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THE ATLANTA GEORGIAN
Pudiished by © B GFIRGIAN COMPANY
i At B Bast Alabama Street Atlania, Ga
Patewed an weed cam e a 0 ee o Adlante waier et o el A W
Who Is Going TO PAY for
United States Preparedness?
How Much, for Instance, Will William Waldorf Astor Pay?
How Mueh Will the Average Man Pay!
Al but & few semi human doves realise that the United
States must be prepared for trouble.
"With all the other nmations armed, supplied with fighting
men, fleets and weapons, soon to cease their war and ook at all
the money piled up in this country, WE CAN SCARCELY AY
FORD TO BE UNDEFENDED.
But WHO IS GOING TO PAY THE BILLS?
Is it going to be the usual old story, the taxes put not on the
strong backs of the rich, but on the backs of the little people?
Will the taxes be paid by those whose property the navy and
the army would DEFEND, or will the taxes be paid chiefly by
the little man who has nothing more to lose than two dollars a
day? -y
Men with property need not shiver as this question i asked
Befrie they begin their shivering, let them question some well
fnformed Englishman
Lloyd George is now the best liked man in England, and the
rich like him especially. When be was made Chancellor of the
Exchequer they all said that they would leave England and take
their money away. Now they see in him the greatest man that
England has.
What made them hate him especially was this
When he took control of England’s finances, addressing a
body of rich Englishmen, he said in substance this: ‘‘Gentle
men, you want the most powerful navy in the world. Of course
you shall have it.
““You want the greatest battleships, the most wonderful
flest, England supreme on the ocean. You shall have what you
want.
““There is only one little change in the usual routine—be.
s'des having what you WANT, YOU SHALL PAY FOR IT.
“I am not going to put the new taxes on the little people
who usually pay everything. I'm going to give you a chance to
pay, and show your patriotism in cash.”
" Prosperous Englishmen said that England would go to
pieces, men would be out of work, eto.
Instead they found England doing extremely well, and lack
of employment less than for many years.
If the prosperous could only realize it, this country and they
also would be much better off if they contributed their share to
all public expenditures.
They ought especially AND GLADLY to contribute to the
nation's preparedness.
The little people have to dv the fighting. They man the
ships, they will enlist and get shot. ‘
It wouia ot be such a dreadful hardship for the man with
millions to allow & few of his dollars to enlist.
You know what Abraham Lincoln said to the committee of
rich men from New York that called upon him, when they
thought New York City was in danger of attack by water. They
told him of the great wealth of New York, defenseless in case of
attack, and how important it was for him to hurry up and build
at the public expense a monitor to defend New York.
Lincoln listened patiently, as he always did, and answered
about as follows: ‘‘Gentlemen of the committee, this country
and the people are poor because of the war. I can not now sup
ply you with what you want. But if I had as much money as
you gentlemen say YOU have, I would build a battleship my
self.’”’ And then he politely dismissed them.
The entire nation is interested in preparedness, and every
man in the nation should be willing to pay HIS SHARE. The
man who has nothing but his labor and his arms is always tho
first to prove his willingness to give his life td his country. The
man with small means is perfectly willing to be taxed in a fair
way.
There ought to be an end of the system that taxes the little
man'’s house and everything that the little man uses, his tobacco,
-)lh clothing, his food—while the millions and the hundreds of
millions of the very rich go practically free.
Consider, for instance, William Waldorf Astor, who lives in
London, because he says this country is not good enough for him.
. _He owns at least one hundred and fifty million dollars’ worth
of property on Manhattan Island. He owns the Waldorf Hotel
and innumerable other buildings like it. That is the sort of prop
erty that would feel the attack of a hostile fleet and the throw
ing of bombs into New York from outside Coney Island.
~ How much will Mr. Astor pay to prepare this country TO
DEFEND HIS PROPERTY?
~_Just at present he is paying, in England, at the rate of more
than a million dollars in taxes yearly—money that he takes from
‘the people who live in his houses in New York.
| England, out of gratitude, has made him a Peer of the
w and he is now Lord Something or Other. He can sit in the
‘Howse of Lords, and later on will be able to help declare war
tl‘dm.tho United States if he wants to.
_ America can not offer him the title of ‘*Your Lordship,’’ but
WE MIGHT OFFER HIM A CHANCE TO PAY HIS SHARE
fl'm TAXES, AND WE OUGHT TO DO IT.
- And what applies to him with especial force applies to all
others.
- PREPAREDNESS IS INSURANCE FOR PROPERTY.
The rich man is quite content to pay fire insurance to pro
his buildings, and accident insurance to protect his machin
; why should he ask others to pay war insurance to protect
, property while he goes free of taxes?
A big fleet, a navy that would cure Europe and Asia of any
ire to attack us, WE MUST HAVE. .
And a fair part of the cost must,be paid by those that will
= the greatest benefit from a(kquabe defense, those that
heedmz protection.
eR S R
THE ATLANTA (GEORGIAN
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Letters From the
® People ®
CONFEDERATE VETERANS.
Editor The Georglan:
Having seen in The Georgian
an account of an old Confederate
veteran whose mother was still
living and asking for the names
of others, below 1 give you an
other Instance:
Captain J. M. McAfee, of Can
ton, Ga., enlisted at the age of 17
years, in 1861, in the Fourteenth
Georgla Regiment; went imme
diately to Virginla, served during
the entire war, was under Stone
wall Jackson until he was
wounded at Chancellorsville, then
under A. P. Hill until he was
killed at Petersburg. He surren
dered at Appomattox Courthouse
under General R. E. Lee, and re
turned to his home in Cumming,
Ga., in May, 1865, He came to
Canton In January, 1867, and has
been living here continuously for
49 years.
There {s no other man alive in
Canton to-day that was a grown
man when Captain McAfee came
hers. And of the company with
whom he enlisted at Cumming
under Captain R. P. Lester (near
100 men) and out of the entire
company, there was only two men
that was not either killed or
wounded—and they were Captain
McAfee and J. P. Boyd. Captain
McAfee was 72 years old the 11th
day of this month; his mother is
etill living and resides at Cum
ming, and i in her ninety-first
year, and is still able to be stir
ring around and 1s in good health.
Captain McAfee tells me that
his grandfather and grandmother
on both sides lived past 90 years,
n;\g some of them as high as 94
yveirs. He also says that if he
always feels as well as he does
now he would not chject to living
to be 125 years old.
: WILL D. MILLS.
Canton, Ga.
APPRECIATIVE WORDS.
Editor The Georgian:
I wish to express my hearty
thanks for the stand taken by the
Hearst newspapers on the subject
of the drug and liguor questions.
I congratulate the nation for such
a stand. And, while I realize that
you will have a considerable re
duction in revenue from the
sources yvou now refuse to touch,
1 also am convinced of the fact
that you will be more than re
paid, even financially, for having
taken the stand.
J. WADE CONKLIN, -
; Pastor Unitarian Church.
Atlants ;
| Day of Morbid Books | ‘
and Plays Has Passed
By Charles F. Thwing
President Western Reserve University
HE day of pessimistic litera
ture and plays has passed.
For some years it has been
the tendency of those who clalm
to be exponents of “art for art's
sake” to leave their audiences in
gloom when the curtain fell or the
book ended. The really cheerful
navel or play was considered bad
form.
The author who suggested wed
ding bells at the close of his story
was supposed to shut the door of
art in his own face. ’ghe audience
that left the theater smiling gave
a death blow to the aspirations of
the playwright who hoped to be
ranked as an artist
This idea was morbid. It is
gratifying to know that the tide
has changed. In a recent com
petition for the best stories of
fered by @ prominent maguazine an
extremely well-written story by
a successful and well-known au
thor was declined on the ground
of its gloomy climax.
The play of a famous author
was changed by the managers
and a happy ending substituted
before the play was allowed to be
produced. A few morbid critics
have objected, insisting that the
present ending of the play is in
artistic, but Life, the great play
wright, 1s inartistic from thelr
point of view.
Life does not end its stories of
human lives in gloom and despair.
We have but to look about us to
prove this statement. A few years
ago the life of some friend was
shadowed with the pall of despalr.
Sorrow, sickness or poverty had
befallen him, but to-day he is
smiling, his health is restored,
his sorrow has become a memory,
and hope has taken the place of
despair in his heart.
It was only in the second act or
the third in the long drama of
life that the curtain fell on utter
gloom. Perhaps you have reached
this act in your own life to-day;
but it is not the end of the play,
it is not the last chapter in the
book.
Fate will ring the bell, the CD{;
tain will go up, or the leaf will
turned by the finger of time, and
a new setting or new incidents
will change the story into one of
hogomd happiness.
k back over the record of
yvour childhood friends. It would
be safe to ass that not one in
any score rests der an impene
trable shadow of gloom. That cne
who has met disaster and abso
lute faillure you would not select
as typical of human life and ex
perience.
Why, then, should the author or
the playwright select such char
acters for his chief consideration?
Why should it be considered high
art to picture only the unhappy
conditions of human experience
and the sad scenes of human des
tiny?
Why ehould it be considered
bad art to describe happiness,
success and morality? There are
many cloudy days in the year, but
there are far more days of sun
shine than of shadow. No painter
thinks he degrades his art by
painting sunshine and bloom. No
painter feels it incumbent upon
him to picture only winter and
night. Why, then, should the au
thor feel that he must select the
dark passages in human life and
end his story in cold and shadow
in order to be artistic?
We read books and we attend
plays for recreation of the mind.
However blase we may be in the
literary or dramatic line, our
minds are nevertheless to some
extent affected by what we read
and what we see.
Something agreeable, something
helpful, something hopeful, some
thing optimistic should be given
us to take away from the book or
the theater. We turn to literature
and the drama as we go to a
health resort for recreation and
rest. If we leave this resort with
the germs of mnlat& or typhoid
fever in our systeuls, we feel we
have been imposed upon.
It is a subject for congratula
tion that the mental health com
missioners have been looking into
the conditions, and the results, of
morbid art. However great the
genius of the writer may be to
day, however large the capitali
zation of a periodical, there will
be no success for either in the
next ten or twenty years uniess
the utterances emanating from
pen or pages breathe hope, cour
age, cheer.
In the congested and high
wrought condition of t\he civilized
world to-day human beings are
looking to the artist, the preacher,
the actor, for helpfulness and
strength to bear the burdens of
Helpfulness, hope and courage
may be old-fashioned and inartis
tic elements for the genius in any
one of these lines to employ, but
if he wishes for success in his
chosen field he must employ them.
The day of the artistic pessimist
is gone,
More Truth Than
® Poetry ®
By James J. Montague.
IMPORTANT, BUT NOT TRUE.
A person came to see me
And solemnly he swore
That Willlam Jennings Bryan
Was going to save no more.
“The load of opulence” he said,
“The Doc can not endure.
He's going to cash his holdings
And give it to the poor.”
But do not let this story
Your gentle mind appall;
It's very easily explained—
The fellow lled, that's all.
Another of my callers,
Said Roosevelt, just had sent
A messenger to ask Bill Barnes
To run for Presldent.
“The Colonel's heart has chang
ed,” he said,
“He's won his case in court,
And he has said If Barnes will
run
Hell glve him his.support.”
You do not need to credit this
Unless you so desire;
In fact, I'm quite convinced my
self
My caller was a liar.
HE'S WON THE NATION'S
GRATITUDE ALREADY.
Nobody will have a right to
criticise Henry Ford-—unless he
brings back the crowd he took
over with him.
WHAT MORE DOES HE
WANT?
The Texas educator who says
the country ought to be run by
college professors must think the
millennium has arrived.
VERY MODERATE.
Motcrists who have been buy
ing gasoline lately are astonished
at the statement that John D.'s
Standard Oil stock has trebled in
value. They supposed that it had
ocvtupled, at least.
EVOLUTION.
This will be a wireless age
sooner than we expected if every
breeze continues to bring a sieet
storm with jt.
HABIT.
The United States Court won't
have much luck bringing those
Congressmen -up for trial unless
it supplies them with mileage.
THE USUAL BLUFF, 3
A lot of candidates whg say
they are waiting for demands are
really only waiting for supplies.
THE HOME PAPER
Saturday Evening
A Week End Clun: !;;m;; of Men and Affatrs.
By JAMES B. NEVIN.
A GEORGIA GENIUS.
Robert Loveman. s Oeorgia poet
—and he I 8 in the best and loftiest
sense of the word a real poei-—
has recent!y won additional lau
vels in the fleld of Nterature. As
& matter of fact, Loveman's verse
is eagerly sought by the Dbest
magasines and publications in the
United States, and his recent
writings—which have concerned
themselves 'n (he main with the
great war abroad-—are among the
best and most heautiful he has
ever given to the press.
Mr. Loveman, like many men of
real gentus—which is, perhaps,
rather an unwarranted use of the
word “many”’-—seems to be far
better known and more genuine-
Iy apprecidted abroad than at
home. Georgila knows him less in
timately than New England, the
Middle Weat, and the great coun
try toward the setting sun.
This is not at all to Georgla's
credit, of course, but it is rather
a commonplace stery at that-—an
old story, throughout all history.
Sidney Lanier was little appreci
ated in Georgla, when he was do
ing his very best work But—
well, it fsn't necessary for me to
say A great deal of him. Sidney
Lanier nowadays is looked upon
as Georgia's first and foremost
poet—a man whose works are ad
mired and approved as genuinely
and sincerely AT HOME a» any~
where!
“Bob” Loveman-—who lives n
Dalton—is a very retiring and
modest man—as most real poets
are—but he is one of the most
lovable fellows imaginable, and
writes really more for the honest
sest of It than otherwise,
Here is a particularly striking
product of Loveman's graceful
pen. It is written under the title,
“T'ie Rivers”:
The rivers of the swar lands in
dismay
Are mowrnful watchers of dis
tress and woe;
There, tenderly, the weeping
Rhine doth [flow
In sympathy upon her wandeor
ing way,
The tearful Thames arrayed in
somber gray,
Majestic, murmurs requiems
soft and low,
The while, her sister Seine in
grief doth go,
Singing in rhythmic sorrow of
the fray;
The Danudbe drinks Hher dark
draught to the lees,
The Neva's breast doth surge
with heavy tide.
0, woeful hour! In dloody daye
of these
The savage race of man in shame
should hide.
Poor troubled rivers, whilst thy
. children die
How can sun, moon or atars
illume the sky? \
And this, under the heading,
“When From Hoarse Guns” |s
enother excellent exhibit of Love
man's later writings:
When from hoarse guns the dron
clamor dies
And tatter’d nations shiver in
dismay,
. What will be said of thiz de
cadent day,
Besotted in its dam'd atrocitiesf
What must the oynic gods in
startled skies
To all this futile, wild alarum
say?
The Briton, Turk and Teuton
fondly pray
Each for hiz arms, the winged
victories.
Our orphaned age i 3 smit with
serried woe,
Art, music, science, lagging at
the rear. '
Pale pestilence about the fleld
doth go,
And Famine follows with o hun
gry leer.
0 day! O time! O age! A thou
sand years
Can not erase the heartache,
blood and tears.
T wish Georgia really knew
Loveman better, and fully realized
the genuinely earnest and serious
purpose of his splendid work.
UNHAPPINESS RUN RIOT.
Do you know of any man in
all the world that you dislike
more cordially and more heartily
than the pestiferous and melan
choly gentleman who spends his
days and nights feeling awfully
sorry for himself?
Do you know of any more un
desirable citizen than this pes
simistic party—who forever is
groaning and droning into your
ears “hard luck” stories, applica
ble persistently and . insistently
to himself?
1t is surprising h&w many such
people there are in\ the world—
indeed, it seems to be the chief
occupation of some.
I know a few citizens who ap
parently . never are in a state of
mind approximating content or
happiness unless they are utterly
and completely miserable—and if
these people only knew it, they
have most of their woes, after
all, to themselves, for there soon
comes a time when they cease to
receive from any person even an
occasional large degree of sym
pathy or attention. They inevi
tably become the most burden
some of bDores—persone % B
shunned in sedson and out and
to be avoided at any and b
Bazards’ o
Of course, the man whe fs ol
wavs feeling sorry for Nimeelfe
and reminding folks of his osl=
tnuous mistreatment at he
hands of his fellowmen-—is SN
premely selfish, to begin with
He is firmly convinesd of his own
tremendous deserts, and by MS=
som of that he emphasizses to Mm«
self far out of all preportien te
fta rea! importance, the crushing
affects of his runs of hard luek
Such a person lsn't and never
i+ to bde happy—for along the
way he goss there bloom no Sew
ers and thers ars no pleasant
dales and shady nooks, where one
may pause a while and enjoy &
* season of vestful peace and hap
py communion with his more ep
timistic spelf
To be sure, 1 do not know what
weo are golng to do about It. These
unhappy humans are In our midst
in rather disquieting numbets.
They always have been have, 89
far as | know-—aince the year L
and they will be forever, umthl
the end of time So T supposs
about all we can do is to grin and
hoar the misfortune as best We
may
If we wers not bedeviled by
such as they, in all prorability we
should have to be bedeviled by
rome other variety of pests.
And thus, In the long run, we
ehould be no better off, If we could
and should find & way to abolizsh
them .
BETWEEN OURSELVES. £
1 have a most pleasant .
from a gentieman in iddle
Georgia, who seems fto “‘22
found some degree of satisfaction
In these “Saturday Evening” sg
ticles—at least, he says ag ;.
to me In his heipful and &
gether delightful communical :
In tha conrse of his letier be
asked me this: “When you are
writing. do you ever think of your
audience” If so, look over in the
corner occasionally—by an open
fireplace—and see a college pro
fessor, reading your ‘Saturday
Evening’ articles regularly, and
finding that occupation a pleas=-
ant week-eni business!™
Indeed, I DO think often of my
audience, and wonder just what
sort of citizen, in the average, he
is. Ido not think it likely that &
tremendously heasy W
of Georgian readers find 10
Gay Evening” particularly ap
peu!ln? It is just a week-end
talk, after all, between friends—a
sort of get-together, “just-you
and-me." heart-to-heart-and-on
the-level matter, with what we
have to say clothed in language
of no amazingly striking qualty.
There is nothing In “Saturday
Evening” to grow excited
—but I am moved to hope ”
there are, mow and then, .
way, some things sald e
that are worth remembering. 3
attempt is made at “fine -
ing,” so called, for when we A
together for this close ) 4
son—you and I, gentie
talk things over between our
selves, we lay aside the 5
pings and “the tricks of
trade” and talk as home
ghou'd. |
Having, however, written “Sat
urday Evening” for more than &
year, and having recelved In 3
time a great many letters
communications of one sort and
another concerning the W*
have reached one rather y
and fixed concluslion: 4
While it may be a fact that
only a relatively small percen!
of Georgian subscribers 3
these articles, that percentage is
composed, nevertheless, % ;
and women—Georgi
mighty well worth writing VT
THE WATER WAGON. §
Another correspondent writes
me this week in a very different
strain from the foregoing, use
the substance of his letter, w! o
is contained in the last pu'cM‘
is as follows: £
“I read something in your b,
umns last week about New Y :
resolutions. 1 want to say that I
made a resolution on Christmas
Day ‘to get on the water wagom
and stay there.” 1 have been %;
nearly three weeks, and am 4
ting tight and expect to stay, X°
am 29 years old, and I feel a good
deal better already from my t #
weeks' experience, and I lly
am going to stick to it—not .
cause 1 am particularly sentis
mental about the thing, but
cause I believe it is a sensible
thing to do,” ¥ L
Very good. Here's hcx:omim 35
correspondent does stick. ere
can be littye doubt that he feels
better already-—and there is @ 7
less doubt that in every wgym;;
IS better, physically, mén
and otherwise, in
After all, the question of drink
ing is merely a matter of common
sense. The best physiclans
scientists in the world agree that
alcohol! is harmful. Even tm
physicians and scientists who view
this matter from a more con
servative standpoint still admit |
that its use is 90 per cent evil. It |
. impairs one’s health in the 1
insldious and unsuspected man-+
ner. The man who never uses
it at all is better off than he"
man who uses it even temperately
—and that, too, from the physical
standpoint only, ; “‘é
When one runs into a FAC! o
that he KNOWS indisputedly G
absolutely IS a fact, he is P
foolish if he persistently insists
upen dodging it, trying to climb
over it or scratch under.it
er than look it squarely in the
face! VR
That is all there is to the qmfi,
tion of strong drink—and here's
horing, as stated before. that this
correspondent sits tight on the
wagen, as e has resolved to,