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AQood PictureandaQood ldea==
By Cartoonist Tad
It Is a Very Old Idea, as Tad Says, But It Needs Repeating.
Think It Over. Hand It to Somebody Who
Needs the Picture.
< Copyright, 1913)
We invited Tad, our distinguished cartoonist, to write his
own editorial about his picture on this page, but he said: “I can
draw pictures, but I can’t write about them.”
This picture doesn’t need very much “writing about it.”
It tells you quite simply that the young man who spends his
life, or a good deal of it, pushing a bell for the man who brings
drinks will also probably spend his life answering a bell that
somebody else pushes.
For your own sake, remember one thing always—
The best man can succeed only IF HE USES HIS BEST
ABILITY.
The thing most important in this world and most often lack
ing is real concentrated effort.
There are around you thousands of men not a bit abler than
you are, men of your own age, who will be very successful a few
years from now.
It is for you to decide whether or not you will be envying
them their success, or sharing it with them. •
They have no better chance than you have now. But if they
are in bed, resting and getting strength for work next day, while
you sit as in this picture, pushing a button, ordering the waiter,
THE SLEEPER WILL BE PUSHING THE BUTTON LATER
AND YOU WILL BE ANSWERING THE BELL.
There are a good many young men who need this picture,
and their fathers and mothers are requested to put it where the
young men will see it.
1t t t
Common Sense
of Battleships
The question of an ‘ample
navy” is now before the peo
ple in a new light.
Apathy and ignorance no
longer becloud the issue. The
incidents of the last few weeks have made plain and impressive
the necessity, for which the Hearst newspapers have earnestly
and persistently fought.
It is not a question at this moment of war with Japan or
any other nation. It is a question of being prepared for any
emergency in our national life.
No people with intelligence and patriotism can fail to de
mand this preparedness. No representations of integrity and
loyalty can fail to answer this demand.
It has been brought home to every American that our coun
try is a part of the great world.
That it is subject to the jealousies, the competitions, the
wars of nations.
If we compose our trouble with Japan to-day it may break
out to-morrow or next year. If Japan retires as a contestant
for the mastery of the Pacific Ocean, there are others to compete.
In the fierce activity of overcrowded nations for room to colonize
their surplus people, there is perpetual unrest.
In the almost arrogant exclusiveness of our Monroe Doc
trine there is a perpetual challenge to freedom of movement
among other nations. In the possession and power of the Pan
ama Canal there is a challenge to the cupidity and commercial
self-preservation of all great commercial countries.
We know this now. We have been brought face to face
with war. We know that we are no more or less than other na
tions in our exemption from war. We know that the only nation
immune from war is England. We also know why England
has had no invaders for four hundred years.
And so in plain, natural common sense our Congressmen
must come to realize that we must have a greater navy. We
must have battleships. Not for aggressive war, but for effective
defense. As long as other nations build, we must outbuild other
nations, because we are better able to build, and need more to
build.
When other nations make plain that they are willing for
universal peace, we are willing to lead all nations in the move
ment for disarmament and arbitration.
But it is the first plain patriotic duty of the Sixty-third Con
gress to provide for the national defense in battleships that will
give us our safe and proper place among nations.
ft ft ft
Nationalizing a
Great Reform
The woman suffrage move
ment can prevail and accom
plish its purpose without an
amendment to the Federal
Constitution. Nevertheless it
is good news that the Senate Committee on Woman Suffrage has
decided to report favorably on Senator Chamberlain's resolu
tion.
A joint resolution of the two houses of Congress—submitting
10 the States the question whether the political equality of women
«nth men ought not to be an article of the organic law of the land
—will give the reform a national character and prominence that
it can not so readily acquire by any other means. THENCE
FORTH IT WILL BE IMPOSSIBLE EOR ANY POLITICAL
PARTY TO IGNORE THE ISSUE—WHETHER IN STATE OR
NATIONAL ELECTIONS
The case is parallel with that of the election of United States
Senators by the people. That movement also would in process of
time have prevailed everywhere without an amendment to the
Federal Constitution. But the movement, was immensely accel
erated by the agitation for the amendment.
Woman suffrage is not a local issue. It is broadly human
and fundamentally democratic.
THERE IS NO GOOD REASON WHY SENATORS AND
REPRESENTATIVES—EVEN THOSE OPPOSED TO THE RE
k FORM—SHOULD NOT SUPPORT THE PROPOSED JOINT
SSOLUTION AND SO GIVE THE CONSCIENCE AND IN
'TELLJGENCE OF THE WHOLE COUNTRY A FAIR CHANCE
TO PASS UPON THE SUBJECT. ^
Two Men
Every man is his own ancestor,
lie asserts. We are preparing
for the days that come, and
we are what we are to-day on
account of what has gone be
fore.
By ELBERT HUBBARD
C<H>yright. 1913, International News Service.
And you will spend your life with somebody else ringing*for you. (See Editorial.t
The Tragedy of the Ice Cream Cone 5i HAL COFFMAN
C AME to the stage entrance
the other day a man and In
quired for me. So I went to
the door, and there the man stood
in the alley. There was a famil
iar. foolish grin on his face.
“Don't you know me, Bert?’* he
said. And I knew him, although
I hadn’t seen him for full 40 years.
When I saw him last he was a
totally different individual from
this man who stood simpering,
leering at me out of watery eyes.
His mouth was wabbly, his
teeth all gone, save two lone sen
tinels one above and one below.
His face was streaked wMth to
bacco. He was bowed, rheumatic,
undone.
I just looked at him. I forgot
to say anything until he aroused
me with a second interrogation,
“Don’t you know me, Bert?”
“Yes, I know you,” I answered,
and I mentioned his name.
An Old School Mate.
He was a hundred and fifty
years old; yet he was bom the
same year I was. We grew’ up to
gether until we were 16, when our
ways parted. We attended the
same classes In the little country
school; wrestled each other’s
clothes off; played I-spy and
anty-over.
He was a brilliant fellow; at
least, we used to think so. He
made a great impression on the
girls as he grew up. He had made
some money, wasted it, took to
booze and patent medicines; set
tled down into a mudsock and has
just existed.
All this I knew at a glance, re
inforced, possibly, by a few’ things
that I had heard and forgotten,
but which now came back to me.
) 1 gave him a comp and he saw
the show. 1 watched him as he
leaned over the balcony. He didn’t
understand what 1 was talking
about, but his wabbly mouth
worked and his bleared eyes tried
to smile me a welcome.
After the show he came around
again, and this time it cost me a
dollar to dispose of him.
I tried to shake off the impres
sions of my old-time schoolmate,
but I thought of him that night
and I cast my eyes around the
audience, thinking possibly he
might come back.
The Other Man.
How’ever, as I passed the caloric
over the footlights and the giggles
gurgled gleefully under the cos
mic lee scuppers, straight look
ing level into mine eyes was a
man I knew’—another man—and
this man, too, I had known—in
my youth, although when I was a
boy he was a man grown. For him
I had great respect. He had big,
fat horses. He w’as a strong,
bronzed, hardworking individual.
But ht* had a fad and the fad
was mathematics. My father told
me of this.
Mathematics, to me, at school,
w’as a bugaboo. But here w’as a
man who knew* the arithmetic
from cover to cover and he could
work any example in it right in
his head and do it instantly.
He could divide sixteen thou
sand two hundred and one by
seven and eight-tenths and do it
as fast as he could put down the
answers. You could write down
columns of figures, and when you
drew’ the line across the bottom,
he would write in the total.
Hold on Primal Virtues.
This man’s name was Christian
Ropp. So there he was, white of
beard, but clear of eye, Intelli
gent, smiling, appreciative.
Christian Ropp has used his
brain.
He Is a Mennonite. And the
Mennonltes are people who work
with head, hand and heart. Ropp
has a firm hold on the primal
virtues—Industry, economy, good
health, right thinking.
And so, as I talked, I signaled
In wireless that he should come
around to the stage entrance aft
er the show, and his ready brain
caught the message.
When I came off there he was—
this man In h1s eighties. He had a
copy of his new book, “Ropp's
Ready Calculator”—the latest edi
tion—that he had brought for me.
He came in and sat down in my
dressing room while I changed
my clothes. He told me of his
book.
In mathematics we have worked
from the complex to the simple.
All of the theories In the old-
time school books for working out
mathematical problems were
cumbrous, complex, difficult,
faulty. The business of Christian
Ropp has been to comprehend
the miracle of numbers. To him
it is supremely simple. He loves
his work. He has used his brain.
His heart is young.
His Own Ancestor.
And the moral of all this seems
to be that every man is his own
ancestor. We are preparing for
the days that come and we are
what we are to-day on account of
what has gone before.
He who puts an enemy in his
mouth to steal away his brains
will eventually have no brains,
for the enemy will do the grand
larceny act, and the end is as
sure as the laws of mathematics.
Nature designed that when we
die we should die all over, and
the brain should be the last organ
to abdicate. It should sit secure
and watch every faculty decline—
interested, curious, wondering,
hungry to know.
All life is pleasurable if we
live the life of activity tempered
by moderation, the life lived by
that most able man, bronzed of
face, calloused of hand, mathe
matician and gentleman, Chris
tian Ropp, of Illinois.
The Treaty of Frankfort
By REV. THOMAS B. GREGORY.
T HE Franko-Prussian war, in
many respects the most re
markable in history, came
to a close 42 years ago with the
Treaty of Frankfort.
Never was there another such
case of official foolishness as that
which precipitated this same war,
and never was official foolishness
so promptly and so fearfully pun
ished.
The bloody drama, from its
start on August 3, at Saarbruck.
moved on with the speed of the
tempest and the deliberateness of
fate. MacMahon was defeated at
Weisemburg and again at Worth.
Frossard was driven from the
heights of Spicheren. Then came
Gravellotte and Sedan—and the
capture of the Emperor and the
overthrow of the Empire. Mean
while, like the Car of Juggernaut,
on went the remorseless German
advance. Paris was invested;
Strasburg surrendered; Bazaine
capitulated at Metz—and the
agony was practically over.
As brave a people as ever lived
were sacrificed in order that one
man might be permitted to grat
ify his personal whims. In addi
tion. there was no preparedness
on the part of Napoleon s gov
ernment. He challenged the most
perfect military machine that the
world had ever, up to that time,
seen, and pitched in without or
ganization and without anything
that approximated a plan or pur
pose. It was not war, it was mur
der. pure and simple. The sons
and grandsons of the men whose
martial valor had immortalized
itself under the Great Napoleon,
were led forth to the slaughter
like so many sheep—with nobody
to lead them, with no great or
ganizing. directing brain to tell
them what to do.
"Trust in God and keep your
powder dry,” said Cromwell. That
is what the Germans did, and
what the French did not do. The
Germans knew exactly what they
wanted to accomplish, and were
thoroughly prepared; the French
knew nothing, and were prepared
for nothing. Never was there a
finer illustration of the fact that
war is a science, and that its vic
tories are largely won by the di
rection and leadership of the few
at the head.
It was an awful humiliation,
that Frankfort Treaty, with its
dismemberment of the nation and
its indemnity of five millards of
francs, but it taught France and
the world the lesson that in war
it is science rather than senti
ment that wins battles and cam
paigns.
EDITORIAL. RAGE I HE /ll LANTA VjRORGIAN THE HOME: PARER
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Elbert Hubbard
Writes on