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CONVENTION AT CARTERSVILLE ARTERSVILLE, the home of celebri ties, was a “wide open” town recently.. No, no! not “wide-open” in the Chi cago sense, but wide-open to the mes sengers and visitors to the Georgia Baptist Convention. It would be a great deal to say that the convention never before had such royal entertain ment—for every place it has met has C done the noble part. But there was something about Cartersville’s hospitality that was well-nigh start ling in its beauty. There was an eagerness in its bestowment that was as refreshing as the dews of spring, and as warm as the sunlight that stream ed and beamed from cloudless November skies. The Methodist and Presbyterian neighbors seemed de termined to outdo their Baptist brethren in enter taining their own Baptist Convention, and Hon. W. J. Neel, chairman of the committee on entertain ment, grew red in the face because there were not enough of the six or seven hundred visitors to “go all the way round” to these open doors and hearts that were clamoring for them. And this same lit tle “big” man actually got up before that big crowd and invited the convention back next year in order to satisfy the unsatisfied hospitality of big-hearted Cartersville. An Ideal Welcome. Not only did the ideal hospitality of the people bespeak an ideal welcome, but the address of wel come itself, delivered by Judge A. M. Foute, fit into the mold of the ideal. It was brief, it was rich, it was rare, it was “racy.” In five minutes he said more things to make a crowd of visitors feel good than we ever heard in the same compass of time before. He didn’t know he could be funny. He didn’t “crack a smile,” but he provoked a hundred. From the time he said with solemn voice, “I face a great crowd of good-looking women and tolerably good-looking men,” on to his mourn ful declaration, “We have heretofore had plenty to eat in Cartersville, but since the coming of this convention nobody knows how long that state of affairs will continue,” he kept the audience in a swing of delight. The response, too, was a gem. It was delivered by Pastor L. E. Roberts, of Monroe. His wit was captivating and his conclusion brilliant and spir itual. Lincoln and the Shower of Stars. He told of Abraham Lincoln’s being awakened one night with the terrifying shout: “The stars are falling—the world is coming to an end.” Lin coln walked out and looked on the falling meteors from the blazing firmament. But beyond all that meteoric disturbance the great man’s keen eyes sought and found the North Star fixed and undim med, the “seven pointers” in their circling splen dor—the Pleiades serene and beautiful—and then he walked back calmly and rested through a tran quil night. And so we, as Christians, he declared, may sometimes witness what seems like a falling of the stars of Faith and Truth, but we have only to look beyond the disturbance and find the fixed stars of Regeneration, Atonement and the Deity of our Lord shining yet in all their glory—and then our souls can rest in peace and joy. Twelve Times President. The convention honored itself by honoring for the twelfth time Ex-Governor Wm. J. Northen as president, and for about the same time Dr. B. D. Ragsdale. They make a team unsurpassed in all the land. This brief sketch is not intended as a report of the proceedings, but only as a glimpse at special conquests in and by the convention. The annual sermon, by Dr. John E. White, of At lanta, on “Let the Dead Bury their Dead,” etc., was a masterpiece of practical Bible truth and sa cred eloquence. The report on State Missions by the new secre tary, Rev. J. J. Bennett, was eagerly awaited. Nearly $150,000 was reported for all purposes, and a decided increase was voted for next year. The only fault that was found concerning Joe Bennett The Golden Age for December 6, 1906. was the fact that he didn’t make a single bit of a speech himself. Everybody wanted to hear the new secretary. His modesty was almost provok ing. But he selected men who could and did speak •—Copeland on “The Mountain Boy,” Robinson on “The Mountain School,” and Jester on “South Georgia,” stirred the natives. The orphans, nearly a hundred strong, came up from Hapeville one day and broke everybody’s hearts—just by standing there for us to look at them. Henry Durand, John M. Green, Fred J. Cooledge and Frank S. Etheridge, with many wo men—hand-maidens of God—stood there among the fatherless children to whom they had been try ing to be father and mother, and Superintendent R. D. Hawkins smiled like a parent over the scene. Dr. Jameson was called to his “throne of power” and about $12,000 was subscribed to clear the debt on the new building. When Dr. S. Y. Jameson, the new president of Mercer, rose to speak for the first time in his new position, the audience arose to greet him and gave him the Chautauqua salute. His speech, “swept the deck” with common sense and vigorous eloquence. Everybody said, “Jameson will win,” —and he will! Indeed, he has already won! Dr. B. I). Gray’s speech on “Home Missions,” was an avalanche of power—a wondrous blending of wit, pathos and burning truth. If B. D. Gray did not love the Gospel so well he could make thous ands on the lecture platform. To hear him is 1 ‘perpetual delight. ’ ’ Dr. Nunnally’s resolution on the liquor ques tion set things on fire, and H. W. Williams’ re port on Temperance added fuel to the flames. The convention believes in an early effort for state pro hibition. Get ready to show your colors. The battle is on. The gold watch presented to Dr. J. 11. Kilpatrick as a token of love on the fiftieth anniversary of’ his connection with the convention, was a beautiful incident. No wonder everybody rose in the pres ence of the “grand old man” to do reverence to his gray hairs, his wisdom and his character. Willingham on missions! Will the man never run dry? Giant in form, in mind, in speech and devotion. It was the hypnotism of conquering truth and consuming zeal. And all the words of all the returned missionaries put Dr. Willingham’s speech into the italics of heaven. And A. A. Williamson’s “mellow melody,” and the same, sweet songs of Mrs. A. B. Conyers flowed like crystal streams through the smiling fields of! truth and worship. The writer was a fortunate guest in the home of Mrs. Sam P. Jones. The great evangelist had said before his death that he wanted to take care of fifty delegates to the coming convention if he could. And it was a beautiful spirit that caused Mrs. Jones, so soon after—indeed, in the very midst of her great sorrow, to throw open her home-like home to all comers during the conven tion. No guest in the home brought more sunshine and joy to all hearts than Dr. T. T. Eaton, of Louisville. He knew just how to scatter flowers where they were most needed. And Mrs. Jones was a mother—a sister—a bene diction to us all. W. D. LT. God Had Not Settled Yet. A certain fanner, who was an infidel, sent to the editor of a weekly newspaper the following let ter: “Sir:—l have been trying an experiment. I have a field of Indian corn which I ploughed on Sunday. I planted it on Sunday. I did all the cultivating which it received on Sunday, and on Sunday hauled it to my barn; and I find that I have more corn per acre than has been gathered by any of my neighbors during this October!” What a triumphant sneer lay behind these words of the skeptic! But one thinks the light faded from his eyes as he read the sentence which the editor appended to his letter: “N. B.—God does not always settle his accounts in October.”—Ex change. Letter From Campbell Morgan. We have received from Dr. G. Campbell Morgan the following letter which will hold special inter est just now for readers of The Golden Age: Buckingham Gate, London, S. W., Nov. 6, 1906. Mr. W. I). Upshaw, Editor The Golden Age, Lowndes Building, Atlanta, Ga. My dear Mr. Upshaw: Thank you very much for your letter under date October 23rd. You refer therein to my accepting your prop osiaion for the American serial rights of my personally revised notes of my “Track Through the Bible.” lam too busy to write anything like a prospectus as you suggest in addition to the work I am actually doing for publication. I propose that the first article you receive will be an introductory one to the whole series. After that first article I shall at once proceed with the book by book work. Beginning thus with the first week in January, the Old Testament will occupy just a year, ac cording to my present arrangements. With kindest regards, I am, ever sincerely yours, G. Campbell Morgan. A Beautiful Funeral. “E’en sorrow touched by Thee grows bright With more than rapture's ray, As darkness shows us worlds of light We never saw by day.” A starless night is not always the emblem of sor row. We saw a funeral service recently at a little country church in Georgia which had about it more of beauty than of sorrow. Lucius Cuthbert Blanton, a younger minister of the Gospel, died at his father’s home in Atlanta on the night of the 16th, and his body was laid to rest Sunday morning at Shiloh Church, near Far rar, of which the deceased was one time the be loved pastor. True, parents, brothers and sister wept, and mingling with their natural tears came the many expressions of grief from the people whom the young shepherd had led through pastures green and by waters still. And saddest of all, the devoted young wife, with a little fatherless darling in her arms, desolate in her sorrow beside the bier of him who but yesterday had wooed her with his manly love and blessed her with an honored name. Her loneliness was enough to touch and melt the stoutest heart. But a star came out in the night—then the dawn of Heaven broke over the Everlasting Hills. The pastor-friend of the deceased spoke on the glories of the Resurrection Morn. “Blest Be the Name” was sung in ringing triumph. Tears grew crystal with the Light of the skies, and although we cam? away and left “the wayworn body resting ’neath the autumn flowers at last,” we came with the roundelays of Eternal Hope singing in our hearts and the Rainbow of God’s promise kissing the clouds of gloom into the brightening glory which only the Christian’s Faith can see and feel. Cut down in life’s bright and promising morn ing—his incompleteness filled out in the complete ness of Christ—O, the beauty thus to live, thus to die, and thus to live again! Right thinking is the foundation of right living. To live the highest life of which we, as human beings, are capable, we must firmly believe and live up to our belief that we can, should, and must resolutely master our thoughts as well as our ac tions; and that we must control the mental pict ures in which we indulge as much as the words which issue from our lips. As a man “thinketh in his heart, so is he.” Thoughts generate feel ing. When discouraged and depressed, lift up your chest, take an attitude of courage, and speak these words several times, slowly and earnestly— “faith, hope, courage.” When sensitive over ill treatment, take the correct physical attitude and say, several times slowly and earnestly—“love, patience, forgiveness,” and see if you don’t feel better.—Selected. 3