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YOL. XVIII.
THE TEMPERANCE BANNER
IS THE
Organ of the Sons of Temperance
AND OF THE
State Convention of (Georgia:
PUBLISHED WEEKLY,
BY BEW VUIJf BRUTLY.
O* Terms—One Dollar a year,in advance.
Letters must be Post paid, to receive at
tention. . I
| Banner Almanack, for 1852. |
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l/ r Every man iin danger of becoming a drunkard who is in X
the habit of drinking ardent spirits,
X 1. When he is warm. \u. When he is at work. y
A 1. Wien !i* is col t. C 12. When he is idle. n
V 3. When he is wet. ( i's. Hefore meals. N
y 4. When h* is dry. ) 14. After meals. X
Q 5. When he is dull. ) id. When he gets up.
tn| When he is lively. f 1 6. When he ges to bed. y
rs 7. When he travel-*. / 17. On hollidays.
X S. When he i< at home. i IS. On lhildiu occasions,
/, 9. When he is in company ( 19. On any day; or A.
X ift. When he is alone. / 20. On any occasion. X
S Every trietul to Temperance*^
take the Temperance
k“lt - Temperance men will not support \
sythe ‘l’eniperance Press, who will V y
MORAL AND RELIGIOUS.
[From the Temperance Advocate .]
The sin oflntemperance
“ No drunkard shall inherit the kingdom
of Heaven.”
When we look abroad nnd nr-ticc the
evil etrects of Intemperance —when we
see a poor drunken brute, (for 1 do not
know by what othei name to call him)
.lying iu ike ditch before us, or reeling
lo and fro through the streets of our
towns —or when we see a man whose
breath is tainted with the disagreeable j
odor o {alcohol, we are almost led to the I
conclusion, that these are arguments
sufficient in themselves to dissuade men
from the use of intoxicating drinks as a
beverage—-that these are arguments
sufficient in themselves to prompt men
to resolve that, they will “touch not,
handle not the unclean thing.” But
•experience has shown us their insuffi
ciency. It has proved to us that they
cannot be relied upon as infallible |
guides. VVe are, then, compelled to
resort to reason and demonstration to
dissuade men from a practice, so per
nicious, so-conlemplible, and so degra
ding /
If we would look at the evil effects
oflntemperance upon the social, the po-!
litical, and the moral relations of men,
in their proper light, we would per
ceive at once, that it is a sin in the sight
of God. Does it affect the social rela
tionship, and in conjunction with this,
the character of the man whom it claims
as its victim? Would to God I could
answer, no. Its effects are too plainly
known, and seen, and felt, to be denied.
They are stamped indelibly upon every
heart! The father who is addicted lo
intemperance, and consequently be
comes a sot —who is a dread to her,
whom, at the sacred alter, in the pres
ence of Almighty God and many wit
nesses, he swore to protect —who is a
tyrant in his family—from whom, when
approaching his home, his children
would conceal themselves for safety
—\vho despoils and never replaces—
who is squandering his all, and thus
bringing himself, his wife, and his little
ones to want, to degradation and dis
grace, is committing a sin in the sight
of God. He is destroying that rela
tionship which the Giver of every good
and perfect gift has vouchsafed to us,
and which is sacred and dear to every
one. The son who is the idol of his
mother’s heart, and the pride of his
father’s life—who is honored, beloved
and respected—who has gained for him
self a great and glorious name—who
has raised himself to distinction and em
inence, but who, unfortunately, in af
ter life, having acquired the ha bit of
drinking, loses the reputation he had
attained, and the confidence he had
gained, that son destroys the social re
lationship, and brings the gray hairs
of his father with sorrow to the grave.
The father, in looking upon that non
thus fallen and degraded, and remem.
bering what he was, arid what he was
destined to be, exclaims with a heart
smitten with disappointment:
‘ If thou art he, oh how fallen.”
Look abroad upon the face of tire
earth, and see the crimes that are psr
potrated, and tell me what is the cans: ?
Survey within our penitentiaries, and
alms-houses, and asylums, and hospi
tals, and sec their wretched inmates,
and tell me what has placed them there?
Look to the gallows that is erected, and
see that poor unfortunate being as iie
is ascending the ladder, and tell me
what has brought him to this untimely
and horrible death? To all of these,
in a majority of cases, the same answer
must be given: Intemperance! Intem
perance!! Intemperance!!! Then,
docs it not destroy the social relation
ship? Undoubtedly it does. -Since,
then, it destroys that, it is a heinous sin
in the sight of God and man; for God
lias formed that relationship for the
happiness of his creatures.
Thus far, l have spoken of its effects
upon the social relation; but 1 have al
so alluded to the fact, that it destroys
the reputation of the man whom it claims
as its victim. Reputation is one of the
most precious of all things that a man
can possess. “A good name,” says
Solomon, “is rather to be chosen than
great riches.” Truly, “it is more
potent than the sceptre of princes. It
is more precious than the costliest oint
ment. Its relreshing and purifying fra
grance will diffuse itself far and wide—
it will linger as a sweet perfumer a
round the tomb, and fill and bless, it
may be, the latest ages of recorded
time.” Destroy this, and the mail is
useless to himselfand useless to society.
Now, the tendency of intemperance is
to destroy that good name, and conse
quently to blast the reputation of man.
Show me a man who is truly denomi
nated a drunkard, and 1 will show you
one whose character is not worth a far
thing. For who would place any thing
of importance in the hands of a drunk
ard? or who would engage the servi
ces of a drunkard to perform any work,
or to accomplish any object ! Surely
riot he who values 1 1 is own prosperity,
or who would look lor the accomplish
ment of the object. That was a wise
precaution of Lieutenant Lynch, and
one indeed, worthy of commendation,
“1 was very particular,” lie says, in
speaking of his out-fit for the Dead Sea,
“in selecting young, muscular, native,
born Americans of sober habits, from
each of whom l exacted a pledge to ab
j stain from all intoxicating drinks.”
Then, ifthe inebriate cannot be trus
ted, it is very certain that his charac
ter is imp “ached, and his good name de
stroyed.
I proceed to inquire : Does intemper
ance affect tire political relations of man?
Fearing lest this article may be extend
ed too far, 1 will simply answer this
question in the affirmative; for “its
harpy touch pollutes the ballot-box, arid
thence sends out streams of corruption
to every part of the body politic.”
i ask again : Does it affect the mor
al character of man ? This is the most
important c f the three that l have men
tioned. And here it will be but too
plainly seen that it benumbs, it stupi
fies, it deadens all the moral faculties
of the soul. It unfits man for the great
end of his being. It places him upon
the same broad plat-form with the
brute creation. It shuts out from his
soul all right conceptions of God, Eter
and Immortality. In a word, it sinks
him deeper, and deeper still iri the
flames of eternal perdition; for God’s
decree has gone forth, that “no drunk
ard shall inherit the kingdom of Heav
en.” Drunkenness is placed in the
word of God, in the same catalogue
with the grossest and most heinous sins;
for thus it is written : “Know ve not
that the unrighteous shall not inherit
the kingdom of God ? Be not deceived,
neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor
adulterers, nor thieves, nor covetous,
nor drunkards, nor revelers, nor extor
tioners, shall inherit the kingdom of
God.” Isaiah speaks of it as the “ cup
of trembling,” and of the drunkard, as
“staggering in his vomit.” Oh, how
miserable! how degrading! how sinful
in the sight of a Holy and Omniscient
God.
Then, il it Ire true that Intemperance
is a gross sin, which surely cannot be
denied, is it not the part of wisdom, I
appeal to every man of candor and
common sense, if it is not the part of
wisdom to free ourselvs from so great
an evtl ? Every one ofhuman feelings,
must arid will answer yes. Now there
is but one way by which this object
can be effected, and that is found sim
ply in the few words, sign the pledge,
and keep it. lam persuaded that if
my reader would view this subject in
its proper light, there would be a strug
gle to know, not whether lie would sign
the pledge, but who would be the first to
sign. Then I say to one, and to all,
come sign the pledge, and
“Look not upon the wine when it is red,
When it giveth its color in the cup,
When it moveth itself aright.
At the last it biteth like a serpet,
And stingetli like an adder.”
But some perhaps, are ready to say,
that us they are nit drunkards it is use
less for them to sign the pledge. I ad
mit and fee! happy in so'riding?that you
PENFIELD, CxA. JUNE 12, 1852.
may not bt drunkards, but if you drink
at all, God alone knows how long it will
be, before you will be placed among
that wretched class. 1 can ‘see no
good reason why a Temperance man
(so called) should refuse to sign a Tem
perance pledge, for it is only a bond of
union to those who are united to a com
mon cause; believing that in union
there is strength. If you cun abstain
from drinking without signing the
pledge, surely signing the pledge will
not make you drink, but on the contra
ry it will prompt you to give your in
fluence in behalf of the great Temper
ance Reformation.
But look at this subject in another
light. If you do not drink, perhaps
your neighbor or vour friend does.—
Now, if vou would sign the pledge, you
might by your example, secure the
present and eternal salvation of that
neighbor, or that friend. Then if such
a case is possible, and the truth of which
cannot be doubted, who among my
readers does not desire to save his
friend or his neighbor from an early
and a drunkard’s grave, and conse
quently from a drunkard’s hell ? Then
l say to all, come sign (he pledge. —
Let me urge this subject particularly
upon the attention ofthe young—the ri
sing generation—the future hope of our
country. Some of you, perhaps, are
looking forward with fond anticipation
to the time, yet in the far distant future,
when some important post of honor
shall be committed to your care. How
important then, is it, that you should
cultivate while young, a spirit of so
briety, that it may grow with your
growth, and strengthen with your
strength. Then to you 1 would say,
come sign the pledge.
Excuse the length of this article, 1
may resume the subject on a future oc
casion.
A. S. M.
Penfield, Ga.
J HVENILE DEPARTMENT.
He died and made no Sign-
When Beaufort was leaving the
world he was requested, according to
Shakspeare, lo hold up his hand, but
i he died and made no sign !’ How
many more, breathe in the earth for
three score and ten years, and then go
from lienee leavirg no sign behind to
be held as a memorial for them ! For
gotten, unhonored, lost in the memory
of man! Wtiy is this ? They lived
lor naught in the world; they passed
away and done nothing for their race,
they breathed in tiie earth without ful
filling the great object for which
they were sent, to do good; no o ks
kindly on their forgotton tomb and
blesses their memory by reason of the
good deeds they had done when livin<;
no line they ever wrote —no counsel
no cherished word they ever spoke can
be recalled; it is all lost in the world’s
memory, and like the trodden beetle in
the patu they are no more remembered;
they died and made no sign !’ Shall
this be said of you, yonng man ? You
are just ‘entering the lists of life’—will
you live for nought, or will you ‘make !
a sign V While you live, pray live for
some good and noble purpose. Write
your name in letters that never fade- i
pencil it deeply, indellibly on the hearts
of those who follow after you—inscribe ;
it there as with a graver by constant j
deeds of love, of mercy, of kindness, of!
benevolence, of nobleness of purpose; ■
and when your voice is no more heard, ■
when the flowers bloom and die o’er
your silent dust, when the grass with-I
ers on your cherished grave year after \
year until the infant who sported with ;
the first flowers of your grave—its first [
fruits—until he shall have become an-j
old man bending towards the grave’s!
quiet home, even then, aye, later, your!
name will not be forgotten;— your‘sum’ j
will be pointed at —the illustrious acts!
of your life will he rehearsed, and shall
be a monument forever and aye more
desirable than the sculptured marble!
Fail not to make your sign,
brother—sister, while the cycles of
time, of life is rushing swiftly, con
stantly around, and your name imper
ishable acts will be as brightly legible
on the generous hearts of the thousands
and tens of thousands, who shall come i
after you, as the twinkling stars that |
gem the pure brow of the night! Will j
you live of the trophies of honor, or will
you ‘die and make no sign?” Choose |
Now.— Spirit of the Age.
A Goon Rule.—A man who is very !
rich now, was very poor when he was
a boy.
W lien asked how he got his riches
he replied : My father taught me nev
er to play till my work was finished
and never to spend my money until I
earned it. If I had but an hour’s work !
in a day, I must do that the first thing, I
and in half an hour.
And after this I was allowed to play;!
and I then could play with much more:
pleasure than if I had the thought ofan ;
unfinished task before my mind, f
earlv formed the habit of doinrr every!
thing in time, and it soon became per
fectly easy to do so. It is to this I owe
my prosperity. Let every boy who
reads this go and do like wise.
Retaliation-
Some few years since, in the county
of Penebscot, there lived a man by the
name of II , whose grentest pleas
ure was in tormenting others. His
j own family was generally the butt of
his sport.
One cold and blustering night, he re
tired to bed at an early hour, his wife
1 being absent at a neighbor’s. Some
I time after, she returning, finding the
door closed, demanding admittance.
‘Who are you ?’ cried Mr. H .
‘You know who l am; let mo in, it is
I very cold.’
‘Begone, you strolling vagabond; 1
want nothing with you hero.’
‘But I must come in.’
‘What is your name ?’
I ‘You know my name—it is Mrs.
; ii—
‘Begone! Mrs. H—is a very likely
| woman, she never keeps such late hours
; as this.’
Mrs ll—replied : ‘lf you do not let
: me in I will drown myself in the well.’
‘Do, ifyou please,’ he replied.
She then took up a log and plunged
lit into the well, and returned to the
j side of the door.
| Mr. ll—hearing the noise, rushed
from the house, to save, as he supposed
his drowning wife. She at the same
j time, slipped in and closed the door af
ter her. Mr. H—, almost naked, in
turn demanded admittance.
‘Who are you ?’ she demanded.
‘You know who l am—let me in or
[ shall freeze.’
‘Begone! yon thievish rogue! I
want nothing of you here.’
‘But l must come in.’
‘What is your name ?’
‘ You know my name; it is Mr. ll—.’
‘Mr. H—is a very likely man, he
don’t keep such late hours.’
Suffice it to say, she, after keeping
him in the cold until she was satisfied,
opened the door and let him in.— Vox
I ‘opuli.
Attextiox the Whole?—A major
of nmlitia in Pennsylvania, who had re
cently been elected, and who was not
overburthened with brains, took it into
1 his head on the morning of parade to go
out and exercise a little by himself.
The field selected for the purpose was
his own yard. Placing himself in a
military attitude, with his sword drawn,
he exclaimed—‘Attention the whole!
i Rear rank, three paces, march !’ and
he tumbled down the cellar.
! His wife, hearing the noise oeoasion
ied in falling, came running out and
asked—
‘My dear have you killed yourself?’
‘Go into the house, woman,’ said the
major, what do you know about war!’
Japan and the Japanese.
Characteristics and Dress of the Ja
paese.—The Japanese are a mixed race
of Mougul and Malay origin. Their j
language is pollysylabic, and has an
alphabet 0f47 letters, which are written
in five different forms, one of which is
used exclusively by the men, and an
other by the women. The people of
this nation are well made, active, free
and easy in their motions, and stout
limbed. The men are middle sized,
and in general not corpulent, yellow
complexions, oblong black eyes which
are deeply sunk in the head. Short
and flat noses, broad head and black
hair. They are said to be an intelli- 1
gent and provident people, inquisitive!
and ingenious, frank and good humor
ed, upright and honest, brave and un
yielding, capable of concealing and 1
coritrolirtg their feelings in an extra
ordinary degree, but distrustful, proud,
unforgiving and revengeful. The;
usual dress of the Japanese is a short
upper garment, with wide sleeves, and I
a complete gown underneath, fastened j
around the neck, and reaching quite!
down to the feet.
Trie rich are clothed in silks, the
poor in coarse woolen stuffs. The up
per garment is generally black, the uu- j
der dress is of mixed colors. Every j
one has his family arms, about the size j
of a half a dollar, wrought into his j
clothes in different places. In winter
they wear five or six dresses over each j
other. Instead of shoes, they have!
soles, merely, of straw fastened to the j
great toe by a loop. They do not use j
parasols in sunshine, nor uribrcllas in
rainy weather, hut in traveling, conical
caps, fans umbrellas and cloaks made!
of oiled paper, are commonly used.
They pay great attention to the orria
menting and dressing of their hair,
which is collected in a tuft on the crown
of their head, and they study great
cleanliness of person.
House s and Mode of hieing. —In Ja
pan the houses are of wood, never ex
ceeding two stories, the upper ones con-!
sisting chiefly of garret and lumber 1
rooms. Through the house is eonimo
dious, it consist in general of one room, 1 1
capable by moveable partitions and
screens, of being divided into apart
ments. Neither tables or chairs are
used, the people sitting squat on straw
mats, in which position they eat their
food.
l'lte diet ofthe Japanese is composed
j of agreater variety of articles than that
jof any people in the world. Not con
tent with the many kinds of wholesome
and nutritive food supplied by the pro
| duce of their modes of preparing their
| victuals, to render the less valuable,
j and even the poisonous parts of animal
! and vegetable substance useful, or at
least harmless articles of subsistence.
At meals the portion for each person is
| served up in neat vessels of porcelain
tor japanned wood, which are large
basins, furnished with lids. The
guests sulute each other with a low
j how before they begin to eat; and like
the Chsnese, take up food by means of
two small pieces of wood, held betwen
the fingers of the right hand, and used
| with the greatest dexterity, so as to pick
jup the smallest grain of rice. Between
i each dish they drink warm Jacki, or
rice-beer, out of shallow saucers, and
j at the same time occasionly take a bite
; of a hard boiled egg.
o o
Some of the most common dishe3
! are fish boiled with onions and a kind
|of small bean, or dressed in oil. Fowls
j stewed and prepared in various modes,
| and boiled rice, which supplies the place
lof bread for all their provisions. Oils,
i mushrooms, oarrot.s, and various bulb
j ous roots, are used in making up their
dishes. It is customary to eat three
! times a day; at 8 o’clock in the morning,
!'J in the afternoon, and 8 in the even
ing. The women eat by themselves,
| apart from the men. The practice
of smoking tobacco, which is supposed
to have been introduced into Japan by
the Portuguese, is very common with
both sexes.
Marriage and Funeral Ceremonies. —
| Polygamy is allowed in Japan, though
j in general, all hut one female, who is
| acknowledged a wife, are merely regar
ded as concubines. This is the case
with the higher classes. The women
are allowed a higher station than in
most oriental countries. She is the
companion and not the slave ofthe man.
Marriages are solemnized in the open
( air, in the presence of the priest and
’ relations of the pat ties, without much
pomp or solemnity. The bridgeroom
| and bride advance to an alter elected
| for the purpose, with a torch in their
hands, and while the priest reads a form
of prayer, the bride having lighted her
torch at a burning lamp, holds it out
to the bridegroom, who lights his torch
I from hers. The guests then congratu
late the new married couple, and the
| ceremony is concluded. Prostitution
! is carried on to a horrid extent, and so
little discredit is attached to the prosti
| tutos, that they are received without
remark in respectable society.
The bodies of persons of distinction
iat death are burned, while others are
j intered. The funeral pile is erected
j in a small house of stone fitted lor the
j purpose, and provided with a chimney.
The body is brought thither accompan
ied by men and women, and attended
by a numerous train of priests, who are
continually occupied in singing. Upon
reaching the place of burning, one of
the priests, sings the eulogy of the de
ceased, and having thrice waved alight
ed torch over the body, throws it away.
It is then picked up by one of the chil
dren, or other relatives of the deceased,
and applied to the burning pile. The
clothes are carried away in a costly
vessel, and preserved for some time in
the house, but afterwards are buried
in the eartii. Those who are not burn
ed are enclosed in a wooden chest, and
letdown into a grave in the customary
manner. Fragrant spices are thrown
into the grave, and flowers planted on
the earth which covers it.
False Education-
The prevailing defect of the educa
tion of our day is its superficiality.—
There is a constant aim in the educa
tion of our youth to give to all, without
regard to the stations or positions they
are designed or compelled in after life
to fill, and without regard to the period
of time aliotod to their education, a lit
tle knowledge of every thing, a smat
tering acquaintance with every branch
of study.
This appears first in our school books. 1
The grand controlling idea which pos
sesses the minus of the compilers of
these works is to make the subjects’
easy, and thus to relieve the learner as
much as possible of all mental labor, I
and facilitate to the greatest degree the j
process of acquisition.
The same thing is visible in the man- i
agement of our schools. It appears of- 1
ten in the mode of conducting the reci- ■
lations and imparting instructions.—
The teacher lectures rather than teach
es; talks to his pupils on a subject ra- j
ther than drills them in the knowledge
of it ; explains and illustrates when he
should be examining his pupils upon
the subject'-: of their studies, and testing!
I the extent of their understanding o
j those subjects, and the measure
I their application and attention to them
The consequence is that the pupils t
ten, but do not learn, are interest!
1 but not instructed. They recen
; some fragmentary and disjoined inf
ination, but no real and genuine cn>
I ture. The work which the verynatu
! of things has imperatively imposed up
on tiie pupil, if any real mental prog
J ress is to be expected from him, is thn?
j performed by the teacher,
j The same tendency manifests itse’
1 in the multiplicity ofthe studies whit
[ it is very general in our schools to as
l sign at the same lime to pulpits. The
pursuit of too many different studi:.
the same time distracts and confusi
the mind ofthe learner, greatly we
ens the impression made upom it, an
induces in him a superficial habit
of investigation and of thought. As, on
the other hand, the continued applica
tion of the mind to a single theme ex
hausts its powers, distorts the medium
of its vision, and finally ovorwhelrnr
amJ ruins it.
The great element of successful
progress in man is singleness ofp
pose. The highest success will then
fore be attained in the tuition of th
human intellect when the fewest stud
ies are assigned for its contemporane
ous pursuits which are compatible with
affording to its efforts the requisite
change and relief.
Barents, too, are generally more flat
tered with the number and variety of
their children’s attainments than with
the extent and depth of those attain
inents. They seom to consider it of
more consequence that their children
shall have studied many things than
they shall have understood one; to p
gard the ability at all times to take
readily and appear knowing, of moro
importance than the power to think
clearly and profoundly, and to act
promptly and correctly. All this pro
ceeds from a radical misapprehension
ofthe very nature and end of an edu
cation.
i The object of an education is to ft
i men for action. In the comprehensive
s language of Milton, we “call a com
, plete and general education that whir 1 ’
i fits a man to perform justly, skillful I v
I and magnanimously all the offices, both
i private and public, of peace and war.
It is to prepare them for the proper
performance of the actual duties of
life, to act well their parts in the great
drama of human existence, that our
youth are educated.
To this end all the faculties of the
human mind reqnire the fullest possi
ble development. To accomplish this
development is the business of educa
tion. The actual amount of informa
tion, threfore, which is communicated
during the brief period of youth, is’
comparatively of little moment. It is
at best but small.
But the training which the mind re
ceives during that period, the direction
which is given to its tastes and inclina
tions, the strength and energy which i
imparted to- its faculties, the force, th
depth, the reach, and the
which it acquires in all its operations,
its ability and facility to grapple with
all the realities and emergencies of
life, in short the preparation which it
has received to enable its professor “to
perform justly, skillfully and magnani
mously all the offices, both private and
public, of peace and war these are
of the Inst importance.
Os what avail is a well filled quiver
of “air-cleaving arrows with barbed
points” unless there be strength in the
bow ?
Os what advantage is a well stored
mind without the power and facility of
using its acquisitions with effect ?
The great object of education, then,
is the attainment of mental discipline.
As the soldier is drilled in order that ho
may acquire celerity arid effect in *fse
use of his weapons and in the evolu
tions of the field as a preparation for the
day of battle, so should our youth bo
educated, not with the view of making
, of them flippant talkers or walking cn-
I cyclopedias, or learned prodigies of
j any kind, hut that they may possess the
self-command, the intellectual clear
ness and hardihood, and the full mental
and moral discipline necessary for on
| countering and effectually discharging
the serious duties and business of life.
To tnis end, far more is accomplish
ed by requiring the pupil to understand
one thing thoroughly than by instruct
ing him iu a hundred things superfi
cially. For this purpose the mental la
j bor, the intellectual effort put forth by
the pupil in the process of acquisition,
I is of far greater importance than the
j acquisitions themselves.
Constant lapping at the various sources
of human knowledge without one deep,
long-drawn draught from any, vitiates
rather than improves the mental con
stitution, debilitates rather than streng
| thons the intellectual powers.
It is a matter of frequent observation:
that an ill-lettered man with sume few
of the prominent faculties of his mind
| well discipline I, is lltr more effective in-
NO. 24