Newspaper Page Text
“One day I received an invitation to attend a re
ception at the the home of a very wealthy man. I
felt flattered that I should be invited to go there to
meet those elegant young ladies.
“I rigged myself up the best I could. When I got
there I found an especially attractive party. I had
never been to such a place before, and hence I was
at a loss to know what to do. Os course a young
man under such circumstances is expected to do what
he is told.
“I had not been there long before the daughter of
the man of the house came to me, and taking her
seat by my side, asked if I would be her partner in
a game of cards. Just then a struggle began within.
I had promised my mother never to play cards.
What should I do? I finally said, ‘You must ex
cuse me, I promised my mother when I left home
that I would never touch cards. I hope you will not
think me rude, it is for my mother’s sake.’
“I noticed that there came playing over her face
an expression of contempt. She was not rude to
, me, but there were evident signs of disapproval. I
felt the sting, but, nevertheless, I made up my mind
to remain firm.
“If a man ever felt like a fool, I did that night,
but I kept saying to myself, ‘I will not play cards,
I promised my mother I would not, and I will not.’
“The next day I received a note from the old gen
tleman of the house saying, ‘Please call at my of
fice.’ I did not know what it meant, but rather
thought the old man -was going to give me a tongue
lashing for refusing to play cards with his daugh
ter.
How Resistance Pays.
’‘When I got to his private office, he slipped his
chair close up to mine, and said: ‘You were at
my house last night?’ ‘Yes,’ said I. ‘Well,’
said he, ‘I have a great business, and I want to get
the best young men I can find to carry it on. I
want them to learn the business, and then take it off
my hands. The girls told me about your refusing
to play cards last night, because you promised your
mother you would not do it. Os course they laugh
ed over it, but I have been thinking about it. It in
dicates that you have a degree of firmness that the
average young man has not got. I want you in this
business of mine.’ ”
It took nerve for that young man from the country
to take that stand that night, but just such nerve
as he manifested is the nerve that the world wants
today in the young men who are to take the places
of trust. What are you going to do when the devil
comes to you to lead you astray? Suppose he
comes through some bewitching woman, are you go
ing to play the coward, or take a firm stand and
say, “no?” Your whole future, young man, de
pends upon what you say under such circumstances.
Do you say, “I would give the world if I could quit
this or that?” What do you suppose the business
world wants with a man who cannot quit? Suppose
society does tolerate the wine cup, the ballroom, the
theatre, the card table, and the like; what about
your conscience? What about your training? Have
you trained yourself at any point in your life to
say “no”? It is discipline that you need; it is dis
cipline that you must have if your life is to tri
umph.
The Greatest Need.
But finally, the greatest need of all is the realiza
tion of the plan of God in one’s life.
I shall never forget my own experience in facing
this great fact. Early in my teens I felt a distinct
impression to preach the Gospel. I did not wait to
do it. My ambition was to be a doctor. But the
impression lasted with me, and it could not be
thrown off. Ido not suppose that there was a day
for eight or ten years that I did not have this im
pression in some way or other.
The only persons that knew about it were my
mother and my pastor. I shall never forget the day
when I told my mother about it. She said, “That
has been my wish for you all my life.” It was
about all she could say, for she realized that it was
a matter that I would have to decide for myself.
I finally finished my preparation and was a full
fledged doctor of medicine. But the impression con
tinued. Much of the time during this period I
would plunge into known sin in order to drown the
The Golden Age for August 23, 1906.
feeling that I had. But such only made me feel the
more.
Finally, God carried me through a series of afflic
tion, such as few young men ever have, and I prom
ised Him that if He would spare me, I would surren
der to His plan for my life. But I came very near
breaking my promise just like thousands of others
have done. Friends got around me and persuaded
me that it was a pity for a young man who had pre
pared himself for another profession, and who was
succeeding at it, to give it up and enter one in which
he had had no experience. I thought so myself, and
so began to retrace my steps.
About this time I heard a sermon by a minister
not noted for any special gifts, but a plain, simple
talker. He was a man who did not stay in the min
istry very long, indeed, I think the sermon I heard
was near the last that he ever preached. The text
of the sermon was “Thy Will be Done.” He did
not preach more than fifteen minutes, but that was
enough for me. When I got back to my room, I
said to my wife, “That text tonight has settled my
future. It makes no difference what other people
may say; they can call me a fool, a lunatic, or any
thing else they like, but, as for me, I am going to
say, ‘Thy Will be Done.’ ”
That was the greatest moment of my life. I had
been a Christian many years, but up till that min
ute I was not surrendered to the will of God. I
have often thought, “suppose I had listened to the
world that night”? God be praised that I had the
courage to listen to Him I
Is it not strange that everybody cannot see that
this is the best thing for them to do? God has a
plan for every life. He has a plan for everything
that He created. Your life and mine is intended to
fit in a place prepared by God. What a pity that
we fail to yield ourselves to His plan I
Oh, young men, this is a mighty truth for you!
Now is the time for Him to get control of your life.
Yield to Him now; step inside Gethsemane’s gate
with the Lord, and, there kneeling with Him before
the Father say, “Thy will be done.”
A Ride Up Peachtree Street.
Selections from “In Barrack and Field,” by Lieut.
Col. John B. Beall.
While awaiting arms for my little command I
rode over to Atlanta to see my brother in the Sec
ond Georgia and learn how he and the boys were
getting along in the trenches. I had a nephew,
Capt. A. A. Beall, of Irwinton, Ga., in the same reg
iment, whom I wished to see also. As I rode along
Peachtree street the absence of the throngs of peo
ple usually passing on such a thoroughfare impress
ed me with a sense of isolation—a loneliness not
unlike that which one feels in going through a dense
forest. I had advanced but a few blocks when a
shell from somewhere away beyond the ridge in my
front passed me on its mission of destruction to
ward the heart of the city. It was followed by
others on different lines, as if each were sent to find
some new victim or some more valuable target. As
I advanced up the street I came nearer on the level
of the flight of these angry messengers, and it was
with a decided sense of relief that, after passing
the highest point, I turned down the decline toward
the waters of Peachtree Creek.
Coming near the line of intrenchments, I ob
served a number of men resting under board shel
ters in a deep hollow. Approaching them, I was
greeted by Capt. John M. Cobb, of the Fifty-Sixth
Georgia. From him I learned the position of my
brother’s regiment, which I found not far off, in
the intrenchment where its course led over a hill.
Here my brother’s comrades told me that he been
sent back to a field hospital below Atlanta. I was
disposed to linger for a chat with the boys; but
they warned me that, as I sat on my horse uncov
ered by the embankment, I was exposed to the fire
of the enemy’s skirmishers, who kept up an almost
constant exchange of shots with ours. So I leis
urely rode back to Captain Cobb’s shelter. Having
tied my horse to a convenient sapling, I joined the
Captain and his comrades, and was having a nice
chat with them when a sharp blow on the plank
just over my head made me start and ask what it
was. “0, that’s only a spent ball from the Yankee
skirmish line.”
I was told that when these shelters were first
put up they were placed on the other side of the
hollow, facing toward the front, and that a man ly
ing under one of the shelters one day had been
severely wounded in the foot by a bullet from the
skirmish line. The place was twenty-five or thirty
feet lower than the intrenchment and about a hun
dred yards in the rear of it. Until warned, I had
not thought of any danger to my horse standing
out there where I had tied him. I felt safe myself
under shelter; but as I could not afford to have
my horse hurt, I took my leave, mounted, and rode
back toward the city.
As I passed down Peachtree street I saw a shell,
which had passed as near me as I wanted it, enter
the back of a chimney about two blocks down the
street and a little to the left. I went on to Larkin
street and called on a friend of my schoolboy days.
Here I was shown a bombproof in the yard, into
which the family had been wont to retire in the first
days of the siege. But they had become accustomed
to the shells now, and the bombproof was used for
storage. My friend showed me where a shell, de
scending along the side of the house, had knocked
splinters off the weatherboard and torn off part
of the sill of the window by which she had been
sitting. While we sat talking of the events of the
siege, looking toward Peters street, we saw a shell
drop on the roof of a two-story house, roll down,
and fall first on the portico and then to the ground.
A lady and gentleman were standing in the door.
I was surprised to see a man run down the steps
and pick up the dangerous missile. I was not
surprised to see him drop it as if it burned his
hands. Perhaps he knew it was not a fuse shell.
I had occasion to go to Atlanta several times
while the siege was pending, but never found myself
inclined to linger after the conclusion of my busi
ness.
Cavalry Fight at Newnan.
Returning from one of my visits to Atlanta,
when near Palmetto I learned that a body of Feder
al cavalry had passed in the direction of Lafayette,
pursued by Confederates. I galloped on toward
Newnan, and soon came within sound of a battle.
It was evidently in the direction in which I was
riding. I pressed forward and arrived in the vi
cinity of the conflict about the time it ended in
the overthrow and dispersion of the Federal raid
ers. That night I enjoyed, with many others, the
hospitality of Mr. and Mrs. Ray, a couple distin
guished by all those virtues that constitute the charm
of social life. Their hearts and home were open
to all who wore the gray.
I had the satisfaction here of putting into prac
tice such skill as I had acquired while serving as
hospital steward in ante-bellum days, in redressing
the wounded foot of a young brigadier general. It
was not a very recent wound, and its condition was
such that I could not but admire the nerve of one
who, suffering as he must have suffered, had kept
the saddle and led his command in the pursuit and
in battle.
Subsequently Col. Jiles Boggess, of Ross’s Bri
gade, Texas Cavalry, related to me an account of
a singular incident of this fight. In the movements
incident to the engagement a regiment of Federal
cavalry was thrust in between the Texas regiment,
fighting on foot, and its horses. Colonel Boggess,
on becoming aware of the situation, called the at
tention of his men, and, having quietly informed
them of the fact, added: “Now, boys, you’ve got
to fight your way back to your horses or take it
afoot. About face! Charge!” The way those
Texans went through that line of Federal cavalry
indicated a fondness for horseflesh that could have
been acquired only by long and intimate association.
The enemy’s cavalry were not accustomed to meeting
the charge of men on foot armed with revolvers,
and were so astounded that nearly all their shots
went wild, and very soon they were flying from
the remounted Texans.
5