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VOLUME tO.
THE CEORCIA CITIZEN
.1- pCALISIID VEIT FRtDAV M >IIXIXO BV
L. F. W. ANDREWS.
Offi i K — l” Building, Cherry Stmet,
TV, Doors hr loir Third Street.
TUB'!*: —93,50 in-r annum, in adtanri*.
i v,-rti-nirn:s at th- regu'or charge will t,c tint iVJ'nr
. ‘•“* tofircd onit or it is. f-.r tut* tint intyr
t t nd t ‘!■/ C'cal.” fc*r**th aub~iuU ioarrtiuu. All a<l
Vri •' ut* n**t sperifaffnto tinip. vri.l 1*? pnhHshpri tntti]
f ] • ticiriitii aecynlaiglv. A lilier*! Ufcssmt.l ala* acl
wlio I'lverti-w t.y the >*ar.
V mi .riang-incnt* rimdc wirn Comity < Hlfcx-p., Druggists.
A it; ■ :r*. Merchant*, anj Uker.*, who luay wtafc to make
ir,.fi-i’ an I and Bn*ine-: Card* will he Inserted un
” , !t . the f ‘llowing nite*. viz:
K .r Five lines, perantmoa t r,(h>
~, ‘evt'll lines, do. Hill
JrTan lines. do WOO
\ iit.ertiwuwnt of toUdßm will Is; admitted, ital,--.-* paid
, ‘ ~|v:tTio , tior for e-wt mt than twelve mtrtths. Ad
v.’iti-etuents of over ten lines will l* e.’iarjtetl pro rail. Ai
•rti” inent* not tor in advance will lie charyed at the
ilhi u m Voller* of orrr ten liner, trill he charged at the
ii iniif tntrntn of candidates tor office to be paid for a
. .a! r ites, *hvu inserted.
-ales of Land mid \rtrsrt, hr txecutnn, AJ-ulnlstrs
t,,r. a Utnardbuis, are reipi nsl by law to tie advertised in a
„ , ~/, ■ | forty days previous to the day of sale. 1 hese
ades mart he held ‘Ui Ute first Tuemiav in the UKMi'h, tietwee*
,1 ti-.uis of ten iti the forenoon ams three In the af ernoon,
at the Court-house in the county in e. huh the i*oprty is situ*
-ali-s of IVrsonol Property most be advertised In like
males r, iurty da> s
totiee to HeMon and Cmlttun of an Estate must 1*
miMislitii forty day*.
>oliee that an;dlcation will Is? made to the Ordinary for
haw I s'li I-ind and Negroes, must he published weekly for
litali >os for Letters of Admini.str.Vion. thirty days; for
j,... -- .i rin Administration, monthly, si* months; f.ic
lMsmis- n from Ijuaruuinship, weekly, forty day*.
Knles for Porecioslns of Mortgages, monthly, fni
ihs; tor establish ng I >: paja-rs, for the full spate of tiire
. , u th.s: for compelling ‘iiles from executors or mdmtnistra
t . .there a is.ml has hen given by the deceased, the full
r ice of three months.
zHlbccTimu).
THE BEST SEWING MACHINE
-riot one? I ton't t/so! Which did you get f
une of the kind to often and siiet ?
Own it or hire it? How much did yon par?
Ikies n go with a crank, or treddle? .-in/.
I'm a single null and somewhat green;
Tell me ahoiit your sewing machine.”
■Listen my hoy. attti hear all shout it—
-1 don't know what I euilld do without it:
I've owned one now lor more than a year,
\ud like it so well i eall if tt/ itear.
T'ls the cleverest thing that ever was seen,
Tins wonderful family sewing machine.
•It's none of your angular Wheeler things.
With steel shod bstek aud cast iron wings;
Its work would bother a hundred of his.
And worth a thousand ! Indeed it is:
Aud has a way—von need'tit stare —
nf combing ami braiding its own black hair!
• Mine is not one of those stupid affairs
That stands in a corner with what-nots and chair*.
And makes that dismal, headachy noise.
Which all the comfort of sewing destroys:
No rigid contrivance of Itunl/er and steel.
But one with a natural spring in the heel.
Mine is one of the kind to love.
And wears a shawl and a soft kid glove:
Has the merriest eyes anti the daintiest loot,
Aud ‘puts the eharmingest gaiter hoot,
And a bonnet with feathers, and rihlions and loops
With an indefinite number of hoops.
• None of your patent machines for me,
I'nlcss dame nature is the patentee:
I like the sort that can laugh and talk,
Anil take my arm for an evening walk:
That will do whatever the owner may choose,
With the slightest perceptible turn of the screws !
“t >nc that can dance anti—possibly —flirt:
And make a pudding as well as a shirt—
One that can sing without dropping u stitch.
\nd play the housewife, lady, or witch—
Heady to give the ssgest advice.
Or to do up your collars and things so nice.
“What do you think of my machine?
Ain’t it tlic that Iw.st oyer was seen ? ,
1 isn't a clumsy, mechanical toy,
But Hesh mid blood. Hear that, my boy!
H itlta turn l'or gossip and house hold affair*.
Which include, you know, the sew ing of tares.
■Tut. tut. don’t talk? I see it all—
You needn't keep winking so hard at the wall:
1 know what your fidgety tumblings mean:
You would like,yourself, a sewing machine!
Well, get one, then—of the same design—
There ‘"ere a plenty left when 1 gotjnine!”
The Kciindal flosiscr.
Now let it woik. Mischief, thou art afoot.
Aunt L zzy was Deacon Snipes’s wife’s sis
t>*r—a maiden of about fifty—she went to j
ail the meetings—k-pt a regular account ot
every birth, death and marriage, with their
names—doctored all tlie babies, and knew
everv yarb in the neighborhood—showed al! j
the young married women how to make j
soap, and when they had bid luck, made i
every child in the house sit cross-legged
until the luck changed. In fine, she was a ;
k mi of village factotum—spent her time in
going from house to house, grinding out a
grist of slander to each, as occasion requir
ed. but always concluded with ‘‘the ways of
the transgressors is hard.” ‘Poor Mrs. A.
or B. t (as the case was,) I pity her from the
bottom of my heart,” or some such sooth
ing reflection. Aunt Lizzy was at way 3 ve
ry fond of asking strangers and others with
out regard to time or p'a e, “the state of
their minds; how they enjoyed their minds.’ j
eta These questions were generally fol- j
lowed bv a string of scandal, which was j
calculated to destroy the peace and happi- j
ness of some of her best neighbors and
triends; but she, like other narrators of this j
kind, considered such intellectual murder as
either establishing her own fair reputation,
or as the only mode of entertaining the vil- ;
lage, and thereby rendering her society
agreeable.
Oue warm summer afternoon, as ’Squire
P. was sitting near his office door smoking 1
his pipe, Aunt Lizzy was passing by with
great speed, ruminating on the news of the |
day, when the ’Squire brought her sudden
ly to, as the sailors say, by ‘What’s your
burry, Aunt Lizzy ? w alk in/ The old lady,
who never wanted a second invitation,
went into the office, and the following dia
logue soon commenced *
‘ Well, ’Squire P., I have just been think
ing this atterncon what a useful man you
might be, if you’d only leave off your light
conversation, as the good book says, and
become a useful man you might be” an or
nament to both church and State, as our
Minister says/
‘Why, as to that, ‘Aunt L zzy. a cheerful j
countenance I consider as the best index ol ,
a grateful heart, and you know what the
Bible says on that subject—‘When ye fast
be not as hypocrites, of a sad countenance,
but anoint thy bead and wash thy !a< e
(Aunt Lizzy began to feel for her p*x:ket
hindkerchief, lor she wfs a taker of snuff,)
tnat ye appear not to fast.’
‘Now there, ’Squire, that’s just what I
told you ; see how you have the scripture at
your tongue’s end; what a uspfu! man you
might be in our church if you’d only be a
doer as well as a hearer of the word.”
“As to that Aunt Lizzy, I don’t see that
your professors, as you call them, are a whit
better than I am in private. I respect a
sincere profession as much as any man : but
I know enough of one of your church,
whom you think a great deal of, to know
that she is no better than she should be/
At these inuendoes, Aunt Lizzy's little
black eyes began to twinkle; she sat down
beside the ’Squire in order to speak in a
low tone—spread her handkerchief over her
■ap, and began to tap the cover of her snuff
box in true style, and all things being in
readiness for a regular siege ol ‘scandalum
magnatum,’ she commenced fire —
‘Now Squire, I want to know what you
mean by one of our enurth. I know who
you mean—the trolkp—l didn’t like so
many curls about her bead, when she told
her experience^
The ‘Squire finding curiosity was putting
j his boots on, had no occasion to add spurs
to the heels, for the old lady had one in her
i head that was worth both of them. Accord
i ingly he bad no peace until he consented to
explain wliat he meant by ihe expression
‘in private’—this was a dear word to Aunt
I L’zzie
‘Now Aunt Lizzie will yon take a Bib’e
i oath, that you w.ii never communicate what
I am about to teM you as a most inviolable
secret ?’
‘Yes, ’Squire, I declare I won't never tell
! nobody at out it as long as I breathe the
breath of life, and I’ll take ft Bible oath on it:
there, sartiu as I live Spiirebelore you or
any other magistrate in the country.’
“Well, theD, you know I went to Boston a
year ago.’
‘Yes, yes, ‘Squire and I know who went
with you, too—Susey B. and Dolly TANARUS., and
her sister Prudence.’
‘Never mind who wont with me, Aunt
Lizzie; there was a whole lot of passen
’ gers—but, but —
‘None of your buts, Squire, out with it, if
j folks will act so—a iroliop’—
‘But, Aunt Lizzie, I'm afraid you'll bring
me into a Scrape.’
‘l’ve told you over and over again that
nobody never shall know nothing about it,
and your wife knows I ain't leaky—’
‘My wife! I wouldn’t have her know
what I was going to say tor the world—
why, Aunt Lizzy, it she should know it—’
‘Well, don t he afear’d ’rfqnire, once tor
all, I’ll take my oath that no tiring critter
shan’t never as long as I live, know a lisp
on’t.’
‘Well, then, if you must know it—l slept
i with one of tlie likeliest of your church
members nearly half the way up !’
Aunt Lizzie drew a long breath —she shut
up her snuff box, aud put it in her pocket,
muttering to herself—
“Tne likeliest of our church members ! Ii
thought it was Susy 8., Lkeliest, this comes
of being flattered, a trollop. Well, one thing
I know, the way of the transgressor is j
‘hard; but I hope you’ll never tell nobody
on’t, Squire, loi sartin as the world, if such
a thing should be known, our church would
he scattered abroad, like sheep without a
shepherd.’
In a lew minute s Aunt Lizzy took her
departure, giving the Squire another cau
tion and a sly wink, as she said ‘ Good-by,
let me alone for a secret.’
It was not many days before’Squire P.
received a very poiite note from Parson I*., ;
requesting bun to attend a meetiug ot the
church, and inauv of ihe parish, at the
South Conference room, in order to settle
some difficulties with one of the church 1
members, who, in order to clear tip her !
character, requested ’Squire P. to be pres
ent. i
The person, \vh) was a very worthy
mau. knew the frailty ot some of the weak
sisters, ns Aunt L'zzy called them, ar:d as
lie was a particular lr:end ot isquire P., re- i
quested him in his note to sav nothing of it I
to his wife. But the ’Squire took the hint, I
and telling his wife that there was a parish
meeting, requested her to be rer.dy at 2 ■
o'clock, and lie would cal! for her.
Accordingly the hour of meeting came— I
the whole v.lingo flocked to the room, which !
could not hold ha'f of them. All eyes were
alternately turned on the ’Squire and Susey.
Mrs. P. started and Susey looked as though ;
she had been crying a fortnight. The par- i
son, with softened tone, and in as delicate a
manner a3 possible, stated the story about !
Susey 8., which he observed was in every - |
body’s muu'li, and which he did not him- 1
self believe a word of—and ’Squire P., be
ing called on to stand as a wnness, after
painting in lively colors the evils of slander
which the village had beeu infested, and
particularly the church—called on Aunt
L /z/, in presence of the meeting and before ;
the Church, to come out and make acknowl
edgment tor violating a B b'e oath. Aunt
Lizzy’s apology was, that she only to'd Dt-a
con Snipe’s wi‘e on’t, and she took an oath
she'd tell nobody oi.'L Deacon Snipe’s wife
had, it appears swi.rn Roger Toothaker’s
sister never to tell nothing on’t, and so it
went through ihe whole church and thence
the village.
The ’Squire then acknowledged before the
whole meeting that lie had, as he told Aunt
Lv.zy, slept with a Church member half the ,
way up to Bastou, and that he believed her
to l>e one of the likeliest of their members,
inasmuch as she never would hear or retail !
a slander. All eyes were now alternately (
on Susev B. and Squire P.'s wife. Aunt
Lizzy enjoyed a kind of diabolical triumph,
which the'Squire no sooner perceived, than j
he finished the sentence, by declaring that
the Church memlier to whom he alluded
was hie otim lawful wife ! *
Aunt I/zzy drew her head under a huge
bonnet as a turtle does under his shell, and i
marched away into one corner of the room,
like a dog that had been killing sheep. The
’Squire, as usual, buist out into a fit of;
laughter, in which his wife, Susey B. and
even the parson, could not refrain from
joiuins, and Parson P. afterwards acknowl
edged that “Squire P. bad given a death
blow to scandal In the village which all
preaching could not have done.
Time. _ ,
A singular word called ‘time —not
like the word ‘lvvi,’ of which, by a
change of the letters, several words may
be easily made : ‘Levi—evil —vile—
live.” Some plodding genius has dis
covered, while spending his own time,
that, the word Time, when artificially
transposed, or metagrarrumtized, will
form the following words ; meti, emit,
hero. And it the aforenamed and its an
agrams he placed in the following quad
ratic position, they will form what may
be termed an anagrammatic palindrome:
TIME ’
ITEM
M KTI
EMIT
This word Time is the only word in
the English language which can thus be
arranged ; and the different transposi
tions thereof are all, at the same time
Latin words. These words in English
as well as in Latin, may be read downs
ward or upwards, or across from right to
left. The English words, time. item,
meti and emit, (to send forth) are men
tioned above; and of the Latin ones—l.
Time, signifies fear thou $ 2. Item, like
wise ; 1L Meti, to he measured ; 4. Em
it, he buys.— Challis Magazine.
Read few hooks well. W e forget
names and dates and reproach our
memory. They are of little conse
quenee. We ieel our limbs enlarge
and strengthen, yet ofinnot tell the
dinner or the tish that caused the al
teration. Our minds improve, tho’
we cannot name the author, and
have forgotten the particulars
MACON, L AFBI DAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 1859.
[ From tli,- Hume and School Journal.]
To One in Heaven.
God sent his messengers, their tidings bringing,
Os joy and everlasting life to thee.
Downward they < aine on radiant pinions winging.
And swift returning Is,re thee hence from me.
Darkness came down n)xni my early morning.
Shrouding the brightness of my life's young day.
lint thy eyes-aw eternal glory dawning.
And thy lips smiled exulting in its ray.
Now tin- cold earth thy treasure form is keeping:
Heaven has reelaimeif thy ransomed soul, its own.
I sit amid earth's shadows sadly weeping
For my heart s world is desolate and lone.
But through the gloom a whisper sweet eotnesteUing
Os love made perfect in that hallowed elime,
Love in the soul immortal has its dwelling,
it wears no mortal holids of spare or time.
As all day long the gentle stars are shining—
Though sunls-ams bright the watchful heaeons hide,
So shall thy love unseen with mine lie twining.
Nor death itself our faithful souls divide.
Darkly lie tween us roll- that fearful river!
But there is light tievuud upon the shore,
For God's own Son, blessed Be his name forever.
Passed through its gates and bridged the torrent o'er.
Tims while my voice its feeble accents raising.
Trembles to join, the hymns thou once didst love.
Thy voice is heard where angel liands are praising
And shouts of rapture thrill the vault above.
And while I bring earth's fair blit fading flowers.
And strc them here to wither on thy grave.
Thou, where the tree of life its fragrance showers
Wilt pluck the bloom, where houghs immortal wave
On me time's hand will lay its heavy shading
31 y form will change, while keeps my heart its truth,
Hut thou amidst that realm of bliss unfading
WVt wear the glory of jierpotuirt youth.
Bo let me meekly wait the will of Heaven
And walk in faith my patient way alone.
Trusting that He to w hom oiv hearts were given
Will clasp luces climbing tendiills to His throne.
Y et I am lonely since thou has departed.
And day by day 1 miss thee o'er and o'er,
I he good, the true, the kind and tender hearted,
oh: for the hour when we shall meet once more.
In that Blest land where pleasure is immortal
Wait thou for me. until Death's summons come,
And lead me safely through the shining portal
To dwell beside thee in that heavenly home.
We in our childhood I lowed around one altar:
One fail'll, one hope, was ours—our souls to blend,
So o'er life's desert, though my feet nine falter.
I'll struggle on to meet thee at the end—
And stronger faith, and truer hope l>e given.
Guarding thy memory in my hearts deep shrine.
Till at our Saviour s feet webow in Heaven
And our glad voices blend in songs divine.
linitimure, June 1869. LOU,
M iiat is lidik’hti: ?
A correspondent of the Spiritual Telegraph
thus answers the query :
“ Something so natural, so true and beau
tiful,that man originated creeds and doett ines
and institutions to desecrate and would de
stroy it, were it not in its nature indestructi
ble. It is harmonious life—the essence of
all lil whether sensuous or human—the
perfections of existence —the indwelling
spirit which lises through the forces of affini
ty to the Infinite. When we speak cf the
Pagan, or the Mohammedafi, or Christian
religion, we seem to he dividing the indivisi
ble, but we are dealing with Ute husk, not
the kernel—the lorrn not the substance,
which is superior to all forms.
Religion is the same eveiy where, in all
ages, ami under all manifestations. Tt is as
simple as a p inciple in nature and as that
p inciple, is e.'cr active, sleepless at and undy
it.g. it is the chain which links man with
God, wh.ch connects all tilings with their
infinite source. In the wondrous ortler and
beauty a id perfections of a Log s loot—it's
globular panicies of blood, keeping tune to
me harmonies of the universe, God is so
plainly manifested that insensibly, we won
der and adore.
The whole earth is full of worship. In
the quiet of a summer's morning, who does
not teel and know, without the aid of tem
ples, or cathedrals, or robed priests, or hymns
of pftise, that worship is the sentiment
which prevades all? But the highest and
holiest worship, the truest religion, is a hu
man life, tor'is the altar where God aud na
ture meet, where burns the holy incense of
conscious reverence and love. \Ye can not
teach religion, for it is a spontaneity, as much
the offspring of a life as the perlume of a
rose is the necessary consequence of its life
and growth. But we can teach the order
and harmony and beauty of the universe—
the truth aud principles which underlie all
being—the grand results which from these
are outwrougtit —the simple duties of life—
the compensations which lollow all action —
forgiveuess and charity —and above all com
prehensions aud justice that no wrong can
ever produce a good, can do aught but kill
itself. These teachings will remove the ob
structions—will clear the way for the freer
uprising ot the waters ol that celestial
iountain, which lies deep down in every
life.
“My Mother Knows Best’’
A party of little girls stood talking be
neath my window. Some nice plan was
upon foot; they were going into the
woods, and meant to make oaldeaf trim
ming and pick berries. O! it was a fine
time they meant to have.
‘•Now,” said they to one of their num
ber, “.Ellen, you run home and ask your
mother if you may gy. Tell her we are
all going, and you must.” Eden, with
her white cap-bonnet, skipped across the
way, and went into the house opposite.
Bhe was gone some time. The little
girls kept looking up to the windows
very impatiently At length the door
opened, and Ellen came down the steps.
She did uot seem in a hurry to join her
companions, and they cried out, “sou
got leave! you are going, are you?” El
len shook her head, and said that her
mother could not let her go. “O,”
cried the children, “it is too bad ! Not
go ! it is really unkind in your mother.
Why, I would rnnke her let you go. O,
O ! I would go, whether or no !”
“3/y mother knows best,” was Ellen’s
answer, and it was a beautiful one. Her
lip quivered a very little, for 1 suppose
she wanted to go, and was much disap
pointed not to obtain leave; but she did
not look angry or pouting, and her voice
was very gentle but very firm, when she
said, “My mother knows best.”
There are a great many times when
mothers do not see fit to give their chil
dren leave to go w here and do what they
wish, and how often they are rebellious
and sulky in consequence of it. But
\ this is not the true way, for it is not
pleasing to God. The true way is a
cheerful compliance with your mother’s
j decision. Trust, her, and smooth down
; your ruffled feelings by the sweat arid
i beautiful thought, “My mother knows
i best.” It will save you many tears and
much sorrow. It is the gratitude you
owe her, who has done and suffered so
much for you, and tho obedience you,
owe her in the Lord— Christian Trees
! wy.
Why is the letter W like a dying
Christian ? Because it is at the end
of sorroic.
Much smoking kills live men, and
cures dead swine.
The Boy Soldier.
A boy fifteen years of ago was
.standing before the door of a Con
necticut farm-house with a little fowl
ing-piece on his shoulder, Avhile a
matronly looking woman was stand
ing in the doorway and gazing with
mnistemd eyes upon him.
‘Do, mv son.’ she said, ‘but remem
ber, when amid the smoke and heat
of battle, the sentence in the blessed
book I have given you—‘The merci
ful shall obtain mercy.’
‘I will nC forget mother,’ he re
plied, ‘but oi company is waiting,
and now farewell!’
‘Good bye, my son’—she kissed
him as he spoke —‘and may He who
lias for twoscore years watched over
the mother, protect the son.’
A cloud of smoke hung over and
enveloped the blood-stained soil of
Bunker Hill. A noble looking man,
in the uniform of an American gen
eral, was slowly retreating with his
face to the foe. The sharp report of
a single rifle was heard and Warren
fell! A young soldier-—almost a hoy
—sprang toward him and lifted his
head; at the same time a giant gren
adier in the British uniform, came
charging at him with leveled bayo
net.
To draw an old rusty horse pistol
from his breast, and tire it at the ap
proaching toe, was but the work of a
moment. The grenadier fell, wound
ed, and seizing the sword of War
ren which had fallen from his grasp,
| the boy soldier ran and raised it over
the red coat to dispatch him.
But why does lie pause when the
sword is uplifted, and allow it total!
| slowly to his side, and then turn
away and strike not ?
He remembers the injunction of
that mother, whom two months ago
he left in the open door of the farm
house—“ Remember, mv son, amid
the smoke and heat of battle, ‘The
merciful shall obtain mercy.’ ’
The tide of battle had swept like
a whirlwind over the plains of Tren
ton. The British cavalry had ridden
Avilh irresistible force over a detach
ment of men and hoys, forming a por
tion of the left wing of the American
army, and among the dead and dying,
lay a boyish soldier wounded, and
with his right arm broken.
A merciless party ofHcssians, were
ranging over a field murdering and
plundering those who had fallen.—
They approached the hoy soldier,
who dauntlessly awaited the impen
ding death, and one of them drawing
his sword, was about to plunge it
into the hoy’s side, when a gigantic ,
read coat grenadier rushed between
the boy and the murderous Hessians
and struck up the weapon.
‘Hold, ruffians ! The hoy spared
my life at Bunker Hill. It is now
mv turn,’ and raising him in his arms,
he bore him from the bloody soil to
a place of safety.
Ah! how those parting words of
his mother again rang through his I
brain and made sweet music in his
soul. ‘Remember, my son, when
amid the smoke and heat of battle,
that, ‘The merciful shall obtain mer
cy.”
It was never forgotten, and when
a little more than two years ago I
stood above the venerated form and
gazed upon the calm features of the
aged boy soldier, whose life had gone :
out like the last flickering of a can
dle which had burned down in its
socket, I thought of the parting of
mother and son, at the old farm
house eighty-three years ago.
A Mother’s Love.
„ Some ten years ago a boy was
convicted of felony, and sentenced to
a long imprisonment in the peniten
tiary. His poor mother wept when
she heard the sentence, and looking
up tearfully in the face of the Judge,
she exclaimed piteously. ‘Won’t
your honor give him a shorter term?
lie’s a good boy to me, your honor,
he always was. And I’ve justlnade
him the first good suit of clothes he
ever had, and they tit him beautiful;
but if you keep lnm a long time in
prison, they won’t fit him at all,
when bis good name is gone ? And
then, too, your honor, to stay there
so long among reprobates ; he’ll, may
be, forget bis poor old mother’s
teachings, and be e’en as bad as
they/
Poor woman ! this son was her
all ; she had tried to bring him up
aright, and in the fullness of a moth
er’s love, she bad for a long time
i been saving nearly all her little earn
i ings that her darling boy might have
j clothes as good as bis playmates;
I and now, alas, poor mother 1
Seeing her sorrow, tho boy wept
too, and remembering at this mo
ment all her toil and care and anx
; iety for him, lie threw himself at her
I feet, and promised to lead, for her
i sake, anew life. The judge was too
I touched—and the hoy was released.
I His repentance was genuine; he
i broke his country’s laws no more,
and lives at this day an enterprising
and intelligent merchant, a good bus
hand, a kind father, and above all,
| a dutiful and affectionate son to the
. tender mother whose fervent love
saved him from ruin.— S. S. Advo
cate.
Truth. —Truth is always consistent
with itself, and needs nothing to hold it
out; it is always near at hand, and sits
upon your lips, and is ready to drop out
before you are aware ; whereas a lie is
j troublesome, and sets a man’s invention
on the rack, and one trick needs a great
many more to make it good. Truth can
live in all regions, flourish in all soils,
and become naturalized in all climes.
Would_You ?
BY LUCY LARCOM.
Could you kooj) the tints of spring
_< >n the woods, a mist of brightness.
Keep the half-veile*t Ixiughs a-swnig
To some flitting wild bird's lightness;
Through the biroh leaves’ ripling green
Hold the maple-kevs from dropping;
On die sward w ith Nfay showers clean
I Cheat the violets into stopping;
Could you make the rosebud’s lips
\ ow to he a hud forever;
From tlie sedges’ wavering tips
Let the pendant dew-drop never;
Could you bid the sunrise hour
For n life time overbrood you:
Could you change the year’s full dower
For its first faint promise—would you ?
Though a I nibbling eup w e quaff
From the crystal fount of morning.
When the world is all a laugh
And a welcome without warning,
At life’s Cang-feast the guest
Lingering on, with thirst unsated,
Finds a later draught the liest;
Miracles—when thou hast waited.
Thought must shade and sun the soul
With its glorious mutations;
Every life song is a whole
Sweeter for its variations.
Wherefore with your bliss at strife?
’Twas an angel that withstood you.
Could you give your perfect life
For a dream of living—would you ?
Crayton.
Z?obt*rt’s Library.
Robert Allen had been entertain
ing his young city friend Lewis, by
showing him all about the farm, with
its numnerless objects of interest and
curiosity, and at last when both were
a little foot weary, he proposed go
ing up into his own pleasant cham
ber, and looking over his little li
brary.
“Have you got a library, Robbie ?
I am sure 1 don’t expect to have one
until I get to he a man.”
“Only a little one, Lewis. I am
afraid you xvill not think it deserves
the name. But it is growing all the
time, and gives me a great deal of
pleasure as it is.”
“Well, let us go in, for I have quite
a curiosity to see it.”
Robert led the way to his own
room, and a very pleasant chamber
it was. His good mother sought to
make home the pleasantest spot in
the world for her children, and was
well rewarded by the warm love they
always felt for it. She gave this ,
room to Robbie for his own on his ,
tenth birth day, with the one condi- j
tion, that it should be always neatly
kept.
In a corner Avhere a good light
would fall upon them, were arranged
four book shelves, containing Rob
ert’s precious library. A little cur
tain was crossed before them to pro-,
tect them from the dust, and when
this was drawn aside his friend ex
claimed in real admiration:
“ What a beautiful collection of
books you have, Robert ! How did
you get so many ? Were they all
given to you ?”
“Yes, nearly all of them, hut very
few at a time. I have made a prac
tice of keeping carefully all the books j
I ever had given to me, except some j
toy picture-books, which mother said
I “had out-grown.” Those I gave ;
to my little cousin Ellen. I. always
get books for my holiday, presents,
because father thinks them most use
ful, and knows that they give me
most pleasure. I made these shelves
myself, and sister Lucy fixed up
that curtain on rings, so I could slide
it easily.”
“Why, Robert, I have had dozens
of books given me New Years, and
Christmas, and birthdays, but some
how they ahvay get spoiled pretty
soon, and then I lose sight of them.
I expect they are sent up in the at
tic. If I had only taken care of them
I might have had a library too. How
I wish I had ! The baby and John
ny tear them up awfully.”
“You must put them in their pla
ces when you are through using
them. That is the only way to keep
them nicely. Father says books don’t
get injured much by just reading
them; it is by leaving them about
carelessly.”
“I do believe I will commence sa- j
ving mine from this time. I have a j
few decent ones to begin Avith,and I J
know father xvi 11 get me some shelves, j
But what is this big, black-covered
book in the corner here ?”
“That is my scrap-book; and I ‘
could easier part Avith any other hook
I have. I could supply the place of!
any other one, but 1 could not possi
bly get the same articles together a
gain that T have in this.”
“Let me see what sort of things !
you put in one,” said Lewis, turning 1
over the leaves. “I should not know
how to go about such a thing.”
“Well, father gives me the papers
every week, when he has selected
wliat he wises—for he makes a scrap
hook too, Lewis—and t hen l come
up here, and look them over careful
ly. When I come to anything I
think would be useful to me in the
future, 1 cut it out and save it. Some
times it is a story from “the Child
ren’s Column,” sometimes a sweet
piece of pnety, then an anecdote, or
a description like that about the
“Boiling Springs” there. 1 paste in
the scraps nearly every week, it is so
much easier than to wait until I have
a great many. Ann gives me a spoon
ful of clear starch to paste them with
whenever she makes it. That is the
very nicest kind. It never comes off
like gum arabie. OT do enjoy ma
king my scrap book so much, Lew
is! T wish you would try it.”
And LeAvis did so when he return
ed to the city, and gathered his little
books into a library, too, not allow
! ingthem to lie scattered all over the
j house as formerly. He took a fresh
i interest in reading both hooks and
papers, and found the system he had
adopted a very improving as well as
, agreeable one
Try the same experiment my dear
little reader, and see what a store
you can gain before another New
Year. M. E, T.
Search for WiA 7 e3-
Where do men usually discover
tiie ay omen who afterwards become
their wives ? is a question A\e have
j occasionally heard discussed, ami the
custom lias inA tiriahly become of val
ue to young lady readers. Chance
has much to do in the affair, hut then
there are important and governing
circumstances. It is Certain that i'oAv
men make a Selection from hall rooms,
or any other places of public ga\ctv,
and nearly as few are influenced by
what may he called “shoAving oft’”
! in the streets, or by any illurements
lot dress. Our conviction is, that
ninety-nine hundred parts of all the
finery Avitli Avhich women decorate
or load their persons go for nothing,
aft tar as husband-catching is concern
ed. \\ here, and lioaa’, then, do men
find their Avives ‘t Jn the quiet homes
of their parents or guardians, at the
fireside, where the domestic graces
and feelings are alone demonstrated. |
These are the charms which most j
surely attract the high as well as the i
j humble. Against these all the finery
| and airs in the world sink into insig- \
niiicance. We shall illustrate this
by an anecdote.
A certain gentleman, Avhose health j
Avasrapidly declining, was advised by
his physicians to try a change of cli
mate as a means for recovering his
health. His daughters feared that
those avlio had only motives entirely
mercenary, Avould not pay him that
attention Avhich he might expect
from those avlio, from duty and af
fection united, would feel the great
est pleasure in ministering to his
ease and comfort. They, therefore,
resolved to accompany him. They
proved that it was ti spirit ofdis
sipation and gayetv that led them to
do this, for they were not to. be seen
in any of the gav and fashionable
circles—they were never out of their j
father’s company, and never stirred j
from home, except to attend him, !
either to take the air or drink the
Avaters. In ti Avord, they lived a x - e- j
olnse life in the midst of a town then j
the resort of the most illustrious and ;
fashionable personages of Europe. — !
This exemplary attention to their;
father, procured these three amiable j
sisters the admiration of all the En
glish at S , and \\ as the cause of ;
their elevation to that rank in life to
which their merits gave them so just
a title, They were till married to
noblemen — one to the Earl of B , j*
another to the Duke ofll .and
afterAvard to the Marquis ofE , j
and a third to the Duke of N ; j
and it is justice to them to say, that i
they reflected honor on their rank, j
rather than derived any from it.
Exchange.
Prophecy concerning’ Napo
leon.
The following should have heeu inserted
before, but, was inadvertently overlooked.—
That portion of the prediction which relates
to Louis Napoleon taking a “desperate leap,
astonishing the world, and being successful,”
has been fulfilled; but as to his subsequent
failure and ultimate fall to be caused by
“this very success,” nous verrons.
New York, .Inly 22, 2850.
Mr. Partridoe : >S7r—As a gener
al impression seems to prevail among
those who talk of, but have never in
vestigated, the spiritual phenome
non—that the manifestations pur
porting to come froffi Spirits, reach
their highest point in the clairvoy
ant state, and then only will enable
the clairvoyants to read from the
mind of the person with whom they j
are at the time in sympathy, suc-li im
pressions as are found to exist there
previously—permit me to give you
an incident which oceured within the
last few days, and leave those worthy
philosophers to reconcile it withjjtheir
cherished theory. A few days ago,
somewhere near the 4th of July, the
writer, in company with a young
man named Bradley, (who is but par
tially susceptible to the trance state,)
had a sittin g at the table of Mrs. \ an
.11 aught on, test-medium, 187, Forsyth
street, N, Y. While in a trance state,
hut receiving first impressions from
the test-medium, Mr. Bradley stated
very emphatically that Louis Napo
leon was about to take a desperate
leap, which would astonish the world,
and in which he would he success
fill; hut that afterward he would
fail ; and, as the writer understood
it, this very success would be the
cause of his ultimate fall.
Now, whether the news of the 22d
inst., that in the midst of a succes
sion of the most extraordinary vic
tories, the “hero of Strasburg” has
proclaimed an armistice, and by this
dexterous manoeuvre has overturned
the best-laid schemes of newspaper
editors and .European diplomats, may
be considered as exhibiting anything
like a “desperate leap” on his part ;
and if so, whether this fulfillment of
a prediction can be reconciled with
the above named theory, I will leave
for the wor thy authors of this theo
ry to decide.
Yours Respectfully,
Robert Crowe,
1(33 Canal Street.
Spiritual Telegraph.
Ax Eloquent Extract.—“Genera
•ion after generation,” says a fine writer,
i “have felt as we now feel, and their lives
were as active as our own. They passed
■ like a vapor, while nature wore the same
i aspect of beauty as when the Creator
Commanded her to be. The heavens
; shall be as bright over the graves as they
now are around our paths. The world
will have the same attractions for our
offspring vet unborn that she had once
for our children. Yet a little while, and
all will have happened. The throbbing
heart will be satisfied and we shall be at
rest. Our funeral will wind its way,
and prayer will be said, and then Ave
shill be left alone in silence and dark
ness for the worms. And it may bebut
a short time we shall he spoken of, for
the things of life will creep in, and our
name w ill he forgotten. Days will con
tinue to move on, and laughter and song
wdl be heard in the room in which we
died; and the eye that mourned for us
will be dried, and glisten again with joy ;
and even our children cease to think of
us, and will not remember to lisp our
names.”
From the Sumter Republican.
A OISCUSSIO \
OF T fl.:
DOCTRINE OF UKIVERSAUSM
HETWRKN
Rer. I T. J. Scott. Methodist, and Rcc. D. 11.
C'ifTtfton, Cnirrrsafist.
Rev. D. B. Clayton,
Dear Sir :—ln my last article I pre
spnted several objections to the system of
I'niversalism. T iif-.se objections were based
upon the Holy Scriptures, and deserved and
demanded a distinct and satisfactory reply.
Instead of meeting the?e objections, as our
readers had a right to expect, you endeavor
ed to escape the force of them by the “cuttle
fish cry’’ of “outside issues.” Whatever as
tonishment this couise tnay have excited in
others, I confess that I was fully prepared
for such a procedure. For I have not yet to
learn that Universalists have an unconquer
able dislike to a stricily Scriptural discu-s on
of the issues between them and Evangelical ,
Christians. 1 have determined, however, to i
hold you to the Law. aud the Testimony, j
throughout the present controversy. And !
uotveiilistanding these Scriptural objections
may be exceedingly distasteful. I must still i
press them upon youi attention. I object,
then, to TTniversalism.
Fourthly —Because it contradicts all these
Scriptures i hat teach the final exclusion of
certain classes from eternal life. Ot this sort
arc the following, viz: “Then said Jesus
unto tfb m, I go my way and ye shall seek
me, and shall die in vonr sins, whither I go
ve cannot come.” John 8; 21. “Many
shall say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, have
we not prophesied in thy name, Ac., and
then will I profess unto them I nev r knew
you; depart from me ye that werk iniquity.”
Mat. 7; 22, 23. “But he that blasphemetk
against the Holy Ghost hath never forgive
ness, but is in danger of eternal damnation.”
Mot. 3; 28. “Except a man be born again
lie cannot see the kingdom of God.” John
3; 3. “But the fear.ul and unbelieving, &e.,
Ac., shall have their part in the lake which
bnrneth with fire and brimstone, which is
the second dxatu.” Rev. 21 ;8. Paul,
wiiose authority you do not question, in
writing t<> the Galatians, sth chapter, after
enumerating the works of the Flesh, as
Drunkenness, Fornication, revellmgs, and
such like, very pointedly adds, “of which I
tell you now as I have told you id time past,
that they which do such thin eg shall not in
herit the Kingdom of GOD 1” This same
great Apostle, in the Ep’stle to the Ephe
sians, sth chapter and sth verse, saya, ‘ For
this ye know that no whoremonger, nor un
clean per-on, nor covetous man, who is an
idolater, hath any inheritance in the king
dom of Christ and of God.” And for greater
safety he subjoins the admonition, “Let no ■
man deceive you with vain words.” It is
evident that Paul was not a believer in
the new-fangled heresy that, all men, includ
ing whoremongers and drunkards, shall he
finally saved.
Nov/ we ask the reader to weigh Ihe tes
timony of this class of Scriptures. The force |
of them, it w II be perceived, does not de
pend upon the signification of the phrase J
“everlasting punishment,” and “eternal dam
nation.” Tnese phias9 might be expunged
from the Bible, and yet it would remain in- j
eontestably true that the individualsd’ scribed
in the above cited passages could never see
Christ nor inherit everlasting life. Mr. Clay
ton has undertaken to prove the final salva
tion of all men. To succeed in this under
taking he must, amongst other things, dis
prove these negative averments. He must
show that Christ and his Aposilps.in making
these declarations, erred, not knowing the
truth of God. And we predict that in his
reply he will either find it convenient to
overlook these passages altogether, or ebe
restrict their application to the present life.
We obj-ct* to Uuiversalism.
Fifthly—Because it contradicts all those
Scriptures which represent the future con- .
clition of the righteous and wicked in con
trast. These arc a few examples: “Many
of them that sleep in the dust shall awake,
some to everlasting life, and Some to ever
lasting shame and contempt, ” Dan. 12; 5. —
“Gather ye first together the tares and bind
them in bundles to burn them, but gather
the wheat into my barn.” Mat. 13; 30.
“Then shall the King say to them on his :
right hand, come ye blessed of my Father,
inherit the kingdom, &c., and then shall he
say to them on the left hand, depart ye
cursed into everlasting fire.” Mat. 25; 34,
41. “MarA’el uot at this, for the hour is com
ing in the which all that are in their graves
shall hear his voice, and shall come forth,
they that have done good unto th resurrec
tion of life; and they that have done evil to
the resurrection of damnation.” John 5; 28,
21). “B; not deceived, God i3 not mocked,
lor whatsoever a man sowelh that shall he
uiso reap. He tbatsoweth to the flesh shall
of the flesh reap corruption, but he that
soweth to the spirit shall of the spirit reap
life everlasting.” Gal. 6: 7, 8.
We have here a broad distinction made by
the Holy Scriptures in the final destiny of
the righteous and the wicked. We say final
destiny because we have no information be
yond thi9 point. There is not even the ob
scurest lent in the Bible of redemption alter
death. Yet Mr. C., notwithstanding his ad
mission that a7 that arc not saved in this life
wiH.still insist that none shall finally perish.
Will he inform our readers on what text he
builds his dogma of salvation m eternity?
We object to Universalism
Fixthla’ Because it contradicts the
numerous Scriptures that speak of a Geu
eral Judgment, when men shall be reward
ed according to their deeds. Tor example;
“And it is appointed unto men once to die,
and after this the Judgment, so Christ was
once offered to bear the sins ot many.” Ileb.
9; 27, 28. “But after thy hard and impeni
tent heart treasurest up to thyself wrath
against the day of wrath, and revelation of
the righteous Judgment of God, who will
render to every man according to his deeds.”
Rom. 2; 5, 6. “He hath appointed in which
he will Judge the world in righ'eousness by
that man whom he hath ordained.” Acts,
17; 32. “The Lord knoweth how to deliver
the Godly out of temptation, and to reserve
the unjust unto the day ot Judgment to be
punished.” 2 Peter, 2:9. “In the day which
God shall Judge the secrets of men by J. sus
Christ according to my GospeL Korn, x, lb.
‘But the heavens aud the earth wh.ch,
now by the same word are kept in store,
NUMBER 23.
| reserved unto fire against the day of Judg
| meat and perdition’ of ungodiy men.” 2
( I’eter 3: 7. These Scriptures manifestly re
i fer to a future day of reckoning and recom
pense, when Christ as the final Judge of the
quick and dead shall determine the destinies
of our entire race. The awards of that au-
I gust tribunal, we have every reason to con
] elude, will never be rescinded. Hence in
i the Epistle to the Hebrews it is expressly
styled “Eternal Judgment.” With this in
terpretation accords the general sentiment of
mankind. Christian and Pagan, Uuiversal
i ists excepted. These last in order to remove
i the necessity for future punishment insist
that vice and virtue are adequately recom
pensed in the present life. It becomes ne
cessary then, for them to get rid of these
Scriptures w hich so clearly speak of a future
Judgment. This they attempt in two ways:
Ist. These passages, they tell us, were all
| fulfilled at the destruction of Jerusalem.
Titus, ?.n idolator, represented Christ aud
I lus barbarian soldiery, collected from the
Provinces, were the Holy Angels. The 2d
explanation is that the day of Judgment cor
responds with the Clnistian Dispensation,
and that the thrones are now set and the
books opened. The bare statement of this
opinion ought to be a sufficient refutation.
But let us examine the text above cited from
Acts 17th, and see if it countenances either
ot these constructions. Paul is preaching
the Gospel on Mars Hill, in the presence of
die cultivated Athenians. In the midst of
his address lie exclaims, “God oow com
mandeth all men, everywhere, to repent, for
he hath appointed a day in which he will
i judge the world in righteousness by that
man whom he hath ordained. ’ lie cannot
i here mean by the day of which he speaks,
the Christian Dispensation. That had com
menced 25 years previously. The Gospel
had already been extensively preached, and
■ vf *st numbers had been gathered into the
j Christian Church. And yet Paul speaks of
the judgment as future. He says God icitt
■ judge the world, not is now judging the
world. Nor does the passage we are con
sidering countenance the opinion that Paul
was referring to the destruction of Jerusa
lem. I!e urged them to immediate repen
i tauce, not because a fearful calamity was
| hereafter to befall a distant Capitol, but be
l because the “world” was, at an appointed
j time, to be judged in righteousness. It was
a judgment in which all men, everywhere,
were interested, and hence all men. every
where, were required to repent. We con
j elude then, that there isaday of “Judgment
and fiery indignation” yet ahead of all which
shall “burn as an overt,” and which in the
language of the sacred writers, shall come
“as a snare upon alt that dwell on the earth.”
We object to Universalism,
Seventhly —Because it contradicts those
1 passages which express the duration of fu
ture punishment. Foi-example: “When the
Lord Jesus shall be revealed from Heaven,
with his mighty Angels in flaming fire tak
| ing vengeance on them that know not God,
and that obey not the Gospel of our Lord
Jesus Christ, who shall be punished with
everlasting destruction from the presence of
the Lord, and the glory of his power.” 2
! Thes. 1; 7,8, 9. “And these shall go away
| into everlasting punishment, but the righte
i ous into life eternal” Mat. 25: 4G. “If any
i worship the beast and his image, Ac., the
j same shall drink of the wine of the wrath
of God, Ac., aud the smoke of their torment
Hseendeth up forever and ever.” Ilev. 14;
9, 10, 11. Now if language is intended to
convey and not to conceal ideas, then the
foregoing passages teach the doctrine of end
less punishment, Aud first, the Greek term
here translated everlasting, and eternal is the
Greek adjective atonies, thederivitive oiaion.
These terms are compounded of adverb aei,
signifying perpetual, always, and on, being.
Their etymological import then is always ex
isting. We admit that these words are fre
quently employed to denote a limited dura
tion. Sometimes to denote an age—a life
time—the possession of Canaan, Ac., —hut
in all those instances they express the whole
duration of the things to which they are ap
plied. We insist, however, that their prima
ry and proper signification is eternal, everlast
ing. Iu support of this opinion we refer to
the statement of Aristotle, the Greek Phil
osopher. He says, “that which comprehends
the duration of the whole heaven —the whole
of infinite time, and infinity itself is called
aionia, eternity taking i*s name from always
being—immortal and Divine.” We refer
next to Dr. Adam Clarke, whose scholarship
will not be questioned. lie affirms that the
grammatical meaning of the word aionios is
“eh <•nal , and all other meanings only accom
modated ones, and that the first and best
Greek writers use it to express eternal, in the
proper meauing of that word.” Prof. Stuart,
of Andover, speaking of the import of these
terms, says, “Either the Bible does notteach
that God and his glory are endless, nor that
the happiness of the righteous is endless, or
else it establishes the fact that the punish
ment ol the wicked is endless. The whole
stand or fall together.” We conclude,there
fore, that it is philologicallv certain that in
the above passages the punishment spoken
of is endless. But we appeal, secondly, to
the New Testament usage of these words
to show that we are warranted in affixing to
them the idea of eternity. Some of the best
Greek scholars te’l us that the noun aion,
when used in connection with eis always de
notes endless duration. It is invariably used
so ip the New Testament, where tie punish
ment of the wicked is described. In regard
to aionios, it is u<ed in Gritsbach's edition
of the New Testament in seventy-one places.
In sixty-six of these placesit undeniably ex
presses endless duration. In the remaining
five places it is applied to future punishment.
Is it not mortally certain that it has the same
extent of signification as in the former in
stance. “The phrase eis tons aionios ton
etionion, rendered forever and ever, occurs
t eighteen times in the New Testament. In
fifteen instances it is applied to the continu
ance of the glory and government of God,
in one instance to the happiness of the righte
ous, and in the other two instances it is ap
| plied to the future punishment of the wick
ed. So far then as New Testament usage
can settle the - question, it is settled by the
j tbregoing facts. These facts perhaps me.de
you resort to a mere version of the Old Tes
tament, instead of confining yourself to the
original Hebrew text. But there is yet an
other proof that may bo derived from the
text—“ These shall go away into everlasting
punishment, but the righteous into life eter
nal.” Not only is the same word, aionion,
applied to life that is applied to punishment,
! but the antithesis is destroyed unless we al
: low the term in both instances the same
I force. This text is one of the most impor
tant in the Bible. It ‘.vas uttered by our
Savior as he sat apart with his disciples on
the Mount of Olives. “The shadows of the
crucifixion were falling around him,” and to
suppose that at such a time and in such a
presence he would have uttered these words
unless he meant to teach the doctrine of
endless punishment, is the highest absurdi
ty. Universalists have labored hard to tor
ture another meaning from it, but the effoifc
has been fruitless. Hear what Dr. Clarke,
