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In ‘Brunslvick-'By-The-Sea
A Lobe Feast Held Near the Harshes of Glynn
RUNSWICK-BY-THE-SEA is pulsing
with new commercial life. A thousand
new buildings have been erected within
a year. A million dollars spent by that
great new railway and steamship sys
tem, the “A., B. & A.,” tells the story
of the most superb docks and terminal
station in all this country. Brunswick
believes she is on the very threshold of
B
a great city’s life and the A., B. & A., which owns
‘‘The Oglethorpe,” the handsomest hotel I have
ever seen in a town of 15,000 people, is held in gen
uine affection by the people whose prosperity has
been so enhanced by this great enterprise.
It was in such a city of spreading shades and stir
ring scenes that the South Georgia M. E. Confer
ence met recently. The beautiful new Methodist
church house, just completed, was an ideal place,
and Pastor Robert Kerr (pronounce it to rhyme with
dear, not kur, or your life will be in danger) was
an ideal host. He is a genial, big-hearted son of
Ei-in, wifih ready wit and a warm heart.
I was happy to be guest in the home of my old
Mercer schoolmate, Ellis Sammons, who is the pop
ular and successful pastor of the First Baptist
church. What a joy to find the “old boys” out in
the big world making their lives count for God
and His cause!
Bishop James Atkins, who presided over the Con
ference, is a man of strong mind, splendid executive
ability, rapid “dispatch” in business, and has just
enough of ready wit and good humor to light up
the daily routine and make the service delightful.
His “Thanksgiving” sermon was a masterly, help
ful, stirring message.
Missionary Enthusiasm.
If the keynote of the North Georgia Conference
was “fellowship,” the spark that ignited the South
Georgia gathering was Christian missions. Over
one hundred thousand dollars for foreign and do
mestic missions was given by this conference the
past year, not including several other forms of be
nevolence.
The address of Rev. J. L. Gerdine of Korea, was
graphic and inspiring. He was a' brilliant young
lawyer in Macon six years ago and gave up a splen
did practice to carry the Light to those in distant
darkness. His stories of the conversion of Koreans
who are now living consecrated Christian lives made
everybody feel that it was worth crawling across
the continent and swimming the ocean just to be
the means of carrying the Gospel to one soul like
that. •
To Witness in Mexico.
William F. Quillian, for several years the be
loved President of Warthen College at Wrightsville,
Ga., gives up this high position to preach the gos
pel in Monterey, Mexico. His goodbye words to
the Conference melted all hearts.
Young J. Allen Memorial.
President Dickey of Emory College made a pow.
erful address on Christian Education, closing a spe
cial appeal for the Young J. Allen Memorial Chap
el at Emory. He has secured $6,500 from the
North Georgia Conference and the South Georgia
in generous rivalry gave over $7,000. Dr. Dickey
was at his best, and that means that his flowing
sentences and rounded periods were logic and elo
quence on fire.
Aldine Pound —Orator.
A new man and a layman captured a great au
dience. It was the first time a layman had ad
dressed the annual missionary mass meeting. Al
dine E. Pound, for a dozen years the princely and
popular Superintendent of the Waycross Public
Schools, made an address on “The Laymen’s Move
ment” that would have been worthy the platform
of the Ecumenical Conference in Carnegie Hall,
New r York. It was such a polished gem of truth
and beauty that I secured his promise to give it
to the readers of The Golden Age.
The Golden Age for December 19, 1907.
A Boat Ride and Oyster Roast.
Everybody who attended the conference is ready
to vote Mr. L. R. Aiken (“Doc” Aiken, they call
him for short) as just about the biggest hearted man
in Brunswick, Georgia. He didn’t do a thing but
charter a boat and carry the whole conference and
visiting friends down to the historic island of
Fredericka for an oyster roast.
Music and laughter rang out over the rippling
wavelets of the river and the restless bosom of the
deep. The good boat was loaded to the water and
in all good humor the M. E. preachers said they
were dangerously near going “under the water.”
Reaching Fredericka everybody but the writer
struck out for the old church house and the Wesley
Oak under which it is said the great founder of
Methodism preached “heart religion” instead of
empty formality in the days when the colony of
Georgia was young. It was too far for me to walk
to the oyster roast, and I stopped by previous invi
tation at a little school house to do that thing that
I would rather do than anything else in this world—
talk to school boys and girls.
The teacher, Miss Maida McDonald—a teacher
who teaches because she loves to help the young to
higher living—had come to me at Brunswick the
day before, saying: “You must stop and talk to
my pupils when you come to Fredericka. Your book,
‘Earnest Willie, or Echoes from a Recluse,’ lies on
my desk in the school room. The children have
seen your picture and heard your life-story and
they want to see you.”
Now who could have gone to a picnic, however de
lightful, instead of talking to boys and girls like
that? And after they had sung “America,” and I
had talked to them about “Pluck and Purpose,”
and being ready for “The Great Examination Day,”
I was guest for a little whilei in the beautiful is
land home of Mrs. Taylor and brought away oranges
plucked from trees, luxuriant and golden, right in
the front yard.
Coming back to Brunswick the boat was vocal
with songs of Christian triumph and fellowship, tes
timonies thrilling and stories of pure and refreshing
mirth.
The name of “Doc” Aiken, our genial host, was
on every lip. How beautiful to see a man with big
saw mills and turpentine stills and brick blocks,
interested far more in the progress of the kingdom
of God than he is in the trappings of wealth! He
and his happy family circle are a spiritual benedic
tion to Brunswick.
One of the deeply impressive features of the Con
ference was the presence—the shining faces and the
shining faith —of so many old men who had grown
gray in the service, some of them having preached
the “old, old story” for more than fifty years.
One of these venerable veterans of the cross, Rev.
W. A. Parks, chaplain of the Georgia Legislature,
preached a sermon one afternoon that put halle
lujahs on the lips of old and young.
I heard a sermon on Sunday morning by Dr. W.
W. Ainsworth of Savannah on “My Kingdom is
not of This World,” that was a present inspiration
and will be a lifetime benediction.
My fellowship in this “love feast” with these
noble workers for God leaves a memory described
by that exquisite line in Sidney Lanier’s immortal
“Marshes of Glynn”—a memory
“* * * * that doth seem
Like a lane into Heaven that leads from a dream.”
W. D. U.
m *
What He Wanted.
A very bald-headed man went into the barber
shop in the American House in our town, and,
plumping himself down in the chair, said:
“Hair-cut!”
Ed, the barber, looked at him a moment and re
plied :
“Why, man, you don’t need no hair-cut-—what
you want is a shine.”—Life.
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* H
Too Nuch Sadness.
It is possible that often a tone of melancholy may
creep into church or Sunday school services quite
depressing to the young. Healthy children do not
like minor chords.
A South Bend, Ind., lad, seven years old, attend
ed church for the first time in his life one Sunday
last February. He went alone. He had been gone
scarcely half an hour when he returned home.
His mother exclaimed:
“Why, Frank, why did you leave church so
early?”
“I’ll tell you, mamma,” was the prompt response,
“I couldn’t stand the sad songs they were singing
about Jesus. ’ ’ —Exchange.
H *
Read “A Happy Suggestion,” on page 16,
9