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THE HOME RARER EDITORIAL RAGE The Atlanta Georgian THE ATLANTA GEORGIAN Published Wvery Afternoon F.ncent Sunday My THE GK<'RC3IAN COMPANY At y'o East Alabama St . Atlanta <Ja Entered ns second-class matter at postuffietat Atlanta under art of March 3. 1*73 Subscription Price Delivered by carrier 10 centa a week lly mall, $f» 00 a year. Payable in Advance. Stay Ten Minutes, and Beflone” That Is the Story of Many a Man Whose Life Ends Too Soon. More Time for Eating Means More Time on Earth. (Copyright, 1913 ) An eminent lawyer, distinguished and useful citizen of Chicago, lies dangerously ill as this is written. All of his fellow citizens sympathize with him and hope for his recovery.- Those that knew him in various capacities speak of him with respect, each according to his acquaintance. The waiter at the Hotel La Salle says: ‘ ‘ Too bad he is sick. A fine man. I saw him often He would come here for his lunch, stay ten minutes, and be off again. He is a worker.” A worker indeed! But in that story of the waiter is perhaps an explanation of. the illness of a useful citizen and, certainly, the explanation of many premature endings of important careers. The natural working life of a man who takes care of himself should be eighty years, at least. Gladstone, Bismarck, Moltke, Palmerston, Pope Leo, Titian the great painter—these and many others were at the height of their powers at fourscore—good workers up to the very end, and men of long life. Others of greatest value to the earth have disappeared be- j fore their work was fairly begun. And those that knew them might have said as the waiter said of the great Chicago lawyer, “Ten minutes at lunch, and gone.” Rosebery, in his book on Napoleon, ‘‘The Last Phase,” tells of Napoleon's contempt for the man who stayed long at his meals. Napoleon thought that fifteen or twenty minutes was long enough to sit at table. Inexorable Nature informed him that THE SHOP GIRL—‘‘How I wish I had her wealth and position.” THE WOMAN—“How I wish I had her youth and beauty.” Wishes half of the ordinary lifetime was ‘long enough” for a man who refused to give proper attention to his digestion. If Napoleon had not ruined his stomach, he wouldn’t have been overcome with sleepiness in battle because of a bad liver, he wouldn’t have suffered later the tortures that killed him at St. Helena, AND HE WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN BEATEN AT WATERLOO. The old Jewish wise men said, “The blood is the life.” And the blood is INDEED the life. Th^ brain is no better than the blood that feeds it. The blood with its stream of life, its fighting leucocytes, its red corpuscles that absorb electric power, is to the human machine what electricity is to the electric machine. Lower the quality and the supply of blood and you will ruin the human machine. The blood depends upon digestion, on slow, regular, careful eating. The man who in his vigor, like the late E. H. Harriman or the great Napoleon, despises Nature’s rules and abuses the laboratory where his blood is made, will pay dearly in the end. Eat slowly. If you have only ten minutes for your luncheon, eat only as much as can be EATEN SLOWLY IN TEN MIN UTES. Wait and eat the rest when you have time to eat. Do not eat when you are tired, when you are excited, when the blood is in the brain instead of being in the stomach, where it should be, to digest the food. Do not eat when you are worried, when your mind is on ojher things. Better go hungry through the day, with a glass of milk, or an apple, than "eat luncheon in ten minutes and be off again.” It is time for the man who would not dream of treating an electric machine or a gas engine with contempt to learn that he, too, in the language of the Bible, is "fearfully and wonderfully made, ’ that he is a machine, an engine like any other entitled to decent treatment and care. • Promoting a Wife’s Happiness Even in the Far West the men can teach us a lot. Listen to L. C. Dillman. empire builder and associate of Janies J. Hill, who has spent eighteen years in trying to be the right sort of husband. Of all his many promotions his chief one, he declares, is the promotion of the happiness of Mrs. Dillman. It ranks ahead of his copper mining: ventures in Alaska and his efforts at railroad construction. ‘‘Woman is not a mysterious creature,” boldy asserts Mr. Dillman, and he bases his system on this idea. ‘‘There is no joy in the future,” he says, ‘‘it is all of to day. If I had only one dollar to spend on my wife, I would spend it like an artist. No matter how little a man has, he should employ part of it making life pleas„nt for his wife.” We can’t all be artists, but most of us can afford a dollar now and then to spend on our wive?. Let us take stock from Mr. Dill man. After all, there's more in the way a thing is done than in the thing itself. This kind of philosophy practiced for a while might result in the discovery that our wives are much finer creatures than we ever imagined. Winifred Black Writes on “Fool’s Gold” They Never Stay Rich, Somehow, Those Get-Rich-Quick People, She Says. It’s Always for Such a Little While. By WINIFRED BLACK ~~ H E arrived in western Colo rado the other day—-a real Get Rich Quick Wallingford, lie was big and prosperous look ing, he wore the finest clothes they had ever seen on that side of the slope, and he spent money like a prince in a story. He bought—on paper—a valua ble ranch, signed contracts for the building of a line house, contribut ed largely to the local woman's club projects, and amazed the dis couraged minister of a struggling congregation with a generous check. He tipped the bell boys in the little hotel till they wouldn't wait on any one but him. He hired the host automobile in town and kept It busy, had his shoes shined twice a day and tipped the man who shined them a quarter every time he saw him. He gave the drummers In the barroom big. black cigars—and no child ever got by him without a nickel at least, to take home to show mamma—and then he wrote checks, got them cashed and—dis appeared. Back, Dead Broke. Quite in the regulation manner, but just there the story stopped be ing a story and became real facts. The country marshal followed his man, caught up with him, arrested him and—in just about a week's time Get Itich Quick Wallingford will be in the penitentiary with his brothers, the rest of the crooks, and he won't get out till he’s done his full stretch of time, either. They never do it—In real life—the real Wallingfords. And some day. some ten years or so from now, poor Get Rich Quick will go hack to Hroadway—dead broke, lie'll look for some of his old friends. Where will they be? In jail or in some penitentiary, or hiding from some country town sheriff somewhere — never on Broadway —the Get Rich Quick people don't stay where the lights are bright for long. They can’t—poor things, poor, warped, blinking, cross-eyed things —nobody will let them, and poor Get Rich Quick Wallingford will have to go down to the East Side and Lu ll borrow a dollar here and a half dollar there, and his shoes will get the worse for wear and his eyes will lose their bold stare and be furtive, and his fine clothes will all be gone and he'll be delighted to have some one give him "the makings ' of a cheap cigarette. Some of His Dues. Some night he'll turn up on Broadway again—outside one of the smart restaurants he liked so well—once. He'll be begging for a quarter or a dime or a nickel, anything he can get, and ten chances to one some “Jay" he tried to fool will give the price of a night's lodging and he'll slink away In a tremor of relief, for he's fallen on hard days, poor Walling ford—the hardest kind of days, the sort of days that he knew all the time, behind all his bluster and brag and spending, were waiting for him down there, when the road turned the wrong way for him, the crooked, cruel, crafty, stupid, in evitable road. Every time he threw a five dollar piece on the bar and told the bar keeper to "keep the change," he knew that road was turning some where out there in the dark for him. Every time he made some poor, half-starved preacher in some poor little struggling church think Wallingford had dropped from the skies, till the check came back from the hank, he knew it—and half wished the bank account was real so he wouldn't have to fool the preacher so badly. Every time he talked some poor school teacher into investing the money she had been years saving In one of his paper schemes, he saw the road, twisting there before him ahead and shuddered down to the depths of his coward’s soul. Poor, shifty, scheming, planning, bragging, lying, cheating Get Rich Quick Wallingford—and all his tribe and brethren. I’d rather be the “jay” he has so much fun fool ing. I’d rather be the man he "short-changed” when he was hard up for cash. I'd rather be the poor teacher crying herself to sleep when she found out that all her work and self-sacrifice, all her dreaming of a home somewhere in the country in modest plenty, were in vain. I’d rather be anybody j than Wallingford—even if he did get rich quick for a while. Wouldn’t you? It's always for such a little while, isn't it? They never stay rich, somehow, those Get Rich Quick people. Every time I see one of them I wonder if there isn't some thing in the old superstition about money that is ill gotten—it turned to dust, they used to say, in your very hands. Where did it all go, Mr. Walling ford, that fortune you and your smooth, smirking partner made in bogus stock mining? I saw you in a hotel corridor the other day; you were trying to look rich yet; but that suit of yours wasn’t quite the latest cut and hadn’t those very shiny shoes been half-soled a time or so? You didn’t dine at the hotel, I noticed. You just registered there. Hid you slip around the corner to the dairy restaurant, and tip the waitress a nickel, just to save your face? And you walk now. Better for the health, didn’t I hear you say? Where's the shiny red ma chine of yours? Why, you could hear the toot of the horn a block away, only a littlq year ago, and where are they now', all the neat, prosperous, bright-eyed persons who flocked around you and laugh ed at your meanest joke, a little, little year ago? ; Gone—With Your Cash! Gone—with your money—gone with the aroma of prosperity. Gone, Wallingford, like the hopes of the poor fools you have laughed at. Gone, like the clear conscience you had—before you began this miserable Get Rich Quick business Gone, gone—and you are going. Wallingford, .going fast. Don’t send your card up to me and tell me you met me once in some mining town—and try to get an introduc tion to some decent folk. You're past all that, Wallingford, long past—you're on the road, the swift, twisting, darting road. It won’t take you long to reach the turn of it now—poor Get Rich Quick man, poor dupe of the ones you’ve duped—what ever made you think you could beat the great game and keep beating it for long? Fool's gold, that's what you had, fool's gold, and it's gone—as fool's gold always goes; and now you have nothing left, nothing—was it worth the price, do you think? THE CIRCUS By WILLIAM F. KIRK. / T comes to the village at daybreak. And all is a hullabaloo, With tent poles all bare and canvas to spare. II ith camels and elephants, too. The roustabouts stcear as they hustle. The outfit is moved from the train, And naught but excitement and bustle From now until nightfall will reign. The fanners are up with the robins. All swearing ,"By heck!” and "By hen!'' Their wives help to hitch up the Dobbins And drive into town .with the men. The villagers join with the fanners In best Sunday raiment arrayed. And Romeos stroll with their charmers, Awaiting the gilded parade. To one who is weary of cities And sated with pomp and display. The thrill of real joy he knew when a boy Returns with this marvelous day. And the wealth of the haughty and scorning, Like so much cheap funk he would trade, To start once again in Life’s morning With peanuts and red lemonade. Mysteries of Science and Nature. Our Five Senses Are Simply Windows Look ing Out of the Sphere of Ignorance in Which We Are Shut Up— Some Animals Have Senses We Have Not- We May Develop Oth ers in Time. Ey GARRETT P. SERV1SS I vIAGINE an intelligent being fastened at the center of a hol low sphere, suspended in the air and having five small open ings, giving unconnected glimpses of the world outside. One of the windows overhead affords him a view of a patch of blue sky across which clouds sometimes drift, and at certain times In the year the .blinding sun passes over it, while almost every night he sees a stream of stars moving slowly across it. Another, opening in the side of the sphere, enables him to see a part of a large-tree whose leaves and branches are occasionally shaken by the wind, and as the seasons change the leaves turn red or yellow and fall off, to re appear some months later. A third vision, at the bottom of the sphere, shows him a piece of ground covered with sand or grav el; a fourth, not far from the third, reveals a portion of a lawn of grass; and the fifth looks ,out upon a body of water, but does not disclose its shores. The imprisoned being not only notices the succession of day and night, but the difference between winter and summer, for snow sometimes covers the patches of ground beneath him and ice forms 'V n.- ♦h^ Our Senses Are Win dows in Our Sphere of Ignorance. Now, suppose that the prisoner has no knowdedge of the world around him except such as he can obtain by looking through his five little windows and reasoning up on what he sees. He will then be in a situation resembling that of men and women shut up in the sphere of ignorance that is pierced by the window's of their five senses. If he had a complete series of windows affording connected views of the outer world all around and above and below, he could form atcorrect idea of the form of that world and the relations of its va rious parts. But as it is, he would have to possess a very high de gree of intelligence in order to in fer from his disconnected glimpses the shape of the sky and the ground and the relations between them and their various parts. Now, the five windows of our senses give us hardly less im perfect knowledge of the wider world that is presented to us. Each of them is very limited in its range. The sense of sight cov ers but a small portion of the in finite gamut of vibrations of which visible light forms a part; the sense of hearing extends over only a small part of another range of vibrations to which sound is due, while the senses of touch taste and smell, though more closely connected than those of sight and hearing, are in them selves not less narrowly limited. If the windows of our senses CROPS IN GEORGIA. Editor The Georgian: Having just returned from a somewhat extensive trip througli Georgia I want to say that pros pects for a fine harvest of crops were never better. I have talked to a good many fare ->rs and they tell me their crops a.e excellent. We didn’t have much of a peach crop this year, but the fruit was good and the prices obtained by the orchardmen were splendid. If they have a kick coming I haven’t heard It. All of w'hich inclines me to the belief that the farmers and merchants of the State should feel mighty good over the situa tion. When the farmer is in fine financial condition everybody reaps some of the benefit. Macon, Ga. R. T. P. BRITISH JUSTICE. Editor The Georgian: I have been reading newspaper accounts of the eseu'e of Harry they would finally blend together, thus giving us a complete view of the universe in all its relations. We can see how limited our sense of sight Is when we consider that there are animals which see rays of light that are entirely invisible to our eyes. Yet these very rays form an unbroken series with those that we do see. The animals that perceive them are simply situated at a different point in the sphere, so that their sight ranges through the window of vision in a slightly different di rection. Animals Often Have More Acute Senses Than We Possess. The same is true of hearing, of touch and of smell. Insects hear sounds that are inaudible to us; they also have organs of touch far more delicate than ours; dogs and deer possess a sense of smell that seems almost miraculous. But not only do the windows of the five senses afford different glimpses to different creatures, but some animals evidently possess senses entirely different from ours. Birds, seals and ants have a sense of direction which enables them to . find -Ay through the air, in the sea and over the ground in a manner impossible to us. If the ant possessed all of our five senses in perfection, and his sixth sense in addition, he would be superior to us in his knowledge of nature. A being with a thousand senses w-ould surpass us almost infinitely in the means of knowledge. There is reason for believing that all animal senses have been acquired gradually, and it may be that the most important ones have not yet been developed. We get a glimpse of these possibilities in the strange phenomena of mesmerism, clairvoyance and telepathy. Elec tricity, as we become familiar with it, is teaching us still more on this subject. Who knows but, after ages of use, electricity may open for us another window in the wails of ignorance and develop another sense of which we do not at pres ent dream? Our Aim Must Be to Open Other Windows of Sense. All the efforts of science hither to have been directed to the bring ing together and comparing of the impression made by our five limit ed senses. In this way we arrive at more or less certain conclu sions concerning things that are not directly appreciable by the senses. But this is a very indirect and imperfect road to knowledge. The final result of all our progress ought to be, and doubtless will be, to open other windows or widen those already existing, so that eventually the universe will be directly know’n to us with a clear- ness and completeness of which at present we can form no concep- Thaw from the asylum for the criminal insane at Matteawan, N. Y., with considerable interest. I haxe a curiosity to l.now exact ly what the .so-called "British justice” will amount to in his case. We are told that this brand of justice permits of no tom foolery, no quibbling, no special advantages gained by mere tech- nicaiities^ Public sentiment—at least that which exists in the im mediate neighborhood of where Thaw is now held a prisoner— appears to favor the fugitive. Therefore, I am very much inter ested to know how the Dominion government will solve the prob lem which it confronts. Will that decision give Thaw an advantage, or will it place him at a disad vantage? I believe a good many people are interested in the out come. 1 W. N. ARNO. J Birmingham. .-J were more and more widely opened tion. Letters From The Georgian's Readers