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THE NE W ORLEANS CAMPAIGN
HE battle is on down here in this Cath
olic “Crescent City.” On one side is
the Devil, backed 'by 2,000 saloons, a
wild and frantic commercialism, and
thousands and thousands of benighted
and ignorant Catholics looking to the
“church” for salvation. On the other
side is the evangelistic force of the
Home Board of the Southern Baptist
T
Convention, (backed by six Baptist churches, pray
ing, dead in earnest, and looking to Qod for victory.
“What shall the harvest be?” The next two weeks
will tell.
Victory is not going to be easy down here, and
yet all things are possible with God. We are expect
ing a great revival here in this city. The campaign
has been on for only a week, and yet we feel like
shouting. We have two more weeks of effort and
prayer. They are going to be great weeks. Why?
First, because the churches prepared for the meeting
before the evangelists came. One church began
daily prayer meeting last fall and had daily prayer
meeting until the evangelists came. Nearly every
Baptist church in the city had daily prayer meeting
a month or six weeks before the revival began.
Two weeks before the evangelists arrived we had
union prayer meetings. All the churches met to
gether and spent from two to three hours in prayer
and praise to God as a preparation for the three
weeks’ effort. Our people in the city were praying
long before the evangelists arrived.
Again, the campaign was begun by a study of the
Bible. During the first week there was a daily Bible
THE MISSION GIRL OUT!
Il Is a Charming, Story—'Beautiful Inside and Out
Send Tor It-"Do ItNoiv”
We are delighted to announce that that beautiful story “The Mission Girl of The Golden Age,”
has come from the press of the Interstate Publishing Co., and it is “a beauty.” It has a captivating
cover design and will “look good” on your center table at first, and then in your library, after you
have finished its thrilling pages.
The “old folks” will feast on it, the young people will “enthuse” over it, and the neighbors will
cry for it when they once learn of its charm and its beauty. Our favorite story writer,
Odessa Strickland Payne, is at her best in “The Mission Girl,” and the fascination of its plot, the
inspiration of its real-life characters, the lilt of its movement, the rose-tint of its romance, and the
stir of its purpose —all call mightily to the enchained reader’s head and heart. Send a dollar to The
Golden Age, Atlanta, Ga., and “The Mission Girl” will hurry to see you!
"The Limit of the Line. ”
(Continued from Page 6.)
spired against Mr. Ford. Dr. Rogers can't be
located. Dr. Bloxam is out of Water Oaks for the
night. Manson seems to have a good memory about
former attacks and the remedies used, but for him,
Mr. Ford’s case would be perfectly hopeless. Mrs.
Ford,” she added with the faint shadow of a
smile, “may be unemotional about things in genera],
but she is half wild about young Ford tonight, ami
who could blame her? I, myself, have not been >o
unhappy in years, lie has been so good to Little
Nell, and all of us. He has bridged the gulf be
tween his great wealth and our poverty, with a.
thousand kindnesses.' ’
“Yes, he has been our friend. Mater," Shirley
replied, her glance fixed on iir >'(>■.. Hare of the
hickory flames, “and it seems to me, that it is up
to us to turn the wheel of Fate, somehow, so as to
give him a fighting chance.”
“Why, how can we, Shirley?”
“ ; We must get Dr. Bloxam. Mater. Manson floes
not know very much about our roads, and <ven if
Concerted 'Effort for Re bib al in the Wicked Crescent City.
conference. Dr. Mullins spoke to us on Romans.
Dr. Hamilton and his co-workers spoke on consecra
tion, prayer, the Holy Spirit, and personal work.
These topics were treated strictly from a Biblical
standpoint. The people came daily with their Bibles
and stayed all day to hear “dry Bible topics.”
Again, the men who are leading us in the battle
are sane evangelists. They preach God’s..word —His
wrath and His love —His mercy and His anger. In
other words, these Home Board evangelists preach
on Hell as a place for non-believers. They actually
preach on Hell —red, crimson, burning, flaming, un
ending Hell, as the abode of non-believers. They
actually are doing this, and it sounds very good to
me. You recall that Jonathan Edwards preached on
Hell occasionally and he was a great evangelist. You
recall that R. A. Torrey preaches on Hell occasion
ally, and he has converts by the thousands. These
evangelists who are leading us are preaching in New
Orleans with the passages on Hell underscored.
That’s why we are going to have a revival. These
evangelists are praying men. They wait on God, —
agonize, yearn before Him. During this first week
we have already had an all night prayer meeting.
These evangelists look to God for the power and the
strength. And they tell the people to look to Him.
(Should we not have great things to report at the
end? Christians everywhere, pray for us and with
us. Pray for the evangelists and the pastors. The
secret of the Boston revival was prayer from thou
sands of Christian hosts. The secret of the New
Orleans revival will be prayer on the part of God’s
people. R. L. Bolton.
4508 Camp St., New Orleans, La.
Eg® Eg® Eg®
he did, he could not be spared from Mr. Ford’s
bedside. “But I know the Flat Shoals road. With
Mrs. Merton’s ‘Brunhilde’ .1 could do the eight miles
in less than an hour. No, I am not mad! Gratitude
is one of the fundamentals, Mater, of my nature.
Who came to my rescue when the Suburban was
wrecked? Who spared you all possible anxiety, in
the matter, at that time?”
“But think of the danger, child —a lonely country
road at this hour.”
Then Mrs. Bryan suddenly paused, putting her
face down in her finely modeled hands for a moment.
When she looked up again there was a new illumina
tion in her eyes, and her voice thrilled with emotion,
as she exclaimed.
“No! Don’t think of yourself —but of the friend,
who, in spite of his millions, has come to his hour
of need. I’ll ’phone Mrs. Merton for ‘ Brunhilde. ’
1 know that you are a perfectly fearless rider, and,
as for the balance you can trust in God.”
'Shirley threw her arms around her mother’s neck
and kissed her impulsively; for she knew’ that no
greater sacrifice could have been required of her.
A man doubtless could have been found and per
suaded to go, for the money. But they could not
The Golden Age for March 25, 1909.
think of any one in the excitement of the moment;
and, time was precious—any moment of it might
mean life or death to the magnetic young man up
stairs, whose life was vibrating on the scales, swung
between the Here and Now, and the Hereafter.
The girl hurried to her own room. She buttoned
on a heavier jacket, and tied on a cap with a
thick blue tissue veil. She broke open a pair of
Smith & Wessons, slipped in fresh brass-headed
cartridges, and then snapped them shut again.
“I don’t intend to be stopped,” she said, setting
her teeth, as she pulled on her gauntlets. “If there
is an undesirable citizen in the way, I intend to do
what is right. This is a little theatrical, but that
road is horribly woody, in spots.” Slhe tripped
down (he back stairway to the veranda, where Uncle
Jake, slightly rheumatic, slightly asthmatic, held the
bridle of Brun'hilde.
“ Who yuh tryin’ to prance ober,” Uncle Jake
blowed. “Kep dem white hoofs ter yerself. Dis
is Dilsey’s Join’s! Whoa! I’ll saw yer proud lip
off. I wouldn’t ride dis (horse, es all de million
aires in de world died. Stop switcliin’ yuh Uncle
Jake in de ear wid dat long tail. Es I don’t
amputate it, it’ll be ’cause Ole Miss done hid de
rose shears.”
“Hold him, Jake,” Shirley commanded, “just a
moment, please. There. Thank you.” She sprang
lightly into the saddle.
“De back gate ain’t open, Miss Shirley,” called
Uncle Jake. “Ride dat tornado round de yard,
honey. I plumb forgot to open dat monstrous heavy
gate.”
“What do I care for a five-barred gate?” Shirley
called back.
Miss Ford happened to go to her room, a few
moments later, and as the wind was blowing a gale
through one of the windows, she walked to it and
pulled the sash down. She chanced to glance toward
the lot, as the moon came out in dazzling radiance
from under a fleet of clouds. She- saw a slight
figure on a powerful black horse gallop round the
enclosure and then swing over a five-barred gate,
lightly as a swallow.
“I’ve had enough drama for tonight, even for
me,” murmured Miss Ford, and she closed her eyes.
(To be continued.)
A Tender Tribute to J. William Jones.
(Columbus, Ga., Enquirer-Bun.)
At the mid-week prayer meeting- at the First Bap
tist church last night, Mr. William I). Upshaw paid
a tender, beautiful tribute to the life, character and
influence of Dr. J. William Jones, the pastor’s dis
tinguished father, whose death had just been an
nounced.
Mr. Upshaw stated that he had chosen another
subject for the evening, but that the announcement
of the death of the great man who was as good as
he was famous had so touched and saddened his
heart that he could not think or talk of anything
else. He said that while those present had feasted
for three years on the masterful preaching of Dr.
Ashby Jones, it was just possible that some, at least,
were not fully aware of the fame and the real great
ness of his honored father who had beer called to
God from the home of his son in Columbus.
Among other things, Mr. Upshaw said: “My first
real acquaintance with this great man who has hon
ored this city with his closing days, and hallowed it
with his death, dates back to the time when I was
spending my seven years on bed. I read of him
and from him through the Christian Index, and es
pecially through his great book, ‘ Christ in the
Camp.’ My own father read it to me at my bed
side and it brought such a tribute of tears and spir
itual blessing as no other book ever brought me be
fore or since. J. William Jones not only wrote his
tory, but he made history with his own great heroic
life. He was not only the ‘Historian of the Confed
eracy,’ but he was a preacher of power, a scholar
of signal achievements, a patriot of sacred passion
and a Christian gentleman with a heart of gold.”
Mr. Upshaw closed with a tender, striking tribute
to the contribution which the great man and his con
sort had made to the world in giving such a band of
sons and brothers as stalwart Christian men aud
preachers of the everlasting gpspel of God,
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