Newspaper Page Text
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Beautiful Memorial to Prohibition .Leader
LADIES OF W. C. T. U. IN CATRO, GA., BOYHOOD HOME OF THE LATE CONGRESSMAN RODDENBERRY, WILL BUILD A
PRACTICAL MONUMENT TO HIS MEMORY—LET OTHERS HELP.
HE Golden Age is in receipt of a letter
from Mrs. J. S. Weathers, secretary of
the Woman’s Christian Temperance
ID
Union at Cairo, Ga., unfolding the
beautiful purpose of those loyal, enterprising
women to build a fitting monument to Judge
Anderson Roddenberry, who recently died at
Thomasville. Read the letter and send a lib
eral contribution:
Editor Golden Age:
The W. C. T. U.’s of Cairo are trying to
raise funds to erect a memorial to the late Con
gressman Roddenberry, the great prohibition
leader of the Second district of Georgia. As
this is the placeof his birth and the place where
several members of his family and his aged
mother now live, we thought this would be the
proper place for such a memorial. We do not
expect to raise the money for a fitting memor
ial among our own members, as we do not
think this is possible, but we do hope to make
the W. C. T. U. union the means of carry
ing out this great work, and I am writing you
in behalf of the union here, asking that you
present this matter through your paper, The
Golden Age.
We do not know just yet what will be the
(Continued from last week.)
“Your wife is doing the work of a house
hold of sixteen people,” said Uncle Paul.
“She is drudging as you could hire no for
eigner to drudge. She is rising early and
lying down late. She is offering up her life on
the shrine of your farm and its requirements.
I have seen her grow thin and pale, even
during the few days I have been here. I have
carried water and split wood for her, because
there was no one to do it. I have seen her
carry up Mrs. Belford’s breakfast daily to her
room, because Mrs. Belford preferred to lie in
bed; and cooking dainty dishes for Helen Pat
terson, because Helen couldn’t eat what the
rest liked. No galley slave ever worked as she
does. And you, with your hired men, whose
board only adds to her cares, and your labor
saving machinery, stand coolly by and see her
commit slow suicide. Yes, Nephew Seth, I
think it is a case for lynching!”
Seth had grown pale.
“I—l never thought of this,” said he. “Why
didn’t some one tell me?”
“Where were your own eyes?” asked Uncle
Paul.
Seth Bellenden rolled down his shirt sleeves,
put on his coat and went into the house. He
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THOU ART THE MAN.
THE GOLDEN AGE FOR WEEK OF NOV. 13
M i 1
$ Wot. ; w
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■■ ■ 7
Hon. Anderson Roddenberry.
nature of the memorial, as that will depend
to a large extent upon the amount of money
raised for the purpose. We wish, however, to
build a public library, with reading room and
rest combined.
told the Belfords and Pattersons that it was
inconvenient to keep them any longer. He
gave Cousin Susan to understand that her
room was needed. He made arrangements to
board the hired men at a vacant farm-house,
and engaged a stout dairyman and house ser
vant to wait on Lucy. He telegraphed to her
father to come to Sylvan Bridge at once.
“She deserves a treat,” he said. “He shall
spend the summer with us.”
And then he went to tell Lucy.
She had fainted among the buttercups,
picking strawberries for tea.
Poor little Lucy! The machinery had re
fused to' revolve any longer.
His heart grew cold within him.
“She will die,” he thought, “and I shall
have murdered her!”
But she did not die. She recovered her
strength by degrees.
And Uncle Paul, “the last straw,” as she
had called him, had proved her salvation.
“I didn’t want her to go as Eliab’s wife
did,” said Uncle Paul. —Home Circle.
The best way to keep good acts in memory
is to refresh them with new ones.
We will greatly appreciate all funds you
might raise.
Thanking you in behalf of the ladies of the
local union, I am,
Yours very truly,
MRS. J. S. WEATHERS,
Secretary Cairo W. C. T. U.
There may be some —naturally the good peo
ple living in Thomasville, who will feel that
this memorial ought to be built in the town
where Judge Roddenberry really rose to na
tional fame. We are in favor of both. While
a monument to Congerssman Roddenberry
ought to stand in the very heart of Thomas
ville, yet we feel, with these noble women of
Cairo, that the boyhood home of the heroic
prohibition leader ought to be the spot where
nation-wide interest will build a proper me
morial. It was there that the boy-orator of
eighteen made his first prohibition speech—
the speech that drove bar-rooms out of Cairo
and started the wave of vigilant sentiment
which finally lifted the White Ribbon above
each county in South Georgia and many coun
ties in “the regions beyond. Send a big-heart
ed contribution to Mrs. J. S. Weathers, Cairo,.
Ga., and DO IT NOW!
LUKE LEA’S ELOQUENT TRIBUTE TO
CARMACK.
(Continued from page i 5.)
brave charge up the hill of death over the breast
works of eternity. A new order is upon us—grass is
growing in the forts where the legions of liquor made
their last stand; their camp fires are ashes, their
commissaries misty with spider webs, their coffers
empty, their soldiers scattered, their leaders no long
er seen under the old standards. The conquering:
legions are marching in triumphant columns in
peaceful parade, celebrating the victory of right, and
as they pass the hallowed spot each one, captain and
private, must salute the lonely figure in black and
fatherless boy comforting her, remembering it was
the sacrifices of Carmack that made the triumph pos
sible.
“It was the battles Carmack lost which won the
war.
“Let us pay tribute to every soldier of the cause
for the blows he struck. Weak if he was weak,
strong if he was strong, but it is our duty to write
it big and bold in the permanent record of Tennes
see’s history that as the shot that enrolled Lincoln
among the immortals, proclaimed freedom from hu
man slavery in this country, so it is the shot that
buried Carmack in a martyr’s grave as it echoes
on a November afternoon five years afterwards pro
claiming Tennessee’s freedom from whisky’s curse.
“There’s glory enough in the triumph of the cause
for the rest of us, but there’s immortality in it
for Carmack, great both quick and dead.
“Au revoir, Chief, we followed you living, dead
your example is our standard.
‘ “There is no death! An angel froom
Walks o’er the earth with silent tread;
He bears our best loved things away,
And then we call them ‘dead.’
‘ “And ever near us, though unseen,
The dear immortal spirits tread;
For all the boundless universe
Is life —'there are no dead.” i