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GREGORY THE HITLER.
“Fr. the year 1831, the Papal conclave,
after a confinement of fifty-six days, (lu
ring which time they lutil balloted and
counter-balloted tor a worthy successor of
Peter, at last, by the voice of the Car
dinal Dean, announced an election in the
following manner: ‘ Magnum vobitannun
(in Tact Hum. llabemus Pcpam, Dominum
Cardmu'cm Cepellqri qvi tibi nomen as
sumpsit Grcgorium XVI.!’ Never was a
more unfortunate choice, through the result
of such a long succession of balloting.*, and
the presence, as claimed by the conclave,
of an infallible spirit! Cardinal Capellari,
a native of Beliuno, born a Venetian, and
an Austrian subject, had led the life of a
recluse. In consequence of some distinc
tion a.; a theo’ogian, and his succei- in a
negotiation on behalf of the Papal couit,
he had been raised to the dignity of cardi
nal : but lie pos essed no force of charac
ter. no haowledrrecf affair*. A mere monk,
advanced in life, feeble and timid, he was
utterly incapable of discharging thedutic*
of the pontificate, at a time, especially, of
great political excitement and financial de
pression. Narrow anil bigoted also, in hi*
reli ;ious views, he dreaded liberty and de
tested science as the greatest of all evils.
Tn his encyclical letter of the year 1832, he
describes liberty of conscience as 1 that most
pestilent error,’ and denounces the liberty
of f'c press , as 1 that worst and never
enough to be execrated and detestable evil.’
Ills whole pontificate consisted of a series
of mistake*. The evils under which the
Papal States groaned at his accession were
aggravated; justice was badly administer
ed; the people were oppressed; science
and freedom were proscribed. The dun
geons were filled with state prisoners, and
thousands of the noblest citizens were driv
en into foreign exile. Averse to business
and timid to excess, witn low and carnal
appetites, and habits of indolence, be was
preserved from deposition only by the
strong arm of the Swiss guards and Aus
trian bayonets. In a word, he was thor
oughly detested by bis people, and con
temned by foreign nations. On this ac
count bis death was bailed with secret re
joicings. When lie was crowned, he dis
tributed copper coins to the populace, say
ing ; ‘Silver and gold have I none, but sucli
as I have give I unto thee.’ At his death
he left money and personal property to the
amount of two millions of dollars to his
nephews and nieces; fur of course none of
the Popes have any direct heirs. He was
in the habit of receiving from the French,
and other governments, large presents of
champagne and other wines, when they
wanted any favors from him: and his cel
lar. after his death, contained, it is said,
twelve thousand bottles of choice wines,
since sold by the order of his more abstem
ious successor. This circumstance was
made the subject of the following pasqui
nade in Dome at the time of Gregoiy’s
death. It represents the deceased knock
ing for admittance a* the gate of Para- i
dise.
“ Who wishes to enter ?’ asks St. l’e-
11 0 1-ego ry, your successor at Home.’
“But,’replies S>. IVtcr, ‘Gregory the :
Great died and came here a long time ago.
Who are you, that have taken his named’
“Why, they called me at Rome Gregory
Bevone (Gregory the Tippler !’).
“Oh. 1 have heard of you ; come in.’ |
This -hows the spirit of the Roman j
populace, an 1 their estimate of Gregory;
Sixteenth. But the following, which ap
pi t;vl at the same time, is still more ex
pressive, and withal of keener wit.
“ St. Peter and Gregory are represented
as going to l'ar.tdise. The journey being
hard and tedious for an aged man. he com
plains to St. Peter thus :
“How is it, St. Peter, that onr journey
is : o long ! I did not know that Paradise
was so far from the 1 atican.’
“ St. Peter replies, ‘lf you had allowed
the construction of railways and steamers
in your states, we should hnvearrived long
ago; but now you must stop for a while
purgatory.’
“ After remaining some months in pur
gatory, where (as the story goes) he met
his friend, Daniel O’Connell! Gregory set
out with St. Peter again on lus eternal jour
ney. Coming in view of Paradise, the
Pope a e ks St. Peter, ‘ why the angels and
his last predecessors in the papal chair did
not come out to meet him?’
“ Dear Gregory,’ replies St. Peter, ‘ as for
the Popes there are few of them in heaven.
and the news of your death has not reach
ed there; as it would have done had you
established telegraphs, and granted the free
dom of the press f
“When the saint and the Pope airived
at the gates of Paradise, St. Peter a<ks,’
Gregory for his key, which after some time
the Pope finds and hands to him, but it
proves to be the kej of his wine-cellar.
“Presently St. Peter is admitted within
the gates, but Gregory somehow is lost in
the fog.”— Genius of Italy.
A DAY IN THE SULKS.
The article is written in the form of a
dialogue between North, Bullcr and Sew
ard—North says:
■ I hereby authorize the boys of this
Empire to have what temper they choose
—with one sole exception— The sulkcy.
Jitdler. —The edict is proinulged.
North. —Once, and once only, during
one of the longest and best spent lives on
record, was 1 in the mood proscribed—ami
it endured most part of a whole day. The
Anniversary of that day I observe in the
severest solitude with a salutary-horror,
And it is my Birthday. Ask me not, my
friends to reveal the Cause. Aloof from
confession before man, we must keep to
ourselves —as John Foster says —a corner
of our own souls. A black coiner it is—
and enter it with or without a light—you
see. here and there, something dismal, hid-
eous, shapeless, nameless, each lying in its
own place on the floor. There lies the
Cause. It was morning of my Ninth
Year. As 1 kept sitting high up stairs by
myself, one familiar face after another \
kept ever and anon looking in upon me—
’ all with one expression! And one familiar
i voice after another, all with one tone, kept ;
muttering at me, -He's still in the sulks. r ’
How I hated them with an intense hatred,
and chief them f before loved best, at each
shutting of that door ! How I hated my
j self, as my blubbered face felt hotter and ‘
hotter, and I knew how ugly 1 must be, -
with my fixed fiery eyes. It was so pain
ful to sit on such a chair for hours in one
( posture, and to have so chained a child
would have been great cruelty, but I was
’ resolved to die, rather than change it; and
had I been told by any one under an angel
jto get up and go to play, 1 would have
spat in his face. It was a lonesome attic,
‘and I had the fear of ghosts. But not
then, my superstitious fancy was quelled
by my troubled heart. Had I not deserved
to ho allowed to go ! Did they not know
that all my happiness in this life depended
on my being allowed to go ? Could any
i one of them give a reason for not allowing
! ine to go ? What right had they to say
i that if 1 did go, I should never he able to
i find my way by myself, back ? What
I right had they to say that Doundy was a
, blackguard, and that he would lead me to
j the gallows ? Never before, in all the
; world, had a good boy been used so on his
| birthday. They pretend to be sorry when
| ( am sick, and when I say my prayers,
j they say theirs too ; but I am sicker now,
I and they are not sorry, but angry, and 1
j won't read one verse in the Bible this
! night, should my aunt go down on her
! knees. And in the midst of such unvvord
jed soliloquies did the young blasphemer
J fall, asleep.
Puller. —Young Christopher North ! In
credible.
North. —l know not how long I slept;
but on waking. I saw an angel with a most
beautiful face and most beautiful hair,
a little young angel, about the same size
as myself, silting t on a stool by my feet.
“Are you quite well now, Christopher!
Let us go to the meadows and gather flow
ers.” Shame, sorrow, remorse, contrition,
came to me with those innocent words,
we wept together, and I was comforted.
“ 1 have been sinful, “but you are for
given.” Down all the stairs hand in hand
we glided ; and there was no longer anger
m my eyes, the whole house was happy.!
All voices were kinder, if that were possi
ble, than they had been when I rose in the
morning, a Boy in his Ninth Year. Pa
rental hands smoothed my hair, parental
lip* kissed it, and parental greetings, only
a little more cheerful than prayers, restor
ed me to the Love 1 had never lost, and
which I felt now had animated that brief
and just displeasure. 1 had never heard
of Elysian fields : but 1 had often heard,
ami often have dreamt happy, happy dreams
of fields of light in heaven. And such
looked the fields to be, where fairest Mary
Gordon and 1 gathered flowers and spoke
to the birds, and to one another, all day
long, and again, when the day was gone,
and the evening going, or. till moontime,
below and among the soft-burning stars.
Bailer. —And never lias Christopher been
j in the sulks since that day.
North. —Under heaven I owe it all to
j that child’s eyes. Sternly keep the Auni
versary, for, beyond doubt, 1 was that day
i possessed with a devil, and an angel it was,
j though human, that drove him out.— Dies
| Jioreales.
THE ELECTRIC LIGHT.
We alluded some time since to the ap
paratus recently invented by Henry M.
Paine, Esq., of Worcester, for the purpose
of producing a most intense and brilliant
light by means of combustion of the gases
evolved from the decomposition of water.
The last number of the Christian Citizen
gives ihc following account of some exper
iments made by Mr. Paine :
Most of our readers are aware that wa
ter is composed of two gases, oxygen and
hydrogen; the first is the supporter of
combustion. They have no doubt witness
ed the effect of water thrown on a very hot
coal lire ; the flash seen is the result of the
decomposition of the water, and the libera
tion of its gases which take fire. About
the time of Sir Humphrey Davy, or a little
before, some Dutch chemists succeeded in
decomposing water by electricity, and col
lecting its component gases. Sir Humphrey
made some brilliant experiments with the
galvanic battery, and after him Dr. Wal
laston with the electrical machine; and
from their times till the present, the exper
iment has been familiar in the philosoph
ical lecture room. But although water has
been thus decomposed for many years, and
its gases burnt, the process has never been
applied to any practical use till Mr. Paine’s
discovery. The expense and labor of pro
ducing a cubic foot of gas with the most
approved of powerful apparatus, was far
beyond the value of any purpose to which
it could be applied, and Ihe experiments j
served no other purpose than to demon
strate the elements of which water was
composed. But the invention of Mr.
Paine takes the simple and comparative
QO0ID&S08 9 waaK&'tr ©aaafl'ffiia
ly valueless water, and, at an expense of
time, labor and consumption of material so
insignificant as to require the working of
months to number doliars. and converts it
into a powerful agent of light and beat:
nay more, for purposes of motive power
we see no reason why it should not super
cede steam. The cumbrous boiler, the
mountains of coal, and the hissing water,
must yield to the magical power of a doz
en magnets and a few yards of copper
wire.
None of our citizens that have witness
ed the brilliant light at Mr. Paine’s bouse,
and the “lightning beacon” which streams
from the tower upon Goat hill, can recon
cile themselves to the idea that water, re
freshing water —the liquid that for a few
days past, has been so gratefully quaffed
—could be so made to change its nature
and office : and yet this change is not more
wonderous than the agents that cause it
are simple, the whole apparatus consisting
of a dozer, magnets, six helices, and weight
of !I5 lbs. to keep the helices in motion,
which requires to be wound up four times
per day; and this simple machinery, that
a man of ordinary strength can lift, will,
Mr. Paine declares, keep our city, year in
and year out, well lighted. That it will
do this there can be no doubt, for orifices
equal to the amount of gas required have
been made in the receivers from which the
jet* are to be taken, and for weeks past
these have been supplied.
Mr. Paine is now engaged in experi
ments for lighthouses, and for this purpose
has erected, west of the Literary Institu
tion on Goat’s hill, a hexagon building
two stories in height, the lower story being
used as a laboratory, and the upper for a
lanthorn. In the lanthorn are placed one
four feet concave reflector and one IS inch
| parabola. The lightning of these reflect
l ors produces a most beautiful effect, the
light from the parabola streaming like a
meteor for miles. The concave reflector,
we believe, was intended to light the south
ern part of the city, hut some alteration is
found necessary in its focal length before
its action will he complete. For light
houses on our coast, the invention is al
ready so perfect as to be invaluable; its
intense light and peculiar whiteglitter will
be seen through the fogs and darkness
that now so easily obstructs the present
lights.
CHANGE OF COLOR IN FISII.
John, on Sporting, says that the change
of color in fish is very remarkable, and
takes place with great rapidity. Put a liv
ing hlackburn trout into a white basin of
water, and it becomes white in half an
hour, of a light color. Keep the fish living
in a white jar some days, and it becomes
absolutely white; hut put it in a dark-col
ored or black vessel, and although, on first
being placed there, the white colored fish
shows most conspicuously on the dark
ground, m a quarter of an hour it becomes
as dark-colored as the bottom of the jar,
and consequently difficult to be seen. No
doubt this facility of adapting its color to
the bottom of the water ir. which it lives
is of the greatest service to the fish in pro
tecting it from its numerous enemies. All
anglers must have observed that in every
stream the trout are much of the same col
or of the gravel or sand on which they
live; whether this change of color is a vol
untary or involuntary act on the part of
the fish, 1 leave it for the scientific to de
termine.
SILEX.
The Farmer and Mechanic contains, in
its report of the proceediugsof the Farmers’
Club, a sticking account of the part play
ed by silex or the earth of flints, in the veg
etable world. The beautiful glossy coal
ing of straw is flint. The rattan of the
East Indies is admirably coated with it.—
Examine with a microscope the surface of
the wheat straw, or of rattan, and you see
this glossy coat broken in circular stripes
around the stem, showing that it is caused
by the necessary bending of the stems un
der the pressure of winds and other forces.
This apparently refractory substance is
proved to be soluble in water. By experi
ment, silex (silicia) has been dissolved by
hot steam, carried tip as vapor, and then
falling, condensed like like a hoar frost.—
It has long been supposed that plants have
power to gain a coat of glass and their
flowers to use the metals for their colors.
The flowers of violets have been made to
exhibit the fact that gold was in the violet
color.
ASSAYING METALS.
The assaying is the most curious and
scientific of all the business in the mint.—
The melters take the gold dust, melt it, and
cast it into a bar, when it is weighed accu
i ratelv, and a piece is cut off for the assay
; er. He takes it, melts it with twice its
weight of silver, and several times its
weight of lead. It is melted in smail cups
! made of bone ashes which absorb all the
j lead; a large part of the silver is extracted
| by another process, and the sample is then
! rolled out to a thin shaving, coiled up, and
put in a sort of glass vial called a inat
trass, with some nitric acid. The mattrass
are put in a furnace, and the acid is holed
some time, poured off, anew supply put in
and boiled again. This is done several
times, till the acid has extracted all the
silver and other mineral substances leaving
the sample pure gold. The sample is then
weighed, and by the difference between
the weight before assaying and after, the
value is found. All the silver over and
above five pennyweights for each lot, is
paid for by the mint as its true value. The
gold, after it has been assayed, is melted,
refined, and being mixed with its due pro
portion of alloy, is drawn into long strips
(not unlike an iron hoop for a cask) the
round pieces cut out with a sort of punch,
each piece weighed and brought to right j
size and put into a stamping press, whence ;
it comes forth a perfect coin.— Scientific
American.
■+
A LOST-ART.
The most markable Chinese porcclean
is the Kissing, or azure pressed : the secret
of its manufacture has been lost, but the
specimens which are preserved are of in
estimable value. Tie art was that of tra
cing figures on the china which arc invis
ible until the vessel is filled with liquid.
The porcelain is of the very lhi nest des
cription, almost as as an egg-shell. It
is said that the application in tracing these
figures i> eternal, ind not hv external
painting, as in ordinary manufacture, and
j that after such tracing was made, and when
lit was perfectly dry, a very thin covering
or coating was laid over it of the same
paste of which the vessel had been formed,
and thus the painting lay between two
(coatings of china ware. When the inter
nal coating became sufficiently dry they
; oiled it over, and shortly after, placed it in
’ a mould and scraped the exterior of the
vessel as thin as possible without penetra
| ting to the painting and then baked it in
the oven. It is evident that if such be the
i mode adopted, it would require the nicest
; dexterity and patient care for which the
Chinese are remarkable ; but although they
constantly endeavor to recover the exact
| method, the materials have been hitherto
unavailing.— Scientific American.
‘ffllJA ?A liiilx !B ,
:
WIRE FENCE.
A corrcpsondent of the American Agri
culturist, writing fram Darien, N. Y,, says:
—I am glad to see the attention of farmers
turned to this subjects, as I believe at no
distant day wire fence must become the
leading kind generally over the Union. It
is true there is a difficulty in fencing
against hogs, but even that can be over
come without much trouble, as is hereafter
suggested.
I have never yet had any made, hut in
tend to make a sample next spring. I have
given the subject, however, a good deal of
thought, and made inquires and figures
thereupon. From some small experiments
I have made, there can he uo doubt hut my
figures are mainly correct. I shall use
No. 11 wire, cedar posts, as they are the
most durable, and shall set them six rods
apart, making the fence five strands high.
The posts being set, I should began by bor
ing an inch hole through each, at eighteen
inches from the ground ; then another hole
eight inches from that, the next ten inch
es; then twelve inches; then fourteen
inches, making the fence five feet two inch
es high. After the wires have been drawn
through and strained tight, drive plugs into
| the holes at each side to hold them in their
places. Between each post, one rod apart,
drive down a stake, saw into it opposite
each wire, perhaps an inch, lay in the
wire, and drive in a single nail to keep it
in its place. It would be less trouble to
drive a small spike into the post and wind
the wire round it by one turn, rather than
to bore the holes; though the expense
would even be more.
The wire ought to he prepared in the
same maner that it is for bridges, boiled in
j linseed oil fora quarter of an hour, and
1 then dried, and the same process repeated
three times. This anneals and at the same
time coat* the wire, and saves painting it.
’ If, however, there be but a small quantity
1 to put up. it would be better to heat the
! wire, and afterwards paint it. Coal tar
would also be an excellent subtance for
that purpose. Now for the expense.
A strand of No. 11 wire, 80 rods long,
weighs 25 pounds.
1 80 rods of fence would weigh 125 pounds,
at 7 cents, $lO 25
14 red cedar posts, 25 cents each, 3 50
85 stakes, 1 cent each, 0 85
Preparing wire and painting, 1 00
Setting post.-- and stakes, 0 50
Putting up fence, including spikes,
or boring posts, 1 00
Contingencies, 1 00
Outside cost for 80 rods of wire fence, sl7 00
This would be twenty-two cents per rod;
but the actual cost to the farmer would not
be twenty cents.
| On most farms, where there is plenty of
timber for posts, it would not cost but about
sixteen cents per rod. But allowing for
I all contingencies, and that it costs twenty
| five cents per rod, it is then by far the
j cheapest fence that can be built.
In order to fence against hogs, I would
I drive down short posts and put on boards
| about two feet, and put the wires above,
j but nearer together. I think that no hog
that ought to go at large would ever get
through. For all other kinds of stock it
would be impenetrable. A neighbor of
‘mine, who is compelled to fence against a
! whole village of street cows, put but
two strands across a stream, where his
fence washed away, and it has proved a
perfect protection. I have seen the cows
walk up to it but have never yet known
one to attempet to get through, although j
the temptation between a fresh pasture and
the dry streets was very great, I have no
doubt.
©&?= Agriculture is the art of arts; with
out it man would be a savage, and the
world a wilderness.
SUGAR CANE ON WORN-OUT COT
TON LAND.
Wk have recently been gratified by the
notice from a southern corespondent, of the
luxuriant growth of the cane upon worn
out cotton uplands. This seems to have
been looked upon with much wonde l- and
admiration, by such as are not properly)
versed in the first principles of agricultural
science. The land which had become ex
hausted by the constant cropping of cotton,
is found to produce largely of a plant nev
er before grown upon it. This is simply a ‘
good illustration of the beneficial effects of
rotation, one of the great and important
discoveries of modern times. The availa
ble matters of nutrition for certain plants
have become exhausted in the proportion
required, leaving others, however, in suffi
cient quantities to provide a full supply to
a different class of plants. On occupying
the field with these, a luxuriant growth is
the result, which the scientific farmerwould
have confidently expected, hut which the
novice and unreflecting, more especially
the non-reading portion of the community,
look upon with unmitigated surprise.—
This is one aspect of the case, and the
same non-reading class are destined to
another disappointment, but in opposite
direction. Like the simpleton who acci
dentaly found a knife, they will be look
ing constantly at the same place foranother,
which they may never be destined to find.
If sugar cane be continually replanted on
the same field, without the addition of ma
nures, this crop, too, will be found to ex
haust its proper pabulum or fertilizing in
gredients, and soon it will yield no more
sugar than it now does of cotton or corn.—
Rotation , with the aditioii of specific ma
nures, (such as contain the silicate of pot
ash, the carbonates of lime and potash, the
phosphates of lime, soda, and magnesia,
phosphoric acid, the oxides of iron, &c.,
&c., the ingredients most essential to the
j successful growth of the caue, or those
1 which are most largely taken up by it,)
1 will be found the only means of securing
; the continuance of good and satisfactoiy
! crops.
THE GARDEN.
No one can be truly said to live who has
not a garden. None but those who have
enjoyed it can appreciate the satisfaction—
the luxury—of sitting down to a table
spread with the fruits of one's own plant
ing and culture. A bunch of radishes—a
few heads of lettuce—taken from the gar
den of a summer’s morning for breakfast:
or a mess of green peas or sweet corn, is
quite a different affair from market in a dy
ing condition, to be put away in the cellar
for use. And a [date of strawberries or
raspberries lose none of their peculiar fla
vor by passing directly from the border to
the cream without being jolted about in
baskets until they have lost all form and
comeliness. And yet, how many farmers
in the cities and villages of our country,
possessing every facility for a good garden,
either through indolence or ignorance are
deprived of this source of comfort 1 And
how many farmers, with enough land lay
ing waste to furnish them with most of the
luxuries of life, are content to plod on in
the even tenor of their way, never raising
their tastes above the “ pork and beans.”
of their fathers.
j3_ ja jf a
EVIL CONSEQUENCES OF SMO
KING.
The wide-spread habit of smoking has
not yet had due medical attention paid to
:it and its consequences. It is only by two
or three years’ observation that Dr. Lay
cock lias become fully aware of the great
; change? induced in the system by the abuse
|of tobacco, and of the varied and obscure
! forms of disease to which especially ex
! cessive smoking gave origin.
lie proceeded to state some of them as
j they were met with in the pharygeal mu
i cons membrane, the stomach, the lungs, the
j heart, the brain, and the nervous system.
| The tobacco consumed by habitual smo
kers varies from half an ounce to twelve
ounces per week : the usual quantity from
two to three ounces. Inveterate cigar smo
kers will consume from four to five dozen
per week. The first morbid result is an
; inflammatory condition of the mucous mem
! brane, of the lips and tongue, then the ton
| sils and pharynx suffer, the mucous mem
| brane becoming dry and congested. If the
thorax be examined well, it will be found
I slightly swollen, with congested veins
meandering over the surface, and here and
there a streak of mucus. The action of
tobacco smoking on the heart is depressing,
and some individuals, who feel it in this
organ more than others, complain of an un
easy sensation about the left nipple, a dis
tressed feeling, not amounting to faintness,
but allied to it. The action of the heart is
observed to be feeble and irregular.
An uneasy feeling is also experienced in
or beneath the pectoral muscles, and often
er on the right side than the left. On the
brain, the use of tobacco appears to dimin
ish the rapidity of cerebral action, and
check the flow of ideas through the mind.
It differs from opium and henbane, and
rather excites to watchfulness, like green
tea, than composes to sleep: induces a
dreaminess which leaves no impression on
the memory, leaving a great susceptibility,
indicated by a trembling of the hands and
irritability of temper. Such are secondary
results of smoking. So are blackness of
teeth and gumboils. There is also a sal
low paleness of the complexion, an irreso- j
lateness of disposition, a want of life and
energy, and in constant smokers, who do
not drink, a tendency to pulmonary phthis
ic.
Dr. Wright, of Birmingham, in acommu
nication to the author, fully corroborates
his opinions; and both agree that smoking
produces gastric disorders, coughs, and in
tlairmiatory affections of the larynx and
pharynx, diseases of the heart, and low
ness of the spirits, and in short, is very in
jurious to the respiratory, alimentary, and
nervous systems. —English Literary Ga
zette
THE CAUSE OF BAD TEETH.
Dr. Redfield says that the principal
cause of bad teeth is the use of hot food
and drinks, lie referred to the dislike
which little children showed to taking food
of a higher temperature than milk warm,
and of the attempt of nurses to satisfy
them, and said by- habitually taking food
of too high a temperature the mouth be
comes insensible of what would scald an
infant. If the membrane of the mouth
which is a comparatively poor conductor
of coloric, suffered from this cause, the
teeth suffered much more, for they were
excellent conductors, and the heat being
conveyed to the nerves of the teeth, caused
debility and loss of vitality, and, of course
; rottenness of the teeth. Food that was so
hot as to burn the tongue, was thrust be
tween the teeth and held there tilt it had
parted with its excessive coloric, and this
rendered the destruction of the teeth inevi
table ; and as the grinders were not sub
ject to this influence they were the great
; est sufferers.
bbmsiiqids,
SUNDAY READINGS, FOR AUG. 12.
TEMPERANCE.
“ The fruit of the Spirit is temperance. ” —G al.
v. 23.
“Let us who are of the day be sober.”
Sobriety here is of extensive latitude. It
includes not only freedom from excess of
drinking, but moderation in all things. In
this sense the word temperance is used in
our text. It is opposed to all excess of
self-indulgence, to all excess of abstinence
and self-denial, and to all excess of mental
excitement.
The object to which it refers. It must in
fluence us
In all our temporial enjoyments. There
are many pleasures and recreations, lawful
and innocent in themselves, but which be
come sinful by our intemperate use of them.
Christians, “let your moderation be known
unto all men.”
In all our worldly expectations. Ambi
tion is divine things is laudible, arid cov
etousness for the bestgifts isenjoined ; but,
with regard to this world, our desires and
expectations are to be limited. There are
some whose souls seem too large for their
bodies, and too lofty for their circumstan
ces; they will not learn the lesson of con
tentment.
In all our earthly attachments. There
are many idol temples erected in the heart
before conversion ; but grace overthrows
them, and then the heart itself becomes a
temple dedicated to Jehovah’s praise and
glory. Love to the creature is not forbid
den. but it must always be in subserviency
to the love of God.
The arguments by which it maybe cn
! forced.
Oar personal comfort. How often are
we called to witness the painful effects of
intemperance! But there is an inward
pleasure and satisfaction to the mind, ari
sing from the cultivation of this Christian
grace ; it is a pleasant fruit.
Our religious profession. Consistency to
j the principles we have embraced demands
I it. If Christians go the same excess asthe
j worldling in unlawful indulgences, it may
j well be said to them, “What do ye more
than others ? ”
Onr eternal destination. Shall those who
are destined to soar in the regions of bliss,
grovel in the dust of worldly enjoyments 1
You are looking for a never-fading crown;
how unreasonable that you should be
; pleased with a gaudy to) !
Importance of early Religious In
! strcction. — When a lady once told Arch-
I bishop Sharpe that she would not commu
nicate any religious instruction to her chil
dren until they had attained years of discre
tion, the shrewd prelate replied, “ Madam,
if you do not teach them, the devil will!”
He saw, as every one who reflects on the
subject must see, that the choice rests not
between something and nothing, but be
| tween positive good and positive evil—be
i tween blessing and cursing: and he also
saw that there is only a short space left
for the decision, “to choose life that souls
may live.”
S’ -LI
CLEON AND I.
BY CIIARI.ES AtACKAY. I.L. D.
Cleon lmth ft million acres—
Ne’er a one have I;
Cleon dwelleth iu a palace—
In a cottage 1;
Cleon hath a dozen fmtuncs—
Not a penny I;
But the poorer of the twain is
Cleon, and uot I.
Cleon, true, possesses acres,
lint the landscape I;
Half the charms to me it yieldcth
Money cannot buy;
Cleon harbors sloth and dullues—
Freshening vigor I;
lie in velvet, 1 in fustian—
Richer man ain 1.
Cleon is a slave to grandeur—
Free us thought niu 1;
Cleon fees a score of doctors—
Need of none have I;
Wealth-surrounded, care environed,
Cleon fears to die;
Death may come he'll find me ready—
Happier man am 1.
Cleon sees no charm iu nature —
In a daisy I;
Cleon hears :io anlhems ringing
In the sea and sky;
Nature sings to me forever—
Earnest listener I;
State for state, with all attendants,
Who would change I—Not T
ib la A a am a A in a a.
Pi ain TuuJhs pi. a inly Tol6
Falsely so called, by “ A Publisher
PLAINLY ANSWERED.
Mr. Editor: A sense of duty compels me
to notice the Article signed “ A Publisher
in your paper of July 28.
It is just that 1 should be permitted to
defend myself in the court where I un
charged, and yet Ido it reluctantly because
of my previous intention not to notice any
thing my enemies might say, and shall not
do so while they do not assail my “mo
lives” ; but when this is done I must and
will be beared. My character is my re
ligion, my only patrimony;— Ruin it and
you destroy me, —take that away and I am
deprived of all that can bless my exist
ence.
His attempt can be regarded in no otlici
light than as being intended to depreciate
me in the estimation of the public. It was
done at a time when hundreds were here
who knew nothing of me, and they would
naturally conclude that I had been attempt
ing to put down another's in order to give
effect to my own publications, and thus
impose on the people. Nor could they
have any interest in it as they wore not at
all concerned, and the injury done to me
can never be retrieved as many of them
will not see my reply ; and I think the
people will agree with me that this attempt
is sufficient to place him before the commu
nity in the light of a dishonest irresponsible
character who is totally unworthy of the
regard of any one who is respetable. The
fact that he defrauded the public of his
name evidences the fact that he is extreme
ly treacherous, heartless and uncalled for
in an attemp to injure one who has offered
no cause for it; as a few statements will
show.
In my note to the •‘■journal fy Messen
ger” no charge was made against Mr.
Wright. My only aim was to correct
some misapprehensions existing in the
minds of many who subscribed through me
to his papers, not with a view to influence
them as others against him or his papers,
or in favor of my own publication, but to
show them that I was not to blame be
cause they did not get the papers. The
facts are these.
I had obtained near 1000 subscribers to
“ It rights Paper ” cjr “ Casket,” mostly in
Ga. All of them received some Nos. and
then they failed to reach them. They did
not know the cause and charged it upon
me, and complained to me as if I were re
sponsible for the failure. 1 wrote to Mr.
Wright about it, time and again and got
others to write for their papers themselves.
After writing to him frequently for 4
months and failing to get the matter right,
i again wrote 4 times to him stating that
that unless an immediate answer was giv
en I should publish the facts to the world. ;
Still I uttered not a word against him, (and )
have to this day,) and still the papers did j
not come , and still no answer came. 1 1
could do no more, and was compelled to
publish, or forfeit my word and leave
room for suspicion. And now, after wait
ing six months under these aggravated cir
cumstances, my mctii'es must be impugned
before a people who are not interested in
the matter, maliciously and for no other i
purpose than to depreciate my character
to injure my success in a a good cause and
to promote a bad one, as it could have no
other effect.
As to Mr. Wright's rascality I bioie
nothing. The above are plain facts.—
Why his answers were not recieved 1 can
not tell. 1 have look upon him as being a
good man. 11 is papers arc doing good in
the world and they are well worthy ol
general patronage. I have advised the
subscribers to hold on as long as they can
get one No. a year, believeing that to be
worth the subscription. I still hope that
the difficulties will be removed to the satis
faction of all concerned.
My paper is not an “attempted imitation”
of wright’s. It is devoted to higher and
more important interests—to interests
which will bless mankind arid elevate oaf
people. It is designed as a prelude to a
1 more important work intended as the 1 Me-
I dium of a great national , Moral. Chris
! t ionise li Literature ’ —to opperate as a
useful help in the Moral and Civil cleva
i tion of our race,” to promot truth and vir
tue, and to disseminate useful knowledg-
All this is clearley set forth in my Pros
pectus and salutatory. My paper is only
50 cents a year, and I ask the people totry
me one year and see if 1 am not Capable
and faithful—my work good and useful
My Model is Truth, Humanity and the
good of the world. My aim is the devel
opment and practical application of great
principles to promote the good of my coun
try and my race. My motives are pure
and true. My actions are the result of
hsavenly principles implanted by the spir
it of God, cultured by the power of Truth
and the practice of virtue. Ilive for Truth
and strive for purity. I shall succeed
when others fail, and live when others
die. God is my foundation and my great
ness is humility Ilive, I labor forthtn-
I am sorry to be compelled to make
some statements presented in this notice
land should much rather
“ Let the dogs of party baric’
and winds disperse the noise, and peaceful” j
l v pursue my “ work of faith and labor o r
love but the enemies of truth will r *
vokc an answer when falsehood - ,
abroad in the garb of truth, or slander,
professed friend of the public, iu the B oo **
of“ A Publisher,” J. D. REAGAN-
Athens. Cln. August Bth. 18-19.
-♦ -
SSy* An Indian chief being in ancatm?’
house was asked whether he would have
a glass of ale. lie cast a verry aborigm
look upon the pale face, and replie®
“ Thank you, sir, I have not become sos* 1
civilized ns to drink liquor.”