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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.