Newspaper Page Text
WA RN-HEA RJED, WINSONE WINONA
HERE is one thing certain —when I get
ready to get my leg broken again I am
coming to Winona, Miss. Not that I
covet “being broke” any more, for I
have suffered more in these few weeks,
I think, than I did during all my seven
years in bed with my spinal trouble, but
if it must come, if I could lift the veil and
see the spot where I must fall and lie,
T
I think I would be about Winona like Talmage said
about making a world. With Talmagean imagery
and eloquence, he declared: “If I were called on to
make a world, I could think of no more enjoying
topography than lofty mountains and smiling plains;
I could think of no more beautiful carpet for the
earth than the grass and the flowers with which the
Master Builder has covered it; I could think of no
more commanding sentinels with which to guard its
solitudes than the trees that point their heads toward
heaven and clap their hands with joy; I could think
of no more refreshing streams than the rivulets, the
rills and the rivers that water the earth in their
cascades of beauty and their flowing majesty; and
1 could think of no color so splendid for the skies
above as the arching blue of the heaven, and nothing
more beautiful with which to adorn that azure blue
than twinkling stars that gem the brow of night.”
And so, if I were loking for a place to fall I could
think of no friends that could be kinder than those
that gathered about me in front of the post-office
that Monday morning and carried me gently into
the office of The Winona Times (striking coinci
dence that an injured editor should be borne to a
newspaper office in such an hour). I can think of
no more sympathetic newspaper men than Editor
George Williams, and his genial associate, Leon
Trotter. I can think of no broader shoulders or
kinder hands than the stalwart men who bore me
on a stretcher to the home of Pastor Ball three
blocks away. I can think of no more patient, faith
ful physicians than Doctors Trotter and Middleton,
-v-r ▼▼▼■▼TTTTrTTTTrT 4 4-44-4444-4-4.X4.xx
04444444444444444 44444444
H THE CALL OF A TRYING HOUR H
♦* To Our Friends Everywhere: * 44
4 4 If you ever have heard us, or intend to hear us, HEAR US NOW.
it During the early boyhood of our Editor-in-Chief, Mr. W. D. Upshaw,, he was as strong and vigorous physically as any of us, his
it head and heart throbbing with high ambitions for the achievements of his manhood, but at the buoyant age of eighteen his plans for ♦♦
o a useful life were suddenly cut down, when in a fall from a wood wagon on his father’s farm, his back was so injured that he lay on 44
4> bed seven years and a half, and has since had to wear a body brace and go on crutches. But he did not give up. After the first lx
it two years, during which he was as helpless as a three-months’-old babe, with the very slow return of partial strength, came a strong
i i determination to yet make his life mean something to the world. Out of this determination was born the desire to put a pure, whole- tl
4 4 some family paper each week into the homes all over our Southland, and as far beyond as possible, thus helping to shape young 4$
Il minds and mould them into stronger, purer manhood and womanhood. It was a dream, that clung to Mr. Upshaw all through those }t
ii seven years and a half on bed, and he has worked with untiring energy to make this dream a permanent reality since get- !*■
O ting on his feet, feeling the work just as important, and more so, in many respects, as that of Carnegie’s Library It
44 work. It was this conviction that caused THE GOLDEN AGE COMPANY to be formed, and it has been a deepen- 44
41 ing of this conviction on account of the place the paper has won in the hearts of the people that has made both Mr. Upshaw and tt
those others connected with it, cling to it so tenaciously, through not only the ordinary hard work of launching a newspaper, but
also through other circumstances that have made the enterprise extremely hard to man. We have not sought to disguise the fact 44
< 4 from our friends during these four years of struggle to establish THE GOLDEN AGE as a beautiful, inspiring, family paper, that the
daily battle has been fierce and furious. By far the greater portion of the financial, besides the editorial work, has fallen and rested
* ♦ heavily on the shoulders of Mr. Upshaw. He now lies flat on his back in Winona, Miss., where he must stay for several weeks, pos- 4 4
4 4 sibly into the months, his left thigh being broken by a fall from a buggy—cut down on the very threshold of plans that seemed to 4 >
4+ promise deliverance from all the vexing problems before us. t J
o Now, what do we want? Just this: Put yourself in our place and his, as nearly as possible, with our main source of income T 4
O cut off, and extra expenses piling up on account of this misfortune, see his “heart-set” plans tottering, and if you believe in the work 44
4+ or him, know that both need right now a practical expression of that faith and your friendship.
4+ We do not feel it an unreasonable request. Each subscriber gets fully the worth of his or her money in “Dr. Broughton’s Ser- ♦*
*♦ mons alone”—numbers have said so. 4>
Here is a plan we believe easy for you. Every one whose eyes fall on this can “strain a point” a little and send either $2.00 for tt
tX one year’s subscription to THE GOLDEN AGE, or SI.OO for six months. If you are a paid-up subscriber, just advance it one year
ahead, or take a life-time subscription at SIO.OO. The REASON will make you happy. >4
* + One thousand men and women who read these words could raise a club of six at $1.50 each, thus securing the paper free for 44
4+ themselves, or some worthy family, not able to take it; suppose YOU make one of the thousand. Use the telephone. Write a few
4I notes. See several friends face to face. Help them to see that they get their money’s worth, and help to carry this inspiring paper t+
o into other homes while they are lifting the heavy burden of financial anxiety off this man whose life, since his first misfortune, has been >4
44 spent in bearing the burdens of others. .
tt-. A’bit of tact and enthusiasm, and the deed is done. ♦♦
tt A few minutes of generous determination on your part will help to make the valley of trial, through which he and we are passing, 44
44 a mountain height of joy and victory. 41
44 DON’T WAIT ’TILL TOMORROW. THE GOLDEN AGE PUBLISHING COMPANY. tt
44444444444444444444444444444444444444444444 4444444-444444444-44444444444♦♦♦♦♦4»4M»M* + 44444 + + 44444 + + W444+»» 0 44
♦♦ ♦ >444 44-4^4-4 44-44444444>44444tt4444444444444444444444444440444444444444444444444*4444 44444444# ♦ f fY4-fy4 ♦ f ♦ VM Q
The Golden Age for March 31,1910.
Dictated by William D. Upshalv.
with their rotund forms aggregating more than four
hundred pounds, and with hearts bigger than their
bodies; I can think of no more thoughtful neighbors
than those who have sent in good things to tempt
the palate of the stricken guest; I can think of no
more, exquisite flowers than those that have come
from far and near to freight my room with their
beauty and fragrance; I can think of no more fra
ternal preachers than the pastor and other minis
ters who live in the town, and who have brought
the cheer and blessing of their fellowship to my bed-
J I
REV. MARTIN BALL.
side —Bro. J. O. Hall, the Methodist pastor, Bro. E.
V. Johnson, Rector of the Episcopal church; Bro.
B. G. Hammond, who pastors a number of Baptist
churches in the country; Bro. D. M. Gaddie, pastor
of the Winona Methodist circuit; Bro. E. S. Lewis,
the Presiding Elder of the district, the color of
whose hair makes him appear akin to me; dear old
Bro. George Washington Bachmon, a “located” min
ister and colporteur, past his three score years and
ten who makes you think of the famous and beloved
Bishop Charles B. Galloway; and mighty well I
know, I could not find a brighter company of school
children than these here at Winona, whose beam-
ing faces, cheering words and beautiful deeds have
kept me basking in the dew of youth.
And, ah! what shall I say of the great-hearted
man, Pastor Martin Ball, who caught me in his ten
der, stalwart arms and brought me under his own
roof to care for me as for a son? and the “gude”
Scotch wife, quiet, faithful, patient and solicitous—
verily, she must be close akin to the “Mither” of the
“Bonnie Briar Bush,” who sent with her silent lips
the message to her preacher son to speak a “gude
word” for Jesus Christ and her preacher son, the
gifted Fleetwood Ball, versatile writer, and stirring
preacher, is speaking that “gude word” wherever is
heard the voice of his tongue or pen; while her only
other child, Mrs. Robert Howard, of Paris, Tenn.,
with her little dimpled darlings, twin cherubs less
than three years old, have been brightening the
home of their grandfather and grandmother, with
the music of their baby prattle and the sunshine of
their happy lives.
A Remarkable Man and Preacher.
Martin Ball is no ordinary man. Standing mor*
than six feet, a graduate of the University of Mis
sissippi and of the Southern Baptist Theological
Seminary during its early days at Greenville, he is
a man of wide scholarship and powerful eloquence.
Converted soon after his college days at Oxford, he
straightway entered the ministry, and for more than
a quarter of a century he has builded as bravely,
wisely and securely as any man in the ministry to
day. What cares he for the nearly three score years
that have passed over his head? He preaches every
Sunday morning and night in his beautiful neM
church at Winona, and goes out several miles every
Sunday afternoon to preach to country churches.
Thus, pastor of five churches, he is leading a mighty
host in the things of active, progressive Christianity.
He is a glorious illustration that a rightly prepared
man of power and consecration need never be laid
on the shelf. I am a better and a stronger man
forevermore because of my daily fellowship with
(Continued on Page 9.)
5
