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Christian 3nkt
B. m. SAAIMIRS. Chairman ,
8F EX. C(HI. OF GEO- BAP- CDXVmiO.V 5
Nsw Series—VoL Z¥n.
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[from tkt ‘sMgs'brk Recorder.] ‘""j ;
• • re..,.-’ ~48-MG : ‘’ ll
B V A fR A AUGUST A.
• Margaret of’ England, was a being;
‘fofjjjed rather lo.vv n the hearffiian to attract the eye.
• Tile great obje-ft of ber ambdion was to render her-!
sel[s©rihy ol the esteem and ‘friendship of one, who.
abaVe&Jl others, slid thought would bear the severe’
tesliof time and reitson,—a failbifnl and devoted heart,|!
whose kindred spiril seemed identified with her very
existence.- . ..
To realize her hopes, Margaret was obliged to brave
the storm of her father’s displeasuie. Tftou the eve
of her marriage with a man of mead condition, he >
struck her. name’ from the family register,—poverty
being in his ealgern[but another term for guilt.
Prosperity ‘often deprives a man of Jits. right senses,
md rendj&rs-him iihmimlful mu&fc&ty/of-fortune.
? luap ijM, ifee’'a. scene ofßevolution is,
ever ofeparch, Aj[.jlh look* °* ®*p r dj
die name of Heiiveo, pit ymr th- i ififtl :r.*
loth not know hfit the unseen hand is Writing at that
very instant an exchange of condition.
When the rainbow coloring with which the bril
liant fancy of Margaret had tinted the idol of her heart
and her aottage home disappeared before the shad
owWanf} deformities of real life, site was doomed to
draw—rfht too frequently to draAV a'striking contrast
between her past and present lot; yet she was “happy
in the’affection 6fher husband and the bounding joy;
ol ter little children.
Eight years passed away. Margaret’s husband,
anxious to belter his fortune, embarked with his little
all for America. Scarcely had they become comfort-j
/ably situated in their new home, when, by a mysteri
‘ ous” providence, she w s deprived of her husband by!
, death. Tins was a severe stroke to Margaret. A
stranger in a strange lad, with six helpless children,!
the youngtsf three weeks old, without the means to j
provide tor their subsistence or a friend to whom she
could apply in her extremity, her first thought was to!
fly to her father. Sure of success, she wrote to her;
parents imploring them to pardon her offence and com-:
passionate her case lorthe sake of her innocent babes;!
but her repeated appeals were unheeded. In her ex
treme distress she applied to an opulent lady in Broad- !
way. i
“For heaven’s sake, woman, do you think I can find
work for everybody ? I’ve got more seamstresses’
now on hand than I <*.. n employ ; but I’ll tell you what,’
if you are real.y in want, just take this’ bag of rags out
of’my sight: :t has been a nuigance to me this many
a week and I’ll he hound you can earn a pennv or two,
by it.”
Margaret looked uncertain what to do.
‘•Take it,” repeated ihe lady in a more authoritative
tone ; “you are welcome to all you get by it.”
The singularity, agitation and disorderly dress of
the woman led Margaret to suspect her sanity ; bul,
when the command was repeated, she drew the bag of
rags from its hiding place, and with the assistance ol
her eldest boy managed to get it home.
So overcome was Margaret by a sense of her deg-:
radation, that she sat down upon the bag by the way
side and wept. Her little boy endeavored to comfort
her, and, throwing his arms about his mother’s neck,
they mingled their tears together. At this instant
thoughts of the Great Disposer of events in whom she!
trusted passed through her mind, —hope brightened, and,
with renewed energy she pursued her way.
Editor,
Penfield, Georgia, Thursday) September 13, 1849.
Her first concern was td examineithe contents of
1 the hate, v Eagerly untying the string lo! what was
her rjiris|tQ fijad-it filled with castoff clothing.—
Jfmypy wasmdescribkblej and fallinwj&pon her knees,
fsW liergraleful heart uulAd. Separating
from those articles which Wejt’ useiul to her
self, she"sallied forth in search of a purchaser. Almostjj
; despairing of success, she atlastlouturone who proui
ti^9;to s buyijtlJs%lie would bring him..
.'.Froth -tfM&noment the fortune of Margaret was
/made. She pursued the business with, indefatigable in-!
dustr.y,—clothed, fed and educated her children better
than many ap heir of pride and wealth. From the .
! proceeds of lier income she purchased a small estate;
m the vicinity of the city.-, which gradually increased in
j value. In the meantime, Richard and Joseph, her el
dest sons, were rising in the esteem ol t) |e community,!
[and having served an apprenticeship, united in a pro
fitable business. Jennie, the eldest daughter, married
[well, while the youngest encourage us to hope they
will repay their devoted mother .for the sacrifices .she
; has dsade jerjhem. ••’ j,
O0&II tile virtues Margaret of Manchester possess
ed, none added more brilliancy to her character than
,the love and respect site cherished towards tier parents.
Their-unmerited contempt she bore with meek submis
sion, and when repeated solicitations for aid and for
giveness were met by silent scorn her heart melted
towards them. When the.shades of adversity gath-j
ered about them, noue.feh a deeper interest than Mar-;
garet.. Before they Were aware, site furnished them
the means oi’ transportation, anil in the bosom oi lier
; family they have now lound a peaceful asylum,
j ‘ Tiwlisr/jar Cottage. ■
A SHORT FIRE-SIDE &TORY. ‘ |
9 One evening a poor man and liis sum. a little, boy,,
asat hv Umj way-side, near old town in
wmmr ? r.ti.Vi ;nSrrv|lAvv-’— •
had bought in tiie town, and broke it, and gave the
; half to his boy. “Not so father,” said the boy ;“I
shall not eat till aftw you. You have been working:
hard all day, for small wages to support me ; and you
must be very hungry; I shall wait till you are done.”-
;i‘* You speak kindly, my son,” replied the pleased father:;
“Your love to me does me more gqod than my food;|
and those eyes of yours remind me df vour dear mother
who has left us, and who told you to love me as she
used to do; and indeed, my boy, you,juive been a great
[strength and comfort to me; but now that I Jjave eaten’
|! the first morsel to please you it is. your turn nowi
to eat.” “Thank you father; but brqak this piece in
two, and take you a little more; for you see the loaf is
! not large, and you require much more than I do.” “I
[shall divide the loaf for you, my hoy; but eat it I shall
not; I have abundance; and let us thank God for Ids
great goodness in giving us food, and giving us what
is better still, cheerful and contented itearts. • He who
; gave us the living bread from heaven, to nourish our
I immortal souls, How shall He not give us all other
I food which is necessary to support our mortal bodies!”
[The father and son thanked God, and then began to
cut the loaf in pieces, to begin together their frugal
meal. But as they cut one portion of the loaf, there
: fell out several large pieces, of gold, of great value.—
The little boy give a shout of joy, aud was springing
’ forward, to grasp the unexpected treasure, when he
was pulled buck by his father. “My son, my son!” he
cried, “do not touch that money, it is not ours.” “But,
whose is it, father, if it is not ours?” “1 know not as
, yet, to whom it belongs; but probably it was put there
|by the baker, through some mistake. We must en
! quire. Run.” “But, father,” interrupted the boy, “you
are poor and needy, and you have bought the loaf,
1 and the baker may tell a lie, ami” “I will not
listen to you my boy, I bought the loaf, but 1 did not
buy the gold in it. If the baker sold it to me in igno
rance, I shall not be so dishonest as to take advantage
of him. Remember him who told us to do to others as
!we would have others do to us. The baker may
possibly cheat us: but that is no reason why we would
try and cheat him. lam poor indeed, but that is no
sin. If we share the poverty of Jesus, God’s own Son,
oh! let us share, also, his goodness and his trust in
God. We may never be rich, but we inny always be
honest. We may die of starvation, but God’s will be
done, should we die in doing it! Yes, my boy, trust
j God, and walk in his ways, and you shall never be put
THE TRtfTH IN LtJ'VE.
JAMES' % ISLAIA, Printer.
to shame. Now. run to the baffeh and bring him here;"’
and I shall watch the gold until bsoeonies.” So,Rift.,
boy ran for the baker. “Brother- the -
old man,'“you have made some almost
lost your money-;” and he thowed the baker Id,
and told him how it had found. .“Is r thine?”
‘asked ifte'father: “if it is, “My father.
| baker, is very poor, and” my child; put
me not to shame by thy coiiu&laints. l am glad we.have
saved this mail from losjngbis moftey.” The b&ker
had been gazing alternately pp.o the. honest father anil ..:.
his eager boy,[and upon “0-ie gold which lay glittering .
upon the green.turf, “Thon jirt, indeed, an honest fel
low,” said the baker, “and my neighbor, David, the
[flax dresser, spoke'but the truth when he said, thou
jwert the honestest man in our town. Now, I shall tell
: thee about thejgold: A stranger came to my shop three
days ago, and gave me that loaf, and told me to self it
cheaply, or gige it away to the honestest poor man
whom I knewHu the city. I told David to send thee
to me, as a customer, this morning; and as thou wouldst
;not take the loaf for nothing, 1 sold it to thee, as thou
knowest, for the last pence in thy purse; and tiie joat
with all ifflytreasures—and certes, it is not
thine; and God grant thee a blessing vvitli it.” Tlh*
poor father bent his head to tiic ground, while the
tears fell from his eyes. His boy ran and put his
•land about his neak, and said, “I shall always like you,
; my father, trust God, and do what is right; for I am
‘sure it will never put us to shame.”— Edinburgh
\ Christian Magazine.
INFLUENCE OF THE DEATH PENALITY,
ltis claimed with justice vve'hclieve that there is no
[punishment which has such power to prevent the crime
‘of murder, as tne punishment of death, and therefore it
[is, that it consists with the most expansive and far
sighted benevolence to desire that this dreadful penalty”
But tim.y'oral mflneycp of
;Tms pfimßflmetu in preventing- ..flumei, ; dogs* f/f-’t)-sst.
[some seem to suppose, consist simply in the impression
| which is made upon the mind at the time of some pub
[lic or private execution. This influence is exerted in
[a far more silent and continuous manner. In early
|!childhood, and all along through the season of youth,
[when deep impressions are made upon the mind, the
habit is formed ot associating the crime of murder
[with this awful punishment—so that the Crime itself is
unade to stand out before the mind, in all its horrible
[lineaments, and the man, when he is grown Up, is laid
I under such a restraint, as furnishes the strongest guar
| anty that he will never imbrue his hands in his brotli
! er’s blood. And those who would abolish the death
penalty, have never yet been called to confront the
results of their own course of action. Let it be so that
generations could grow up, without this habit of which
we have spoken—iet it be so, that the crime of mur
der should always have been associated in their minds
with some inferior punishment, and there can be no
doubt, we think, that murders would be far more com
mon than now. It is not the habit of men. in the mo
ment of crime, to weigh the consequences. But the in
fluence which deters them from it has exerted at
a period lying farther back. Their general habits of
thought are more to be reckoned upon, than some de
terring cause, which shall operate at the moment when
the crime is about to be committed.
, A Good Daughter. —There are other ministers of love
i more conspicuous than she, hut none in which a gen
: ‘tier, lovelier spirit dwells, and none to which the heart’s
I warm requitals more joyfully respond. She is the
i steady light of her father’s house. Her ideal is indis
, solubly connected witii that of his happy fireside.—
; She is his morning sunlight, and evening star. The
: grace, vivacity, and tenderness of her sex, have their
• place in the mighty sway which she holds over his
i spirit. The lessons of recorded wisdom which he
: reads with her eyes, come to his mind with a xiew
cliarm as blended” with the beloved melody of her
voice. He scarcely knows weariness which her song
i doth not make him forget, or gloom which is proof
, against the young brightness of her smile. She is the
[pride and ornament of his hospitality, the gentle nurse
[ of his sickness, and the constant agent of those name
: less, numberless acts of kindness which one chiefly
[ cares to have rendered, because they are unpretend
[|ing, but expressive proofs of love,
Number 37.