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A WOMAN’S APPEAL
To all knowing sufferers of rheumatism,
whether muscular or of the joints, sciatica,
lumbagos, backache, pains in the kidneys
or neuralgia pains, to write to her for a
home treatment which has repeatedly cured
ail of these tortures. She feels it her duty
to send It to all sufferers FREE. You cure
yourself at home as thousands will testify
—no ehange of climate being necessary.
This simple discovery banishes uric add
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purifies the blood, and brightens the eyes,
giving elasticity and tone to the whole sys
tem. If the above interests you, for proof
address Mrs. M. Summers, Box 576, South
Bend, Ind.
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VOICES OF YOUTH
CONDUCTED BY MRS. G. B. LINDSEY.
The summer fast is aging into fall,
The leaves are taking on their Au
tumn hue;
The birds no longer chirp their mating
call;
The flower petals all are scattered,
too.
Old Mother Earth will soon begin to
claim
The Life she gave to everything in
Spring.
The cooing of the dove is sad and lone;
His mate no longer hears his call for
home;
The wind is sighing soft and low
For Summer’s fleeting moments, as
they go
Into the dark and soon forgotten past,
Where every living thing will rest at
last.
And so it is with every fleeting year—
We see a shadow on the wall of time
Which tells in pictures all too clear,
CHAT.
My Dear Boys and Girls:
Shame on you! I thought I was go
ing to have a big, newsy bunch of let
ters from every one of you to fill your
department this week. But only one
little Sister remembered her busy
“Sister Margaret.”
Your Little Mother is still in bed,
although we have her at home now.
She sends lots of love to her family
circle, and hopes soon to he able to
write you a long motherly chat.
Last Sunday night I had the pleas
ure of attending a moving picture
show. “Horrors!” Did I hear one of
you say that? Yes, I really did, hut it
was in church, and the pictures shown
were taken by a missionary to China.
In them he tried to show to those
of us in the homeland some of the cus
toms and conditions that are holding
our little brothers and sisters of the
Orient in a death grip of ignorance,
superstition and positive suffering.
And, remarkable to believe, God has
given them a beautiful country to live
in, all dotted with green clad hills and
snow capped mountains, sky-blue lakes
and laughing rivers. Once upon a
time many thousands of years ago,
they, as a nati®n, worshiped our God,
too, but Satan crept in, clad in the
habiliments of a scholar, and turned
the hearts of the people away from
the true God, and taught them that it
was more intellectual to worship sci
ence, philosophy and many material
things. On and on he led them, blind
folded and unsuspecting, until we say
of them like Paul said of Festus:
“Much lear ing hath made thee mad.”
By the way, I wonder how many of
you can tell me how, when and by
whom the moving picture show was
discovered? Answer me in time for
next week’s publication. See how
many of you can find out.
Lovingly,
“SISTER MARGARET.” •
Dear Little Mother and Circle:
I was just reading of our Little
Mother’s sickness a minute ago. lam
so sorry.
Two weeks ago we had a gracious
meeting at Sardis Baptist church.
Seventeen new members joined, among
them being my brother and myself.
Last week we had a meeting at Mt.
Hebron.
What has become of all our mem-
The Golden Age for September 8, 1910.
SHADOWS
William Horace I{ea.
OS®
That Life, to which we cling in fear,
Must some day pass along the line
We see laid down by nature every
year.
The dawning Spring of childhood’s
early days
Brings with them childish thoughts of
play;
The music of the Spring soon dies
away,
And leaves the Summer’s full-blown
day,
In which we build our castles fair
To shelter those we love from care.
Then Autumn’s thoughtful, serious
mood
Claims our attention for a time,
As Life flows swiftly, surely on
To Winter’s cold and dreary days,
When nature reaches out her arms
again
And gathers in the Life she gave in
Spring.
bers —Julia Iverson Lane, Bartlett Kel
ley, Naughty Girl, and others? If all
of you would write it would make our
page more interesting. I love to read
Harlow Meadow’s letter, but she
hasn’t written in such a long time.
What is the matter?
I enjoyed Sister Margaret’s chat last
week. I wonder what has become of
Brother Willie. He said when he left
us that he would call on us now and
then, but he doesn’t come to our Cor
ner very often, does he?
I hope Little Mother will be well
enough to come out next week. I en
joy Piney Woods Sketches.
I will close, hoping that the Father
will care for the Little Mother and
Circle.
Your loving Cousin,
CYNTHIA VERA WRIGHT.
Hartwell, Ga.
*
PREACHING WITH A SHOVEL.
By Emily H. Miller.
It was a dreary winter evening, and
Laura was snuggled up in a corner of
the sofa with her book in her lap, just
in the middle of a most delightful
story. The boys were playing in the
corner ,and now and then she caught
a scrap of their talk, hut she paid very
little attention to it. Rob was putting
his locomotive together, and Fred was
arranging an orphan asylum with his
alphabet blocks. Twenty-seven or
phans were ranged about the carpet;
some of them in bed, some eating soup
out of Laura’s china dishes, one des
perate fellow in solitary confinement
behind the door, and a long row learn
ing to read from bits of newspaper. The
only trouble was that they all had such
jolly faces; they would grin all the
time; and what can you do with a
boy that grins even when you whip
him?
So presently the orphan asylum was
turned into a gymnasium, where twen
ty-seven little acrobats stood on their
heads, walked on their hands, turned
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f||§ The Reily Taylor Co.
HH New Orleans,U.SlA.
The Law of the White Circle
By Thornwell Jacobs
A Stirring Novel of
"A book to stir the fl fl #9fl ? -
passions, a book that m H
powerfully grips the fl^fly;. j! «- "
pillars of social life.’ -
Tom Watson in The ■
Jeffersonian. '^s
“One of the greatest H
novels ever written by a
Southern man. It is vivid, W
telling, powerful." —John
Trotwood Moore.
“From just such writers, NHHbI mgBBSmSBff
men of authoritative
theught the South will
be awakened to what
is necessary in this negro question—just such books as
The Law of the White Circle, which we should
welcome, read and study." — Birmingham Age-Berald
This novel is absolutely unique in Eng
lish Literature and with the exception
of none Is the only attempt to be philo
sophically accurate in handling this all
absorbing race theme. It is a virile, hon
est, red-blooded presentation of the great
est factor in American life.
Price, $1.25 Postpaid.
Special offer: We will send a copy of
this book postpaid to any subscriber, old
or new, who sends us $2.35 for a year’s
subscription to The Golden Age, or for
$1.60 we will send the novel and extend
the subscription six months. Address
THE GOLDEN AGE,
Austell Building, Atlanta, Ga.
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