Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

... rm . . ■ •.'. Z . s*r-- - ’ ‘ ~ 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,