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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