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VOL. XVIII
HE TEMPERANCE BANNER.
IS TIIK
Oran of the Sons of Temperance
AND OF THE
State Convention of Georgia:
PUBLISHED WEEKLY,
BY BRmTHSf BIUITLY. I
JLT Terms—One Dollar a year,in advance. ;
Letters must be Post paid, to receive at- j
tention.
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Every, man is iu danger of Womini; a lnink-.v. l who in i* j
Uk* ti-atit *f■ drink mjc ardent spirits. Q ‘
I. Whw. He is warm. t it. When ho is’*
V* ?. VV’.ioa ru is ooli. ( 12. Whon ho is •>!>. /*j !
V When He is wet. / .3. liofora moAln. pv ,
i. When he •* dry. I It. Af:r avwU. W
5. Whwi ite's <lnll. \ )■'>. W'liou hegorsnp. V
t>. VV htMi hii live y. f l(t. \rha h<t ssi o W<t.
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X W b'u tic i’ in oumpaoy l 19. (>* an/ day: er
l't. vVhaa h<*i.< / 31 Onunr inn.
\ 2-* f “ hvery friend to T.-nipcrance #t
ynhoitlii tnko tb Temperniico Banner: ;
5“ If Temperance men will not support N !
Athe Temperunee Press, who will ! ’ j
$ ‘.S <'< s < - v
Ead of Summer.
So jjradiisiJr and o iinpciccp'ib! v
has tho glorying ivarmtli of summers lit- •
aided into th mrsliowsd temneraturo j
of Autumn, ilint, itmil recent.ly, ihn
tmtisiiion was scare Iv noticed, and ,
ii w.ss dun -nil io designate any point ‘
at which it cmild he sai I tlie oim
ended mi i the other began. The
weather does not always regarl t!i al
m.nao; ami it often liappens tlmt Snn
m r invades ihn momh of S-p'ember
and takes possession of the ohi< f pari •
of it —ihrowino even the beams ofiis|
waning splendor lip jii the confines of.
Octnh-r. For those encroachments
Winter, in its turn, lays its frigid hand !
upo i the realms al lotted to Spiine, and
seizes upon March us its own proper,
domain.
But we are n- v v reminded that Sum
mer js mail v gone. The changing!
hues of the Ibnnt folliage gave* notice 1
some weeks agool the gruduul a[ proacn >
of n Colder season; but so mild and |
genial were the sun’s rays, so bland
the atmosphere, that the gorgeous ves-1
lure of the woods, with its many-tiiited j
colors, seemed rather the magnificent j
drapery of a mature Summer than the j
symbol of approaching frost.
” The frosl has come. “The air bites
shrewdly,” as Hamlet says— “i is very j
cold.” That is to say, we have pass-;
ing nip from Arctic regions, and com- j
ing as it does so close upon the balmy ;
breathing of ling’ ring Summer ii i
brings shivering upon is wings.
It is the harbinger of Winter. Now i
the long disused garments ot woollen, :
the cloak, iho overcoat, are brought j
forth from the recesses where it is in
be hoped some careful housewife had
had packed them away in security from
the moths. Nowit is discovered that
the days areqnite short, white iheev n
ings are growing longer an 1 longer;
anil the genial attractions of the lire,
side, associated with pleasant reminis-,
cenof sos the social and household en
joyments, again claim their own and
have their claim allowed.
A transition point like this at which,
a marked oliarig takrs place between
seasons —at which we stand with!
Summer fresh about us and look Win-,
fer in the face—constitutes an interc-l
ring period in the year, arid is nnalo-;
gous to some decisive epoch in human
affairs when an old system, with its as
sociations still lingering and striving to j
maintain their hold, gives way to anew
ordtM of things which inexorably de. j
mands its place and sway. We bid
adieu to Summer and its (1 rwers, and
turn to encounter the rugged realiiie
of Winter, as we would dismiss from!
the mind some beautiful vision of the
fancy upon which imagination had
loved to dwell, and goto meet the call
of duty which gives us facts to deal;
with and the imperitive requisitions of
daily responsibilities and business.
[Bn/timore American.
llats worn on the head of a dis
course; a bucket that hung in All’s
well- frannen sos the men who burst I
imo teat-are Sai Ito•• “m bet owi-’
A Story with Spico in it-
We remember |n Icm 11 stein ‘Yan
kee Land ” of young man that had just
entered into the silken bonds of matri
mony. His wife, a most amiable oreft
ittro, had a mortal horror of liquor;
j and though Torn often indulged outlie
sly with his convivial companions, lie
took cart* always to be right side up’
ongoing home. Ho would not have
his wife find him in such a state for
all the gold in the universe; and yet he
could not sign tlie* pledge of total absti
nence from the fact of being the vice
president of a club of jolly fellows, nil
of whom believed in grapo juice. For
at least six months after his marriage,
in tho presence of his “better-half*”
ho was as “straight as a pin,” and she
huU set it down that a blessing in the
shape of a strictly sober hus’*and hud
fortunately fallen to her lot.
“Tom,” one morning, said she, lov
ingly, “we havo no*v b ion a wedded
couple half a year, and never once
have I had tho slightest occasion to re
proach you.”
Ofcoursc Tom was delighted to hear
his dear little wife talk so encouraging
ly. and express happiness at his beha
vior; and he repeated ascuranoe of his
determination to be always an atten
tive, sober husband.
But in tits ocean of life how littlo
can we foresee tho breakers of tempt i
•ion i Torn had to din • tli it very even
ing with tho “O vls” (tho ornithologi
cal title of his club) and he felt in ad
mirable spirits, an I his health was
dra ik warmly and frequently, after
the cloth was re n>v.-d; the conssquence
‘Wits that by the time tho company sep
arate! ho was in a happy stale ofeleva
lion, with a vivid notion of men, wo
men, and things tcrrvstial.
“litc-c c, l r-r-ealy baltcve I’m
drunk!” solid quiz-’d Tom, poising
himself on his heels, with his anus
clasped endearingly around a lamp
post,. “W what’s to be done? Ami
and and dreaming, or am l drunk—whiu-h
is it? Will somebody tei! me?”
“A knot of wags passing at the mo
ment, hearing Ins voice roared in com
iiu.B I iot-4 —• V j t’re drunk—beastly
drunk!”
“There now, it* out and no more
than i suspacted,” continued Tam
mournfully, in a maudlin voice.
“What will Clhim say, ugh 1 * Curse
ih t last julep, 1 *sy, it’ it liaci’nt been
for that l’d have passed muster; but
now she oan tell it by my eyes—l feel
as if l hvl a dozen pair of eyes; and
as for tongues I’ve got a score all
wagin’ away firdear life.”
Tom here losing a proper and im
portant t t|Uilibrium, his heels sudden
ly (low higher in the air than is neces
sary far every day pedeslrianism, and
per const queues, li was the next mo
mention a mast ungracious p >siiion in
the gnlter.
‘•llic, hie, this is rich, I m-m-nin-t
say, Spo.se Clara should s-see me now
• —’nvas only to-day she praised my
integrity. Tom, you’re a h b-yes you
are, don,t deny i', you’re a b-beasi!”
By dint of a series of vast elfbrts lie
■succeeded in gaining his feet, and pro
ceeded towards home, reeling and talk
ing to himself all the way. After mis
taking the house next door, tha door
front of which was the same, tor his
own, he hud an undecided search of at
least an hour for his latch key, which
lie at length found in his loot, it having
slipped down Ids trouser leg through a
hole in his pocket.
Now in tlie nail he leaned against
the wall and undertook a cogitation.--
He could sufficiently gather his senses
to remember tho clock in his wife’s
bed-room was out of repair, and as she
had retired, she would not be able to
tell the time lie had got in.
‘•1 know what I’ll do; 1 11 go to bed
in the dark, and then she won’t notice
my eyes,” ruminated Tom. ‘But hold
on —l’d like to forget it—.she’ll smell
my breath how can I fix that ?”
He puzzled for a few moments, and
in tho end concluded to seek tho kitch
en, and meddle slightly with the spice,
box. Down the stairs he went, and
putting his hand into half a dozen va
rious fluids, feeling into a row of pans,
jugs, and dishes, at length he found a
handful of cloven, which he thrust into
his mouth, as if they had been so many
sugar plums.
“T they are v> v ery hot,” spluttered
Tom, with liis face all aglow ; but they
answer the purpose. How I wish Bob
Siles was here to tell me whether the
brandy is sufficiently disguised.”
Satisfied that the fragrance of the
cloves had out-o lored the scent of the
“ardent,” he mounted the stairs, and
with the exception of a couple of small
stumbles, gained his chamber iri safety.
Now he would have been happy had
his wife not been wide awake.
“Why, Thomas, how late you are,’’
said she ; “where’s the candle.”
“Oh, never mind the candle ’ Raid
T en, in as steady a tone as he could
assume. “It’s not late.”
•‘I should judge it was very late,”
said she; “dear me, 1 must have that
c y. a fu- dv”
PENFIELD, GA. NOVEMBER 13, 1852.
1 “V-e.s, so we must,” said Tom, with
miraculous deliberation, for one solitary
hiccup would have betrayed him. As
to the clock’s uncertain condition, it
ywas a phenomena of good luck lor him.
“Does it look like rain, dear?” kind
ly inquired Clara.
Now, if Tom had been put upon his
oath tie could not havo answered near
er, in regard to the appearance of the
weather, than the man in the moon, and
not half so much. He replied guard
edly, “Pon my word 1 don’t know, but
I’ll look,” ami feeling his way to the
window lie throw aside the curtains and
a bar of palo starlight threw itself
across his face, “Clour as a crystal, you
j perceive- dear,” and down went the
I curtain again.
Clara was very thoughtful and nlfec
ionate, and suggested that if the cur
tain was kept up lie could see his way
better about the room.
“No, no, dear,” replied Tom, very
slowiy, as before; “I’ve heard it said
that star-iight produces lunacy after,”
midnight,, ho was going to say, but he
dexterously caught himself, considering
his situation, “and that’s dreadful you
know.”
Tom mads several stumbles after
this, and presently his wife caught a
whiffof the cloves.”
“Good gracious Tom, how long you
ure und how dreadfully you smell of
cloves.”
“Eh. ?” said Tom, starting,
“C-l-o-v t'-s.”
‘Wes, cloves! anyone would think
you’d been embalmed like a mummy.”
Tins made him twitch and go wool
gathering.
“Phew! you’re ragulaily scentai
with them. VVheie have yon been to
night ?”
Pom was thrown entirely otf his
guard; Ids brain rambled, and without
, the remotest idea of what he was say
j ing, replt al, “W-w-why, heo, Clara,
; dear, the fact is 1 just been on a little.
’ trip to the East Indies, and while I was
I tnere I fell over a spies box !”
This told a tale. Clara immediately
•situp in bed and shed tears. The cat
! was out of the bag, and we should be
(surprised but that a Caudle lecture as
| long as a charity sermon was the con
'sequence of poor Tom’s unfortunate
; slip ot tho tongue. Hu has never
! touched clovi's from that day to this,
1 and it is probable, ero long, ho will
avoid the bottle entirely.
From tin; Philadelphia Ledger.
‘ilia effects of the System.
Leaving polities, we enter a subject
which “comes home in men’s business
and bosoms,” extravagance in living.
Where will it end? In a revulsion,
and a temporary return to morn rational
habits. Wtio are in fault 1 B )th sex
es, hut women chiefly. What are the
resells I Rapid changes of condition,
severe stru. gles to make or save ap
penranet6, and obstacles to marriage
which ulieot both sexes, hut chiefly the
showy sex. The subject is old, but
not the hss important for its age; arid
it has rxeiied snarling and denuncia.
11 on in all ages, because, in all ages
which have produced any oivilizition,
many men and all women have seen
the same race of competition in dress,
equipage, houses, festivity and ostenta
lion. Poets, in all ages, have de
nounced the extravagance of women.
Isaiah and Jeremiah gave it to the He
brew beils, Ari tophanes to the Greek,
Horace and Juvenal to the Roman; the
Italians and French smarted under it,
and the English have had it to repletion.
Still it has proceeded, the same in all
ages growing continually worse till it
fell by its own weight, and was suc
ceeded by a temporary, and only lain
porury reformation. And ns there is
considerable human nature iri man, arid
sti;l m ire in woman, tee do not expect
to procure a reformation. But we can
satisfy our own coiif-cience, have our
say, and set tho wise to thinking. And
leaving the Hebrews, Tyrians. Greeks
and Romans of antiquity, and the Ital
ians and French of the middle ages, we
come down to the people of our coun
try, and especially our own city, in the
present age.
Houses are continually expanding,
till nothing less will satisfy a wealthy
citizen now, or rather a wealthy cili
zen's wife, than edifice that would have
dazzled even royalty in the days of
Charlemagne or Edward the Confessor.
And furniture is continually growing
more gorgeous, till it puts out of coum
tenance all description in the Arabian
Nights or the Book of Revelations.
And dress, aye, dress, the dress of wo
men, has expanded in expense, till a
modern merchant’s wife, in walking
through Chesnut street, carries more
value on, not in, her precious person,
than the Queen of Shebu or Queen
Elizabeth, or Madame Pompadour]
could show in their whole waidrobes.i
file Quakers have contended against it
more stoutly than any other people.
But Quakers, being human, are’ com
pressible like the rost of humanity, and
t|.‘ , ''.fo e cannot en'irrly resist an ex-*
: ternal pressure which crushes all others
’ [loneo it costs five times as much to rig
even a Quaker now, ns it did fifty
years ago. They adhere with some
tenacity to old forms and colors ; and
modern fabrics, as a general rule, are
better in quality and more cheaply
made, than ancient. But not withstand
ing all this, no modern Quakeress can
dress for U3 little money s her grand
mother did. But with the world’s peo
ple, who are not confined to cuts and
colors, and with whom change is a pas
sion, the annual wardrobe alone of a |
modern belle costs mors than did her
grandmother’s annual housekeeping.
Who are responsible for all this ?--
VVe say, the women, chiefly. They
continually run a race of ostentation ;
each one striving to exceed her neigh,
bora of the same circle in a dwelling,
in an equipage, in furniture, in dress,
and in entertaining. And as the great
moral law dispenses justice and r< tri.
bution to all for every thing, woman
being the most in fault for all .his ex
travagance, are the most principal suf
ferers. Great hotels and extensive
boartiing-houses are multiplying in all
our great cities, und especially in New
York, and Philadelphia; and families
are abandoning housekeeping for apart- |
uieuts in hotels and hoarding-houses, j
The New York Tribune pronounces j
this a change for the better. Perhaps
it is; but we will not argun the que.s- i
lion now. Families rush to hotels to 1
avoid the expense of housekeeping ; fori
husbands and fathers say that high
rents, high furniture, high markets, and
high entertaining make them cry out,
like Cain, “My punishment is greater
than I caitbeur.” But abandoning a
home for a camp does not extinguish
all the evils, for the expensive wardrobo
remains. And driving people from
homes to hotels is not the only evil of
all this extravagance. A greater evil
than all is its diminution o’ woman’s
chances. Do you understand, ladies?
If not, we will explain. Tho first und
continually present idea of every wo
man, so soon as sho enters her teens , is
that sho w*ax born to be married. She
is educated for it, dressed for it, thinks
for it, acta fir it, and tries for it. But
marriage has become ad expensive rela
tion. Hence, no man or woman with
out a fortune can alFord to marry any
thing but a fortune; and os fortunes
are.few comparatively, men, ami espe
cially women without them, havo very
few chances of marriage. A toting
man without wealth cannot afford to
marry a woman without it, though she
be an angel from heaven. Therefore,
he must turn fortune-hunter, and be
despised fur bis motives, even by tit I*o
willing to have him. And therefore,
while the portionless damsel must re.
gat'd single blessedness as her rule,
and marriage as tho exception, the
wealthy belle bus the gratifying con
sciouMiess of being sought by adven
turerslorher wealth. Consolatory to
the portionless! Complimentary to 1
the wealthy ! The majority of young
men in our cities are now in the condi
tion of a young fisherman on the banks
of the Potornae, who had been engaged
for a few months to a “country girl ;”
and she, becoming impatient for the
ceremony, suggested a ratification.—
Looking unusually grave, he replied,
“No corn ! No meat! And fulling sea
son almost over ! Good Lord, Susev, !
can’t!” We ask each of the multi
tudes of young women, who arc wast
ing their best years in disappointment,
and who w ere born for something bet
ter, to reflect seriously upon the rens
ons which coined the majority of rice
young men to say to theinsclve, “Good
Lord, Susey, 1 can’t.”
From the Mobile Register.
The License System-—No 9-
In this free country, tho will of tho
people is expressed in the ballot-box.
l’he purity of this depository is there
fore indispensable to the solidity of our
govermerit, and is only maintained by
freedom of thought and independence
of action. The right of suffrage, in
vests every man with an imposing sov
ereignty, and patriotism is synonymous
with virtue and justice, I'he bn! lot
box is the standing army of a Republic,
yet it can bn made a terrible engine of
evd.
How we appreciate this great politi
cal privilege, an election precinct will
show. Does Whiggery, Democracy
or Liquor, preponderate in the ballot
box ! Do t icse popular gatherings ex
press the recognition of astern, solemn,
American privilege ? or are they not
but drunken festivals, the arena of riot
and brutal encounter ?
The Liquor shop is purchased and the
people, the sovereign people, rally to
discuss questions of local or general in
terest. Personal merit is measured by
the ‘treating’ qualifications ot the aspi
rant, and the ballot box becomes the
receptacle of the most damnable oor.
ruplion. Toe miserable drunkard,
from whom we instinctively shrine
with di -gu.st, who justly forfeits bis po- |
lidos! rights, is on an den. n day, the
impersonation of a republican ami stag
gers to the polls to assort his preroga
tive.
’Hie vagrant, for the hour, struts in
.he vesture of a gentleman, and the
ballot box becomes the great leveller
of our conservative social distributions.
Liquor is not only the active agent
of demagogueism, hut the most digni
fied and responsible stution is li'erallv
bought with it. It is thus that men
ride over the public virtue, into oftioe.
A jealous regard for our freo institu
! tious, demands a certain preperation be
fore the alien can enjoy tho right of
suffrage, yet the man who exists only
in the whirl of intoxication, discharging
I none of the duties of citizenship, asserts
tho privilege simply by nativity. The
creature who would not bo credited in
a court of justice, is as good a man at
the ballot box as the presiding judge.—
This is w hat we call free sulfruge.
Whence comes this public prostitu
tion ? Popular sentiment tolerates the
medium, and the Law, by license,
sanctions the sale. The agents of the
law make a faithful response and fie
posite the ballot box in the liquor shop. u.
What a commentary upon legisl-u
lion! A full appreciation of i lie soci -
effects of intoxicating liquors, the indi.
viduul sacrifices, demands to soma ex
tent a personal familiarity, hut its pub
lic impression, its hold attack upon the ;
bodv politic, cun he seen and realized.
Spend a day at an election precinct
and no statistie ol crime, lunacy or
death will he necessary to disclose this
insatiate public enemy.
PRO BONO PUBLICO.
TiYe Habits of Amekicans. —Capt.
Maekinnon says:—No stranger land,
ingin New York can lull to he painful
ly struck by tho pale, wan, slight, at.d
delicate appearance of both men and
women. After residing some time in
the country, and acquiring a knowl
edge of their habits, instead of being
surprised that so many of them die
prematurely, ono is astonished that
they manage to live ns lung as they do,
or look so well.
“Ina lecture recently delivered in
New York by Dr. Fitch, il is mention
ed, as a striking fact, that in the Slates
only four out of every hundred indi
viduals live to tho ago of sixty, fn
England, however, ho asserts that
seven out es every hundred attain that
age. Still, though tho climate iu the
latter country is wurmer, und moro
temperate, it is much damper, and has
all those atmospherical anti other con
ditions which contribute to produce nn
immense amount of consumption. The
people arc no confined and closely pack
ed—millions live so poorly and in such
miserable habitations—that a far great,
or tendency to the above, disease exists
in England than in America. Why
trien should a greater mortality pro
vail in the United Slates? The re.a
-on is to bo found in the difF'rent hub
its of the people. In England, the
experience of the old is reverently re
garded, and taken ts a guide; while in
America experience i* but little estima
ted, and the young consider themselves)
more knowing than their fathers. The j
result is, they often find a fool for a !
teacher, and die prematurely for their!
presumption.”
The Young Men of the Ago.
Not long since we saw n tear gath
ering in tho eye of an old man, as lie
spoke of Ihe past and the present —of
the time when he burned pine knots
upon the home hearth for light to ob
tain n scanty education, and then com
pared tho present ten thousand privil.
eges, which are now scattered around
every door. “Oh,” said he, in trem.
ulous tones, “the young men of this
day do notappretdnte the light of the
age they live.” ‘l’he words of tho old
man made us feel sad, while at the
| same time we felt mortified that so ma
iny of our young men fail to improve
the advantages within their reach.
They are even continually muttering
about their lot, and pushing for posh
: lions where thr-y can win the reward,
I without the sweating, purifying, tmob-
Hing aacrifice of toil. The mist cloud
enjoyments of a day are eagerly sought
1 after to the exclusion or negiect of the
! more honorable, intellectual and useful.
In truth few ol our young men know
I anything of the value of the privil.
i egos around them.
:
A Good Rxamplk. —Hon. 8. C. Pa
van and Gol. E. R. Osborne, the one a
! Whig and the oilier a Democrat, nr,;
stumping Tennessee for their respective
i favorites for the Presidency. They go
j together, and after having made opposi
tion speeches m the day-time, make
| temperance speeches in the evening,
| wherever they can get an audience.--
! They thus join together in the temper
l anon cause, whom they have sundered
1 and pitted against each other in politics.
Both the speakers are Sons of Temper,
j a nee, and entered tho field as political i
partisans, only with the understanding
that they should meet every night ns
friends.— N. Y. Organ.
Rssp&ctDue to Wives-
Do not jest with your wifo U|>on a gut'-
jeetin which there is danger of wounding
her feelings. Remember that she trea
sures every word you utter. Do not
speak of some virtue in another man’s
wife to remind your own of a fault. Do
not reproach your wife with personal do-’
| sects, for if she has sensibility you frf.
fiiet n wound difficult to heal. Do not
treat your wife with inattention in com
pany; it touches her pride, and she will
not respect you more or love vou hotter
for it. Do not upbraid your wifa in’
| the presence of a third party, thn
| sens* of your disregard of her feelings
will prevent her from ucknovflfdgeing
her tsults. Ido not entertain your wife
by prui.sing the beauty and accomplish,
merits of otht r women- If vou would
have n pleasant home and a cheerful
wife, puss your evening under youf*
own roof. Do rot be stern and silent
jin your own house and remarkable for
I sociability elsewhere.
A Liquorish Joes.—One ofthe cool
est jokes ofthe season has been perpe
trated by the liquor-dealer* of New
York, in raising the price of wines and
brandies on account of tho vintage of
Europe.
Those fellows are a jolly set, to ho
sure, or they never would have ben
guilty of such downright waggery in
this hot weather. Those jolly old
Coves know a little better than uny oniij
else that the vine-yards of France and
Germany have about as much to do
with the potabh s sold in this country,
as sarsaparilla root has to do with the
‘purifying’ fluids that are vended under
its name. A short crop of grapea
would have as little influence upon the
production of wines arid brandies in
the United States, as a short orop of
terrapin would upon the iranufacturo of
mock turtle soup.
The consummate wags must have
laughed, inwardly, clear down to their
heel tap3, as they informed their
customers with apparent gravity that
the short grape harvest would oblige
them tu raise their prioess— lot. Mu
seum.
The Cincinnati Citizen tells tha fol
lowing dog story: “Yesterday we no.
ticed one of the most singular dliplnvs
of canine sagacity we ever saw. Mr.
Baldwin offered * wager of 85 that ho
would start his Newfoundland dog
from tho wharf-boat, send him over
tha river to Blako’s Hotel, and that tho
dog would return with a hankerchisf
which -Mr. B. had left in hia bedroom.
The hot was taken, and the dog pi ting.’
ed the water, swam across, and mado
quick timo up the levee on tho other
side. In a short lime he again mado
his appearance, running toward the
river; tie jumped, in and swam back
to the loot of Walnut street, with tho
pocket-handkerchief in hi* mouth. He
was absent from the wharf-boat only
twenty-five minutes.—The loser read
ily handed over the $o bill, and de
clared that ho had never expected to
seo such a feat.”
Ax Etb to Business. —VVe are of
ten entertained, says an English journa
lis’, by the tone ot sentiment adopted
in advertising a death. There is fro
quently u facetious union of puff and
despondency. Wo will give a speci
men of a “death:”—“Died on the 11th
ultimo, at the shop in Fleet street, Mr.
Edward Jones, much respected by nil
who knew and dealt with him. Asa
man lie was amiable, as a batter up
right and moderate. His virtues were
beyond all price and his braver lints
were only £i 4s. each. He has left
a widow to deploro Ids loss, and a
large stock to lie sold cheap for the ben
efit of his family. lie was snatched
to the other world in the prime of life,
just as lie Imd concluded an extensive
purchase of felt which he got so cheap
that tho widow can supply hats at a
more reasonable charge than an/
house lu London. His disconsolate
family will carry on tho business with
punctuality.”
Fud a reverened speaker in New
! York the other evening, ‘if tho selling
of rum is a moral business, wiiat hin
ders me from engagingin it/ Yet who
would attend my preaching if I were
a rumsellr iV Tho idea commands
itself to ttioso recreant Christian profess
sors who sign rum, for a rule of morali
ty that will not upply to all is a poor
! one.
Thj Dtts of Wellington, known
as tho Marquis of L>a tiro, who succeeds
the Iron Duke, has been u very steady
worker in those fields where “wildcats”
are sown. He has been a “mauvais
sujet;” unprincipled in his career, un
kind to Ids wife, and lias neitiier talent
nor character to adorn his new title.—”
Ex.
“One of the rarities of life,” says
Eliza (Jook, “is a woman thoroughly
‘Slistied with her’ daughter-in-law'.”
NO. 46