Atlanta Georgian. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, December 26, 1913, Image 14

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

/MR 0RYAM WE'" . WANT YOU To COME DOWN To OURTOVPM lAhip ei fcfttKTAlH^Pj / 5>aY, HWa 1 5AJY HE*p ' U! VCE. TO / CHA6* every AMERICAN / \OUT 5F / / MESiCO'U/ ARE You J. Going To) w' , 5TAn V { v \ToR it. ] j CoRpl&L RfctfcPTioN I TmahK You For/; \You« Kimp \ I Sattentiok.) ’Agwa/. EDITORIAL RAGE The Atlanta Georgian THE HOME RARER THE ATLANTA GEORGIAN PubllshM by THE GEORGIAN COMPANY At 20 Kant Alabama St. Atlanta, Ga a* a^ronrt-clans matter at postnffW at Atlanta, under act of March S, 1I7S HEARST’S SUNDAY AMERICAN and THE ATLANTA GEORGIAN will h* mailed to atihaorlberH anywhere in the Enlted Stat«-<», Canada and Mexico, one month I roc months for 91 ■ i i0 and one '■••ar for IT 00; change of addrear made as often as desirdd. Foreign subscription rate* on application. Flying Train. Earth and River— And the Human Tr*e, Dead a* the Top. CVpTMf^rt, 1913, hr War Oompuy 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 bright blue, and in the middle the young moon, bright silver, is shining. The train 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 w e 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.c hills and mountains grow black as the last 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, and 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! While all the colors of the earth and the sun change to black, I in one compartment of the train sits a prosperous woman, gray I aired, and in another oompartment 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 he 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. THE CRUISE OF THE “PIFFLE” Orpyright, 1913. International N>vra Ferric*. /TfYoU K6.EP 1 ON THE WO Yoare3‘ (Thauky! (WFRIEND5 I APPRKIAU ►er “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— Laee hoo, laee hoo— Without any hesitation I demand remuneration— Laee hoo!” Suddenly, without the least warning, a frightful and nerve-racking shriek was— (To be continued—pretty soon.) DOROTHY DIX An Advocate of Government Ownership. Letters From the Readers of The Georgian ATLANTA'S NEEDS. Editor The Georgian: I wish to commend the article written by Mrs. \Y. L. Peel on the needs of Atlanta We read so muc h egotism in our daily papers about the records we are continu ally breaking that it becomes nauseating and puts hr In bad form with our sister cities. Let us wake up and the men in charge of our civic affairs make Atlanta a city where Ufe is worth living. Our sanitary condition compares very poorly with other cities in the South. Less blare of the horn and do great things. A GEORGIAN Atlanta, Ga. AN APPRECIATION. Editor The Georgian: T wish to thank you for your commendable editorial entitled “Let Us Have Progress Coupled With Prosperity.'* 1 take the lib erty of addressing you. believing that the stand you are taking should receive all the encourage ment possible and 1 heartily in dorse your ♦ very word and senti ment regarding Mr. Wilson's acts and policies. And 1 sincerely hope you will continue to make these acts and policies of Mr. Wilson’s the target of your pen. to the end that the entire people ma\ be brought to realize the power for harm we have now oc cupying the seat of the mightv. E. DAVIS. STARS AND STRIPES Doctors say Wisconsin law re garding eugenic marriages will necessitate tapping a prospective bridegroom's spine and boring a hole in his skull. Tut, tut: no young man that’s really in love would mind a little thing like that • * * Pittsburg man seeks divorce because wife frequently gives him pork chops for dinner Predict a rush to marry the lady if a de cree is granted. • • * The New Haven Railroad hasn't killed anybody lately, possibly be- ' ause ,t«* trains haven’t been run ning on time. * * * ^ right announce® invention of 9 stabic./.er for airships. Grea: *ale for it if it can be attached to persons going home late from the lodge. Highland Fling played on piano during an operation affected the patient as an anesthetic. Never affected us that way when played after midnight in the next house. • • • England's First Lord of the Ad miralty proposes a naval holiday. To show what Is meant England promptly launches the biggest, fastest ami most heavily armed battleship afloat and gives it the conciliatory name of “Tiger “ m 0 m Anyway, th® tariff has resulted in notable reductions in the price of stocks and bonds. Writes on Independent Girls Why Some Men Do Not Want to Get Married- Explanation by One of Them. By DOROTHY DIX. -x rOU can’t have your cake J 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’A 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 why 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 want 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 |j*om 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, but 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 sort of di vine providence, the ^ource from which all blessings flow, you know. “Of course, I know it’s my vanity, btft 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 therm, and who would put up with any kind of conduct In a husband to 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 themselves. 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 meek.** “Man has always wanted the Impossible of woman,” ho 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 wives 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 is an intelligent -slave. He wants her to feel that she is absolutely dependent on him. That's why he ordinary man won’t give his wife an allowance. He isn't stingy. He wants her to have the money, but it tickles his vanity to have her come 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’ork 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 she’d divorce me, sure.” v that .jt ANTIQUES ^ BY CONSTANCE CLARKE U P in the attic under the eaves Pattering rain drops rustling leaves. Tell where the little old trunk stands. Hidden away by ghostly hands. Treasures dear neath the lid closed down, Gloves and a brocade evening gown; Slippers small and a cap of lace, A miniature of a dimpled face. And underneath all, a cameo Cracked down Its length of rose and snow. 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. And hide it away that none might know, Lp where the attic eaves hang low2