Atlanta Georgian. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, July 28, 1913, Image 16
THE HOME RARER
EDITORIAL RAGE
The Atlanta Georgian
THE ATLANTA GEORGIAN
Published Every Afternoon Except Sunday
By THE GEORGIAN COMPANY
At 20 East Alabama St . Atlanta. Ga
Entered as second-class matter at postofflce at Atlanta, under art of March 3.1B73
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Payable In Advance.
Who Makes the “Criminals?"
Did Thi* View ol It Ever Occur to You?
(Copyright, 1913.)
the
ing
Much interest just now in CRIMINALS.
Much horror aroused by depravity.
Many plans more or less appropriate for making the air pure.
Many good men, politicians, women and bishops who spend
summer at the seaside are willing to spend a few days wip-
CRIME" off the earth.
What is CRIME? Who are the CRIMINALS? Who makes
the criminals?
Do criminals viciously and voluntarily arise among us, eager
to lead hunted lives, eager to be jailed a.\ intervals, eager to crawl
in the dark, dodge policemen, work in stripes and die in shame?
Hardly.
Will you kindly and patiently follow the lives, quickly
sketched, of a boy and a girl?
THE GIRL.
Born poor, born in hard luck, her father, or mother, or both,
victims of long hours, poor fare, bad air and little leisure.
As a baby she struggles against fate and manages to live
while three or four little brothers and sisters die and go buck
to kind earth.
She crawls around the rooms of a small house, a good deal
in the way. She is hunted here and chased there.
She is cold in winter, ill-fed in summer, never well cared for.
She gets a little so-called education. Ill-dressed and ashamed
beside the other children, she is glad to escape the education. No
one at home can help her on. No one away from home cares
about her.
She grows up white, sickly, like a potato sprouting in a cel
lar. At the corner of a fine street she sees the automobiles pass
ing with other girls in warm furs, or in fine, cool summer dresses.
With a poor shawl around her and with heels run down she
peers in at the restaurant window, to see other women leading
lives very different from hers.
Steadily she has impressed upon her the fact, absolutely un
deniable, that as the world is organised there is no especial place
for her—certainly no comfort for her.
She finds work, perhaps. Hours as long as the daylight.
Ten minutes late—half a day’s fine.
At the end of the day aching feet, aching back, system ill-
fed, not enough earned to live upon honestly—and that pros
pect stretches ahead farther than her poor eyes can see.
‘ WHAT’S THE CHARGE, OFFICER?”
“Disorderly conduct, Your Honor.”
There’s the criminal that Society is hunting so ardently.
THE BOY.
Same story, practically.
He plays ball in the street—cuffed, if caught by the police- j
man.
He swings on the awning poles, trying to exercise his stunted I
muscles—cuffed again.
In burning July, with shirt and trousers on, he goes swim
ming in private ponds—caught and cuffed and handed over to
the police.
He tries for work.
“What do you know?"
“I don’t know nothin'; nobody ever taught me.”
He can not even endure the discipline of ten hours’ daily
shoveling—it takes education to instill discipline, if only the edu
cation of the early {rick and shovel.
He has not been taught anything. He has been turned loose
in a city full of temptation. He had no real start to begin with,
and no effort was ever made to repair his evil beginning
"WHAT'S THE CHARGE, OFFICER?”
“Attempted burglary; pleads guilty.”
In prison he gets an education. They teach him.how to be a !
good burglar and not get caught. Patiently the State boards
him, and educates him to be a first-rate criminal.
There’s your first-rate criminal, Messrs. Bishops, good men,
politicians and benevolent women.
Dear bishops, noble women, good men and scheming poli-,
ticians, listen to this story:
In the South Sea Islands they have for contagious diseases a
horror as great as your horror of crime.
A man or woman stricken with a loathsome disease, such as
smallpox, is seized, isolated, and the individual sores of the small
pox patient are earnestly scraped with sea shells—until the pa
tient dies. It hurts the patient a good deal—without ever curing,
of course—but it relieves the feelings of the outraged good ones
who wield the sea shells.
You kind-hearted creatures, hunting “crime” in great cities,
are like the South Sea Islanders in their treatment of smallpox.
You ardently wield your reforming sea shells and you scrape
very earnestly at the sores so well developed.
No desire here to decry your earnest efforts.
But if you ever get tired of scraping with sea shells, try
vaccination, or, better still, try to take such care of youth, to give
such chances and education to the young, as will save them
from the least profitable of all careers—CRIME.
Scrape away with your sea shells, but try also to give a few
more and a few better chances in youth to those whom you now
hunt as criminals in their mature years.
God creates boys and girls, anxious to live decently.
frw YOUR SOCIAL SYSTEM makeJ criminals and fills jails.
When the Wife’s Away
Re sorcts
/AWFIA- Pokey
Gael Th& old
House seems
Lome. soml>
without 'the v/ife
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Mysteries of Science and Nature
The Sun Is a Variable Star and Its Changes Affect the Price of a
Man’s Dinner—-What Science’s Latest Discovery Means.
By GARRETT
T HE recently announced con
clusion of Professor f'rost,
the head of the Yerkes Ob
servatory, that the sun Is a vari
able star 1h in accord with what
has been said repeatedly.in these
columns. It Is a tremendously Im
portant fact, and its demonstra
tion is mainly due to th$ labors of
Messrs. C. G. Abbott and F. E.
Fowle, of the Smithsonian Insti
tution. Their statements have
been confirmed by the obperva-
tion of astronomers in Europe.
The suit has not suddenly be
come variable; it has been vari
able for ages, but not until now
has any measurement of its vari
ability been obtained. It has
taken ten years to eliminate all
the possible sources of error In
the work, one of the principal dif
ficulties being; to discriminate be
tween the effect of changing; con
ditions of the earth's atmosphere
affecting its ability to transmit
the radiation from the sun to the
surface of the globe, and changes
occurring in the sun itself.
Minor Changes in the
Sun Affect the Earth’s
Temperature.
It seems now to be certain that
the intensity of the rays which
the sun sends to the earth often
vary at least as much as five
per cent in periods of only a
\\*eek or ten days. These varia
tions, of course, directly affect the
temperature and the character of
the weather. Then there are vari
ations of a much longer period,
and of greater general extent. In
dicated by the waxing and wan
ing of black spots on the sun's
disk.
When there are many and large
spots on the snin, its radiation is
not diminished, but increased,
: nd when they are few and small,
ay at «he present time, the radia
tion. In general, falls off. But
at all times, apparently, minor
changes are going on in the sun,
which produce quite sudden al
terations in the temperature of
the earth.
As has just been said, we are
now at a period of minimum In
the sun spots, hut in about four
years from now they will be nu
merous again, and then a general
Increase of the solar radiation is
to be expected. It take.**, on the
average, about seven years for
the sun spots to decline from a
maximum to a minimum, and
about four yeats for them to rise
again from a minimum to a maxi
mum. Meanwhile the radiation
is not steady at any time, except
for a few days.
The practical importance of the
recent studies of these things is
P. SERVISS
seen in Professor Frost’s an
nouncement that the time is near
at hand when it will b* possible
to foretell the general character
of the seasons long in advance.
He thinks that that may be
achieved within about twenty-five
years.
Then, if the present promise is
kept, it will be possible for farm
ers and growers of all kinds of
crops to know in advance what
they have to expect, and to gov
ern their sowings and plantings
accordingly.
The sun will be recognized as
the great dictator in agricultural
affairs, and they will be the most
successful cultivators who heed
the hints which he gives of im
pending changes in his humor.
They will watch his face, with
the aid of the astronomers, as
Nero’s courtiers watched the play
of their tyrant’s features.
But the mete fact that those
who have been conducting these
researches think it possible to
foretell the varying effects of the
solar radiation upon the earth
shows that even in his most
variable moods the sun Is sub
jected to a law which he cannot
violate. It is what that law Is
and how it operates in order to
forsee its effects. Much still de
pends upon a better knowledge
of the earth’s atmosphere, for
when a sudden change takes
place in the solar radiatijm the
effect is not Immediately felt on
the earth. The atmosphere acts
as a kind of buffer, and takes up
the shock, afterward distributing
it in a more gradual and gentle
manner.
Change in Solar Radia
tion Might Bring About
an Indian Famine.
A graphic illustration of the
importance of this matter to
every human being is given in a
remark of Professor Langley’s
which Professor Frost has quot
ed :
"Though the most unformed
nebula may hold the germs of fu
ture worlds, yet for us these pos
sibilities are but interesting con
jectures, for every. nebula might
be wiped out of the sky to-night
without affecting the price of a
laborer’s dinner, while a small
change in the solar radiation may
conceivably cause the deaths of
numberless men In an Indian
famine.’’
Professor Langley’s forecast
has been fully justified by the re
cent Investigations, and we may
now say that the price of every
man's dinner is affected by
changes in the sun that had not
been discovered ten years ago.
Time’s Changes
By MINNA IRVING.
I CHANCED to meet old Father Time.
It does not matter where;
He wore a leather coat and cap,
And had a jaunty air.
A pair of goggles hid his eyes,
Hts boots were furred Inside;
1 viewed the change with much amaze.
“Where Is your scythe?” I cried.
"It can not be that you at last
No longer mean to mow
Unhappy mortals like the grass
Before you as you go?”
"The scythe," the ancient spirit sighed.
“Is slow and out of date.
I use an aeroplane instead
To do the work of fate.”
Div<
)rce
By ELLA WHEELER WILCOX
“ Copyright, 1913, by Star Company.
rp HINKING of one thing all day
J long, at night
I fall asleep, brain weary
But when I wept too long you turned
away.
And I was hurt, not realizing then
and heart sore;
My grief was selfish. I could see the
But only for a little while. At three,
change
Sometimes at two, o’clock I wake
Which motherhood and sorrow made
and lie,
in me;
Staring out Into darkness; while my
And when I saw the change that
thoughts
came to you,
Begin the weary treadmill-toil again,
Saw how your eyes looked past me
From that white marriage morning
when you talked,
. of our youth
And when I missed the love tone
Down to this dreadful hour:
from your voice.
I see your face
I did that foolish thing that women
Lit with the loveTight of the honey-
do:
moon;
Complained and cried, accused you of
1 hear your voice, that lingered on
neglect.
my name
And made myself obnoxious In your
As if it loved each letter; and I feel
sight.
The clinging of your arms about my
form,
And often, after rou had left my
Your kisses on my cheek—and long
side,
to break
Alone I stood before mv mirror, mad
The anguish of such memories with
With anger at m.v pallid cheeks, my
tears,
dull
But cannot weep; the fountain has
Unlightened eyes, my shrunken moth-
run dry.
er-breasts,
We were so young, so happy, and
And wept, and wept, and faded more
and more.
so full
How could 1 hope to win back wan-
Of keen sheer joy of life. I had no
dering love,
wish
And make new flames In dying em-
Outside your pleasure; and you loved
hers leap
me so
By such ungracious means?
That when I sometimes felt a worn-
an’s need
And then She came.
For more serene expression of man’s
Firm bosomed, round of cheek, with
love
such young eyes,
(The need of rest in calm affection’s
And all the ways of youth. I, who
bay
had died
And not sail ever on the stormy
A thousand deaths in waiting the re-
main),
turn
Yet would I rouse myself to your
Of that old love look to your face
desire;
once more—
Meet ardent kiss with kisses just as
Died yet again and went straight into
warm;
hell
So nothing I could give should be
When I beheld it come at her ap-
denied.
proaeh.
And. then our children came. Deep
My God, ipy God, how have I borne
it all!
In my soul,
Yet since she had the power to make
From the first hour of conscious
that look—
motherhood,
The power to sweep the ashes from
I knew I should conserve myself for
your heart
this
Of burned-out love for me, and light
Most holy office; knew God meant
new fires.
it so.
One thing remained for me—to let
Yet even then, I held your wishes
you go.
first;
I had no wish to keep the empty
And by my double duties lost the
frame
bloom
From which the priceless picture had
And freshness of my beauty; and
been wrenched.
beheld
Nor do I blame you; it was not your
A look of disapproval in your eyes.
fault;
You gave me all that most men can
But with the coming of our precious
give—love
child,
Of youth, of beauty, and of passion;
The lover’s smile, tinged with the fa-
and
ther's pride,
I gave you full return; my woman-
Returned again; and helped to make
hood
me strong;
Matched well your manhood. Yet
And life was very sweet for both of
had you grown ill,
US.
Or old, and unattractive from some
Another, and another birth, and
cause,
(Less close than was my service unto
you)
twice
11 should have clung the tighter to
The little white hearse paused lie-
you, dear;
side our door
And loved yon, loved you, loved you
And took away some portion of my
more and more.
youth
With my sweet babies. At the first
i grow so weary thinking of these
you seemed
things;
To suffer with me, standing very
Day in, day out; and half the awful
near;
nights.
Solferino
By REV. THOMAS B. GREGORY.
T HE battle of Solferino, won
by Napoleon III and the
Sardinian King from the
Austrians fifty-four years ago,
was one of the costliest of vic
tories, a boomerang, the like of
which Is but seldom found on the
pages of history.
Napoleon III, the Don Quixote
of sovereigns, went far out of his
way to Interfere in the quarrel
between Austria and Sardinia, and
bitterly was he paid for it-
Within itself Solferino was a
splendid triumph. Some 120,000
French and Sardinians beat to a
finish some 170,000 Austrians, and
the Emperor's cup of glory was
sparkling to the brim! Solferino
was well calculated tp remind
men of Austerlitz and Marengo
and of the great captain whose
genius had for so long led the
soldiers of France from victopr to
victory as though they had been
an army of demigods.
So far so good. But there was
coming, all unseen by the victory
of Solferino an aftermath of woe
and misery.
Solferino precipitated a meet
ing between Napoleon and Joseph
(July 11, at Villafranca), the re
sult of which was the Treaty of
Zurich, which, among other
things, wrested Lombardy from
Austria, thus materially weaken
ing her among the family of Eu
ropean nations.
But the weakening of Austria
carried along with it the strength
ening of Prussia. If there was a
time when Bismarck laughed
more heartily than ever before, It
was when the news came to him
of that Lombardy matter. The
great Chancellor must have
laughed himself well-nigh mortal,
for he saw just what !t meant. He
saw In advance the war of 1866,
the struggle between Austria and
Prussia for the leadership of the
German States, the weakened
state in which Austria would have
to contend against the greatly Im
proved condition of Prussia, and
the final Prussian triumph at
Konigratz.
But the clear-eyed Bismarck
saw even farther than that. He
saw Austria humbled and dis
missed from the stage; he saw
Prussia at the head of a united
Germany; and, what was more to
the point, he saw the Germans
“marching all one way” on to
Paris, to humble France much
worse than France had humbled
the Hapsburg. . .