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The Other Side of Life.
Sy Peter Smith.
HIS is the season of the year when the
man in the city wishes that he were in
in the country, where the cool breezes
blow, and the air is not filled with
smoke and slime from smoke stack and
dome. What is so pure and exhilarat
ing as a whiff of pure air in the early
morning, like we used to experience
when at the first dawn of day we wend •
T
ed our way to feed the stock at the barn? And
where in all this wide universe can there be found
any music like unto that of the roosters when, as
the first grey streak of light begins to show itself
in the eastern sky, they fill the air with their res
onant cackles? There is no place this side of
heaven that is quite as inviting to the city man at
this time of the year as the country, and more than
one would be willing to go back to the farm if he
only had the courage to do so.
When the brain is tired and body wearied from
close confinement to work in a city office, there is
no place quite as inviting to such an one as the
shady side of * great, outstretching oak tree, such
as used to stand by the old mill pond. During
these hot days memory takes many of us back to
the time when we were boys upon the farm, and
there comes a vision of singing birds, cooling
breezes, and laughing brooks that we vainly wish
might become a reality in our present life.
The city has its attractions. Possibly it has its
advantages, but the writer of these lines does not
believe that the advantages of the city are greater
than are those of the country. The young man
coming from the country and the small town for
an occasional visit to the city is attracted by what
he sees, and he thinks that if he could only escape
the monotony -of country life and get to a city
he would get rid, not only of monotony but of the
hindrances which impede his success.
The glare of the electric lights are beautiful to
the uninitiated; the music of the summer-time
theaters is entrancing to our young man from the
country; the rush of the street cars, and the toot,
toot of the automobiles as they go hurrying by, are
more inviting than holding the reins over the mule
back at home; the girls in their pointed slippers
and stockings of many colors exhibiting dainty feet
and attractive ankles, together with tailor-made
skirts and flowing veils, look sweeter to him than
do the girls back at home who, from exposure to
the sun’s rays in performing their domestic duties,
have become tanned and better developed than the
city girl; the young men in low shoes (“Oxfords,”
they are called) and freshly pressed trousers and
flashing neckties and sparkling pins, present a pic
ture of ease and pleasure that the young man from
the country thinks he would like to enjoy—and a
thousand other things, which, because of their new
ness, causes him to become dissatisfied with the
country and long for city life.
But he doesn’t know the inside of city life. Whad
he sees is only the outside, much of it prepared for
such as he.
He does not know that many of the young men
and women whom he sees upon the streets dressed
in gay attire are living dissipated lives, and that
they are often held up by the use of narcotics, in
stead of fresh air such as he breathes; he does not
know of the struggles that the great majority of
city people have to make both ends meet; he has
not heard of the collecting agents who are al
ways prompt in their visits; he is not cognizant of
the keenness of the competition in city life; he does
not know that everything and everybody is keyed
to the highest pitch, and that multiplied hundreds
of people are literally wrecking their lives in the
strife after what is termed success, and that this
desire sometimes becomes such a passion that men
hitherto honest resort to all sorts of unfair means
in order to accomplish their ends; he does not know
that innocent girls coming from the country in
search of work are ofttimes sidetracked into a
brothel immediately upon their arrival to satisfy
the lusts of city men; he does not know 7 that all
sorts of snares are laid for such as he when he first
comes to dwell in the city—no, he does not know
The Golden Age for September 5, 1907.
about these things when he is contrasting the mo
notony of country life with the seeming life and
freshness of city life. He has all of this to learn,
and ofttimes in the learning he gets caught in the
eddy of sinfulness and goes to destruction. The
city has its advantages, but so has the country, and
on these hot days in August there are many men
cooped up in skyscraper buildings who vainly wish
for the old days back on the farm.
* «
The Field of the Prohibition Conflict.
The Texas device to neutralize the evil of the
Supreme Court ruling on the “original package”
law 7 is thus stated by an exchange:
In one respect Texas has gone beyond any other
state. In no-license districts a license tax of $5,000
is imposed on express companies bringing in liquors
in the original packages, and each town may im
pose an additional tax of $2,500. This is, of course,
prohibitory and this is a step forward which should
be taken in all the prohibition districts of the
country. The “original package” law of the
United States is today the greatest foe to the ad
vance of the temperance reform.' Prohibition states
and districts cannot pass laws contrary to it, but
they can make the licenses for the express and
freight companies doing the business of transport
ing liquor in original packages into no-license dis
tricts so high that the profit of doing the business
shall be destroyed.
The Legislature of Georgia did not enact any law
to prohibit the jug trade. We could not get all
we wanted within the fifty days. Let us thank God
for the prohibition bill, and study the things that
are yet needed and ask the Legislature for them
next term.
The Literary Digest, quoted by an exchange, tells
about a recent statement made by a distinguished
French physician. He may not be any more de
serving of credit because he is a French physician
than he would be if he were a country doctor from
the back-woods of Georgia. But that a French
man should have the originality and the frankness
to make such discoveries and publish them is a
fact deserving of very great consideration. Below
is a translation furnished by the Literary Digest:
“And I repeat again that, in the erection of these
new morbid aptitudes, this hereditary predisposi
tion, which dominates almost all pathology, alcohol
ism (.stands pre-eminent, doing (more hajrm and
counting more victims than tuberculosis. Alcohol
ism, in fact, not only affects the individual, but its
effects are continued to his descendants. One can
not be, with impunity, the son of an alcoholic. Al
coholism begins with the father and strikes down
his children; and generally its action continues,
until, in the fourth or fifth generation, it has de
stroyed the family. But before this final result is
reached, the alcoholics and their descendants are,
according to circumstances, hurled into disease,
madness, or crime, filling our hospitals, asylums
and jails, as I have already said.
“Blind, indeed, are those who, ignorant of the
dangers of alcohol, see in it only a source of rev
enue!” —The Literary Digest.
The Missouri Issue, quoting from Judge J. L.
Fort, of that state, gives the words that follow:
“'Since prohibition was established in this circuit
the criminal docket has gone down from an average
of five hundred cases per year (including felonies
and misdemeanors) to an average of seventy-five
cases per year. There is but one man in any jail
or prison house in this circuit today, and he is
confined for failing to pay a fine assessed against
him for violating the prohibition law.” Criminal
costs are less than one-third of what they for
merly were. There are no blind tigers in the terri
tory. Deficits in county and town treasuries have
passed away. The Judge makes a good point when
he says that saloon advocates convict themselves
when they announce in. advance that prohibition
cannot be enforced, since they are the only people
who violate the law. Their prediction is a threat
of what they propose to do. This testimony of an
experienced and reputable judge is worth more than
all the writings of saloonkeepers.
Epitaphs.
The following odd epitaphs are inscribed on tombs
in an old colored cemetery in Savannah, Georgia.
They are given with accuracy as to spelling used:
We weep above the dead
Why should we weep?
Why mourn them in their quiet bed
Their dreamless sleep?
Better the coffin and the worm
Than sorrow’s blight and passion’s storm.
In all the duties of life she was a Christian, in
testimony of which her sorrowing husband erects
this monument to her memory and in gratitude for
the deep sympathy of a large community during
his absence at the death and burial.
Lies the remains of Capt. M. Cumming. All is
well with my soul. Erected by his loving mother.
Sacred to the memory of my dear Husband, An
toney Jenkins. Died Oct. 1, 1880. Age 49 yrs.,
3 mos., and 14 days. Brother rest from Sin and
Sorrow. Death is over and Life is won, On thy
Slumber Dawns on Morrow, Rest, thine Earthly
Pace is Run—'Welcome from a World of woe. Wel
come to a Land of Rest! He was a Deacon of the
First A. B. C.
The sweet remembrances of the just
Shall flourish when they sleep in dust.
Gone, gone, dead and gone:
Shall I ask thee back, dear one?
Back and leave thy spirit’s brightness.
Back and leave thy robe of whiteness,
Back and leave thy streets of gold,
Back and leave thy Lamb who feeds thee,
Back from founts to which he leads thee,
Back and leave thy Heavenly Father,
Back to earth and sin? Nay, rather
Will I live in solitude.
I would not ask thee if I could,
But patient wait Heaven’s high decree
That sends my spirit home to thee.
This memorial is erected by his surviving relict
in appreciation of his worth.
Lies the re-Manes of our dear little Queen Eliz
abeth Walker and God Chile of Mrs. E. Wright.
Suffer, Little Children, to com on to Me, and fur
Bid Them Not, fur of such is the Kindom of
Heaven.
Andrew Marshall, Pastor A. B. C., 116 yrs. old.
He Baptized 3776 persons.
He married 2000 persons.
He Funeralized 2400 persons.
And like his Master was by some despised,
Like Him by many others loved and prized—
But theins shall be the everlasting crown
Not whume the world but Jesus Christ will own.
The Crown that decks the monarch
Is not the crown for me.
It dazzles but a moment,
Its brightness soon will flee,
But there’s a crown laid up above
For all that walk in humble love
Forever bright will be.
O, that’s the Crown for me!
Remember, friends, as you pass by,
That all mankind are born to die.
Then let your cares on Christ be cast,
That yon may dwell with Him at last.
Weep not for me, Mother dear,
I am not dead, but sleeping, here.
My debts are paid and I am free,
Prepare for death and follow me.
Affliction sure for months I bore;
Physicians were in vain:
At length God pleased to give me ease
And freed me of my pain.
This is her parting word: I am going home to
die. And she died in July 1894. Ma God Bless
Her.
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