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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. | X 3 11\l§•5. 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IS 19 20 21|2.! 23 2! 17 IS 19 2 ri 22 2.1 \ 5> “5 20 27 23 2 ‘3O 21 25 26 27 •“ 29 311 / 0i1,,-.- ! 1 31 . \ ’ •I2;T n| 7 S Nov 12 3 sr> v Si ‘slinlll 12.13111 11 7 s 9 in 11 1-2 13 X X Id'I7IIS in 20121:22 11 15 10 17 IS 19 20 ft <* 2S 29 5) ‘ b b s SiAi i2 Dec ">llTs i in ,1 S 11 11!15 10 17 1 IS! 19 112 13!ll|l.i Hill, 1” J X 2if2| |22'23 21 25 l9 20.21 22 23 21 2> ) 27 28‘29*30* * I 12' 27 28 1 20 30 3l 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