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k a v N xS EDITORIAL. RAGE The ATLANTA GEORGIAN THE HOME PAPER THE ATLANTA GEORGIAN ^ Published EvBry Afternoon Except Sunday Ill LHC If III V By THE GEORGIAN COMPANY A 1 A¥ A By THE GEORGIAN COMf w At 20 Eaat Alabama 8t. Atlanta, Ga. Entered an second-rlann matter at pontoffice at Atlanta, under act of March 3, 1*73 Subscription Price—Delivered bv carrier. 10 centa a week By mall, $B 00 a yaar Payable In Advance In Real Life This Is a Land for the Rich. The Rich Interest Us, Attract Special Attention and Enjoy Special Sympathy, Whether They Give Monkey Dinners, Dance Fool ish Dances, Marry Idiotic Noblemen, or Sit in Prison for Robbery. (Copyright, 1813.) BEAUTY By WILLIAM F. KIRK. P UT not your trust In beauty. It was made To please tbe eye and soothe the nervous brain. To cause forgetfulness in hours of pain And work its magic when the soul Is flayed. Beauty can smile near Sorrow’s souil>er shade. Hut w hen you need It, It will not sustain, And when you seek Its help, you seek iu vain. And when you die Its charms are still displayed. Beauty Is all men’s mistress, and its wiles (Jan comfort one and let another moan. It smiles, but only as a wanton smiles— A fleeting ripple o’er a mask of stone. The rose was blushing red, yet Juliet sighed ; The sky was smiling blue when Caesar died. Some enthusiastic and deluded gentlemen, far back in 1776, started in to establish a country of EQUALITY, one in which all men should be equal in the eyes of the law and of other men. Jefferson, Franklin, Patrick Henry, Washington and all the rest of them were very enthusiastic about equality. BUT THEY DIDN’T SUCCEED IN PLANTING IT IN THIS COUNTRY. Or, if they did, it hasn’t sprouted yet. Consider, If you please, the case of a criminal and thief named Cardsnio F. King, who died the other day in a Massa chusettes State prison. King was included in the list of prosperous criminals. He had stolen tens of thousands from those that trusted him. And when he died in prison all of the newspapers printed doleful stories, telling how the pardon that was rushing toward him arrived just too late to get him out of jail and permit him to die a free man. King was well known in Georgia, especially in Atlanta, where he resided for several years before going East. Consider also the case of Walsh in Illinois, a distinguished banker, who used to run a Chicago newspaper and preach virtue to others. They let him out to save him from dying in Jail. And he died soon afterward. And consider the interesting gentleman Morse, the Ioe King, whose Ice Trust conspiracy in New York inflicted suffering upon hundreds of thousands of women and ohildren, and who Anally went a little too far and landed in prison. They got the sad word that he was dying, and he was re leased from jail by President Taft. And he is back in Wall Street now making more money, whether in the same old way or in a new way thought out in prison nobody knows. It iB interesting to consider these men, all of them rich, all of them widely noticed in the newspapers, all of them apparent, ly the most natural objects in the world for pardon and sym pathy. TV h. Tot 3 cokti * whc« Twe Mate*! Dlh Tk*. oup cow GO Ten. /X And then consider the ordinary miserable criminal, who dies in jail every day in the year. Consider the poor brute with a low forehead, badly born, badly fed, badly taugat, constantly tempted. Consider this man and thousands like him. They are dying in hospital wards in prisons all over the country. And they are carted one after another to be buried without a name above their graves. Nobody is in a rush to send special pardons for them that THEY may die free men. Nobody endeavors, as in the case of the criminal, Cardenio F. King, to transmit a pardon by telephone a little ahead of time. Consider those criminals, who, indeed, deserve sympathy. The criminal usually starts in a miserable home; his mother has not the strength to feed him, nor the money to buy food; his infancy is starved. Consider the childhood of that criminal, climbing wearily up and down tenement house stairs, playing in a filthy gutter, dodg ing the wheels of trucks, frightened and pursued by policemen as soon as he is big enough to play in the streets, tempted, and at last caught when he is old enough to steal. From the beginning he has had no chance; he 'ands in jail. He dies. Thousands of him die there—and no pardon comes, no sympathy, no pity—no pity even for those that know him, none for his unhappy mother, who knows that he never had a chance, and who mourns him as sincerely, perhaps, and feels his shame as keenly as any polite lady living in satin and writing pitiful notes in behalf of the imprisoned husband who keeps her well supplied with part of the money that he has stolen. Consider the rich criminals, dangerous, betrayers of trust, robbers of women and of children, showered with sympathy when the prison at last catches them, and pardoned promptly when they show serious signs of ill health. And then consider the poor, miserable criminals, WHO ARE MADE CRIMINALS BY OUR ROTTEN CIVILIZATION, con demned to crime through poverty, ignorance and physical weak ness, the criminals to whose sickness and death less attention is paid than to the death of a mange-eaten oat in the gutter. And after you have considered these two sets of criminals in a gTand republic of “equality” consider also what a fine joke that equality is, and to what an extent this country, its sympa thies and its interests are controlled by the money that men have accumulated, whether it be displayed by some fool who marries his daughter to a foreign idiot, some “aristocrat” who squan ders wealth in stupid display, or some prosperous captured crim inal, whose troublesome cough alarms his friends—until a con venient pardon has set him free. There are many good Jokes in this country, and about the best of them is “human equality.” WflV COM”! You PUT McRC CH'CKt* \h <Tho<>-5u*Y "ThA ftORKORS Of ChinaTown r ly Xs ^ I 0*1G I <*v oof poR JuSl A LiTTi-* whilC Tohi«hT Vovj CAN- I \ M WiThin Prison WALLS, -JP, y // $ For Success, Health, Happiness, Look Within! Why Wait for Somebody Else to Bring Us These Things? Don’t Be a Spiritual Looter; Pray Often, but Work, First, Last and Always. By ELLA WHEELER WILCOX. Copyright, lHI. by Stir Company. O N retiring at night, Juat be fore going off to sleep, say. either mentally or orally as you chooee: I am health, strength, peace, happiness and prosperity anil everythin* that goes to make for good. Pure, good, rich blood is flow ing through my body, removing all obstructions and bringing peace, health and harmony. I am well and etroug and vital. I am beautiful, pure and good. I am on the road to eternal youth. I am opulent, happy and free. Last but not least: I will arise with unusual energy and radiance and power of accom plishment In the morning. All J ask Is that you do not try to dictate the way these things shall or may come, and I will guar antee them to cure anything from poverty to rheumatism.—Dr. James \V. Conn any, Mount Carroll, Ill. L ET every reader of this col umn take with seriousness these emphatic statements of I)r. Gormany, and put them to the test. Nothing Is the Matter With the World, Life or Destiny. There Is nothing the matter with the world, with life, with destiny. Everything we desire or want or need waits for our claiming. But the majority of God's chil dren are waiting for SOMEBODY BESIDES THEMSELVES to bring them these things. Not more than one human be ing in oue thousand looks to HIM SELF and the Power back of him self for success, health and hap- The other 989 look to luck; to chance; to Influence; to favors of friends and acquaintances; to doc tors; to patent medicines; to some hoped-for miracle, and all the. time a mine of wealth and ELLA WHEELER WILCOX, reservoir of power within them selves lies unexplored and un used. If you have a garden and res ervoir of water, which Is fed from an inexhaustible mountain stream, and you spend hours in prayer to God for rain to water your gar den. do not feel that God has been unkind if in a season of drouth yotir plants wither and die. It Is your own fault that you did not U8E THE WATER IN THE RESERVOIR. Prayer Is a great force; it puts our highest mental and moral powers In touch with the whole magnificent universe, and with the clouds of witnesses and the hosts of ministering angels, who are waiting to do the Father's bidding on earth; and the Father’s bid ding is eternal usefulness to hu manity. These Invisible Helpers are ever ready to HELP US HELP OUR SELVES. But they would not answer our prayers for rain, to save our gar dens, If we did not use the water In the reservoir which had been supplied to us. An Inexhaustible reservoir lies in every soul born upon earth. The one thing for you to do Is to PIPE YOUR MENTAL FACUL TIES TO THIS RESERVOIR. Then follow the instructions which are quoted above. Every time you make those assertions, you are TURNING ON A FAUCET. It is of little use, in a dry, arid season, to tum the water on your garden ONCE A WEEK. It must be done EVERY DAY. If you watered your plants once, and then after a month complained how badly they looked, despite your having watered them, that would be as reasonable as the at tempts of many people to put metar physical thought into practice. Every trade, profession, business and art is brought to perfection by PERSISTENT AND UNRE MITTING EFFORTS. The great philosophy of THOUGHT POWER can only be ggovsn and. demonstrated by the WINIFRED BLACK Writes on ■ Mother’s Too Fussy.. What if She Should Be Over Particular—Thats Better Than Being Too Easy-Going When a I ittle Daughter Is To Be Considered. By WINIFRED BLACK. same unremitting, untiring meth ods The !Ittle formula given by Dr. Cormany holds the whole philoso phy in a concise form. It is a spiritual homeopathic pill. Take one every night on retir ing, and after three months you will be astonished at results. Pray often; lift your heart on high; but WORK FIRST, LAST AND ALWAYS. Look to Your Own Soul for Light; Don’t Be a Spiritual Loafer. Do not be a spiritual loafer, and expect angels to perform your work with no effort on your part. Do not talk about your methods; and do not ask any one for advice or counsel. Look only to your own soul for light. GOD’S ANSWER. Once in a time of trouble and of care I dreamed 1 talked with God about my pain; With sleep hind courage, daring to complain Of what I deemed ungracious and unfair. “Lord. I have groveled on mg knees in proper Hour after hour,” I cried; "get all in pain; Xo hand leads up to heights I would attain, Xo path it shoicn nut out of my despair.” Than answered God: “Three things / gave to thee— Clear brain, brave will and strength of mind and heart, All implements divine to shape the wag. Why shift the burden of the toil on Met Till to the utmost he has done his part frith all his might, let no man DARE to pray.” S O ’’mother’s too fussy," Is she? Poor mother—and poor daughter. ’’Mother’s too fussy.” Dear girl. I wish I could take you with me down to the police court some bright, sunny morning and see your face when the girls whose mothers are not "too fussy" come Into the court—poor, silly things —Just for being out on the street at night and running around with all sorts of strangers. "Mother’s too fussy!” Well, well, I suppose my little boy thinks the same thing about me. I took a sharp knife away from him the other day when I saw him running with It open In his hand. He cried and said I was cross. H«r Mother Not “Fussy.” I wonder what he would have said about me when he grew old er If I had let him put his bright eyes out with that very knife, Just because I didn't want to be “too fussy?" I saw a girl this very morning who had a mother who wasn’t "fussy" at all. The girl goes to public dances—with the "other girls’’—and she goes to moving picture shows every night. too— with "the rest of the crowd.” And a few months ago a nice-looking stranger came and sat with the "crowd," and when the show was over he took the whole party to have some Ice cream. Such a nice fellow he was—so polite and respectful. How "fus sy" It would have been to refuse to let him speak to a girl Just because the didn’t know just who he was. That’s what the girl I know thought. And yesterday she was a witness In court and had to tell the Judge how she came to know the man and where she got the pin he gave her—for he turned out to be a thief, and he was try ing to teach the girl to steal, too —for him. The mother who wasn’t too "fussy” cried when the Judge asked her what she was thinking of to let her growing girl run about like that. I’m afraid she wishes now that she’d been "fus sy” In time. I Think She’s Right. There was another girl in court whose mother hadn't been "fus sy” either. She ran away with a man she’d met twice at a high Bchool dance and married him "Just for fun;” and he deserted her and left her friendless and penniless In a strange town and someone had her arrested for begging. So you're too young for beau a, mother thinks? Well, little sis ter, I think mother Is right and you are wrong, dead wrong—why shouldn’t you be? Who knows most about life, dear child—the mother who’s lived It or you who only Just begin to even look on? It’s not a game, child, this Ufa you’re so crazy to get Into. It Isn’t all fun. It’s something very much like work, and hard work at that. Your mother wanta to save you— to help you, to keep you from harm and trouble. Why won’t you let her, foolish little thing that you are? "Don't go near the pretty light,” says the mother to her silly little daughter. "Careful, careful; I singed my own wings there. Yes, I know It’s bright, but It’s fate!, too—there. Oh, I knew It, I knew.” And In she pops, the little foolish moth, and flops out If she’s lucky, one wing gone, the other singed— burned, frightened, hurt, puzzled —home to mother, who's "too fus sy" about lights, because she knows what they are and what will happen to little foolish moths who persist In flying too close to them. Your mother isn’t your enemy, child. She Isn’t trying to spite you when she tells you you are too young for beaus. She’s trying to save you. Can’t you listen to her? What if she should be over-par ticular—that’s better than being too easygoing when a little daughter Is to be conrtflered. What If she does want to keep you young? You’ll have a long life to live without her. Can’t you give her a few little happjt years, the mother who loves you so? Wait a Little Longer. Some day you’ll wish you had. Some day you’d give every hair In your foolish little head to have mother there to be "fussy” about you, and she’ll be gone and there’ll be no one to take her place, no one to care whether you go wrong or go right; whether you are well or 111, happy or miserable—and then? Wait, little foolish girl; wait a little longer—Just for mother’s sake and your own. You’ll have a whole lifetime for beaus. Would you believe it If I should tell you that some day you’ll wonder what you ever saw In the dark-eyed stranger who calls you over the phone? He’s pigeon-toed—mon- estly he Is—and not so awfully bright—and, whisper again, who bought him that tie? Did he earn It himself or did mother buy it for him, and sister tell him how to wear It, and are they all laugh ing at you for being such a goose over him, whom you don’t even know? Think It over. It pays to think once In a while, even when you’re Just in high school; honestly it doe*. The Ether Theory By EDGAR LUCIEN LARKIN. —Is the ether theory nec essary for explanation of magnetic lines of force, the flow of electric currents through conductors, and the forces of gravity? Is It not possible that some of the substance of the mag nets passes out and through space? A.—The passage of magnetism, heat, light or any other phase of radiant energy from suns through space seems to require the pres ence of ether In all space and within all matter. In all problems of space-en- ergy-transmlsslon the ablest mathematicians have formulated equations seeking to discover properties of an ether that will convey light waves varying in length between limits of 33,000 and 03,000 to one Inch, with set specific speed of 186,380 miles per second; and with rates of oscil lation ranging from 428 trillion for low red to 739 trillion per second for high violet. The re sults of the computations are di verse. varying In deduced densi ties from millions of times less than hydrogen to the enormous density of "2,000 million times that of lead," according to J. J. Thomson. I heard this great scientist, the discoverer of the base of nature, electrons, say this. But this density of ether, he stated, was that immediately surrounding electrons. The question comes In here with great appropriateness. Thus, If electrons are shot from the sun with known velocity of light, and they surely are, then the density of ether exceedingly close to the flying particle Is of this enormous degree. This de duction does not relate to the density of ether In space when at absolute rest, If It can bo qui escent. It may be millions of times rarer than hydrogen. This is unknown, for the most refined experiments ever made, those by Mlchelson, failed utterly to detect the existence of ether. All that Is known Is that the space surrounding an electron is an electric field whose Intensity is powerful beyond all Imagina tion. These are a few arguments for ether. The question Is, "Do not particles fly from magnets'’'' This may never be known, for let 1,000,000 electrons per second es cape from an ordinary steel mag net during 1,000,000 years, then only instruments of precision could detect the loss. Nothing whatever la known of the real nature of gravitation, so that part of the query can not bo replied to. Gravitation la sup posed to be electrical, however So is everything, for that matter.