Loudon free press. (Loudon, Tenn.) 1852-1855, 1854-10-11
Gold! Gold! Gold!

How shall we escape the yellow finger ofthis
demon ofthe earth! The unholy cry Is echoed
every where, our life is a gilded thread. The
letters of every printed page point towards gold.
1t is echoed in every conversation that man
holds with his fellows, and from his birth to his
grave gold and the lust of gold peoples his
thoughts, spurs his desires, tinges every fancy
and prompts every action. The matn song min
giles with chime Of goldl gold! is rung on every
tinkle of the vesper bell-god twines itself with
every dream of love, with every aspiration. after
fame, even that purchased at the cannoE's
mouth. Gold is trilled from the the syrens lips
ofbeauty's daughter. Gold is the horse cry that
ascends from the Threats of insatiate gamblers
Gold buys and sells the merchants principles
Beneath that golden varnish vice looks so at
tractive that even charity is compelled to shed
Judgment tears at the gided counterfeit. Where
is the wisdom that gold cannot steal and make
its former posseSsor play the fool. See that rev.
erend udge-that naughty secretary-that i'm
perious governor. Gold will buy them all thrice
and make them fetch and come like your span
iel. Gold makes man thing of naught only, fit
to hold the endless last for shining yet unallow-
ed dross. Gold! Gold the words ring in our ears
as We write; Gold is the coveted theme which
echoes in our churches-the preacher means it
even when the holds aloft the sign which is not
that Of mammon. Gold at the cradle-Gold at
the tomb.
Look at the golden lust ofthe merchant, who
at the sacrifice of the best years of his life, has
acquiredenough render him independent each
day of the week still hankering after more dross,
with the fendish sentiment to get that he may
keep others from using. False dreamer and soph
list you must render to your God an account of
your stewardship. Mark, then, thatboy,too lazy to
work except just enough to keep up an appear
ance, and bowling to images there. Poor idiot!
learn that it is not the image you love; but her
golden dross, and that you are but beggar
that should ennob lie manhood.
See yon wanton! Gold is hers and for it she
sold her birthright and her heaven. And
you, We idols of fashion whose hair is deck.
ed with jewels and, whose limbs are clasped
with gold are only her superior by the sport of
circumstances. Cast from your high and polish
ed brow the glttering gewgaws, unclasp the
gilded bands; let those black eyes flash such
as CLEANS from the thunder cloud as the bolt
falls or those soft orbs of liquid blue shined like
stars in sea of azure. Gather flowers to adorn
your foreheads, as Eve did; place on your brows
earth's offerings; entwine the orange blossom
with tresses, the rosebud unite with your blush
es and let the cornelia rival in icy dignity those
snowy blossoms. There is nobler aim for man
than the passion for gold. There is the love of
of power, that you may do good to your fellow |
man, succor the distressed and espouse the |
cause of the oppressed. Let intelligence guide
your wand ering thoughts; think and while pro-
vidng for your own household remember there |
is yet a higher sphere of action to which you
must be called where the gold you coined on
earth will be as worthless as the dust of the sin
ews which toied for it.