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[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