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YOL. Will THE TEBPSRANCE BANNER IS THK Or<{iin of the Sons of Temperance AND OF TIIK Stale Convention of Ccorgia: pirnusuKu weekly, ftY Ij” Terms—One Dollar a year,in advance. Letters must be Post paid, to receive at tention. x Banner Almanack, for 1852, \ A ■% iri?|? : |? 3 3!|? 3 flip 3513 310 * i fil i r 111 a|t|! ri 1111 i | * Itlilll|lf if ? Tli ftflflilf | k-'an If *7 * .Itt'.y—'—! —I —I —lTjg RV’ V 4 *5 C, 7 : 910 I 5 7 8 910 J C J 11 12113*14 IVlfi 17 11 12 13 II Will? 17 & f? 18 I‘J 20!21|22 2.C21 IS 19|aM2r2*J|23i24 A •2 25 2' 27 28 29 :w;:u 25;2i> 27 2*| 2,30,31 \ A Feb.— I l| 2 .3 4j f> <i: 7 Aug—| l| 2l .3; 4 1 i-J l 7 °A A 8 D 10111; 12 13 11 8| 9|ll|U|q7|l3 14 v J 15 li; 17 18 19 20 21 II ! 17 18 i; an 21 Q v 22 23 21! 25 20 27 28 22 23 24 23 P* 27 - s V °J 20 I 2? 30 31 o ‘3 March- 1 21 3 4 5 0 Sep.— —— I— 1 “ 3 4 A \ 1 7 s ;;iojii 12 13 151 ri 71 Bl.nlmi 11 X A II 15 !•;. IT 18||9i20 12|13j14|I r |*s 17 18 \A J 21 j 22 23 21 25 20 27 ID 20 21122 “2425 \* V 28,2 030 31 2tf 27 28|29 13 \ April, —! — 1 2 *5 Oct. 4j 51 0 7 8 0 Id I 31 41 5 <J 7 8 !) ft II! 12 13 11 15 10’ 17 I in! 11 12 13” 15 WA IS, !!* 2 21(22,23,21 117| H ID|2< 22 211 \ A 23; 2;272> 21 -,lii |21i23 20 27 1 - 2D|3o \ A \M,r— -l-l- i ‘3i I ,| LL \ ~| ~ , >;V>~ —1 1. 2 3| I:v b ; v Q ffl'O'll 12 : lslul|.V; 7l S !I i 11 12 1.11 ■> X Is 17: IS I', 2) _'| 22] !11 j l-> Hi ,7 18 lOI2U, f ft 2! 21 2-. 2;'2S 2, !21i22 S2l 25 28,47 \ X 31311 i 1 I I ‘2S2'I,:*I \ \ \ \A V n,- —! 1 2 3 1 3 _ _ 1 2 31 IjX V I li! 7j •> 9.1> 11 •12 V 5. 0 7 8, 9 10:1110 In 14i15 10 17|lftilD 112 13 14115 lo|l7 iS|O ft ,20.21122 23 21,25;201 19120 2i 12212312-11251 ) \ 1 i l 120'27 2812D 30 3i> | A livery iu;ia i.. in danger >f becoming a drunkard who id in \ ft the nahit nfiliiukiug ardent spirits, A 1. When he is warm. \ 11 . When he is at work. A 2. Whcu ‘toil*cold. ( 12. When lie is idlo. A X 3. Wh on he is wet. / .3. Before meals. \ X 4. When lu* id dry. i 14. After meals. A a. When he is dull. \ 5. When he gets up. V 0. When he is live-y. C 10. When he to bed. y n 7. When lio travel*. / 17. On holliduy**. ft ft 8. Wlien he is at home, \ IS. On Public occasions, A A 9. When he is in c unptny ( I'D. On any day: or X ill. When in* is alone. / 20. On any ocon<ion. Sjj % | i£f“ Every friend to Temperances take the Temperance ff If Temperance men will not support V tile Tcinp’ ranee I’ri-ss, who MORA i7 oijsr The Power of Scrrov/. Sanctifi'd sorrows, what power they possess ; (J >d has oliosen his people in the turnaces of util otion. Afflictions sanctified lake ilie heart awuy from the vanity of earth, and fix it oil the things above. If rich, s vanish, you tire more ready to think of the treasures that are laid up in Heaven. If honors fade, you will think more highly of the honor that conies from UoJonly. It your reputa tion bo injured by calumny, it will seem a small thing to he judged of man’s judgment. If you make yourself, as our blessed Saviour did, “of no reputa tion,” you will look up to God and en joy his approving smile. If friends are removed by death, vonr eyes follow them upwatd, us the proph et’s did his ascending Master. If they have gone to rest in the embrace of their Saviour, you catch their falling mantle, and are led to aspire to the same glorious state. Tell us, young mother, since God took your beautiful babe and dressed it for the skies, and made it an angel light, has not the world seemed poorer, and Heaven more replete with glorious realities ? Tell us, aged parents, from whom God hath taken a daughter in the pride and beau ty of early womanhood, quenching the light of her cultivated talents on earth, and veiling all her acquired accomplish ments from the eyes of mortals, what think you now ol Heaven ? Does it not seem more certain and more near, more brinlit and more beautiful ? I ask that aged mother who sits in firm beside the death-bed of her son, and watches the decay of his manly farm till the stall’ of declining days is broken, and she is left to sigh over the remembrance of his infant years and prattle, and his boyish actions and youthful impulses, and the kind and yearning spirit with which he always returned to her after seasons of absence, what thickest thou now of Heavenly thiugs ? Is not Heaven nearer because earth is drear?- Do not the many mansions glitter more brilliantly be fore thine ey>es ? 1 ask that widowed Christian, from whom God has snatched away the hus band of her youth, and the light of her eyes, and who remembers to-day his well-known step, and the accents of his voice, accents that still ring in her ear when she thinks of him, let thy bruised spirit testify—how do Heavenly things now appear, since the earth is bereft of its chief joy ? I make a similar appeal to that hus band who has been cahed to lay a be loved wife in the grave, and has just now awakened to the fact that he did not duly appreciate her when living. She was so gentle that you was not aware of the power of her womanly in fluence over you, and so uncomplaining that you did not appreciate her claim upon your sympathies. Tou think now of the brightness of her counte nance on the duy of your espousals, oi many little contrivances lnch she em pJoTd for vour happiness. \ou knew ohe was mortal, and yet you 1(1’ that , she could not leave you, that she must i iiot die. Cut the pale destroyer came; j ‘.lie bloom fled from her cheek; the! light of her eye vvus quenched; and | ihut face which had been so full of life became cold in death. Have you, be | reavrd husband, bowed to God’s dis-1 pensstion and kissed the rod ? How, 1 , then, do Heaven ivr and earth compare, af | ter such a stroke as this ? Dots not] | the world appear a “paltry, naked ! waste ?” “A dreary vale of tears?” ; Does not Heaven seem more desirable J and more near? Does it appear to you more like the New Jerusalem com i ing down from God out of Heaven ? j Ml MW Ml [From Kitto’s History of Palestine.] Taking o ’ Janmlem by Titus. The condition of the country became so deplorable, that a great number of the well-disposed inhabitants sought in foreign countries that p ace which was: | denied them in their own. The land I was distracted by tumult and overrun by robbers, who, professing to be actu ated by zeal for liberty and religion, plundered, without mercy, the defence less towns ind villages which refused : to give in their adhesion to what was I called the patriot cause. Meanwhile jus!ice was sold by the Roman govern- J or, and even the sacred office of the j high-priesthood wus offered to the high jest bidder. Hence, those who got that ! high dignity were often profligate 1 wretches, who, having obtained the of i lice by bribes, used it for their own ! purposes, and maintained themselves linit hy ihe darkest iniquities. Being ’ of different st cts and parlies, of which ! there was now a great .number, they | and the leading men of the nation, acted j i with all the animosity of sectarianism i I against each other. With such exam-j i pies in their superiors, the ordinary j ; priests and the scribes became, in the j ! highest degree, dissolute and unprinei- i ! pled; while the mass of the people ! abandoned themselves to all evil; and seditions, extortions anu robberies were matters of every day occurrence. The bands of society were loosened; audit became clear that the nation wus ripen ing for destruction. Some transactions at Carsaroa gave occasion for the actual outbreak. That place, the seat ot the Roman governor, j was built by Herod, and had , mixed 1 population of Syrians and Jim ;. It , was disputed between the so- “ j olass -1 es, to which of (hem the coy really be ! longed. Tlie dispute had been re ferred to the emperor, and about this j time the decree was announced in fa j vor of the Syrians, whose boundless ex-! j citation greatly exasperated the Jews, ! who had felt a prodigious interest in , ; the question. This, with insults on | their religion, of which the governor re- j j fused to take cognizance, fanned into a! the smouldering embers of re- ’ ! volt. Acting upon the impulse thus! given, a party of hot-brained young men I surprised a Romish garrison at Massa da, near the Dead Sea, and put the sol- j dters to the sword. The act was re- ! cognized at Jerusalem, where the lead-! ers of the nation openly threw olftheir j : allegiance, hy the refusal of the priests j any longer to otfer up the usual sac- I rifices for the prosperity of the Roman j ! empire. There, also, the popular par ! ty rose upon and slew the Roman gar- j rison; and the palace and the public j I offices were destroyed by fire. Inde- ! scribable barbarities were also com : milted by the “pa'riot” party upon the i quietly citizens. This example pro- 1 duced general insurrection, in which j the Jews on the one side, and the Ro-1 mans and Syrians on the other, at ! tacked each other with greatest fury; and in every city there wus war, mas sacre and spoliation. On the first news of this revolt, the ! President of Syria, Cestus Gallus, marched a powerful army into Judea, and advanced against Jerusalem.— : Stiange to say, he was defeated by the ‘insurgents with great sluugh.er; and 1 the military engines which fell into the hands of the victors were of great use to them in the subsequent defence of j the city. The honor of Rome was now engaged to avenge this disgrace, and no thinking man for a moment doubted the result. Nero sent the able and ex perienced Vespasian into Syria, (who was accompanied by his son Titus,) j with the quality of president, to take ihe conduct of the war. Vespasian commenced operations iu the spring of A. D. 67, with an army of 60,000 men. Instead of going at once to Jerusalem, he employed him self in reducing Galilee, and in recov ering the fortresses which had been ta ken by the insurgents. In this he met with considerable resistence, and had I many occasions of witnessing the des perate valor of the insurgents. At 1 Jotapaia he was opposed by Josephus, • ie historian of the war, to whom the; provisional Jewish government had confided the defence of Galilee. The fortress fell, and Josephus was taken: alive Ha was at first treated ‘atlterj PENFIELD, GA. OCTOBER 2, 1852. roughly, but afterwards with consider ation and respect. A* the commence ment of the campaign the Romans be haved with great severity wherever they came. No mercy *was shown to age or sex, but cities, towns and villa ges were cruelly ravaged and destroy ed. Nor were these desolations con fined to Judea; for in many foreign cities in which Jews were settled, they were slaughtered in multitudes bv the Roman soldiers and the other inhabit ants. Some idea of these dreadful massacres may lie formed from the facts, that above 20,000 Jews were slain in one day at Caesarea, 13,000 in one night at Scythopolls, 50,000 at Alexan- dria, 8,000 at Joppa, and above 10,000 j at. Damascus. Nor need we wonder |at such extent of destruction among a people who were so infatuated as to rush into a warfare in which, accor ding to Josephus, the odds were so fear fully against them. Though the war was steadily pros ecuted, Vespasian evinced no haste to march against Jerusalem; and when urged by his i ipatient officers, he told them that it was better to let the Jews destroy one another. In fact, he knew well how destructively the factions were raging against each other in Jeru salem. There were three of these fac tious afterwards reduced to two, holding possession of different parts of the city. They wasted their strength in cruel conflicts with each other, in which they even destroyed the store-house of corn and provisions, which formed the only resources against the famine in the threatened siege. In one thing, how. ever, they all agreed, in harassing, plundering and destroying the citizens and nobles wno did not enter into their views. Thus they obtained little real benefit from the respite which arose from the attention of the Roman army being diverted for a while from them by the revolution which at this time happened in imperial Rome, in conse quence of the death of Nero. Galba, Otlio, Vitellius, were invested with the purple in quick succession; at length, with grneral approbation, Vespasian himself was declared emperor hy the army in Judea. He then departed for Rome, leaving the conduct of the war to his son Titus. At the feast of the Passover, in the j ensuing year when the city of Jerusa ! !em was, as usual at that time, crowded ! with people from all quarters, the Ro j man appeared before the walls. It j was probably his anxiety to save the ! city and the ‘Temple that induced Titus | to commence the siege ut this season; ;as it might have been expected, that 1 where such multitudes were shut up in j an ill-provisioned city, famine alone ! would soon make a surrender inevit able. The besieged were very earn j estly invited to open their gates to the Romans, and were with all sincerity assured of- their liberty and safety. Josephus was also commissioned to’ har angue them, and to point cut to them tiie folly of supposing that they could hold out against, or successfully resist, the might ot Rome. But all warning and counsel were treated with insult and scorn; and the factions expressed the resolution of defending the place to the very last, in the confidence that God would not permit his Temple and the city to fall before the heathen. Such repeated refusals of mercy und compassion, and the very desperate de fence made by the besieged, compelled Titus, much against his own will, to become the unconscious instrument of accomplishing that doom of the city and the Temple which Christ had near ly forty years before denounced. Their folly of resistence was so clear to Titus, that he hecama exasperuted at the un pleasant task which their obstinacy im posed upon him. Resolved that none of them should escape, but such assur reudered to hint, he raised around the oily a strong wall of circumvallation, strengthened with towers. This great work was accomplished in the short space of three days. The city was very strong, being en closed by three walls, one within an other; and then there was the Temple, which itself was an exceedingly strong fortress. All these defenses were sue cessively carried by the Romans, a!, though every step was desperately con tested by the besieged, who for fifteen weeks prevented their enemies from reaching the Temple. During that time, the most horrible famine was ex perieneed within the city. At length, no table spread or regular meal eaten in Jerusalem; people bartered their wealth for a measure of corn, and often ate it unground and unbaked or snatched it half baked from the coals; things were eaten which men abhor, and v ’ ‘eh the Jews of all men, deemed most abominable. Many perished of mere want, especially the old and very young, for to the latter the mother’s breast no longer afforded nourishment; and there ‘ were instances of dead infants being eaten by rheirown parents; thus being, fulfilled that ancient prophecy in which’ Moses had described the punishments! oftheir unbelief.'” Nor was famine the only scourge; the factions still raged within the city; agreeing only in resisting the enemy without, then turning with unabated fury upon each other. They agreed also in continuing their shameful mal treatment of such oflhe inhabitants as tliev suspected to bo in favor of sur rendering the city, or inclined to do sort to the Romans. To incur suspi cion of this, was instant death; and ma ny persons were charged with the of. fence, and slain for the sake of their wealth. The lower city was taken !>v the Romans early in the month of May; but the Temple did not fall until the beginning of August. Titus was most anxious to save this glorious fabric, as one of the noblest ornaments of the Ro man Empire. But the Jewish Histo rian observes, that the “holy um) beau tiful house” wus doomed to destruction; and he attributes to “Divine impulse” the act of a soldier who seized u horn ing brand, and east it in at the golden window, whereby the whole fabric was soon in flames. ‘Titus hastened to the spot, and finding uil attempts to save the builing hopeless, he with some of his officers entered the sanctuary, and directed the removal of the saertd uten sils of the gold, some of which after wards graced his triumphal procession, and were sculptured upon the arch which commemorated his victory. The upper city, into which the be sieged had retreated, soon after all fell; and this completed the conquest of Jerusalem. in all these oper ations the carnage wus horrible, for with the Romans the time for mercy was past; and in their exasperation at the useless obstinacy of the defence, they burnt and destroyed without re morse, and massacred the people with out distinction of age or sex. Streams of blood ran through all the streets, and the alleys were filled with bodies wel tering in gore. The number that perished during ihe fourth month of the | siege is computed at 1,100,000, a num ber which would seem incredible, ifj we did not recollect that a nation wus, as it were, shut up in that city, having assembled to celebrate the Passover; so that, as Josephus observes, this exceed ed all the destructions that hud hitheito been brought upon the world. Besides, more than nn equal number perished elsewhere in the sixyearsof war; and 97,000 were made prisoners. Ol these, great numbers were sold to the j Greek slave merchants; and when,! from their great numbers, tlio slave I markets became glutted with them, and “no man would buy them,” the: large residue were sent to toil in the! Egyptian mines or to various cities, j far and near, as presents, to bo con- 1 sumed by the sword and by wild beasts in the amphitheatres. Thus did Israel cease to be a nation, and become outcast and desolate; thus were their famous city and its glorious Temple utterly cast down; und thus was inflicted the doom which was im piously invoked, when the inhabitants of Jerusalem cried out, “His blood be, on us and on our children.” * “ The t*>rider and delicate woman n ! inong yon, which would not adventure to 1 set the sole of her foot upon the ground for ’ delicateness and tenderness, her eye shall j be evil toward the husband of her bosom, j and toward her daughter, and toward her : children which she shall bear; for she shall eat them for want of all tilings, secretly, in the siege and straitness wherewith thine i enemy shall distress thee in thy gates.”— | Deut. 2R: 56, 57. Tha Pleasant Acquaintance AN AMERICAN STORY. [Concluded. J i It was curious to notice how much he i was missed in the house. Some missed j his kindness; some quaint humorness> ! some his punctuality, by which they sol their watches; and Mrs. Howard seem | ed actually to feel the want of that sar castic tone which made the sause pi \quante, of her dainty food. Where lie ! actually went no one knew, but in ’ fcur days he returned, looking more: : billious and acting more cnrotchetty ‘than ever; but with an exhilaration o! spirits that showed the marvellous es-j l feet of country air. The day alter his return, two men, j | wrapped in cloaks and wearing slouch ed hats, entered the butcher’s shop in Street. Giving a nod in passing j to the man at the counter, the two pro- 1 needed upstairs, and took a seat atone of the back windows. The blinds were carefully drawn down, and they seated themselves as if to note all that passed in the low, one-storey building, j which opened upon a narrow paved al- j ley directly beneath the window. “Do you know that we shall have a 1 fearful settlement to make il ’his turns t out to be all humbug ?” said trie young er man, as they took their staffer!, “Any satisfaction which'you are willing to claim, lam ready to make in case I am mistaken; but —lodk there.” As he spoke, a female wearring a huge black cloak and thick veil an. tered the opposite house. Instantly aj shout ot joy burst from the children, and as the old Woman rose to drop the blind at the window, they caught sight of the two merry littlo ones pulling at 1 ‘he veil und cloak of the mysterious lady. - “Did you see her face ?” asked the ! old man. “No, it was turned away from the ’ window.” ••'Then have patience for awhile.” Nearly an hour elapsed, und then the door again opened to admit the : egress ol a person apparently less of I stature than the woman who hud so so -1 contly entered, more drooping in figure, ■ and clad m rusty and shabby mourn j "g ----| “One more kiss, mamma, and don’t ; forget the sugar-plums when you come buck,” cried one of the children. The woman stooped to give the re quired kiss, lifting her veil as she did so, und revealing the whole of her countenance. A groan burst from the lips of one of the watchers, which wus I answered by u low chuckle from his companion; fur both the captain and Harry Maurice had recognised in the mysterious lady the features of tho be witching Mrs. Howard. There is little more to tell. The question of ‘who is she?’ now needed no reply. Mis. Howard, Mrs. Hurley, and some dozen other uliasses were the names of an exceedingly genteel ad venturess, who is yet vividly remem bered by the ehurituble whom she vic timized a few yeurs since. She hud resided in several large cities, and was drawing a very handsome income from her ingenuity. Her love of pleasure being us great as her taste for mone> making, she devised a plan for living (wo lives ut once, and her extreme mo bility of feature, anil exquisite adroit ness, enabled her to carry out her schemes. How far sho would have carried the urtuir with her young lover, it is impossible to say, but tho probu bilily is, ihut tho “face affair” was only an agreeable episode of pastime; und that whatever might have been the gen tleman’s intentions, the lady was guilt less of ulterior views. The captain managed tho allair in his own w'ny. He did not wish to in jure tiie credit ot the house, wnioh he designed to call his home for the rest ot his life, unit therefore Mrs. Howard received a quiet intimation to quit, which she obeyed with her usual un ruffled sweetness. Harry Maurice paid a visit to his mother and sister iu the country, and on his return found it de sirable to change tiis lodgings. ‘The cuptain kept the story to himself for several yeurs; but after Munrice was married and settled in his domestic habitudes, ho felt himself privileged to use it us a warning to all gullible young men, against bewitching wid ows, and mysterious fellow-boarders. Indeed it has become ‘lie captain's pel story, and whenever fie is particularly good humored with anew corner, (for he still holds his old place at the head of the table,) he invariably tells it, and as invariably adds:—“Such things j never happened in my young days ; j there was no mistaking u real lady in old limes ; but now a bit of French frippery oan deceive almost anybody.”! Savannah, Sept. 14th, 18.^2. Dear Brantly :—As in duty bound, it was my intention to givu yo i some account of our late Temperance tour, Inn pressure of business up to the pres ! eut moment has prevented. 1 am sat i islied, however, that the people of Geor gia—ut least, if the feeling exhibited in the places we visited, be any indica ; tion ot generul public sentiment—are much further advanced on the subject I of the traffic, and of the necessity there j seems tc be, in this crisis, for legislative prohibition, than the Iriends of temper ; ance have dared to hope, [ have long been of th3 opinion, and our recent tour j has served but to deepen the conviction, that were the question, even now, and | without any elaborate preparation, sub. ! mi tied to the people : shall any license I to sell intoxicating beverages, be gran ! ted in Georgia ? tne answer, by a large ! majority, would be a loud, a long und an emphatic, No ! I know that the advocates of legisla tive action are not unfriqiiently denounced as disturbers if the public peace, and that it is said, that even the agitation of this question will be ruin ous to the temperance cause. Now, though I love our glorious cause almost as my own life—for il has indeed im parted new life to me—yet I am willing to make the venture for, by no reason ing which presents itself to my mind can I be brought to believe that it would suffer any posihle harm. I he cry, ‘■ it is best to let well enough, alone'’ has been heard long enough, and our ear sickens at the very sound; It is not well enough, so long as the few are privileged by legislative sanc tion, to prey upon the many.—it is not ’ well enough; so'fortg as the heartlessj rumsellor is sulfered to batter with im puntiy, upon the sighs and tears of bro ken-hearted wives, and tho wailing ol tho hungry children for bread. It is not well enough so long as our prisons— our lunatic asylums, ur.d our poor-hou ses, are crowded with the victims oi this nefarious traflio ; —it is not well enough, so long as so many half-starv ing and naked children ure left to grow up in ignorance and poverty, surround* ed with the vilest associations, and with scarcely a single morul or religious principle ever breathed into their ears; it is not well enough, so long as the church udunts into liersaored purtuls— even electing them to minister in holv tilings—men, who are engaged in a truffle destructive to the bodies, and ru inous to the souls of their fellow-men. To-day, administering the cup which is the savor of life unto life—to-mor row, that wltioli is tho saviour of death’ unto damnation. Nor will it be well enough, until the church arouses from her slumber, and | shakes off this deadly incubus, which has checked tho glorious und aggressive career, that, but for this, she might have run. Nor will it be well enough, until the people—tho only true and le gitimate sovereigns in this our happy country, und front whom ulono etna nates all power—have risen’ in their might, and demanded oftheir represen. tatives, tliut the foul stain of licensing men to murder in general, (for the as sassin’s knife is not more certain in its aim, than that the license system is an nually increasing tho death of thou sands in our State) —bo wiped from the statute-books. ‘Then, and not until then, will the words: well enough alone,” have some signification. ‘Then will they Lave been Set to a more musical key) and from our own .hearts we will re. spond to the then inspiriting sentiments, under the ussurunce, that the great loading causo of nearly all the orime and suffering with which our Stato has so long been cursed, is forever and of. f dually removed. ‘Then will loud peans of rejoicing ascend from the liearts of many —who, this cause of temptation out of their way, havo not only been rescued from the drunkard’s dreudful doom, but huvo been made to “oiiine us stars in the firmament.” Cune then, pure minded patriot!— (Joino then, disinterested philanthropist!. Como then, sincere chrislinn ! you who are anxiously looking for tho time when all shall yield a reudy obedience to the law—when want, and misery, and crime shall cease—when the* once des olate places of our earth shall be made glud, and the desert shall bud and blos som as the rose. Come, and help us to remove an evil, which you all ao knowledge, byt which you iiuvo hither to failed to attack, because you appre hended public opinion was against you, and that, even if you should succeed iri getting ulaw passed suppressive of the j traffic, it would remain a dead letter on the statute-book; and by this false reas j oiling, you have suffered yourselves to be lulled into listless inactivity, and you have to forget that every moral i movement is ever in advance of public opinion, and the law inbatemont of any ! evil, comes as u sort of a school master, to leud us in tho Way of our duty.— | Come, and let us try it, for it is ignoble | —it is base—it is cbwardlv, to say nothing can be done, when we have not i made a single effort. Try it, and if de feated, let us, at least, be defeated as brave men should be— trying, and with arms in our hands. —Try it, and if af ter a faithful experiment, it shall not be j found to work well—if, as predicated j by many to prove productive of more evil than the present plan, wo, the peo- S pie, can then safely go to our legisla. i tors, and say to them, we have tried j both systems and find,that the old one* ! works best; but’ uiitil something of ! this kind be dam—until the legislature j bus either prohibited the traffic over the I entire State, or submitted it to the peo l p!e in the several counties, to express by their votes, whether they will longer submit to it or not—my voice, at least, shall not be hushed—my pon, with ail its feebleness, shall know no respite. I feel that I owe you and your read ers an apology for having beerrsodit’ fuse, but lam so anxious that the peo. pie should be set to thinking, and think ing rightly upon the subject which has occupied so much of this communica tion, that 1 have almost forgotten the object for which I commenced address ing you: Right thinking is sure to lead to right action. But to resume :—We filled all the appointments named in the Banner ex. cept Newnan- and notwiihstandingtha unfavorable weather, they were more than ready to receive us. The result* of our efforts, of course, cannot be told; but to give you an instance of the man. ner in which this now mode (new at least to some in Georgia,) of conduct ing the temperance cause was received: a few days after Mr. King had deliver ed an elaborate and well digested ad dress in Macon, on ‘he traffic, and not oniy of the wisdom and justice to sup* NO. 40-