Newspaper Page Text
Gems of banquet 'Eloquedce.
(Contiued from Page 1.)
service to Troup county by his visit. Such visits
to every county in the state by the Governor-elect
constitute a new procedure on the part of the chief
executive, and they are building citizenship every
where.
A ringing speech by Col. ’Sam W. Wilkes followed,
which made us feel that we had .almost “been to
meeting,” as he told of how he and “Joe” went
to Sabbath school together, were baptized together,
and with great fervor he declared: 41 Although I
may have been often remiss in my Christian duty,
I have never known Joe Brown since that day to do
anything that reflected upon his character as a
high-toned Christian gentleman.”
‘The impoverishing touch of war’s lurid torch and
the march of an invading army through the South
in the ’6o’s left her crushed, conquered and con
fused; but with a courage born of patriotism and a
determination born of hope, her people with the
wreck and ruin about them were still proud of their
country, and believing in it they passed through
the trying days of reconstruction with honor un
tainted and faith unshaken, looking to the future
awaiting but for the aid of a helpful hand.
Soon (Southern journals were getting away from
the feverishness of this period and were asking us
to turn from the sad retrospect of war’s tragedy
and realize the greatness of our country’s resources.
They were also heralding a welcome to all good and
true men to come and live on Southern soil, promis
ing them equal protection to life and property and
the preservation of their religious and political
liberties. ’Tis true that the readjustment of
political troubles came slowly, for the wounds of the
South were not yet healed, but they came surely,
and apace with them came the active spirit of enter
prise and the swift hand of progress. Ambitious
patriotism, warm in the -Southerners’ hearts, was
urging them to get into the great push of American
advancement and closer business relations with all
the world. The first gun at Sumter, which began
the war between the States, also sounded the death
knell of the easy elegance of the South. It no
longer exists, but is enshrined forever in the torn
and tattered battle flags of Lee’s immortal legions.
We have been taught by the hardships of war and
the conflict of aims, that the watchword of the
century is onward, and success is achieved at the
price of individual effort.
There was such a ring of sincerity in the invita
tion to come to the South to live that the Northern
ers were not slow to accept it. They knew also that
nature had given to our fair land a climate and a
soil, the one as delightful as the other is fruitful,
and upon the bounding ambition of the young South
erner and the tested integrity of the old, they
gladly staked their faith and their capital. Soon
our broad acres were yielding their bounteous har
vests, and the grand old hills were being dotted
with a thousand industrial plants, and the hum of
the cotton spindle and the weaving of the loom were
making a grand new music by the harmony of
which the South is marching to the front rank in
commercial importance, claiming the attention and
taxing the tills of every country in the world. The
universal prosperity within her borders has made
her at once the happiest and safets section of this
great union, and now, as ever, her sons are among
the bravest and best in the councils of this nation.
Nowhere under the flag is American patriotism more
loyal and national pride more cherished than in
“Dear Old Dixie.” No better nor braver sons of
this republic are in the ranks of our army, nor man
the ships of our great navy than those from South
ern firesides and who are followed by the prayers
of Southern mothers. You recall that it was a
Southern general at San Juan Hill when the battle
was raging fiercest who gave the command “On
ward,” while others were halting —Gen. Joe Wheeler;
it was a Southern admiral who won the victory at
Santiago Bay, Admiral Schley; it was a Southern
boy who planned the battle for his commander at
Manila Bay, Tom Brumby, of Georgia; it was a
Southern stripling who directed the Merrimac into
the channel of death and sank her to imprison the
enemy —it was his own conception and execution
which renders his name immortal in the history
of the naval warfare of the world —Richmond Pear-
The Golden Age for March 25, 1909.
son Hobson; the first life lost in the Spanish-
American war was a Southern boy, Lieutenant
Worth Bagely, of North Carolina. Therefore it is a
chronicle of history that while we hold in sacred
endearment the cherished memories of the past we
yield to none in loyalty to our country, and we are
glad that as the stars and bars no longer reflect the
beauty of the morning sunbeam, nor kisses with its
silken folds the genial breezes of our Southern
clime, and another banner waves intriumph over
its close and prostrate folds, we are glad as Ameri
cans that it is the Stars and Stripes, the Star Span
gled Banner, the flag of our country, which is the
fairest that waves over land or sea as a nation’s
ensign of honor —a flag which has never known
defeat. I expect to live to see the strain of the
'Southern Cavalier sleeping beneath its fluttering
folds at the White House in Washington, as Presi
dent of the republic, and a Southern woman, the
first lady of the land, whose children will play
beneath its waving beauty, upon the White nouse
lawn.
Col. P. T. /loon on Due Process of Lair
R. TOAST MASTER, Governor-Elect
Brown and Gentlemen of this Banquet
Board:
It is with exquisite pleasure that I
respond to your generous call, but realiz
ing that I am only a neophyte in the
arcana of the toast assigned me, and
being profoundly impressed that, “Ves
sels large should venture more, But little
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boats .should keep near shore,” I approach the sub
ject with much misgiving and diffidence, for about it,
in the past, has clustered in rich profusion the wis
dom of the sages, the rounded periods of the elo
quent, and even the poets, forgetting the pearly and
crystallized petals of thought, with the license of
imagery, have adorned it with the vestments of their
creative genius. I bow with deep veneration before
the matchless words “Due Process of Law,” at the
same time knowing that it is difficult for humble
gleaner to gather a few sheaves for the present
occasion, or to discover new fields where harvesters
have not already been, and gathered up the fruits,
and plucked the flowers which enrich and adorn
the words “Due Process of Law” which are but a
synonym for the words “The law of the land.”
It is law that holds its benign sway in the realm
of the material, the intellectual and the spiritual.
We find it in the dew drop that glistens on the
bosom of the blushing flower and the great ocean
with its wide expanse of unsounded depths. It holds
glittering Stars and blazing suns and revolving
worlds in their appointed places. It furnishes a
rule of action for the imperial bird that soars with
tireless pinion in highest air. It is “Due Process
of Law” that preserves order on earth. Without
it government would cease and civilization would
lapse into barbarism. It protects us at home. It
stands sentinel at the door. While we sleep it
watches. When we awake it is by our side, and
goes with us into the highway, the field, the shop,
the office, and the sanctuary. It has concern for
everybody and every interest. It levies tribute to
take care of the destitute and helpless. It confers
rights upon us before we are born. It hovers over
our cradle. It guards us all the way to the grave,
and even then does not abandon us, but lingers there
to protect the grass and flowers that love has
planted from the touch of desecration. It speaks,
and its voice commands what is right and forbids
what is wrong. It is the truth; the whole truth —
truth unmixed —“nothing but the truth!”
The sentence in our Constitution of free govern
ment: “No person shall be deprived of life, liberty,
or property, except by due process of law” will
resound down the centuries. The stars over our
head, the bright emblazonry of God, are not more
eternal or more glorious in the heavens than are
the saving principles back of these few and simple
words in the history of legal liberty.
My tongue can not do justice to the imposing
thoughts they contain. Not if I were a prince
imperial in the aristocracy of intellect, and knighted
Let those who may seek other lands, but give to
me forever this beautiful land of ours, rich in its
traditions of noble women and brave men.
In the beautiful words of the South’s valiant hero
poet, Father Ryan:
Yes, give me a land where ruins are spread,
Where the living walk light on the hearts of the dead,
Yes, give me a land that is blessed by the dust
And bright with the deeds of the down-trodden just.
Yes, give me a land that hath legends and lays
Enshrining the memories of long-vanished days;
Yes, give me the land with a grave in each spot
And names on the graves which will not be forgot.
Yes, give me a land of the wreck and the tomb
There’s grandeur in graves—there’s glory in gloom!
For out of the gloom future brightness is born,
As after the darkness looms the sunrise of morn,
And each single grave with the grass overgrown
May yet prove a footstool to Liberty’s throne;
And each ingle wreck in the warpath of might
Will yet be a rock in the Temple of Right!
(S®
in the kingdom of mellifluous speech. Not if I
were to go into the fields of fancy and pluck all the
rare and kindly adjectives that ever blossomed in
the shining pathway of the diamond pen of William
Shakespeare, or cull from the glittering pages of
Milton’s “Paradise Regained” all the symmetrical
figures of rhetorical beauty that were ever woven
by that immortal dreamer.
“Due Process of Law,” the law of the land, will
live and move, and breathe and gleam until the last
tranquil star shall have burned itself into nothing
ness. It is this “Due Process of Law” that our
distinguished guest who honors us tonight is to ad
minister for thh benefit of all the people in guiding
the helm of our State we hope for the next four
years.
Ocilla Finds a Way.
(Continued from Page 4.)
la’s experience with it, and some others may profit
by it. The council first put a tax of three thousand
dollars on it. And in stepped an old Confederate
soldier and put in his plea that he had a right to
sell it without paying the tax. So he opened up and
sold one glass and our chief of police “pulled him,”
made a case against him, and the recorder put a fine
of seventy-five dollars and cost on him. He appealed
his case to the Court of Appeals and Judge Russell
decided against us. So the old gentleman was fixing
to open again, and we went to work and got the
council to meet in extra session and pass an ordi
nance prohibiting the sale of malt, and put a fine
of one hundred dollars for the violation of the ordi
nance. So we knocked him, out. He was afraid to
undertake it. He was told that if he tried any more
he would have a ease made for every glass he sold,
and he said that he would give bond and continue
to sell. But he was told that he would have so many
cases against him that he would not be able to give
so many bonds, and that if he appealed to the higher
courts, that it would take him six months to get a
hearing before the 'higher courts, and that we would
keep his place locked up for all this time. So he
has given it up. An ordinance against selling malt
with a fine attached will stand in the Supreme Court.
If the towns that do not want the stuff sold in them
will go to work and not mind spending some money,
they can put the near-beer fellows to so much trouble
that it will be impossible for them to make it pay,
and they will have to stop their dirty business.
You can do what you please with this. If you
think it will accomplish any good publish it, or
write one of your own from it. Fraternally,
W. J. Barton.
And to all other infested towns we say:
What Ocilla, brave, can do,
Why, with manhood, may not you?
THE MISSION GIRL, THAT THRILLING NEW
STORY—SEND FOR IT, SI.OO,
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