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8 The Golden Age (SUCCESSOR TO RELIGIOUS FORUN) Published Ebery Thursday by the Golden fAge Publishing Company (Inc.) OFFICES: LOWNDES BUILDING, (ATLANTA, GA. Price: $2.00 a 'fear WILLI HMD. UPSHMW. .... Editor A. E. RAMSAUR, - - - Associate Editor W. F. UPSHA W, - - - - Business Manager H. R. BERNARD, - - - Sec’y and Treas. Entered at the Post Office in (Atlanta, Ga., as second-class matter. To the Public: The advertising columns of The Golden. Age will have an editorial conscience. No advertisement will be accepted which we believe would be hurtful to either the person or the purse of our readers. The Wheeler Memorial. As we go to press the city of Atlanta is just un dertaking a sad but sacred duty in conducting a memorial to that great Confederate, Gen. Joseph Wheeler. It is a significant fact that the Southern mind considers General Wheeler first of all as a “'Confederate soldier,” but it is not in that capa city alone that he has made the greatest impress on the affairs of the nation. General Wheeler was among the first of the old Confederate officers who enlisted in the Spanish American War, thus convincing the world that he, at least, had in very truth “let the dead past bury its dead.” This was a moral triumph the force of which cannot be over-estimated, for the donning of the blue by a soldier so loyal that his heart must ever wear the memory of the “grey,” typified a conquest over self, and a moral courage so broad, so beautiful and so supreme that it could only be equalled by the physical courage, the evidence of which the brave soldier bore in the numberless scars upon his frail body. It is difficult, if not impossible, for the Southern heart to suppress the natural emotions caused by the sight of the stars and stripes hanging in close, amicable and fraternal touch beside the stars and bars, for the soldier of the South, although he stands side by side with the soldier of the Union, does not forget the past, but remembers it only to make it more sacred, to enshrine its struggles, its triumphs, its defeats in a haze of tenderest recol lections. Like all good Americans, General Wheeler rose to the needs of his country and of his time. In the halls of Congress, or on the foreign field of battle, it was still to serve his country that he strove, and even had he accomplished far less than he really did, the mere effort, the mere willingness and the deep desire could not fail of their high purpose. Since his death, so much has been written of his life, his work and his achievements, that even the briefest review is unnecessary here; but to the mem bers of his family, to his close personal friends, to his old comrades in arms as well as to the country at large, the honor that has been meted out to him seems in some measure consolation for the great loss his passing meant. The citizens of Atlanta have contributed the nec essary amount to make the memorial a fitting one; great statesmen have come from North, South, East and West to do honor to the distinguished dead. A feature of the occasion is the large number of Grand Army of the Republic men who have come to Atlanta to participate in the memorial. Much has been said of the “union of the Blue and the Grey,” but it is our good fortune to see the realiza tion of this long cherished dream. And seeing, we take heed of the philosophy which underlies the fact. One man, who in himself, combined the noble qualities which commanded the admiration of the country he served so long and so ably, has suc ceeded in consummating this great event and this great purpose—the spiritual as well as the physical Union of all the people. Therefore, while we honor General Wheeler for his prowress in war, let us pause a while to give him, The Golden Age for March 29, 1906. as we gave the “Father of His Country” before him, a well-merited and high place “in peace and in the hearts of his countrymen.” The Anglo-Saxon Revolution. Fifty-five members of the present House of Com mons are laboring men. Not men, like our Lin coln, our Garfield, our Andrew Jackson, our Jos eph E. Brown, and hundreds of other distinguish ed citizens who were once laborers, and who by dint of superior genius and well-centered endeavor, rose above their class, but actual laborers! They were elected by the honest vote of their fellow la borers in the recent elections. They, too, have risen, but not above their class. The significance of the situation lies in the fact that they have risen with their class. Their presence, and their votes in Parliament mean that the steady tendency of legis lation in England will be toward a reduction in the cost of the common commodities of life, and the enlarging of the opportunities of the masses of the people for recreation, for education, for develop ment. It means on the other hand, legislation re straining the growth of private fortune, and the power of corporate wealth. It means that the rich treasure of public franchise, and natural monopoly, shall pour their wealth into the hungry lives of the vast millions—no longer into the lap of the idle few. It means in fact that Anglo-Saxon sanity— slow, but always sure—has discovered that the wealth of her country lies not in her coal mines, not in her countless factories, not in her merchan dise, not in the splendid fortunes of her tradesmen, her bankers, her nobility, nor yet in her glorious expanse of territory “Upon which the sun never sets. ’ ’ but in the lives of her toiling people. “There’s more in the man than there is in the land.” There is more wealth in Anglo-Saxon people than in Anglo-Saxon possession. After all, the lat ter is but an incident to the former. When actual toilers from the mines, from the factories, the rail road yards, the ship-yards, the blacksmith-shop, and the carpenter’s bench, make laws for their country, we may be sure they will look to the wel fare of humanity as their prime object, and regard the fostering of accumulated fortune as quite a secondary matter. The Revolution is on! The Anglo-Saxon revolu tion of the twentieth century! Anglo-Saxon revo lution and bloodless, but intensely vital, purpose ful and real! The Anglo-Saxon, who dominates the world, has here shown a higher quality of domin ion. for he demonstrates that he is master of him self, master of his wealth. He will teach the world that wealth is not a fetich to be fawned upon, but a ready servant to minister to human needs. Has the growing Anglo-Saxon revolution any spe cial significance for us? America is younger than Great Britain, and her people are still pressing hard in the chase for personal wealth. There is more elbow room here and the day of the revolu tion is postponed. But some day private fortune, even here, will touch its limit. By and by our peo ple will learn what they need and elect their own men to office, rather than truckle after hypocriti cal office-seekers who pretend to be the people’s candidate just to get the people’s votes. Our people, to the very core—are Anglo-Saxon. In their own good time they will push aside the minions of monied interests, they will part asunder the trappings of wealth itself, and enshrine upon our national altar the welfare of individual Amer ican units. J ■! . Hi AJ Alas, Poor Millionaires. These are parlous times for the rich in free America. John I). Rockefeller is hiding in a coal hole to dodge the court bailiff; Chauncey Depew has for the first time in fifteen years failed to receive an invitation to the annual banquet of the Montauk Club; several others have hurriedly scooted across the sea, and Mr. Andrew Carnegie is learning that riches do not invariably give happiness. He has recently written a letter in which he speaks of the burden of riches. In part he says. “Beyond a competence for old age, and that need not be great and may be very small, wealth lessens rather than increases human happiness. Millionaires who laugh are rare. This is just as it should be.” We have been troubled ever since we read this. Just think of poor Uncle Andy being worried this way. If in any manner we could lessen the burden that his wealth imposes on him we would gladly do so; and we are willing to make sacrifices and place ourselves in the path of the lightning to the extent of taking a fourth or even a third of his riches and assuming the responsibilities they entail. Uncle Andy is getting old now; his strength is not what it once was, and in view of all he has done for us in erecting book warehouses in so many places, and giving medals to the deserving here and there, surely, surely other altruistic persons can be found who will take a part of his money off his hands and thus reduce him finally to that state of poverty where he can enjoy life and spend his evening days in quiet and contentment. If some one would only give Uncle Andy a mule and about thirty or thirty five acres of land up in Pickens 'County, he could dwell far from the madding crowd and “husband out life’s taper at its close.” It is a beautiful pic ture; a sweet contemplation. A modest cabin—a small door-yard with morning glories clambering over the rustic trellis-work; a faithful dog, an ash hopper and a cow; a coon skin stretched on the cabin weatherboarding, evidence of Uncle Andy’s prowess as a hunter; and strings of rosemary, sage and pep pers pendent from the loft poles. Perchance as the simplicity of the surroundings and the majesty of the mountain’s calm turned Uncle Andy’s thoughts back to long-forgotten things, he w’ould resume the kilt and conduct his agricolous pursuits in the dress of his native land. After a day spent in collabora tion with his faithful mule in the nurture of his crop, when the evening shadows lengthened in the glens and from the far-away valleys came faint sounds of lowing kine and mellow tinklings of sheep bells, Uncle Andy could wend his way to some shelt ered cove, and with his replenished jug return to his cot to dream of fair Scotia. Hoot, Uncle Andy, Hoot! Gang Awa! The State Normal. It was the Editor’s privilege to visit last week the State Normal School at Athens, and speak briefly to the students at Chapel, and he was deeply impressed with the increasing usefulness of this institution. President E. C. Branson and his superb faculty have done a marvelous work at this great school. Time was—and that not so long ago—when the value of the State Normal (in the eyes of legis lators, at least) was considered problematical, and the meagre appropriations made the early days of the institution very trying—even pathetic. But now the tide has gloriously turned. Legislators and philanthropists have seen the need, heard the call and risen to meet the demands. Buildings have gone up like magic, and students, like the soldiers in Napoleon’s last campaign, “have seemed to rise firm the earth and fall from the skies.” The low price at which the best instruction is offered has already been a widespread blessing to thousands since the Normal was launched during Governor Northen’s administration—young people (and some older ones) who have hastened either for short term or long term, to better prepare them selves for teaching. And the pathos of it all is that actual hundreds have been shut out year after year for lack of room. The State Normal School is not the competitor of any school, but rather the friend and comrade of all—stimulating and supplementing the work of all other schools. Mr. George Foster Peabody, that golden-hearted son of Georgia, now in New York, “whose name spells “Santa Claus” for so many educational in stitutions, has given liberally to the State Normal, and Hon. Jas. M. Smith, of Smithsonia, Georgia’s greatest farmer, has proven the wisdom of his philanthropy by a recent gift of SIO,OOO. No State institution with whose life we are acquainted is pervaded by a more wholesome Christian atmos phere than the State Normal School. It is fast becoming the pet of “classic Athens,” and is regarded not only with admiration, but genu* ino affection by the whole State,