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EDITORIAL- RAGE The Atlanta Georgi THE HOME RARER
THE ATLANTA GEORGIAN
Publl»hod by THU OEOUOIAX COMPANY
At AltlNUIII I
Fnter*<l n« <e<*con»1-cla<5!« matter at poitnfflct. at Atlanta, under art of March S, 1171
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Flying Train, Eariii and
River—
And the Human "Tree, Dead at the Top.
Copyright, If! 8. he f»t*r Own pa* .t
-
•xrwMWiw
THE CRUISE OF THE “PIFFLE”
Oopyrtght, 1818. lutematjoral N>.v« Barrie*.
Tf You Ks.tr
ON The y*c>R.LT>
The wide river is a dull, metallic blue. The low hills on the
western shore, black. The higher hills, rising above them, farther
back, are blue like the river. The sky is dull yellow where the
sun has vanished and pale blue above. A few copper-colored
clouds drift close to the earth on the horizon. Overhead the sky
is bripht blue, and in the middle the young moon, bright silver,
Is shining.
The trrin rushes onward, following the earth’s round surface.
That earth rolls through space, turning on its axis a thousand
miles in an hour, going around the sun in a spiral journey of more
than five hundred million miles every year.
The sun, in his turn, at frightful speed flies toward the great
star Vega, taking with him his planets and their moons and the
tiny beings that cling to the planets.
Rushing train, whirling earth, sun flying through infinite
space, and, for aught we know, that which we call the universe,
Milky Way, double and triple stars and nebulae, all are traveling,
all on some mysterious journey.
As you look the blue sky changes to black and tl: hills and
mountains grow black as the laat faint tinge of the sun’s yellow
fades from the horizon’s edge. The water becomes black, like the
sky, the trees are flying shadows, the earth loses color, as old age
loses color and life, ar.d night settles down.
What a wonderful panorama is the change from day to night!
The big light of the sun goes out and a million little lights are
visible because the great light has gone.
There are ten thousand changes in color and beauty—small
black islands in the water, round, high mountains, bare trees that
look like spider webs, old houses as lonely as the memoirs of the
dead inhabitants. And there is the marvel of motion and speed
the earth turning toward the east, the train flying toward the west,
the great river flowing to the ocean, the earth in its little annual
journey of five hundred million miles and the sun in a pilgrimage
that passes the comprehension of man!
How long might finite intelligence contemplate the wonders
revealed in one single hour!
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While all the colors of the earth and the sun change to black,
In one compartment of the train sits a prosperous woman, gray-
aired, and in another compartment a prosperous man of middle
age.
Each sits at a table, with cards spread out upon it.
One turns over three cards at a time, looks at the third, puts
them down, turns over three more, looks at the third, puts them
down, and so on for hours.
The other turns over a card, puts a black knav e on a red
queen, searches for a black eight upon which to place a red seven,
and so on for hours.
Through all the changes from day to night, from blue sky,
blue water and moonlight to darkness—the woman and the man
play at "solitaire.”
Do you wonder that a thinking mind should neglect to look
at the wonders of the world that it will soon see no more? You
need not wonder.
Let the train stop and beside the track in the electric light at
ihe crossing you see a tree dead at the top.
And you realize that human beings, like trees, die at the top
The body lives on, but the life of the mind has stopped.
JZ2u
‘All hands double haul the spanker and ease off the jib boom guys! If it isn’t convenient to do that then
keelhaul the bowsprit! We’ve got to do something nautical once in a while!” As Admiral Juice, of the
peace ship “Piffle,” uttered this vigorous language he turned to welcome a distinguished-looking stranger
who had just come aboard. “Gentlemen,” pursued the Admiral, “let me present my friend, the Count of
Monte Cristo! He says when it comes to getting hold of wealth I’ve got him looking like a poached
egg! I will now call your attention to these interesting pictures showing how I was entertained at Lees
burg, Virginia! Notice the glad surprise of the entertainers when they got my bill for $350! I have here
a notice, which reads as follows: ‘The sporadic and discombobulous rumors of business depression which
have recently caused some uneasefulness are all bunk! The country is about to impinge upon an epoch of
the most flambacious and impeccable prosperity! Do you get me? W. W.”
At that moment the ship’s yodlers were heard putting over the following ringing chorus:
“When I get an invitation to deliver an oration—
Lace hoo, laee hoo—
Without any hesitation I demand remuneration—
Laee hoo!”
Sudut..iy, without the least warning, a frightful and nerve-racking shriek was—
(To be continued—pretty soon.)
\n Advocate of Government Ownership.
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Letters From the Readers of The Georgian
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DOROTHY DIX
Writes on
Independent
Girls
Why Some Men
Do Not Want to
Get Married—
Explanation by
One of Them.
Bv DOROTHY DIX.
Y OU can't have your cake
and eat it too in matri
mony any more than you
can anywhere else. Which is to
say that -when a man marries a.
woman because she possesses
some quality that fires his fancy
he can't expect her to make a
star exhibition of just the dia
metrically opposite qualities. Or
if he does expect it he gets dis
appointed, and there’s trouble.
For example:
The other day I was talking to
a clever young fellow some 30
years old, and I asked him w r hy
he didn't get married. "Because,”
he replied, “the girl that I fancy
is a business woman who makes
as much money as I do, and I
don’t w’ant to marry that kind of
a woman, because she would be
independent of me.
"Why, do you know that a girl
who has got a good profession,
and who has made a good living
for herself before marriage,
won’t stand for a thing from her
husband? If he won’t make her
what she considers a fair al
lowance, and give her the money
absolutely to spend as she thinks
fit, bing! she puts on her hat, and
goes out and gets back her old
job. If he gets to running around
at night, and staying out with
the boys she reads the riot act
to him, and he’s either got to go
straight, or she goes. She won't
even take any back talk from
him.
"She doesn’t have to do the pa
tient wife act, and hand out for
giveness because her husband is
her meal ticket. That’s why wom
en in the past didn’t get divorces
when their husbands were un
faithful to them, and neglected
them, and beat them, and cursed
them around the house.
“They had no money of their
own, and no way of making a liv
ing.
"She just had to shut her
eyes and swallow any sort of a
pill of a husband, because of the
bread and butter he furnished,
hut the woman who has got a
good trade she can turn her hand
to, and who can make as good or
a better living for herself than
her husband is furnishing her, is
mighty particular about how she
is treated.
No Brute.
“Now, I’m no brute, and I’ve
no desire or intention of ill-treat
ing my wife, but at the same time
I’ve got a natural masculine de
sire to feel that my wife is de
pendent on me, and that she
looks up to me as a sort of di
vine providence, the source from
which all blessings flow, you
know.
“Of course, I know It’s my
vanity, but I’d like my wife to be
a timid, clinging vine proposi
tion that’s hanging on to my
sturdy oak strength and not an
other oak that’s just as strong as
I am, and casts a bigger shadow.
Also, I should like to feel that
when I got angry, and came
home cross, and be-damned
around the place that my wife
would go off and weep a little,
and then humbly ask me to for
give her for the things I had
done, instead of packing her grip
and going out to hunt for a boss
who would treat her as if she was
a lady, and be careful of her
feelings.
’ That’s why I don’t get mar
ried. The girls are too darned
independent. They can take care
of themselves, and they won’t
stand for any foolishness from a
husband. He’s got to walk a
chalk line, or it’s Reno for theirs ”
“Well,” I commented, “I don’t
see why that should keep you out
of the holy estate. There are
plenty of meek, spineless, little
girls hanging on the parent
bough, just waiting for some man
to come along and marry them,
and who would put up with ary
kind of conduct in a husband
get somebody to pay their bills.
Why don’t you marry one of
them?”
They Bore Him.
’’Whew,’’ he replied, making a
wry face, “they bore me stiff, and
they disgust me by being para
sites, and the way they try to
work men for what they want.
Instead of hustling out and earn
ing it for themselyes. After all, a
man doesn’t like to think that
what he stands for to his wife is
merely a cash register."
"What you want is the impos
sible, I said. “An independent
woman who ljr meek.”
“Man has always wanted t
impossible of woman,” he re
turned—“a woman who was snow
and Ice to all the world, but fire
to him. And now he’s added to it
another quality. He wants her
to be armour plate before mar
riage. and a feather bed after
ward.
‘ But mark my word,” he went
on. “the Independence of women,
and especially the financial inde
pendence of women is the reason
there are so many divorces now
adays, and there are going to be
more and more divorces until
men realize that they have got to
treat their wive® better, and be
fairer to them, in order to keep
friend wife on her job, and satis
fied with It.
"I've been frank and told what
few men even acknowledge to
themselves and that Is that a
man’s real ideal of a perfect wife
1s an Intelligent slave. He wants
her to feel that she is absolutely
dependent on him. That’s why
the ordinary man won’t give his
Xvife an allowance. He isn’t
stingy. He wants her to have the
money, but It tickles his vanity
to have her com© and humbly
importune him for every cent.
“Is the woman who has been In
the habit of having a fat pay en
velope handed out to her every
week, and no questions asked, for
doing about half the w^rk she
has done in the home, going to
stand for panhandling her hus
band for every cent? I trow not.
and husband has got to come
across with the allowance in the
future, or else wife will go back
to her typewriter, or counter.
“Also a man has felt that he
had a right to be about ten times
as disagreeable to his wife as he
would dare to be to anybody else,
and wife has stood it because she
had nowhere else to go, except
back home where she wasn’t
wanted. But that halcyon day is
also gone, for wife is demanding
that she shall be treated in her
own home, by her own husband,
with as much respect and cour
tesy as she has been accustomed
to receiving in the business office
where she worked.
“That's why I don't marry. The
independent, clear-eyed, bright
and snappy business girl has
spoilt me for any other sort of
girl, and I’m not good enough for
her. I’ve got so much of old
Adam cave-dweller in me that
she’d divorce me, sure.”
3 ANTIQUES 3
BY CONSTANCE CLARKE
U P in the attic under the eaves
Pattering rain drops rustling leaves,
Toll ur Vi oro + V» o Httlo r»l a trimlr otan/lu
Hidden away by ghostly hands.
Treasures dear neath the lid closed down.
Cloves and a brocade evening gown:
Slippers small and a cap of lace,
A miniature of a dimp ed face,
And underneath all, a cameo
Cracked down its length of rose and anew.
Dreams of the past come floating wide,
Hiding the misty world outside:
Hushing the rush of whispering leaves.
Dulling the rain on the attic eaves.
Dear little maid of long ago.
Did you break your heart with your cameo,
Up whaie alUo «Av@g hash iowjt