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I IK A RST'S SUNDAY AMERICAN. ATLANTA. CA . SUNDAY. DECEMBER 14. 1113,
Boy of 13 Grows Corn and Eats Sparrows, lighting High Cost of Living
Garden 30 Feet Square
in Atlanta Back Yard
Supplies Family With
Cereals and Vegeta
bles All Year-Mother
Enthusiastic Helper.
By TARLETON COLLIER.
T HE high cost ot living should not be so
frightful a specter. John Cooper, Jr„ is
not afraid of it, and he is only thirteen
years old.
The best way to get over being afraid of
anything, John Cooper will tell you, is to go
ahead and break a lance or two in combat with
that thing. Most likely you will find that you
can overcome it easily, and that it wasn’t nearly
so bad as you thought at first.
That’s the way he went, about this high cost
of living problem. First he proved to the satis
faction of himself, and his family and the
neighbors, that the easiest thing in the world
is to raise a garden in the back yard, using
even such unpromising ground as the path over
which wagons are driven from the house to
the coal shed in the winter time. He raised
corn, good corn, three-ear-to-the-stalk corn, in
his yard at No. 67 Juniper street, and sent to
an old-fashioned grist mill out Peachtree road
and had it ground to meal.
And the family, knowing (hat it was the
purest, pellagra-less corn, ate corn cakes and
cornbread for weeks after.
Then he sold the stalks for fodder. And
there were turnip salad, and pumpkin, and
squash, and beans and peas, and all those
things in bis garden, which, a mere 30-foot
square, kept green and productive all sum
mer. Even now the turnip salad is gleaming
bravely green while everything around it is
brown and dead.
But the garden part of John Cooper's attempt
to thwart the high cost of living is not the only
interesting part. It is not the most interesting
part. John is' working very sincerely toward
perfecting his sparrow trap, in which he will
catch pestiferous English sparrows, and fatten
them for the table w -
Don’t laugh,'' John * warfis you. “Why
shouldn’t sparrows be eaten? ft’s all a crazy
notion that they are not fit for food. I’ve tried
’em.
"Did you ever eat sparrow pie?”
As he asked the question, he looked at bts
mother, who is his enthusiastic lieutenant and-
adviser in all his precocious experiments. And
Mrs. Cooper told of a recipe for sparrow pie
that, given to the public by a Western Gover
nor, is being generally'indorsed by the Bur
roughs Club.
"“We are going to serve it all this winter,"
she said. "John is going to catch them in his
trap, aud we will fatten them by judicious,
wholesome feeding, and then will come the
pie."
John’s eyes brightened. There was prob
ably never another boy who was a more ardent
naturalist.
’’Yes, we are going to help get rid of the
sparrows,” he said, ’’w’hlch are nothing but
pests, and try to make life pleasant for the
other birds. It’s the other birds that count,
you know, and that are useful in saving crops.
The sparrows Just drive them away, and do
no good themselves. And while we are getting
rid of the sparrows, why not turn them to some
good? There’s probably nothing cheaper than
sparrow pie, and nothing better."
All of which seems logical enough, and sim
ple enough, when the boy explains his trap and
his method of catching the pest-birds. The
trap Is an Ingenious contrivance that Is being
advocated by the Burroughs Club for general
use, along with its promulgation of the sparrow
pie recipe. It has an entrance into which the
busy little sparrow will hop, In following an
irresistible morsel of food. The bird will hop
upon a door that gives beneath its weight,
throwing it into a pit from which it can not
escape. Fattening then is easy, John explained,
and making the pie is easy, or cooking the
bird in some other way.
“Why should you worry if eggs are 40 cents
a dozen, or if meat is just as high?” asked the
boy economist. "Isn’t there something in this
to overcome the high cost of living?"
The boy is ambitious. Every home might
have its own sparrow trap, but a good many
homes will not, he reasons. Then what is there
to prevent a fellow’s marketing the sparrows,
once the vogue is established!?
But the political economy side of the question
is merely incidental. The boy is primarily con
cerned with getting rid of the sparrows, be
cause he is conscientiously a friend of the other
birds, the useful birds. He and his mother
are probably the most enthusiastic members of
the local Burroughs Club, and were the most
attentive at the recent meetings which were
held in the Interests of an Audubon society or
ganization.
The two can't see why other boys should not
go in for so interesting and useful a hobby.
John Cooper, Jr., youthful
crusader against the
hi<rh cost of living, is a
good .judge of corn
and is seen exam-
ing some ears he
grew in a 30-foot
square of an At
lanta back
yard.
Certainly, if other boys could get the results
that John Cooper, Jr., gets from his work with
the garden and the birds, there would be no
question that the occupation is the most desir
able thing in the world
Mrs. Cooper tells how she and her son go out
into the woods every Saturday in the spring
time when the weather is fine. Sometimes they
carry lunch, and are out all day, going on the
street cars as far as possible, and then taking
to the open country. Both are armed with field
glasses, aud there is a bird book in the equip
ment. The day is spent in trailing the birds,
and in identifying them; In hunting eggs, not
for the purpose of robbing the nest, but to
study the varieties; in learning all they can
of natural life in Georgia.
"One day last spring we saw and identified
nearly 75 kinds of birds,” the boy Interpolated
in his mother's narrative.
it is natural enough that John Cooper, Jr..
should hanker for the life of a farmer. There
are delights enough In the outdoors, to satisfy
him. But he wouldn’t be a farmer exclusively,
nor mainly. Fanning will be only his avoca
tion. and the creation of a model farm will be
his means of relaxation when his urban cares
are too heavy and pressing.
It is quite a definite dream that this hoy has
evolved, with all his outdoor expeditions and
research. Working with corn and turnip salad
and sparrow traps seems to lend Itself to inde
pendent thought, even if you are only thirteen
years old and in the seventh grade at school.
And you are pretty likely to grow up to be a
man worth while, particularly if you have a
mother who Is just as eager aa you are to study
and tramp and do things. All that is why the
idea of John Cooper, Jr„ as to spending a good
portion of his spare time is offered for your
consideration, if you be a boy about thirteen,
and in the seventh grade.
Corporal Punishment in the Home
-By Dr. Willis B. Parks:
A S corporal punishment has been abandoned
in the schools by and through the influ
ence of the best educators, the question
,to be considered now is "Should corporal pun-
isment be resorted to as a method of correction
in the home?” Many parents excuse themselves
for whipping their children by quoting King
Solomon: "Spare the rod and spoil the child
We do not believe that Solomon expected the
parent to actually whip the child with what is
understood as a "rod," but evidently he meant
the rod of correction, such as kindness and posi-
ttveness, which, if properly used, will control
any child that is not weak-minded or that is
not an idiot. That being true, if you insist that
whipping is necessary as a means of correcting
your child, you say in action that the child is
either weak-minded or an idiot. Heretofore
the question has been discussed in a general
way. We will beg to discuss it from rather a
scientific standpoint in order that we may
arrive at some conclusion in the matter.
Scientists agree, as regards education and
controlling children, both male and female, that
they are of two distinct types, namely, motory
and sensory. Each type, although they may
have the same parentage, yet are to be
considered from an entirely different point of
view when it comes-to imparting Jtnojyledge.or
when it is necessary to eopreet’4hemUi< ah>* "S ay
We will first consider the motory child which
can be easily diagnosed. He is characterized by
always being on the move—restless, running,
Jumping and twisting in all kinds of contortions,
which is often considered by parents and teach
ers as an evidence of inattention, when the
truth of the matter is the motory child received
his Impressions through the movement of his
muscles. In fact, it Is his way and only way
that he can successfully get impressions or
learn his lessons.
The motory child has often received un
merited whipping-and continual scolding for
doing Just what Nature's laws compel him to
do; that is, he must keep on the move that he
may be able to learn or get impressions, and
the more difficult, the lesson or problem the
more he moves and twists about. This being a
scientific fact, it can oe easily seen that whip
ping or punishing a child of this type would
arouse within Die child a spirit of resentment
which may lay dormant in the subconscious
mind until possibly in manhood the same spirit
of resentment could be so aroused against his
fellowman to such an Intense degree that mur
der would easly be the result, if the spirit of
resentment does not. sink into the subconscious
mind it often must have an Immediate vent
by showing fight or doing some depredation.
To Illustrate, I knew a boy who belonged to
the motory type, ana it is known that this
type is usually hard to control; they are'both
noted for being willfully stubborn and hnrd-
beaded. This boy in question often merited
some kind of correction, and his pious father
thought that Is was his religious duty to whip
the boy in order to try and subdue or "break
this boy's will. To do this it required un
merciful whipping, and this boy would feign
that he had given up in order that he might
not receive any more severe punishment for
the time being. Soon after he was released,
however, he proceeded to give vent or get some
kind of revenge for his boiling-over, pent-up
rage, and as consequeuce he would kill a chick
en, a goose, or break a gate, or a hoe handle or
do something that would in a way appease
his uncontrolled anger. I was an eyewitness
to the above-named depredations, while no
doubt many people could recall similar in
stances in their experience.
The sensory type is diametrically opposite,
for he receives his impressions through the
sensory nerves, and in order to learn or get
Impressions he must be very quiet, and as
a rule he does not learn very readily at school
or in the home, but what he does learn he will
not forget. Inasmuch as he Is slow to learn,
he is often punished and dabbed as a lazy boy
or blockhead, when the truth of the matter is
some of our most brilliant men, both in the past
and the present generations, have belonged
to the sensory type. Their teachers and parents
often call them lazy, indifferent blockheads.
To whip or scold a child of a sensory type
would result in much harm, for unlike his re
sentful inotory brother, punishment only serves
to discourage him by humiliating him until in
some instances the punishment received kills
all aspirations and so disheartens him that he
never amounts to much in life. In accordance
with the above considerations In the treatment
of the motory and the sensory types of children,
it would be an unpardonable mistake to punish
either one of the types, which should practically
relegate corporal punishment back to the age
of Ignorance and uncalled-for brutality. T’
parents then ask the question. How shall tk
control their children?
The answer In Its first analysis is very slmr
namely, that the parent must first control h,
self. There Is not one parent out of many the
does not punish a child when out of temper, and
as a psychological fact the purent impresses the
state of his or her own mind and feeling on the
child that Is being punished as directly as the
camera receives Impressions in photography.
It is Indeed commendable that we have child
welfare ex hi id ts looking out for the physical
welfare of the child, but the moral uplift and
welfare surely begins in the home, and If the
parent and the teacher do not understand the
fearful responsibility of the child In Its moral
and physical welfare, we should at this time
of progress and philanthropy devise means and
facilities whereby the child could be correctly
started in the home.
WILLIS B. PARKS, M. D.
‘ Atlanta, Ga.
How the Kaiser Learns the War Secrets of Other Nations-
By Dr. Armgaard Karl Graves,
Formerly of the German Secret Service.
T HE versatility of the Kaiser is well
enough km n nr*, to need expo lation
here. But what an indefatigable, even
watchful worker his Majesty 1b. Is known
very few, -indeed. In addition to
those public services which are per
formed in the light of day, there are certain
other grave affairs of state at which his Maj
esty labors far Into the night, of which the
public never hear and of which few officials
ever get to know anything.
Let me relate a typical incident in the life
of the Kaiser which illustrates the point I
make I was sitting in my rooms in the Mit-
telstrasse, in Berlin, on a mgnt in February,
1911 reading quietly, when the door was
thrown open and my man showed in a middle
aged military looking gentleman, wearing
Verdienstkreuz, the cross of merit. Though I
ha* neter until then set eyes on this particu
lar gentleman. I Immediately knew him to be
one of the emissaries from the Wilhelmstrasse,
which la the palace of the Foreign Office in
^Drawing himself up, clicking his heels to
gether and saluting, this messenger handed me
a sealed envelope bearing the number 17, and
the curt demand, "Antwort,” meaning, Answer.
I should explain here that all secret agents
are addressed and known in ordinary corre
spondence by numbers, and No. 17 was my des
ignation on the rolls of the service.
The note handed me contained a card and
a command to appear at 11 >30 p. m. at the W1I-
helmstrasae in full evening dress, and to hold
myself in readiness for instant service. The
t„rd bore above the signature of Graf von We-
dell the Inscription, “Vorzulassen und vorsu-
fuhren”—Admit and present.
To hold myself in readiness for instant ser
vice was nothing new to me. But the order for
full evening dress, the time— 1: 3u p. m.—set
me to thinking I cast over in my mind for
any likely explanation. Was there any high
foreign personage In Berlin at the time requir
ing to be watched. Was there any function
going on?—ft frequently falling to the lot of an
agent to be present at these affairs to watoh
eminent men and keep track of their move
ments, meetings, conversations, etc. But I
could come to no satisfactory conclusion.
"Never trouble trouble till trouble troubles
me,” being one of my favorite maxims, I turned
again to my book after instructing my man
to lay out evening togs and get me ready by
11 o’clock.
That hour saw me turned out in full fit. and
sauntering, having still half an hour to spare,
slowly down the Linden alley and past the
Pariser Plate. Then, turning into the Wilheim-
straBse, I rung the second entrance door bell,
and produced my card. I was shown into an
ante chamber where I found a tall, distinguished
looking gentleman, of military bearing, likewise
in evening dress. We bowed formally to each
other, but, following the unwritten law per
taining to these places, held no speech.
At the stroke of 11:30 an usher appeared
and asked us to follow him. We were shown
Into a spacious room where, seated at a large
writing table shaded by a green reading lamp,
sat Count Udo von Wedell, Privy Councillor to
hla Majesty. The Count, whom I had met on
many occasions, is a tall, scholarly and courtly
gentleman, In appearance not unlike your Pres
ident Wilson, only with the addition of an Iron
gray moustache. Requesting us to be seated,
he Inquired if we were acquainted, and receiv
ing a negative reply, he Introduced us, my com
panion proving to be Herr von Senden, ex-cap
tain of the Second Guard Hussars. After a
cursory chat the Count suddenly drew his
watch, and remarked;
"Gentlemen, now to business. You will in a
few minutes enter a certain room, advance to
the centre and stand at attention. You will be
asked certain questions. Your answers are to
be short and to the point. You will not put any
questions and on being dismissed will back out
of the room. This is under the strict silence
rule. 1 enjoin you to avyid any discussion
of this matter between you. Yon onderstandT”
We nodded silently. Then a gong boomed
somewhere, and by the sound, from below
ground. The Count rose quickly, and with tha
words, "Be ready, gentlemen," left us. Re
turning almost Immediately, he commanded ua
to follow him. We proceeded a short distance
along the corridor and then turned into a deep
alcove. There the Qount pressed a spring and,
a panel sliding suddenly apart, disclosed a
spiral stairway, down which we went. I count
ed fifty-four steps, it being my habit always to
count steps and paces when on strange ground.
The habit, I may add, has frequently proven
of great use to me whan I had to operate in
dark places.
Again we proceeded through a long passage
until we came to a large double door at which
two sentries stood lmmovsble on either side.
The Count halted and knocked. The door was
opened by an officer In the undress uniform
of the Life Guards. We entered, and mindful
of Instructions, both of us marched to the mid
dle of the room and then came to attention.
The part of the room where we—that is, the
officer, von Senden and myself—were etandlng
was brillantly lighted. The remainder, which
formed part of a large alcove, and was cut off
by a transparent screen, was quite dark. The
officer stood about three paces to the right of
us, towards the screen, the Count haying dis
appeared behind it
Thus we stood for a full five minutes, not
moving a muscle. Now and tnen an Indistinct
murmur came from within. Suddenly a sharp,
clear, and but for this throaty sound almost fal
setto voice, broke the silence.
"Pntwltz,” addressing the officer, “ask the
doctor If he Is well acquainted with Morocco,
especially the coast."
Here let me observe that through the whole
conversation all questions from behind the
screen, and all our answers, were conveyed
through the officer von Putwitz.
My reply was.
"I am well acquainted with Moroccan affairs,
I know all the principal ports through personal
visits to them. I hare been, at one time, medi
cal adviser on the staff of Kald Sir Harry Mao-
Lean, formerly commander-ln-chlef of the
Moroocan army."
“Ah! So! So! Good!" came In ejaculation
from behind the screen.
“Putwitz, who was this Kald MacLean?"
The officer repeated the query to me.
"By birth a Scotsman,” I replied, "who at one
time held non-commission rank in the Anglo-
Indian army. Shrewd, silent—a man of great
ability—he wes much relied on by the Sultan
and feared by his troops. He was knighted by
King Edward VII. on the occasion of the Moroc
can delegation to England.”
“Still alive?" came the question.
“No, died of an attack of pneumonia at
Nlzza."
Two more questions were put to me regard
ing the length of my stay In Morocco, and the
amount of English and French influence I
found existing there. My answers were evi
dently satisfactory, for I heard repeated ex
clamations of:
“Good! Good!” (Schoen! Schoeh!)
Then a series of questions were fired at von
8enden, it appearing that he must at one time
have been an attache to the German Legation
at Morocco, and at the Embassy to Italy as well.
Just then came an interruption. I heard a
knock on the door at the back of the screen.
A person was admitted, and Judging from the
resulting sounas, some papers or documents
were handed in. Suddenly a tiny green shaded
reading lamp was switched on, revealing Indis
tinctly the apartment behind this transparent
screen, but plainly revealing the man seated
before a plain mahogany writing desk cov
ered with papers and mapa Senden, beside
me, gave a start and a gasp, although I was
pretty well prepared for the sight which met
our seats. Seated within four yards of us was
bis Majesty, Emperor William II.. bending over
some of the Just handed in papers.
The Kaiser wore the interim uniform of a
oolonei of the First Guard FusUliers, with the
Cross of the Black Eagle dangling from his
second button. I had ample time to study his
Majesty, for he was engaged in perusing the
papers held in his hand for quite ten minutes.
There are many portraits of the Emperor
In existence, but none of them is a real, na
tural llkenesB to my way of thinking. His Maj
esty Is thinner in face and fuller in figure
than any of the photographs I have seen make
him. The face in repose bears a marked like
ness to Frederick the Great In middle age.
There are the same aquiline features as in the
case of the great Frederick, only the Emperor's
nose is more pronounced, and his Majesty has
the same close pressed, finely cut Ups, with a
faintly cruel look about the mouth. Brown,
with a ruddy color In his cheeks, his Majesty
looks to be In perfect condition.
He looked up suddenly and found von Sen
den and myself gazing at him. A shade of an
noyanoe seemed to cross his face as he slowly
and minutely looked us over. Senden was
visibly nervous and ill at ease, and turned his
head toward the Count. I looked back without
moving an eyelash. We were looking at each
other for a full minute, and I had a good chance
to observe the rather rare color of the Em
peror’s eyes, another feature never appearing
In any of his photographs. They are large,
clear and a light steel blue, and they can peer
pretty sharply at one out of knitted brows.
I can quite understand that Ministers and
others find those royal orbs somewhat discon
certing, especially when their owner is in an
adverse mood.
Once more the Emperor turned to his papers,
his left hand stroking his moustache. He was
evidently considering something of great Im
portance. Meanwhile, there was not a sound
In the room. Von Putwitz, Senden and my
self remained standing like blocks of tvood, the
Count sat erect In his chair.
Curious thoughts flitted through my mind.
Here was T in the presence of one of the great
forces, if not the greatest force on earth at
present. Picture to yourself the scene: Mid
night, in an underground chamber, the man
who without doubt holds the peace of Europe
in his keeping—for he can well put nine mill
ions of armed men in motion—trying to make
up hla mind on some matter of the most far
reaching import What part was I to play in r.
if any?
It was a pregnant moment, Indeed. We ail
were instinctively aware of this, especially the
Count, for I observed him glancing more than
once rather anxiously at his master. Still not
a sound. The Emperor continued reading
quietly, his brows knitted. Then he suddenly
turned in his chair toward the Count, and
bringing his left fist sharply down on to the arm
of his chair, he cried in a tense voice:
“I shall do it. See to all the details.”
I saw the Count gaze searchingly into the
face of his Majesty, and heave a sigh. Wheth
er or not the Emperor noticed it, I cannot say.
With a move of his hand toward the officer,
he said:
"The gentlemen are dismissed.’’
“Retire gentlemen," said von Putwitz, turn
ing to us.
We backed toward the door, the Emperor
following us with bis eyes. At the portal we
bowed deeply. The Emperor absently ac
knowledged our salute and returned immedi
ately to his papers.
The last view I had of the master of Europe
was of an Intensely human looking figure, ap
parently wearied, but eager and active for all
that, bending over his desk intent utill upon
the affairs of his people, the majority of whom
at that hour were sleeping quietly In their beds.
Out in the corridor I drew my watch. It was
JuBt on the stroke of 1 a. m.
Not until later did I learn the meaning of that
strange midnight quizzing by his Majesty. It
is a story in itself. But within two hours I was
on board the Orient Express bound south on a
mission in connection with a recent chapter
of Euorpean history which brought the Powers
t the verse of general wax, ^
fi