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VIDALIA COLLEGIATE INSTITUTE
The Golden Age stands as the friend evermore of
institutions of learning where honest, earnest work
is done—whether the great university, the small
college, the lonely school house in the country or
the fitting school that stands between. Such
a school as the latter—a strong, well-ordered fitting
school for practical life as well as college endeavor,
is the Vidalia Collegiate Institute, under the leader
ship of Prof. E. L. Ray.
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Vidalia is comparatively a new town at the junc
tion of the S. A. L., the M. D. and S. and the Mil
len and Southwestern railroads. The growth of the
town has been rapid and substantial. And the
sensible citizens have determined that the commer
cial growth of the progressive little city shall not
outstrip the intellectual and religious progress of
the people. Splendid, commodious churches came
first, and then in 1903 the citizens almost as a unit
A Presbyterian Veteran.
Editor The Golden Age, Atlanta, Ga.
Dear Brother Upshaw: Having been a subscriber
to The Golden Age from its very first issue, I feel
constrained to add my humble testimony to the
intrinsic worth of your splendid paper and to the
great work which it is doing for God and for
righteousness. I regard The Golden Age as a fear
less, clean, clear-cut paper. It makes no compro
mise with evil and goes straight after the evil
doer.
I hope, sincerely, you will keep up the fight
against the liquor traffic and gambling and Sabbath
desecration and all other forms of lawlessness in
our land.
We need a great, fearless paper, such as The
Golden Age, to stand up for good laws and for
the speedy execution of law.
The laws of our country must be respected and
obeyed.
Every good citizen should stand up for law and
do all in his power to suppress all outlaw’ism.
We need laws under whose Aegis every citizen,
be he white or black, shall feel absolutely safe
from violence.
The humblest black man, woman or child should
have 'the protection of the law, and not only so,
but even the criminal should be protected from
the violence of the mob.
There is no excuse or extenuation for the mob
or for mob-law in our land.
This is God’s country. This is a Christian coun
try.
PROF. E. L. RAF AND FACULTY.
The Golden Age for October 11, 1906.
voted for $12,000 bonds to erect an up-to-date school
building. This handsome brick structure, -with im
posing Corinthian columns, crowns a commanding
eminence on the outskirts of the city. Professor E.
L. Ray, the superintendent, is a man of rare cul
ture, energy and Christian consecration. The other
members of the faculty whose pictures appear with
his in the accompanying group, show how well he is
supported in his efforts. The school is eo-education-
al, attracting many boys and girls from the sur
rounding country.
A military feature begins with the term of 1906-
07, and Editor E. C. J. Dickens, of the local paper,
is ready to declare with enthusiasm that “America
was discovered in order that this railroad center
might be established and the Vidalia Collegiate In
stitute shower its blessings on South Georgia boys
and girls.”
All mob-law is begotten of the devil and born in
hell.
Keep up your fight, Mr. Editor, for the reign
of truth and righteousness.
Keep up your fight against the saloon—for the
enactment of good laws and for their speedy exe
cution, and then we will hear no more of violent
and blood-thirsty mobs.
Keep the pure, white banner of Jesus Christ
nailed to your mast-head, and continue your war
fare against whiskey and all lawlessness, and the
victory will be ours through the Prince of Peace.
A. R. Holderby,
Pastor Moore Memorial Presbyterian Church.
Take heed that the very things you despise and
hold yourself 'above have not the power to drag
you down. The ugly spirit in another you would
not think of giving way to, if it cause you to be
irritable, has in just so far been the stronger and
overcome you. It is very difficult to remain un
ruffled and cool when the very air is warm with
somebody’s unrestrained temper, but if you allow it
to affect you, how different are you from the other
one?
“Habiliments for Infants” is a sign in a cloth
ing store in Boston. A Western visitor, seeing it,
stopped in amazement.
“What does that mean?” he asked his better ac
quainted fellow Westerner.
“That?” said the other. “Oh, that is Boston
dialect for kid’s duds.”—Youth’s Companion.
The Midnight Whistler.
By AMELIA ARNOLD HEIDT.
It was one night in the beautiful city of Atlanta,
and in an upper room of the Tabernacle Infirmary,
that wonderful institution of Christian ministra
tion, lay a woman. There were other sufferers with
in the building, for do not its very walls represent
suffering and succor, two elements that should go
hand in hand ? But this woman was a stranger in
the city; she had come from her home in a distant
town for treatment which must culminate in an
operation. The physician had gone his rounds for
the night, the nurse had made her comfortable and
she was alone.
Only those who have been ill in a hospital can
know what that means. The neat little room, the
neat little white bed, every want anticipated for the
night by the kindest of nurses, but oh, the horrible
sense of loneliness that comes when the door is
closed, and her footsteps cease to echo down the
hallway. The woman felt it; from her cot by the
window she looked into the street below, ’neath
whose lights were men hurrying home to wives who
loved them as she had loved her husband. She saw
homes whose open doors and windows beamed wel
come to those returning from the cares and toil of
the day, and borne on the breeze the clear laughter
of a child was wafted to her ear—yet she was alone
—alone with the night, the weakness, the dread. No
baby's soft hand to fondle her fevered brow! No
husband’s strong arms to raise her tired form and
place the pillows as only he had known how to do!
No goodnight kiss! Tomorrow the surgeon’s knife
and then—(?)
The doctor had called her the bravest of patients.
She was never a coward—just a woman, and the
tears she could no longer restrain broke forth, and
her sobs echoed into the stariy stillness of the
night, when suddenly up from the street below came
another sound seeming to deny her desolation. It
was a man, whistling strong and clear, “No, never
alone.”
Sweeter and clearer rose the notes claiming the
woman’s attention.
How familiar! Many times had she sung it in
church, often unheedingly, as we are wont to sing
when the sea of life is calm. Again when troubles
had come she had sung it, every word a prayer, but
now— The man was walking rapidly, but out
of the melody seemed to come the very words,
“Trying to conquer my soul.”
The sobs ceased. The billows of loneliness and
disease had swept all about her, but she would
not be overwhelmed, for, still came the notes, faint
but distinct: “He promised never to leave me,
Never to leave me alone.” And, thought the wom
an, “He is faithful who has promised,” and with
a smile she fell asleep.
Tlie unknown whistler went his way, unconscious
of the good he had done,
“For who has sight so keen and strong
That it can follow the flight of song?”
“The song, from beginning to end,” he’ll find
again treasured in the heart of this woman.
God was in the song, and chose the cheerful
whistler to carry His message of comfort.
The little daughter of the house awoke one morn
ing to be greeted with the tidings that she had
a new little brother, who had arrived the night be
fore. “You can’t imagine who brought him,” said
the nurse. The little one thought a moment, and
then said, brightly:
“Oh, yes, now I know; it was the milkman.”
“Why the milkman?” was asked in a surprised
tone.
“Because it says on his wagon, 4 Families Sup
plied,’ of course,” was the answer.
A sarcastic lawyer, during the trial of a case,
made the use of the expression, “Cast not your
pearls before swine.” Subsequently, as he arose
to make the argument, the judge facetiously re
marked: “Be careful, Mr. S , not to cast your
pearls before swine.”
“Don’t be alarmed, m’lud; I am about to address
the jury, not the court,” was the reply of the bar
rister.
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