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The Golden Age
Published Every Thursday by The Golden Age
Publishing Company (Inc.)
OFFICES: AUSTELL BUILDING, ATLANTA, GA.
WILLIAM D. UPSHAW .... Editor
MRS. WILLIAM D. UPSHAW . Associate Editor
MRS. G. B. LINDSEY < . . Managing Editor
LEN G. BROUGHTON . . Pulpit Editor
Price: $1.50 a Year
In cases of foreign address fifty cents should be added
to cover additional postage.
Entered in the Postoffice in Atlanta, Ga., as second class matter
DON’T JOKE ABOUT CARRIE NATION.
Now that she is gone, good people, don’t
you think it is time to stop joking about Car
rie Nation?
She Made True, she did many things
People Think, as we would not have done
them, but to begin with she
had a terrible personal provocation.
People who heard her thrilling story from
the platform always opened their eyes to the
conviction that Carrie Nation was a much
stronger and nner spirit than they had im
agined from newspaper reports.
Remember this—Carrie Nation arrested
attention— she made people think along
wholesome lines.
We don’t believe she lived in vain.
HURRAH FOR THE GIDEONS!
It is a mental, moral, spiritual and physical
tonic—all in one, to run up on a sturdy Chris
tian ‘‘drummer” on the
Christian Drum- train. When such person
mers Fight Sun- alities are so scarce (not so
day Baseball. scarce as they used to be,
thank the Lord), you in
deed feel like calling a Christian traveling
salesman an “angel of commerce.” These
“Gideons” are doing incalculable good, not
only among their fellow-salesmen, but as a
vigorous evangelical and civic force wher
ever they go.
At their last meeting at the Kimball House
in Atlanta they passed ringing resolutions
warning the people of Georgia against the
dangers of Sunday baseball. They pointed
out the moral blight that has come to other
states from Sunday baseball and urged the
people of Georgia to stand firm as a rock in
fignting back this curse.
FAIR FLORIDA’S SHAME.
The meaning of Alex W. Bealer’s magnifi
cent article in a recent issue of The Golden
Age on “The Mullet or
Legislature Helps the Child” is brought
Pensacola to Dese- afresh to mind by the
crate the Sabbath, press dispatches that
announce the passage of
the Pensacola charter bill. That new char
ter allows Sunday baseball in Pensacola. Why
didn’t Florida’s Governor veto the shameful
bill? Evidently— because he didn’t want to!
Florida passes a law to protect her fish, but
lets her children stifle out their little lives in
her factories; Florida lets her gin mills grind
her youth, her homes and happiness to death;
and now Florida proposes the destruction of
the Christian Sabbath, one of the chief cor
ner-stones of our Christian civilization. We
love Florida too well to see these mill-stones
about her neck. Let the “Land of Flowers”
awake I
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The Golden Age for June 15, 1911.
The Dark Ages are lighted again with the
martyr fires of the saints and men and
women who love God’s
Rekindling the Truth better than they
Martyr Fires. love their lives are “going
Home” amid shouts of tri
umph on the wreathing bosom of flame.
Papal “bulls” are being defied with holy
indignation and the fundamental doctrines of
individualism before God and the State are
being preached afresh with fearless hearts
and tongues of fire.
At the Baptist World’s Alliance in session
at Philadelphia, not only prominent men in
pulpit and pew from all parts of the world
are gathered, but several hundred intrepid
NOT the “TEDDY BEAR” but the TEDDY BOY
Quentin Roosevelt, “son of his father,” did
a fine thing the other day—indeed, he was a
Son of the “Lion
Hunter” Wins
and Loses.
School, Cambridge. But the press dispatch
dims the lustre of the honor when it adds
that young Roosevelt half apologizes for win
ning this class distinction by saying that he
would “much rather be good at baseball and
football.” Alas! my boy, what made you
say it? or worse—what made you think it
and feel it? It is all right for your distin
guished father to be a “lion hunter” and a
general propagandist and an ocular demon
stration of athletics and strenuosity; but
these things alone would never have elevated
him to his present pedestal of heroic states
manship. It was his masterful manhood,
LOST SALOON-KEEPER’S RESPECT
Verily, a preacher of the Gospel is in a
bad fix when he loses the common, ordinary
respect of a barkeeper. And yet,
A Preacher be it remembered, 0 macca
in a Mighty roni minister, that while a sa-
Bad Fix. loon man may fuss at you and
“cuss” at you for attacking his
business he wouldn’t wipe his foot on you if
you, through cowardly “conservatism,” were
to fail to do the thing for which he out
wardly condemns you.
A loyal pastor in a certain Virginia town
writes:
Feeling that you might be able to use an
incident that came to my notice last Satur
day, I will give it to you, praying God’s bless
ing upon you in your work for temperance
and purity. Here it is:
In three blocks of me lives a wealthy bar
keeper. He is at home now just recovering
from a drunken spree. As before on such
occasions he has sent for me, asking me to
pray for him. Last Saturday afternoon when
in the home, I told him that his business was
absolutely wrong, yet I loved him and would
do him a kindness as quickly as to any man
• i
i Ambitious Boys and Girls Listen! i
If you want to work your way through school next year, write to us at f
| once. Tell us what school you wish to attend. Many bright, brave boys and girls, i
| thirsting for an education, have put themselves into college working for The t
? Golden Age. You can do it, too, if you will just say “I WILL!” I
I Write to us today! THE GOLDEN AGE, Atlanta, Ga. t
? •
THE PHILADELPHIA GA THERING
good many days doing
the thing. He won a
prize for being “the sec
ond brightest scholar in
his class” in the Groton
souls, obscure in the eyes of men, but faith
ful to God’s Truth at whatever cost, have
been brought from the continent by the love
and gifts of their brethren.
It is beautiful to see these more fortunate
disciples worshipping God themselves in free
dom, bring their lonely European brethren to
have fellowship in this high and ardent hour
with the great people of whom they rejoice,
at the price of suffering, to be a part.
Whatever the denominational alignment of
any man he must agree that the world is
richer—infinitely richer because of this
world-wide gathering of a people whose mar
tyred ancestors taught humanity its first les
sons of liberty of conscience and freedom of
soul.
plus his applied scholarship that gave him
his proud position as a world figure. If he
had only been “good at baseball and football”
he never would have been the scholar and
statesman that he is.
Without wishing to be “long-haired” or
pessimistic in the least, we must declare that
our college ideals in America are in great
danger.
We believe in enthusiasm over clean col
lege athletics, but it is positively pitiful and
tragic to see a student-body go wild over ath
letic contests while intellectual battles go
begging and literary societies languish.
A boy who delves deep into the library,
weaves facts into a powerful argument and
overcomes an opponent in a forensic tourna
ment is far better equipped for enlarged use
fulness in the world than the fellow who can
make “touch-down” or kick a football over
the fence.
in the world. Then he said to me: “I believe
you are my friend, Mr. , and as to my
business I am ashamed of it, and if you liked
my business I could not respect you as a
Christian.” Then his wife told me that sev
eral years ago when there was a local option
light in this town, that a certain pastor would
not take a stand against the liquor traffic, and
said she: “My husband has never had any
respect for him.” Would it not be great if
the preachers could all realize that the bar
keeper loses respect for him not for fighting
his business, but for not fighting it?
* ❖ ❖ * * * $ * *
In other words, Bro. Preacher, you must
remember that in the eyes of the state you
are not “Bro. Preacher” but “MR. MAN.”
And any preacher who forgets that he is a
citizen of the kingdom of men as well as a
citizen of the Kingdom of God, and whose
cringing fear of the pew and the mob pre
vents his teaching his congregation how to
vote on the great moral question of the sa
loon or no saloon—well, such a preacher is
not fit to be pastor of a coop of chickens!
