The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1893-07-19
We are making Mammon our god and
the millionaire DIR idol.

lot until the alien and clear.headed,
but cold.hearted, speculators from the
| North came Southwark, stretching
their nets for the loaves and fishes,
were the mass of the Southern people
in the race for wealth. How times
have changed We are trying to out.
strip each other; not in the noble vir-
| tues, the sweet charities and refine.
| ments Of social life, the sacred claims
| of the freside and the homie Of patri-
otism and religion, but III the crazy
greed TOR gaih:. What hieans it when
distinguished commencement orator
tells the graduating class: ''Young
men, put money in your pockets. A
man with money is king /; without it a
pigmy?" What means it when men
Of wealth and not men Of brains are
the mighty men In the counCil cham
bers Of the nation
What place is there among us for
letters, for art, for culture, for social
distinction, SUPERB :. mental endow:
hshts; when The millionaire; the nat:
ent medicine man, the maker Of toilet
soaps, the railroad magnate, the giant
monopolists are set high above the
poet, the painter, the sculptor, the
Statesman, the teacher, the farmer /?
God grant that the South, whose
every foot Of soil is hallowed by the
blood Of brave t1en-=hete, where ma
ture has done her best, where skies,
as "soft as those of Italy, are hung.
in beautiful TRANSPARENCY above and
glory like a summers dream floats q er
She rich landscape" God grant that
this Old South,
'.Rlch In the memories Of bygone years.
Long glowing sunshine, genial South
! winds sigh.
Wit, music, friendship-all that life en-
dears,''
may keep forever from her territory
the Eastern nabobs who bow at no
shrine save Mammon' s; who would, if
they could, monopolize the very air,
bottle the sunshine and dew, corner
| the rains that quench the, thirst Of
withering flowers; and; Midas:like;
turn to Mamm5n's mint the gUlden
| robes Of dying day: Well did Virgil
say: "Accursed craving for gold,
what dost thou not drive mortal
breasts to do ?" What has Mammon
ever done for hiah2 Cerroding the
heart, drying up the fountains Of
a@e5tiJn, sraditating The love Of
beauty, of honor and Of truth, thou
hast taught him how to be cunning, to-
pillage, to plumber and to slay, but
thou hast not given him one high and
ennobling thought has never melted
him to one unselfsh act, to one mag
haniIhous purp9se. What does the
world owe to Crssus, to Midas, to
| Crassus, or to Gould :? The men at
whose shrines humanity worships, the
| intellectual and material saviors Of
| the race, the poet, the artist, the
teacher and the missionary the men
who have joined
| That countless choir. invisible
or those immortal dead who live again
In lives made bitter by their presence:
- live
In pulses stirred to generosity,
Ii deeds Of daring rectituds,, In scorn
For miserable aims that ends In self,
In thonghts sublime that pierce the night
Ike stars;
And with their mild persistence urge
mems minds
To vaster issues
these men have never. bowed at Nam
mons shrine.
Shakespeare, a Northern professor
| informs US, wrote his dramas not for
glory, not to make the world better,
but to put money into his pocket.
Was, then, the Baird of Avon, the
"myriad-minded, ''thousand-souled'
Shakespeare, that "sweet and gentle
spirit, beloved by all who knew him, {"
a greedy, grasping, avaricious man ?
Hear the words of Chas. Lamb
"Nothing can be more delightful than
to contemplate this wonderful man, in
the full vigor of his life and in the
full possession of his amazing facul-
ties, retiring from the scenes Of his
well-earned triumph to find in the Sc
clusion of his native town that repose
and quietude, both Of body and mind,
which is not to be looked for in the bus
tie of the world. And if he, whose
glory it was to fill the universe, and
whose pursuits were worthy Of an i'm
mortal soul, could pant for retirement
in, the meridian Of his days, what ex-
cuse have they who, in senectitude
and feebleness, continue to toll among
the mole hills of earth for little per-
ishable gold, for which they have no
use when they have obtained it ?"
The inordinate desire rapidly to be-
come rich is sapping the very founda-
tions of our rural life. 1t is this that
is putting the blight of death and de-
cay upon agricultural pursuits. l
have travelled through our country
districts and I know that coarse and
selfish greed has put it's curse upon
the life of even the poorest country
man. I have seen cabins placed upon
the naked hillside exposed to the
burning heat of summer and the chill
ing blasts of winter. Why did that
poor fellow fell those magnificent oaks
that stood like giant sentinels around
his lonely cabin :? Why no flowers in
front of that humble home ? Why no
vine above the door with "grapes
growing purple in the kisses of the
autumn sun ?" 1t is because he has
no taste for the beautiful, because he
puts money-value on everything.
In this sunny Southland, where, for
six months in the year, family may
almost live upon the produce Of good
garden, hundreds of farmers seldom
see a vegetable upon their tables,
scarcely have any garden at all and
why Z? Because when one cal live on
"hog and hominy' what is the use of
growing a garden There is no
money in a garden. There are hun
dreds OF farmers, and well-to-do far
mers who rarely see any books but al
manacs and reports of Congress sent
to them by some politician at the ex-
pense of the Government; no period
icals, no b US and girls paper. And
why? Because there is no money in
these things. They eat and sleep and
toll, and toll the whole day long. |
bovo baar. mvself q farmer how. and I