
achieve and hold the executive
chair when his wife is a candi
date for the same exalted place?
Before marriage every man ex
pects to manage his wife. After
marriage he knows he is lucky
enough if he can keep her from
managing him. In all the world
there is no problem so helpless
and so hopeless as that of trying
to make a woman behave when
she doesn’t behave right of her
own accord, and the judge who
advises a man to tackle the job
is giving him a task beside which
the labors of Hercules were mere
child’s play.
How, for instance, is a man go
ing to make a woman behave who
has a tabasco temper and a
tongue that blisters as it wags?
Oan’t Reason With Shrew.
You can't reason with a shrew.
The only argument that a terma
gant ever listens to is a knock
down and dragout one, and, un
happily, the conventions of good
society do not permit a gentle
man to beat his wife, no matter
how much he would like to. nor
how she need6 it.
There are thousands and thou
sands of men who are noble, and
good, and physically brave, but
who spend the entire years of
their married life trembling be
fore a virago.
I have known men. genial, kind,
and who loved the society of their
fellows, yet who, if kept a mo
ment beyond the hour they were
expected home, would cower like
a whipped schoolboy as they put
their latch key in the lock and
thought of the awful wigging
they were about to get.
I know a man, fond of good
living, who, at bts dyspeptic
wife’s stern admonition, “Dear."
drops his fork upon his plate as if
the tidbit he had been carrying to
his mouth had suddenly become
poison. I know r men. generous
and hospitable, who could no
more dare to take a friend home
with them to dinner than they
would to commit any other crime
that was punishable with being
flayed alive.
How is a man going to make
his wife behave when she is ruin-
ning him with her extravagance?
Of course, he can legally avoid
paying her bills by giving public
notice that he will not be respon
sible for her debts, but such a
course brands her with disgrace
and touches his honor. Y’ery few
men have the hardihood to adopt
this plan, but every year our
t graveyards and our asylums are
being filled with men who have
worked themselves into the. grave,
or paresis, trying to stem the tide
of their wives' wasteful, willful
extravagance.
Before her husband’s entreaties
to be economical, such a woman
sulks; to his remonstrance at her
extravagance she retorts that he
is stingy, while if he attempts
to restrain her she avenges her
self with such a shower of com
plaints and reproaches because
she can't have things like Mrs.
Bullion, or Mrs. Croesus, that he
retires defeated to his store or
office, there to try to mint his
very life into money enough to
supply her demands.
Or how is the man to make the
woman behave who is merely sil
ly and childish?
Whose Folly Is It?
But whose folly is the mill
stone around the neck of her hus
band that drags him down into
the sea of failure?
Everybody will admit that the
man who is married to a woman
who needs managing ought to
manage her, but it is one of the
most pathetic truths of life that
in a family conflict it is always the
noblest and best that is crushed
under foot. In the end it is the
brute that rules.
But why should there be any
one head, either male or female,
to a house? Marriage is not an
autocracy. It is a democracy. The
wife is just as much interested in
the success of the family, she has
given as much to it, her happi
ness is just as much wound up
in it as the husband’s is. Why
should she not have Just as much
voice in ruling it?
A man thinks he has the right
to govern the home and rule hie
wife because he supplies the
money that runs the establish
ment, but, even so, if he gave
every cent he earned he would
give no more than the woman
who spends her days in cleaning
and cooking and sewing and her
nights in anxious thoughts and
watching of him and his children.
Women, to their credit, be it
said, seldom consciously assume
this role of boss of the' family,
and when they do they have the
grace to be ashamed of it and
not to brag about it, whereas if
a man can tyrannize over some
poor little woman, he spends dhis
time crowing over the achieve
ment.
Personally, I believe that the
head of the house theory has
brought about * more domestic
misery than any other one thing.
Is Only Prison for Him.
The man who dares not call
his soul his own can find mar
riage nothing but a prison. The
woman who has to give an ac
count of every act and thought,
and ask permission, like a child,
for everything she does must
also find it a police jail where
she is always expecting to be
sentenced and get the full extent
of the law. The ideal family re-
Jationship is where the husband
and wife reign as twin monarch?,
with equal authority, and with
equal respect for each other’s
rights and privileges.
In the meantime, if the Chi
cago judge holds that a man
should be the head of his house,
an anxious world would like to
know how he is to do it.
Revolt of the Ciampi
By REV. THOMAS B. GREGORY.
F IVE hundred and thirty-one
years ago beautiful Flor
ence was a "hell on earth.'*
The Arno ran red with blood.
Anyone dwelling in the city at
the time might well have thought
"Hell is empty and all the devils
are here.’’
It was the uprising known as
the 'Revolt of the Ciampi." The
"Lesser Arts," or, in plain lan
guage. the populate, were en
deavoring to force the "Greater
Arts." or the aristocracy, to give
them a share in the government.
One of the orators of the Flo
rentine mob. standing upon the
pedestal of a magnificent statue,
and anticipating by hundreds of
years the style of the French
Revolution, said to his enthusias
tic audience: "Men of Florence,
our opponents are disunited and
rich: their disunion will give us
the victory, and their riches, when
they have become ours, will give
us support. Be not deceived
about that antiquity of blood cry
by which they would exalt them
selves above us: for. take my word
for it, all men are equally an
cient. Nature has made us all
after one pattern. Strip us
naked and we would all look
alike. Dress us in their clothing
and them in ours and we would
appear noble and they ignoble,
it is ail a matter of clothes and
wealth. Let us. therefore, seize
upon their money and palaces,
and we win be the nobility and
they the commonalty."
The populace rallied *by the
thousands to the orator’s call and
the day was won. The Signory
was paralyzed, and for three
years—from 1378 to 1381—the
Lesser Arts held the reins of
government. But they did not
seem to know how to run things.
Factions arose within the camp,
and the Florentine Democracy
passed into the hands of the fa
mous Medici.