Newspaper Page Text
[For The Sunny South.]
BOSA VENTURE.*
BY HENRY C. MAKER.
Somewhat backward from the ocean.
From ita shipwreck and commotion,
Peaceful as an opiate lotion
To the hot and pain-racked head;
From the city's battle-crest,
And its toiling and uurest,
Holy as a mother's breast,
Lies this offering to the dead.
Here, the breezes from their toils,
Heart-sickened with turmoils,
With the ocean and its spoils,
And its many-swelling shrouds,
Blown by the wrath of seas
To these silver-headed trees.
Like the songs of Naiades,
Come on cornelian clouds.
Here, forgetful of their losses,
And forgetful of their crosses,
Among the leaden mosBes
They sing themselves to rest—
As in those ancient days
When heaveu’B first notes of praise
Fell in pure, unmeasured lays
From the Dryad’s rugged breast.
Has it been thy boon at even,
When this anthem, like a leaven
From the vestal aisles of heaven,
Leav'neth the arches overhead.
In the soul's unspoken whisper,
Soft as a prayer at vesper.
By the peaceful light of Hesper,
To see this bivouac of the dead ?
Thou hast seen its shades, primeval
As Nature’s first cathedral
When elfin choirs coeval
Sang their chants of iuyBtie rite,
And the fawn in forest bowers
Slept on through peaceful hours
Soothed by the breath of flowers,
Breathed on the bosom of the night.
Pointing upward to the skies,
Thou hast seen the marble rise,
Beneath whose shadow lies
Mortality’s last dream;
And the patient, sleepless river,
Flowing outward and forever,
On whose tide the shadows quiver,
As barge on Charon's stream.
In their patience they await
The hour soon or late.
In the day of unknown date,
Whose record is the grave;
And the peace of Gilead's balm,
And Sharon's groves of palm,
And Bouaveuture's calm.
Are taught us in ethics of the wave.
Where the silver star-beams rest
On the marble's pallid crest,
And the owlet from its nest
Its tale of night has read;
Where the evening dews are wending,
Down with silver beams descending,
On the erimpled mosses blending,
Like ointment on the pilgrim's head;
Where now the mounded heath,
Over Tatnall's sleep of death,
Glimmers in the dewy breath
From the summer's holocaust,—
Ouce the yule-log's reaching fires
Sent up their lambent spires,
As if rivaling in desires
The welcomes and embraces of the host.
But the Yellow Death autumnal
Sits over all triumphal,
And the silver groves columnal,
Bear the sceptre of his sway;
To the clanking of his shield
The reaper bows the field,—
Their green the meadows yield,
And the hills in the night turn gray.
*A beautiful cemetery near Savannah. It is the burial-
place of Commodore Tatnall, and was the home of his
ancestors.
The baby must be brought to church and j making hasty trips to add a fresh touch to baby,
baptized, certainly. It was easy enough to do ' as she lay in nurse's arms. The scarlet specks
this, and to name her, too, thought the Doctor. ; of coral were peeping out from the plump white-
He believed in family names. With him. in i ness of neck and shoulders, and very lovely she
this plebeian country, they were the garters of looked, with her pink list doubled and one
knighthood. Like everybody else, the Doctor little tiny foot showing. Her father sat in the
had a mother, and unlike many other people, i back porch. There was no sunshine on his face.
TEMPERANCE.
OFFICIAL ORGAN OF THE I. O. G. T.
MORAL HEROISM.
BY MRS. L. H.
Tlie Lodges are Responding.
Wp cove below the names of the Iodizes which
(Read before Atlanta Lodge K. of J„ June 1th, 1875.)
“It is a singular infatuation which has in
duced mankind to worship the God of Forces,”
j many names of by-gone ancestors in his mind, gratified smile played over his face, and for a ; more than two. We shall publish all that re- ; e Y®' . . . , ,
but would not settle upon a name until he had j moment banished its gloom. i spond, and keep them standing in type. Social i Looking back through the long vista of by-
consulted his wife, and his eye sought her “who j “Eliza,” he said, “what must we name the j Lodge located at Jewells’, sends up $10 for four S OQ6 . years. we end men, influenced by this
like a jewel had hung many years about his ! baby ?” ’ copies! Let us hear from all at once. sentiment, rearing monumental marbles, not to
1. A. l^r.4 lwi. Inotwn *’ A A. Ilin onrvi i T.'l Tv , M il . 1 L _ _ ... IMP T1M1A llPTlAtflpmr rtf ni« TOPP U'llA hdC IT \
neck, yet never lost her lustre.” As the carn
age whirled from the churcli-door, the Doctor i
spoke.
“My dear,” he said, “what shall we name
the baby ?”
Now, while the last prayers were being said of ;
“ Lily, Doctor,” the sole response.
The Doctor's wrath was fearful.
“I tell you, mudame, I will have no fancy
names in my family. None of us have ever had
a fancy name. My daughter shall be named—”
He did not say what. I besought them to
the morning service, and the litany listened and | agree, but received no reply from Mrs. P. what-
! responded to with a meekly-bowed bead, Mrs. P. j ever; in fact, I did not particularly address my-
bad been busy, too. She thought of Byron and j se lf to her, being always rather afraid of pale,
Lodge 174, at Jewells’ Mills, four copies, $10.
I Lodge 257, at Bartow, two copies, $6.
Lodge 387, at Jonesboro, two copies. $5.
| James Lodge, No. 355, six copies, $15.
Lodge No. 254, Waynesboro, two copies, $5.
A Powerful Document.
They have in
minds—or, in
fair women, that talk but little,
their delicate frames such stron
other words, such'strong wills.
At last, baby, nurse, mother and I are in the
carriage, and big William drives away. The
Doctor,
rider.
upon his
his lovely characters and strange names; and
then she thought of the poet’s daughter, Ada,
1 “Sole daughter of my heart and house.” The
; cases were similar. She half-way determined to
j call her Ada. But no; Byron and his family had
been unhappy, and Ada was dismissed. Mrs.
I'P. was a great reader. She now remembered
Moore, with his rich thoughts of wine and poesy, j Eliza,” he said verv earnestly, almost pathet-
“ I will call her Nourmahal,” she mentally ejac- I ieally, I thought, “what shall we name the
ulated. Nothing could be more sweet or nn- , baby?”
j common. Yes. it shall be Nourmahal, and in- i “Lily,
stead of the last responses, she whispered Nour
mahal, Nourmahal, to accustom herself to the
sound.
The morning service is over, and the minister j
rose with his text, “ Consider the lilies how they ;
grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: and j
i yet I say unto you, that not even Solomon in all
the true benefactor of his race who has pro
moted peace and brought prosperity to his
country, but most frequently to that class whose
blood-shed laurels have been “sown in the fur
rows of battle and reaped by the sickle of death. ”
Who of us has not felt the stealthy creepings
of this incomprehensible yet uncontrollable in
fluence about the most tender fibres of the heart,
when we look hack on the four long and bloody
years of cruel war through which our own bright
sunny land has passed? What heart but swells
The Anniversary Sermon preached by Rev.
Dr. Warren in this city on tlie 31st October, at
the eighth anniversary of Atlanta Lodge No. 1,
is certainly an able document in favor of tern- with patriotism and adoration at the mention of
perance, and we hope every man and woman, a Lee, Johnson, Pelham, or even the name ot the
and especially every minister, into whose hands humblest private who stood firm at his post and
allant Saladin, is our out- the paper may fall, will give it a careful and nn- tell only as the brave can fall, “with bis face to
prejudiced reading. the foe?” And may we continue to honor the
... memory of our martyred countrymen whose
Temperance Items. hones lie bleaching on every battlefield from
Gettysburg to the Mississippi valley. Let us
Grand Worthy Chief Templar J. G. Thrower perpetuate in song and story their deeds of
attended the regular meeting of Hamilton Lodge, i knightly daring; let us evermore keep in kindly
No. 228. on the evening of the 10th instant. He remembrance their unshaken loyalty to their own
liis glory, was arrayed like unto one of these.”
The words caught Mrs. P's ear; they sank into
: her heart, but not as the minister intended they
should. But her baby, who was so fair and so
beautiful, with skin of the whitest tint — her
name should be Lily. Mrs. P., therefore, read
ily answered her good man;
“Lily, Doctor.”
“Lily, Lily.” ejaculated the Doctor amazedly;
and then seeing that Mrs. P. really meant Lily,
he repeated “ Lily ! Lily !” in tones of great con
tempt, and continued:
“ We have never had a fancy name in our fam
ily. It is a vulgarism I will not tolerate. We
can trace our descent ages back by the names,
and I will not disgrace my lineage by discarding
such an honorable example. Madame,” this in a
towering tone, “I shall call my daughter Dolly
Paine, after my mother.'”
The Doctor finished, and looked very angrily
Doct'U’JT-e.tul her mouth closed.
“Oh, dear me, this is very dreadful !” said I,
but internally and mentally. We drove a mile.
The Doctor rode up.
‘Eliza, Eliza, we must name this baby.”
“Well, Lily, Doctor.”
She bad spoken one word more, but the con
clusion was the same. The Doctor ordered Big
William to "drive on.”
The carriage whirled on. the Doctor gallopped
by. After a mile or so, he reigned up Saladin,
installed their officers for the term, and gave en- convictions of right and duty; let tlie places
couragement and infused new life into the lodge where they sleep be the “Delphian caves and the
by one of his practical, straightforward family Mecca shrines of our pilgrimage,” and may we
lectures. year after year perpetuate the floral oft'ering and
A very interesting public meeting was held at scatter sweet-scented flowers over their lowly
Jonesboro on the 9th instant, under the auspices resting-places.
of Jonesboro Lodge No. 387, when a large and We should sadly err if we were to forget that
intelligent audience listened attentively for the loftiest heroism has no necessary connection
and resting a hand upon the carriage window— nearly an hour to one of the most masterly with “battles, sieges and hair-breadth’scapesin
“Eliza,” he said, “for the hundredth time I ! arguments in favor of the organization, by Rev. the imminent deadly breach.” All along the
ask you, what must we name the baby?" with a E. W. Warren, who had kindly consented to lee- pathway of life, in its many conflicts, even in
tore for them on the occasion.’ At night a splen- the performance of its humblest duties, there is
did collation was served by the ever prompt and room an(1 opportunity for the display of a hero-
zealous ladies of the lodge; after which Colonel ism not less ennobling than that which immor-
Watterson, tlie coming mayor of the thriving talized the courage of a Jackson, and crowned
little city, presiding as Chancellor, conferred : with unfading honors the brow of a Washing-
the Sublime Degree of Dorcas on a number of ton - Tllis uioral heroism is at once the sub-
the members present. limest virtue of our Christian religion and the
‘ loftiest traits of universal humanity. It is easy
Important to Good Templars. to s F im witb tlie eurrent of public sentiment,
but it requires courage to breast the tide of pop-
great, long emphasis upon the “ must.”
“Lily, Doctor.”
She was talking less; the signs were ominous.
Another mile or so, and the same question, and
the same laconic answer. That drive was one
long to be remembered.
At last we were in sight of the church.
“Eliza,'’ said the Doctor, “I ask you for the
last time, what shall we name the baby ?”
“ Lily, Doctor.”
“ Ob, dear me !” I exclaimed, in mortal fright.
The Doctor shot ahead, reached the church some
seconds before we did, and was now waiting l'or
us at the church door. We drove up, and there
at his wife. There were clouds rising certainly | stood the Doctor, every trace of auger apparently
in the domestic horizon. They traveled several banished from his face, looking the happy hus-
miles in total silence, hut this, to the great, loving hand to perfection. I was the first to get out,
heart of the Doctor, was unbearable. He again j and then came Mrs. I’,
broke silence—not this time “my dear,” but
“Eliza, what shall we name the baby?” be have decided to call the baby Mary Eliza, after
said, in a very testy tone.
“Lily, Doctor,” calmly replied that little, I
pale, fair woman.
Oh, young masculine reader, of such beware ;
if you wish, with Petruchio, to hold “awful rule, >
and right supremacy.” The dark-skinned ,
woman, Whose veins are filled with quicksilver, ;
whose blood surges like angry waves across her s this to end, I thought. I looked at Mrs. P.
tell-tale face, who will give you a hundred words | was composed, pale and fair, as usual,
to one, is the more easily managed—the more ' ~
quickly swayed. I am a dark-skinned woman
If the temperance men in Georgia are in want ular ridicule, and moral heroism to confront
of encouragement, and wish to prepare them-’ “ the blinding storm of popular execration.”
selves to show to their enemies what has been Moral heroism exhibits itself in the unosten-
aeootuplished by the etforts of Good Templars tatious discharge of duty. Many men, like the
during the past five years, they will find that j canting formalist of olden times, do all “their
information in each issue of The Sunny South , good deeds to be seen of men;” if like their
in future, as I will commence, in the next issue, ■ scriptural prototypes they do not literally sound
a series of statistics from the official records of a trumpet before them to attract the public gaze
Eliza, dear,” lie said in an undertone, “I i the- Revenue Department, and will continue them to their alms, yet they egotistically bring their
j for several weeks. benevolence and seeming humanity before nota-
I will show the number of bar-rooms closed; , ble assemblies with the same spirit of presump-
tlie number of localities, with names, that have I tion. “Nothing short of a kingdom for a stage,
had local legislative action in reference to the and princes and magnates to behold the swell-
sale of alcoholic liquors; the number of locali- ing scene will satisfy their vain-glorious ambi-
ties having voted on restriction under the Local tion.” The moral hero presents a striking con-
Option Act, with the vote cast; the amount of I trast. He, like Buchanan or Cary, is content to
alcoholic liquors manufactured each year for the ' plant the germ of truth in the heart of some
She ! P as * five years, and the decrease in manufacture, ■ tawny Asiatic, not doubting that it will be “bread
The together with other valuable official statistics. cast upon the waters,” and believing that in due
Doctor took his stand, and looked at Mrs. P. This series of articles will be a power in the time he will reap if he faint not. How sacred,
too; and if ever eyes spoke, his said: “Eliza, hands of Good Templars, and I urge upon each how sublime, that sense of duty which con-
yourself and jour mother.”
[Could mortal limn do more?)
“Lily, Doctor,” that woman answered.
The Doctor shoved me right ungraciously in
the church, considering I had nothing to do
with it. We were late. Services had com
menced. I was perspiring profusely—how was
myself. I what shall we name the baby ?” and onee he ac- bulge the duty of supporting the paper liber- , strains a man to toil and strive without any
The Doctor now was very angry—I dare say i tnally, so distraught was he, dropped bis prayer- I a by. Let no lodge miss the first article on this present tangible reward.
never so much so before in bis life.
“Big William,” he yelled out to the driver,
“drive on, you scoundrel.”
One must abuse somebodj'. Now, Big Wil
liam was not verj T large, but he was the oldest
of manj- Williams owned by the Doctor, and he
had learned that big, when applied to him, meant
this. Big William drove on, and landed the
Doctor and ladj r safe at their beautiful home.
The Doctor sprung impatiently out of the carri
age, and either forgetful of the ladj% or too
important recapitulation of glorious results.
Samuel C Robinson, G. W. S.
book. Presently the dreaded words came out:
“Let the candidates for baptism be brought
forward.” . •“*"*
The nurse came in with the children, the Doc- Anniversary of Good Templarism iu Georgia,
tor took^his babe jo I/is arms, and Mrs. P. and I
followed to the altar. Was it accident or design,
the Doctor stood last in the group; but liis turn
would surely come after awhile. C hild after , . . ,. r , ,
child were made Christians; and now the minis- i been orgamzed in tlie State, near three hundred chime that she may provide for her half-famished
ter has our little one in his arms. ot w I 1 ™ 1 are DO 'Y working, and many of them offspring, exhibits a heroism that Napoleon with
“Name this child,” said he, looking at the ’ are f ; tvo , n " organizations,^numbenng^overjwo a ll his ambition might well have been proud of,
-Atlanta Lodge No. 1, I. O. G. T., was organ
ized on the 28th of October, 18(57. Since then,
four hundred and thirty-five other lodges have
In every station in life, among the rich and
the poor, do we see the exhibitions of moral
heroism. That dejected, care-worn laborer, who
day after day wields his chop-ax or swings the
tiresome sledge-hammer, is nerved to the task
by the remembrance of loved ones dependent
upon him for the comforts of life. The poor
needle-woman, who works from wearj' chime to
mindful of her, he disgraced his cavalier blood, | father.
and with all the rudeness of a “Praise God Bare- “Mary Eliza.” answered he iu an unntcessa-
bone,” or a “Through much tribulation ye en- . rily loud tone of voice.
[For The Sunny South.]
NAMING TIIE BABY;
or,
“How Much There Is in a Name.”
BY LUCY HENRY WOOD.
I saw, not long since, Mr. Editor, a story in
yonr fascinating paper, called “Wbat is in a
Name?” I am prepared, with the writer of that
amusing story, to show that there is a great deal
in a name, though Juliet did say, “That which
we call a rose by any other name* would snell as
sweet.” In the county of Amelia, Virginia,
there lived a gentleman, Dr. P., we shall say—we
need not be particular to give his whole name,
tLongli a good name it is, ranking as high in
his community as the Montagues or Capulets
ot Shakspeare’s play. Dr. P. was descended from
the old cavaliers of Charles the II, and inher
ited tlieir chivalrous spirit—indomitable love of
cast and style—and perhaps we should saj r their
vanity, too, lor what is a proudly aristocratic
man but a vain one. From bis parents, be in
herited Absalomic beauty of person: so you see
the Doctor’s vanity was a little excusable! Dame
fortune gave tbe Doctor ber golden smiles,
though he by no means “assiduously waited
upon lier,” as the poet advises ns to do. * He just
seemed in tbe tide of life, to have found “that
flood which Shakspeare says leads on to for
tune.” When quite young, he married the
belle of his neighborhood, and six fine sons soon
sprung up around him, each one true to the old
cavalier stock—zealous observers of Christmas
pastimes, lovers of company and good cheer,
and untiring fox and deer hunters—the only
hunts their lather deemed respectable. At last,
a little wee daughter was born, and this last
blessing seemed tbe crowning one of all. Tbe
Doctor looked in her deep-blue eyes, and saw
they were like his own, and he came to the con
clusion
“ That she would need, the little witching elf,
No jewel—her toilette would be herself;
Not even a rosebud from the bower
Herself a magnet, gem and flower.”
The babj - was beautiful, that was certain. The
motLer saw this, too, and thought with the hap
less Constance, “That of Nature's gifts, she
might with lilies boast, and with the half-blown
rose. The brothers, one and all, called her Sissy,
and the mother, too, as a pet-name, adopted this
affectionate appellative. So Sissy grew, and
sometimes smiled, and sometimes cried, and
upon the whole, was a very beautiful baby.
The domestic horizon was in this bright con
dition, when one day the Doctor and his lady
attended services at the Episcopal church, for
he adhered to the religion of the cavaliers also,
and tolerated no other. That day, the Rev. Mr.
Augustin announced from the pulpit that the
children of the congregation must be brought
there that day two weeks for baptism. Now,
this, in the eyes of the Doctor, was equivalent
to a command. He was a great believer in the
authority of the minister and the church. Had
he lived in the time of Queen Bess, he would
never have denied her the supremacy, hut
would have bravely drank her health and died
for her—going ont of the world in the odor of
martyrdom Jo Episcopacy, and in the like odor
of rancor and hatred to the Puritans and Knox-
ites generally.
Minister and all looked surprised. Mrs. P.
equally as loud said:
“Lily, Doctor.”
The minister caught the whole name, and
said :
“I baptize thee. Mary Eliza Lily.”
At last, at last, that prt cions baby was named.
She was rich in names. She rejoiced iu a tri
colored appellative, and the story should now-
close; but 1 feel that my readers wish to hear
more. All the characteis in this story are still
a maiden of rare loveliness.
“ Her eyes effuse the azure rays
That iu Muierva's glauces blaze
Mix'd with the liquid light that lies
Iu Cytherea's languid eyes.
O'er her m se and cheek is shed
Purest white and suftou'd red;
Mingling tints as when there glows,
Iu suowy milk, the bashful rose.”
Three names still cling to her. hut, reader, not
those thrce.that were given to her in baptism.
I hear you say, “Wbat! has she lw*eu named
again?” Just wait and hear my story through.
Her father calls her Mary, and so do I. To me,
it is the sweetest name iu the worl 1 the name
of “ The handmaid of the Lord." “ Mary,” the
first name our Savior spoke when he hud wrung
the triumph from death, and stood the Immor
tal One, co-equal with the Father. A halo ‘of
beauty and intert st iu vest all who bear this name.
I never saw an ugly Mary; and my Mary, I love
her dearly when I softly say, “Mary.” My
Mary's brothers still sweetly say “Sissy,” and
her mother, with a strange discardal of her
former infatuation, says “Sissy," too. My Mary’s
fashionable friends liave Frenchified her name
of Eliza, and call herEloise; and the young lady
ter the KiDgdom-of-Heaven” class, or anj- other
Independent of Cromwell's time, he rushed up
the porch-steps, leaving Big William to see his
j mistress safe on.
! “I tell you,” said Big William afterward, in a
j private conference with Caledonia, his better-
half, “Marse’s ligion is very shallow.”
“Go awaj-, boj T ,” responded Caledonia; “what
j you got the inference to talk about Marse.”
j “I seed him,” continued Big William, “look
ing in his book, and lifting his eyes up and then
I down when lie was standing ’fore de preacher: i living. “ The baby” has riclilj - fulfilled the
but I tell you,” and here Big "William sank into ! promise of her babyhood, and has expanded into
1 a whisper, “he just cussed Misses arterward in
de carriage.”
“You got no raising, boj% to tell what you see
j de white folks do.”
“ What did Marse say ?’’ her curiosity contra
dicting and cutting off her lecture.
“ He say— he say”—Big William's memory was
at fault—“he madam her. and say the mischief,
! the mischief, and Big William, drive on, you
scoundrel. 1 thought it was a yearthquake yell
ing out.”
“ Massa was cramped riding in that carriage,”
i said Caledonia, “he used to such a manful way
I of ridingon Sollj’ Ann”—a misnomer for Saladin.
| “He lost Lis'ligion for dat?” said Big YVil-
1 liam. “It would he onpossible for him to drive
; steers, then, and go to heaven.”
i Caledonia was a great hand to maintain the
! dignity of her family of white folks, and there
| is no telling what her response to this last re-
! mark would have been, but just then tbe dinner-
bell soiuided, and the Doctor apputred in tbe
easiest of slippers and tlie coolest of coats,
j He bad had liis customary nap; his equa-
! nimity was perfectly restored. A side-door
opened, and Mrs. P. appeared with the baby in
her arms.
“Ah, my dear,” this to his wife. “The blessed
| little darling,” this to the baby, who, cooing in
i that familiar way so dear to parents, and stretch
ing out Ler little arms to him, and with baby
glee and a baby jump, seemed determined to
reach ber masculine parent.
“ Wliat shall we name her?” said the Doctor,
again approaching the dreadful subject.
“Lily, Doctor,” responded the vile.
The Doctor shoved the baby away, plucked
bis beard from her tiny clasp, and casting a
frowning glance upoubis lady, stalked into the.
dining-room, and eat his dinner, I am afraid
not at all like a Christian or cavalier either.
Conjugal matters remained upon a had footing
at the Doctor's those whole two weeks. The
Doctor rarely saw Lis wife without asking her,
“YVhat shall we name the baby V” lie had evi
dently given up his mother's name of Dolly
Paine. The invariable answer was a cool, polite,
but positive “Lily, Doctor.” Tlie Doctor was
very unhappy; anxiety of mind began to tell
upon him. He redoubled Lis attentions to liis
wife, added little conveniences long needed but
bitherto neglected. “And wbat shall we name
tbe baby?” liis daily, and as tbe time drew near,
almost bis hourlj’ question, received always the
same answer, “Lily, Doctor.” I had been re-
qut sted to stand godmother, and was over there
several times to see how this would nsult, and
leain my little goddaughter’s name.
At last I grew alarmed and urged them to
settle upon something. The imuoiiant day ar
rived, and I went over early, wondering if the
baby was named, or if the dispute was to be car
ried before the very altar. I found tbefamilj in
the usual bustle that precedes tbe church-going,
in the country, of a large family. Mrs. P. was
attiring herself before the glass, occasionally
are strong
hundred members each. The celebration of the and should win for her a name imperishable? Ini
e.-ghth anniversary of the order took place in deed, what eye so dim, what heart so dull as not
this city recentlj", under the auspices ot Atlanta to recognize in such exhibitions of unselfish love
Lodge, and the various lodges have had a series j a heroism unmatched in all the annals of war-
of reunions and other very interesting ceremo
nies, the most interesting, most beneficial and
most appropriate of which was the powerful
Anniversary Sermon delivered by Rev. E. W.
YVarren in the First Baptist Church in this city
on Sunday evening, October 31. At an early
fare.
We Lave already said that this species of hero
ism is not confined to either sex. We might
have added, it is the chief ornament of Christian
womanhood. Charlotte Elizabeth’s labors among
the degraded population of St. Giles, London,
hour, the entire space ot this large church, will be remembered as long as tbe moon’s silver
which has one of the most spacious audience-
halls iu the city, was densely crowded to hear
this distinguished divine in his exposition of
this grand subject. All who heard him pro
nounce it powerful in argument, most convinc
ing iu effect, and most salutary in results.
We shall not comment, as we have been fur
nished by Atlanta Lodge with the manuscript,
raj-s shall deck the brow of night And who
can cease to revere the character of Florence
Nightingale, who forsook her ancestral halls to
become the ministering spirit in the fever hos
pital ?
Knights and ladies of Jericho, would you be
heroes in the strife of life? Then stand noblj’
by the cause you have espoused—forgetting not
and shall publish the entire sermon; and we . the example’ of our venerable, dear departed
insist on every temperance man and woman, and father of temperance, Rev. Dabney Jones, the
all those who are willing to listen to unanswera- champion pioneer temperance man of Georgia
ble argument, to read this unbiased exposition , and we might truly say of the South. He deliv?
by this great and good man, and then relieve ered his first temperance lecture on July 4th,
1832, and from that time till his death, only a
i few years ago, he stood firm at his post, ever
; ready to respond to the calls of his comrades to
defend or commend the great cause so dear to
i his heart, and his noble heroism should place
his name high on the pinnacle of fame, and
r, , • /-«_ I*- rear tor him a monument in the hearts of liis
Question- CYin a lodge permit a member of j coimtrymell whi( . h age ean never
themselves of responsibility.
We will publish the sermon entire, or in part,
in the next issue of the paper, and continue it
until complete.
APPEALS ASH DECISIONS.
another lodge to sit in the lodge without the
I pass-word for the current term ?
i Answer. - -A member lias no right to a seat in
I any lodge without the quarterly pass-word. But
I can conceive of cases in which members with-
' out the pass-word, through courtesy, might be
| allowed the privileges of the lodge room. For
instance: On the first meeting night in the term,
nor
time destroy. Let the recollection of his hon
ored name inspire us with the spirit of Long
fellow:
“ Lives of great men all remind ns
We may make our lives sublime,
And departing, leaTe behind us
Footprints on the sands of time.”
Here may frail, weak, timid woman find an
when the membei had not been able to visit his ample field to displaj- her heroism, not by plac-
own lodge, to receive the word; also, visitors * n o herself in battle-array, praying and singin^
... , , i ... - .. properly vouched for from other States might, in front of grog-shops; but let her. with the zeal
.ikes this last best, and so signs ierse as w j[ b out detriment to the order, be, allowed this ; of a Luther and tlie bravery of a Nancy Hart
for her father s national and antes ra pride . ; privilege, until such time as thej- could procure advocate and encourage the great and glorious
don t think the Poet >r and Mrs. P. have ever j aU order f or the pass-word from their own lodge i cause of temperance in her every-day life and
disagreed sil.c^fliat " baby was named; and , to tfae lodge they are visiting. b j instill in the minds of all with whom she asso-
,, ; ar ‘. n £' I’J ihai's. again to summon ie g<K i es> j Question.—Is a member, initiated on the first ciates her love of the cause, both bv example
ot discord the name and word -Lilv is oslra- ni ht of tbe term and be f 0 re the installation and precept When the masses of our women
c.sed by them Tho Doctor s hair ] has grown , ot > officers , enti t led to the new pass-word ? The j have been thoroughly aroused to their duty
thin and gray, but still lias tlie ca\a . t -M - < w. C. Templar decided that he is. An appeal I ant l are found ready to enter heart and hand in
tion to curl He still like* 11 ' J j was taken from the decision of the W. C. T. to this glorious labor, then, and not till then mav
hounds, and thinks with Hippolyta, when they , tLe lo , 3 „ e _ Xbe loilge susbi ined the Chief, when it be truly said: ’
burst m one mutual cry, lie never \eax so (|n a pp ea j Wfts ta ken to the Deputy G. W. C. T., “Though the sphere of woman is calledlowlv
musical a discord, such SVieet t • 1 * - * * p 1 wlm rnvprsfid thn dppiftinn of flip liwlrra orw! W Thoutzh fllle HPliinm uni-DC tiv f.^o
William is driving the carriage yet, and lias kit
off driving fteers, and ’tisto be supposed, accord
ing to bis theory, rni'gbt have some hope of
Heaven, but for liis inveterate love of drinking.
When drunk, lie takes strange liberties calls
liis former master “011 Tony;” and as it might
not do, just now, to saj - “You scoundrel!” old
Tonj’, alia.') the Doctor, strictly seel ides himself
upon those Bacchanalian revels of Big William
’tis said, up stairs. Caledonia is living, too, and
no prouder dame within the limits of classic old
Scotia. She lias a sovereign contempt for Big
William's conjugal aud marital authority, and
Big William quietly acquiesces in his inferiority.
As to piv self, dear raider, I have never stood
godmother to another child.
who reversed the decision of the lodge and W,
C. T.. on the ground that the member had re
ceived one pass-word at his initiation, and was
not entitled to the new one until he had paid
Though she seldom wakes to fame,
All that is noble, pure aud holy
Clusters round her gentle name.”
To our strong and stalwart brothers we would
for it. From the decision of the Deputj r an ap- s , a ^’ °P : h avll Jg put your hands to the plough,
peal was taken to the G. W. C. Templar, who ' tl ° n . 8*7 e U P> but continue to make deep fur-
renders the following p j * ows m . the soil of human frailty, and implant
Decision.—The first meeting night commences i ” ee P W1 thin the recesses of the human soul the
the new term. A member initiated on that night j ® eet * s ot “ Humanity, Temperance and Charity.”
is entitled to all the privileges and benefits of j ln llltnr ® y® ars ’ ^ a J 7 they spring up and yield
that term, pass-word included. The decision of ] y ou ten '*°‘“5 an d when the harvest-time has
the Deputj is reversed, and the decision of the ; COI ? le ’, m . a y y° ur garners be filled with sheaves
lodge sustained.
James G. Throvvek,
G. W. C. T.
In clearing away the refuse from the ancient
mines of Lnnrinin, in Greece, a large number of
seeds were found unknown to modern science,
but described in the writings of Pliny. The
seeds took root, budded and blossomed, bearing
beautiful yellow flowers, after a burial of at least
fifteeu hundred years.
A man iu danger of being bunged said that of
all games ot Lis childhood, skipping the rope j plied the clergyman, pointing to the flask,
would be most agreeable. i that is. ”
A man and his wife in St. Louis the other day
got upon a “big spree,” when the woman admin
istered chloroform to her husband and proceeded
to amputate his leg with a ru^ty saw. The job
was carried out with shocking success, and an
efficient mechanic was made a helpless cripple,
thanks to intemperance.
A clergyman in one of our Eastern cities was
met by a seedy-looking man with a flask of rum
in his pocket, who inquired: “Sir, is this the
nearest road to the almshouse?” “No, sir,” re
but
weighted down with golden grain. But we must
not forget that perseverance is the key which
alone unlocks the door to success.
“Let us then be up aud doing,
With a heart for any fate—
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait/*
xt Z.v E1 P LEMAN who had been indulging the great
North American privilege of getting drunk, says
he was holding to a lamp-post, and as soon as he
let go the poet fell down. That’s the last thing
he remembers The truth is, this man has been
bowed under the penalties of genius.
Strange—That a poor man will spend ten
cents a day for lager beer, and yet complain of J
“hard times. (t