Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

8 The Golden Age (SUCCESSOR TO RELIGIOUS EORUM) Published Ebery Thursday by the Golden Mge Publishing Company (Inc.) OETICES: LOWNDES 'BUILDING, ATLANTA, GA. Price: $2.00 a Tear WILLIfXMD. UPSHMW, ... - Editor A. E. RAPI SA UR, - - - Associate Editor Entered at the Post Office tn 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 Kinvad Bridge. By William Hurd Hilly er, in Harper's Magazine. At the end of the path that all men tread, at the end of the road called Time, Where the land slopes off to the cliffs of Death and the dolorous vapors climb; Over the cloudy gulf of hell and the chasm of dim Despond, The Kinvad Bridge swings frail and far to the heavenly heights beyond. Nine javelins wide is the Kinvad Bridge when passeth a righteous soul; Royally ample and safe it leads to the distant shining goal; But when others come to the cliffs of Death—ah, yes, the bridge is there— But oh, what a narrow thread that spans the gray gorge of Despair! The New Spelling. When we were in school we used to “read after” a certain Latin poet named Horace, who stated on one occasion that “Nihil est ab omni parte bea tum”; which, being generously translated, means that nothing is altogether a cinch. It is even so in the matter of writing editorials for a -weekly pa per. When one’s fount of inspiration has gone dry, it is easy to fake editorials from the pages of the daily papers, but when there is a subject upon w r hich the -weekly editor yearns to express himself, he generally finds that all the good things have already been said, and there is nothing left for him to say. Take the spelling reform, financed by Mr. Car negie and strenuously advocated by President Roosevelt. That happened just as our last issue went to press, and each day since then we have been coming down town with the outline of a brilliant editorial in our mind, only to see our ideas em bodied in the editorials of the evening papers. There never was such a chance to be bright and funny, but alas! we are now too late. All the straw has been threshed over, and before us lies an account of President Roosevelt’s letter to Public Printer Stallings in which he says that he and Andy didn’t mean to do anything rash; that their inten tions were good; but that rather than have their clothes torn he will just let us all go ahead spell ing just as we qualifiedly please. Just think of it! All the excitement over with and done before we got a chance to edge an editorial in sideways. There have been several hundred miles of editorials writ ten on the subject, and not a line from us. But we knew the movement would end in this way. Ih€ President cannot force a spelling reform. No pow er can do it at one fell swoop. Some of the chang es advocated are sensible and practical and the rules of spelling will surely evolve to those forms. This discussion has served a good purpose in that it has directed attention to possibe changes, and will therefore hasten the time of their adoption. So, for tji£ present, we think, nuff sed, The Golden Age for September 6, 1906. William Jennings Bryan—The Christian Statesman. We cannot have “purity in the state” unless our statesmen arc pure. There be plenty of men in pub lic life—men of national prominence in the political realm, who have penty of brains and ability so far as statecraft is concerned, but such men with a spot less Christian character are as rare as they are re freshing. Such a man is William J. Bryan. Never mind whether you agree with his political creed; never mind if you do not indorse his methods of propa ganda, let it be remembered that for a dozen years he has been in the limelight of applauding millions and beneath the searchlight of political opposition, and he stands today without a spot upon his prince ly name and eighty millions of people doing him personal honor. What means that unparalleled demonstration in New York which marked his home-coming—a trib ute unequaled in the life of any other private cit izen and unsurpassed even by the “welcome-home” accorded General Grant with all his prestige of two presidential terms and a mighty military record? Think of the spectacle; not bearing the “palms of victory” but twice crowned with the thorns of par ty defeat, this stalwart American is traveling with his family in a foreign land, when suddenly state conventions of the party he has twice led to disas ter, begin to break out with applause at the mention of his name, declaring with resolution and reason that they want their twice-defeated leader for stand ard-bearer again. And all over the land the party councils take up the cry. And across the thous ands of miles that intervene, a dismembered, dis organized, discouraged party reaches out its hands to the man who is declared by many to be responsi ble for its ills, and says: “Lead us, William—we believe in you! Lead us or -we die ! ” Why—why this unheard of course in the annals of a national party? There is—there can be, but one answer: The people know, the factions know— everybody knows that: William J. Bryan has never trimmed, his convic tions nor trampled his conscience for the sake of getting a vote. They know—everybody knows—that when the party leaders shook the electoral vote of great states in his face and said: “Modify just a little on this point or that and we will give you this vote and— the White House!”—everybody knows how he looked at them with steady eye, tranquil heart and encouraging bravery, then said like the “Millboy of the Slashes”: “I would rather be right than be President. Gentlemen, I believe a thing. If you wish to nominate me on what I believe, well and good. But if you -want a platform different from what I honestly believe, then find you anoth er man.” And all the world knows how, in that trying hour, when his leadership had been repu diated by the very convention which had nominat ed him in a delirium of enthusiasm at its two pre ceding sessions, he stood before that convention, without bitterness and without fear, towering like a giant above circumstances that would have crush ed most men. There was pallor on his cheek, there was lightning in his eye and the thunder of warn ing in his ringing voice: “It was a brave thing for Judge Parker to send that telegram, but it would have been a braver thing for him to send it before he was nominated. And I put this convention and all America on notice now that while the platform we have adopted suits me better than the platform of the other party, and I can therefore conscientiously support it, after the battle is over in November I will go honestly and arduously at work to try to make both platform and party what I believe they ought to be for the best interests of the American people.” Hear! Hear! (as the English say). What stir ring words of patriotism, of loyalty, of startling bravery! Everybody knows how, in the winsome speech of John Temple Graves, he went “like a line of light” from East to West redeeming his pledge, and how he has kept every scintilla of his every promise. All the world knows how, going from his native Illinois and beginning with nothing but the mint of his own genius, his eloquence and his character he reversed an overwhelming majority and went to Washington from his newly adopted home in Ne braska—how, when little more than a youth he leaped into national fame by a peerless speech on the floor of Congress, and how, then without head quarters in Chicago, by one wonderful speech of less than thirty minutes he won the Presidential nomi nation of a great national party which dozens of great men had wrought a lifetime to gain. All this is referred to in order to put into italics the beau tiful fact that in the face of all this opulence of applause and the dangerous plenitude of petting and toasting and “wining and dining,” which have been showered upon him, this young man has kept his head on his shoulders and his heart on the right side. His wine glass has always been turned down at countless banquets in his honor, and he has never found it necessary to swear—to “cuss a little with the boys” in order to win favor with the men about town, party leaders and ward politicians. And recently while on his oriental tour when the governor of a Japanese province would do him cer tain honor by giving him a feast and reception on Sunday, ho simply replied: “I thank you for the proffered honor, but I always attend church on the Lord’s day.” Then he sought out the working place, the “Light House” station of a lonely but faithful Christian missionary and united his heart and voice in pray er and praise. In other words: Latitude and Longitude had nothing to do with William J. Bryan’s fidelity to God and the Sabbath day. No wonder people feel that they can trust a man like that! Dr. H. M. Hamil, the great Methodist preacher and Sunday school apostle, was in Atlanta last week and said these words to the writer: “I was lecturer at Illinois College in Jackson ville, when William J. Bryan graduated. I pack ed his grip for him the night he was married. I knew him as a college boy and I know him now. He was never known to even smoke, chew, drink or swear. He was devoted to his church and Sabbath school. You cannot say too much for his Christian integrity. ’ ’ We heard George Foster Peabody, the wise, gold en-hearted philanthropist, declare concerning Ed ward M. Sheppard, the great Christian lawyer of Brooklyn: “He has the most regnant conscience of any man I have ever known in public life.” It is not the dash and the dare and the “Rough- Rider” fearlessness alone that have given Theo dore Roosevelt his popularity with the masses, but the widespread belief, after all, that the man has a conscience and a character. And Hughes, of New York, Weaver, of Philadelphia, and Joseph W. Folk, of Missouri—all devout Christian men—have car ried their Christian character as the bulwark of their strength and brought it untarnished from the smoke of the conflict. And it is the “regnant conscience” that has made the valley a mountain height for William J. Bry an, put a sceptre in his stalwart hand and placed him on a throne in the hearts of men. Converted when a boy, Bryan has done no more than he ought to have done—he has just been true to his religious profession—steadfast in his Chris tian life. Young man of America, you do not need schemes and “bosses” nor even votes and victory to make you a king among men. But rather, the Christian heroism—the moral grandeur of William J. Bryan, that would cause him to thrust away a crown as he would brush away a fly if it comes between him and Duty! This is the coronet that Christian manhood wears —this is the kingly Gem “That shall new lustre boast When victor’s wreath and monarch’s crown Shall blend in common dust,”