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VOL. XIX
THE TED3P3RANCE BANNER
IS THE
Organ of the Sons of Temperance
AND CP TH't
State Convention of Georgia:
PUBLISHED WEEKLY,
By Benjamin Branlly.
ZST Ts rms —One Dollar a year in ad
vance; $1 50, if paid within six months;
and 00 at the end of the year. No sub
scription taken for les than a ye; r.
Letters must bo Post paid, to rtceive at
tention.
1
f AV tf*
%
6/ ♦ tttSt Q-1 , „fr
80SS Os TEMPERANCE,
Pledge of the Sons of ffenipe
rance.—l, without reserve, solemnly pleilge
my honor as a mail that l will neither make ,buy,
*ell nor use, as a beverage , any Spirituous or
Malt Liquors, Wine of Cider.
Officers <>f tlietjrand Division.
E. H. Myers, G. \V. I\ Macon.
B. BRANTLY. G. W. A. lVntiehl.
NV. S. Williford, 3. Scribe, Macon.
E. C. Granniss, G. Treus. Macon.
D. P. Joses, G. Chap. I’alinetto.
Wm. YVoods. G* Con. Madison.
TSM 3loodworth,G Sent. Liberty Hill.
Aivice to Ladies-
Young ladies, if your min Is al‘e filled :
with sound viewsoflife, and stores! witlG
that kind of reading that will exert ;
healthy influence upon your characters,;
you will shrink with instinctive deli- i
cacy from fulsome flattery or unneces |
sary personal freedom. \cu will have j
a consciousness of dignity and self i
respect that will keep at a distance all j
impertinent acquaintances. —\ ou will:
eeorx to U-- the toy, the mere plaything,:
ofthoseyou associate with, Respect 1
yourselves. Consider your own persons;
sacred from the touch of the trifler,!
and you will be so consider *d by others. ;
Let your most intimate associates ot i
the other sex be your father, brothers,
and those who are related nearly to you.
lie more anxious to shine in their esti
mation than in that ofstrnngers. Throw
aside sick'y, pernioious story-reading,
life istooshou, and the field of know),
edge too broad, and woman’s responsi
bilities are too serious, to justify you in
this waste of precious time. Yoif that
are novel readers, have you already de
voured enough of this fulsome and iiis*-
guised immorality? have you not “fed
upon the east wind” even to* satiety?
And who, from youth parental, or in
absence of temptation have never on
tered into this course of reading, be
persuaded by those who advise for
your good to “touch not, handle not.”
“It is easier to refrain from entering
upon sucti a coarse ot reading than to
break off after it is once commenced.
“If your husband looks grave, let
him alone, don’t disturb or annoy him.'’
Ob, pshaw! when I’m married, the
soberer my husband looked, the more
fun I’d rattle about his ears. “Don't
disturb hint!” I guess so! I’d salt his
coffee —and pepper his tea—and sugar
his beefsteak —and tread on his toes —
and hide his newspaper—and sew up
his pockets—and put pins in his slip
pers and dip his cigars in water —and
1 wouldn’t stop for the Great Mogul,
till I had shortened his long face to
my liking. Certainly he’d ‘ get vexed,”
there wouldn’t be any fun in teasing
him if he didn’t, and that would j?ive
bis melancholy blood a good healthful
start, and his eyes would snap and spar,
kle, and he’d say, “Fanny, will you be
quiet or not?” and should laugh and
pull his whiskers, and sav, decidedly.
“ffv 1 !” o nd then I should tell him I
haur’t the slightest idea how handsome
he looked when 1C was vexed, and then
he would pretend not to hear the com
pliment—hut would pull up **ts
and take a sly peep in the (for an ‘h'H-J
and then he’d begin to grow amiOo.e,
and get off his stilts, and he just as
agreeable all the rest of the evening as
if he wasn't, my husband , and all be
cause l didn’t follow that stupid bit
ot advice, “to let him alone. Just as
if J didn’t know! Just imagin me,
Fanny, sitting down on a cricket in tlm
corner, with my fore-finger in my
mouth, looking out the sides ot my eyes,
and waiting till that man got ready to
Epeak to me! You can see at once it
would be—be—. Well, the amount
of it is, I shouldn't do it! - Fanny hern.
Rules for Wearing Rings.— When ala
dy is not engaged, she wears her rings
on her first finger, if engaged, on her
second; if married on her third; and
if she intends to remain unmarried, she
wears her ring on her fourth finger.
If she has given up all hopes of main
rnony, she wears it on her fi"ger
[From the Rural New York.]
’ I Shall baa Farmer’s Wife.”
BY CHARLIE CHESTNUT.
“O, you caves dropper !”
“Beg your pardon, Mary, but I am
not guilty of Ihal.”
“Now tell me, Warren, haven't you
been heating what we girls have been
talking about ?”
“Yes, 1 heard something, but let me
premise that 1 was not euves dropping—
mi! ns I steppedon the piazza here un
conscious that 1 was in tho vicinity of
such a party, 1 stopped to ex unine this
beautiful plant, and heard someone say,
she m ver should marry a farmer* —and
another, “1 shall be a farmer's wife!”
“Well, w s that oil you heard?”
“Tli it w .a enough to interest me,
you know, Murv, since lam to be a
firmer, and of necessity will want a
wife, and one of the right stamp, too —•
one not above the business—but who
Were those who were deciding upon
their future? lam interested to know,
and I trmy make you my informant,
since you are disposed of, so much to
I to the dismay of all our hearts.”
“ Warren!” said the maiden, blush
jing. But let me introduce them.
’ Warren A was a young man of
I good character, education, family, dec.
—a y rung farmer, and a favorite among
j these with whom he mingled—posses
sor of a Peautilul farm, but without a
: helpmeet. Mary G was a pious,
; warm-hearted girl—one of those who
I can keep a secret for each oflter friends,
| and one whose hand had been sought
for bv many of the young men of her
| acquaintance, but only one had obtain
jed possession of her heart—of him we
’ are not lo speak. Warren A and
; Mary G had always been friends,
| intimate friends, from childhood, and
■ had perfect confidence in each other.
The gossips all said they were engag
i ed, but it proved otherwise, and
the gossips at lault. Mary G. was a
] girl that could be trusted, however, and
Warren know it.
| A campany ot girls are spending the
j afternoon with Mary G. and her sister,
! and from among the company, 1 wish
| the reader to make the acquaintance of
| two —qne, a blue-eyed) laughing girl,
| culled a beauty —admired and flirted
■ with by most of the young beaux—
■ open-hearted to a fault—on the whole,
i a good hearted girl—so called, at least,
yet known bv i nay of her friend.-; as
1 fickle-minded, ignorant and indolent—
n farmer’s daughter, whose mother did
the work, and she—didn’t. But she
had a peculiar winning way,and many
wore attracted and thought they loved,
but a careful study of her character
soon convinced them tht she was not
| the woman “for their money.” War
j ren A. was one of those, and had thought
!of making her his wife, (if she agreed,
;of course,) but a faithful study of l.im
self, his opinions and inc'inaticms, with
j those of the fair, thoughtless girl, had
; brought him to the conclusion that it
i would not answer. Mind as well ns
| form—worth as well as beauty-—a true
! and affectionate heart, were necessary
Ito constitute his “ideal of perfection,”
land though he once thought he loved
I her, yet a “vision lately floated by,”
i which had dispersed the tender moino
-1 ries of Ellen 11. It was she who would
; “never marry a fanner.”
That “vision” was the form of a beau- ’
! tiful golden-hatred girl, with eyes li
| quid wiih mirth, mingled with truth and
i affection. She was beautiful, and no
! more beautiful than truthful; no
i coquetry —no heartlessness, but true
j unafl'ected simplicity—not the simplici
ty of ignorance, but the simplicity of
1 honesty always joyous, happy, and try.
! ing to make all happy around her.
Such was LoisS., she who “would be
; a farmer’s wife.”
j Warren had but recently become ac
quainted with her, as her father had
1 lately arrived in the vicinity with his
>la mil v; but there appeared to boa some
! thin” (voting men, women, gu as wh t)
which fixed ms attention on those eyes,
’ and caused a throbbing in his bosom
| when they were turned upon him, and
instantly w.thdrawn, with a blush on
those fair cheeks, at the earnestness of
, his gaze.
’ Reader, you have an introduction—j
’ ltd us return to M try and Warren.
: “Miry,” said \Varren, “let your sis
tors entertain their company, while you
j entertain yours, and wuik with me. 1,
, have a desire to talk with you.” II
drew Mary’s arm within his, as he ssidj
| this, and though she was about deciin-i
I ing, said he, “I will make it a.l right;
with ; you need not fear.”
Mary blushed again and sai l, “I
feel assured you will, Warren, but it
! must be only a short walk, and what
vou have to siy, must be said briefly,
us there is no < xense f;r me to make to
! the girls for absence.”
They Lad left the yard, and were
walking under a row of large maples.
“Mary, you are my friend—l claim
you as such —you have always ueen
yes. -i sister to me. Now, as I have
nn mV i sister. I may confide in you as
PENFIELD, GA. MAY 28, 1853.
a brother. You are not liku the great,
erpor’ion of women or girls, for very
few can, or do, at least, keep u secret,
but you can.”
“Enough, flatterer, I will be your
friend as 1 always have been, and your
sister, if you wish; but stop this use
less talk— think what you please, but
don’t tell me my virtues —rather my
faults ”
“Well Mary, the truth is you are a
good girl, and 1 am going to ask vour
opinion and advice. First, what is
your opinion of Ellen it?”
“Mv opinion of Ellen It.! Why
you, who have known her from her in
fmey— who lmv< bepn her school-mate
f>r years—you, who have the reputa
tion of being a good judge of character,
asking me my opinion ot Ebon It* Is
h<>r character so enigmatical, Warren ?
You have studied it, I am sure.”
“Yes, Mary, 1 have studied it, but
perhaps I have been prejudiced or
blinded. She is pleasant company,
open hearted, atT'Ctionate, and would it
startle you should I tell you I am to he
married to her soon ?”
“ You marrv Ellen R. ! Why War
ren ! 1 thought, but • —”
“But what, Mary?”
“But 1 shall not tell what 1 thought.”
“Now, perhaps, you will give your
opinion yet?”
“No, indeed, 1 shall give no opinion
if you are engaged.”
“Will you, if 1 am net engaged?”
“Yes, ifyou desire it.”
“1 do then, and am not engaged.”
“Warren, I shall speak plainly—yon
are worthy of a better girl than Ellen.
Although you are not a professed Chris
tian, you should seek a Christian com
panion—-one who has principle, a mind,
a truthful and afleotiouato heart. lam
not flattering you when I say you are
worthy of it; beside, you know what
she suit! this hour in your hearing—she
never would marry a farmer, though I
suppose and others with me, thought,
that she never would have said so had
she not been convinced by your actions
of late that if she did, it would not be
you.”
“My actions, Mary!”
“Yes, Warren; you may not have ac
knowledged it even to yourself, but
still ”
“Still wlmt?”
“No more of this Warren; let us re
turn, as you have my opinion and
advice.”
“But t am not through; your opinion
of Lois S.?”
“Warren! why did you ask? Not
because she said she should marry a
farmer was it?”
“No Mary, 1 did ifot think of that,
but your opinion?”
“Lois S. is a Christian) a warm
hearted, truthful and geueroi/s girl, the
opposite of Ellen in almost every res
pect. /should he proud of you, War
ren, were you to secure such a prize
for a wife; but you are to win her; be
lieve me, she is unconscious of your
being attracted though it is plain to all
observers. You have my best wishes,
and now, Warren, open your heart, and
—hut here are the girls on their way
home.”
“O, you truant, Mary!” exclaimed
Lois S. ns she, in company with Ellen
11., met Mary at tha gale. “Where
have you been?”
“I teased her to walk with me,’ said
Warren, as he stepped from behind a
large maple.
“O, excuse me, Mr. A., and Mary,
too; l did not know you has company.”
“O dear she has been walking out
with VVarren— that's great'.” said El
len R.
“Call me Warren, Miss S., as that
is the name lam known by in this
little society, and it is a better neme
than Mr. A.—at least, more conve
r; ieu i— -is it not, Miry?”
“I think so,” answered Mafv.
“I will then, if you will call mo
i Lois.”
“I’ll do il,” said Warren. “And
1 now, Mary, you will, with their p*r
---| mission, accompany Ellen and Miss.—
j excuse me— Lois home.”
“Yes, sir, you may accompany me,”
said Ellen, who had already hold of his
arm.
lie soon had the fair Lois’ arm,
within his own, and they shortly at El
len’s home. Bidding Ellen “good
evening,” they passed on in silence;
strange there was nothing they could
converse aliout, wasn’t it? I have read j
somewhere, that still waters run deep
est. ** At last, to break tbs embarrass
ing silence, (for it must have b°en ern
barrassing,) Warren asked how she
had enjoyed the afternoon visit lit
Mr. G’s.
“O. very well indeed, though I missed
Mary long before 1 came away. She is
a good girl, Mr. A—-Warren, I mean.”
“Had I known it would have caused
you an unenjoyed moment, |I should
not have asked her to walk.”
“O, no! I enjoyed pvery moment, on
ly we hunted for her. She was not to
blame for choosing better company
than us girls.”
“l)o you think it was bettor oompanv
Lois?”
“1 attl no judge) but 1 presume she
thought so, or nlie would have left us,
and she is and acknowledged judge, you
know; 1 judge from that.”
“Well, I think Mary is a good, judge,
and—but—
There Was something choked War
ren, then, or he would have finished the
sentence, for it was in his heart to do it;
but he stopped suddenly embarrassed.
Lois noticed it, and said, “1 did not
know there were any bats to be found
in Murv G.’s character or actions,
Warren.”
“Excise me, so there is not,” said
Warrer*. They had reached the yard,
passed toe g'te, and slopped at the
and • ir— Warren in a reverie—pleasant,
of course, and Lois looking at him with
an inquiring, embarrassed air, worrier,
ing why lie was so suddenly made si
lent and stupid—so perfectly opposite
any thing site had previously seen in
his actions—-before so gav, companion
able and unembarrassed, (Do you
suppose she could’nt guess?)
“Won’t von walk in, Mr. A.—-War
I ren, I mean?” asked 1, >is, as he look
-1 ed up.
Warren made an excuse, bade her
good evening, and departed ns it in a
dream. Ho passed mechanically a
] long, and at last ejaculated, half aloud.
“So beautiful ! earnest —and those
eves!—-What a sweet good night!
She will be a farmer’s wife, and ”
“And you are tn blame if you don’t
make Iter yours,” exclaimed a voice
near.
VVarren looked up, astonished.
“O, you eaves dropper!”
“No,” said Mary, laughing, “I am
j no enves-dropper, more Than yourself,
I but you should not soliloquise so
| loudly.”
“Well,” said Warren, “1 should not,
! but I am in the midst of friends.”
“Well, Warren, have you confessed,
I proposed, end been accepted?”—-for it
is my turn now.”
“No, indeed. 1 have not, and have
not concluded it is best yet,” (for
Warren was one of your cautious fel
lows.)
“O, stupidity! don’t you know that
you love tiie best girl in , and that
! she loves ”
“ Who?” gasped VVarren.
“Why, you, of course.”
“Weil, l have yet to learn that.”
Warren, appearing relieved, “but has
| she ever told you so?”
“Told me so ! then you belipve I onn
| not keep a secret, do you? Do you
| think she instructed me to tell you she
loved you?”
“O, no, of course not,” said Warren,
abstractedly.
“Warren,” sail Mary, “von lore
that fair Lois S., nd you may ns well
I acknowledge il to yourself, and to
“Well, Mary —sister deal,” said he,
i grasping her band, 1 rather think she
j shall have an opportunity to become a
i farmer's wife!”
j In the parish of , near the—
j church, in the beautiful village of ,
; mav be seen a neat little cottage, where
may be found the pastor of the parish,
with his beloved wife—beloved by all
who I now her—Mary G., she that was.
Across the fields yonder, through
! those trees, and that shrubbery, you
catch a glimpse of a beautiful modern
cottage—a rural home-.where you
will find Deacon Warren A., and—-he
is a farmer, and has a “farmer’s wife.”
I 1 would be spared the rest, hut 1
| must finish !
Do you see that wretch—-a victim of
| the rum demon!— sec birr to.ter from
I that earthly Ac//—the dram-shop—-(for
j there is otic, in the same villuge which
contains the (nippy pastor and his wife
1 Mary,)—he totters, and leels, and
1 staggers towards a miserable, neglected,
and dilapidated house, lie enters!—
thorn to meet, surrounded by shrink
ing, fillin', crying, hnlf.starved chil
dren, the one': beautiful and thoughtless
Ellleti It. ’ Attracted by n gay, dush
inr* and showy ex erior, she married
a costly und brilliant wedding—splen
did mansion, extravagantly furnished—
the novelty of a fashionable life—hus
band, clerk in an extensive establish
ment in the city—Ellen thought her
self happy. She had not married a
farmer, but a —gambler !
Reader, young man, maiden, take
herd !
For the Temperance Banner.
Oh Monday fl I of May, I dine wiih
Bro. George Barker, a Methodist and
Son of Temperance. Soon afierdinnor
he conv *vs rne to Speir’s J urn Out,
Central It. It-
Get on cars f.r No. 14, find on board
hut few passengers,— make the ae
qiiaintance of young Mr. Lswgon, of
Burke, a polite, sensible gentleman; lie
I think, was a member of the last Leg.
Mature. Snonld Ik* lie returned again
a member, (and I hope he may. as he
is in lavor of our anti retail traffic me
morial. j he will bn an able advocate of
the measure. I get off abo it four
o’clock at No. 14, find the agent, Mr.
Fining, there, as strong a Son as ever—
a clever man of course—a gentleman.
1 wait a while for Bro. Fisher, of Sami
Hill Division, and here he come. Did
you ever see liis frank, strong marked,
honest face ? A strong man in tho
church, and a pillar in his Division.
We get to Bro. Fisher’s, where him
self and lady entertain me in that
warm, hospitable manner, that had
characterized them on a firmer occa
sion, when 1 visited them, even the
“darkies” seemeed glad to see me.
On Tuesday 3d, repair to Bay
Spring church and lecture before Sand
Hill Division and public, a good turn
out. Nothing particular to note, only
it is a Division that will just do. Were
l to call names I do not know where 1
could quit, hut they ull know uncle
Dabney has taken many of them by the
hand. Almost every body in ibis re
gion signs tho memorial.
Several of mv Sandcrville friends met
me at Bay Spring and brought a letter
of invitation for me to go to Sandersville,
but I bud passed up and was anxious
on some accounts to get home. Say lo
them 1 will, Providence willing, visit
them as soon us I can.
I get on cars Tuesday evening, find
one of the Charlton’s us Conductor,
these gentlemen brothers have secured
my sincere esteem from polite and gen
tlemanly attention.-
. 1 stay in Macon, with “mine host”
Redding, (and what a clever lady his
wife is.) Take omnibus in the morn
ing, 4ih March, tor M. At W Depot.
By the by, a thing happened this morn
ing new under tho snn. The Savan
nah, S. Western and Macon cars ul!
start from one depot in Macon, and the
Central passenger cars crosses the
bridge the fust time. 1 arrive in At
lanta in ilie evening, call on my friend,
next morning get home, going on the
Atlanta and LaGrange cars.
1 must quit, and you are glad [ reck
on. Respects to ull gentlemen and la
ity friends in Georgia.
D. P. JONES.
For the Temperance Banner.
Perjury.
In tho American Messenger for the
poesent month, there is a very timely,
and as I conceive, a sensible article,
under the above caption. The writer
stales “The wool is a horrible one, de
noting a ct'itiTe that is odious among ull
nations, and subversive of all justice
between man and man.” The writer
“seeking great brevity, names (lie four
following reasons,” ns the cause of the
increase of this “horrible” crime:
1. “The needless multi plication of j
oaths, and the ii reverent manner in which I
they are administered.”
“ Tne habit of profane swearing in !
common discourse.”
3. “A latent but wide spread unbelief
as lo the existence and perfections of Al
mighty God.”
4. “The increasing disbelief in fu
lure punishments.”
Under each of these is n short and
pithy argument in their support. And
1 would like to transcribe some of lliein,
but as the Messenger is widely circu
lated, f presume muiiy of your readers
will read the article, in it.
I introduce the above to add sortie re
marks 1 once heard a foolish man make,
and you will doubtless agree with me
that ho was foolish, (wh<n you read
them,) to make such foolish remarks,
but in sober seriousness hr: had an hub
i lucination of the bruin. He wus speak
ing of the corruption and wickedness of
that every where prevailed, and that it
was on the increase. And he asked
“why was it that it was ou the in
crease ?” he repealed, “whv waaiton
the increase?” “I can tell,” he re
plied, in answer to his own question,
“when men do wrong, a virtuous com
! nmnity will surely frown upon the
I wrong and scorn the perpetrator.”
1 1 “Not so. not so.” “Me i-> as much of a
gentleman a fie r as lie wus before ; and
iis treated us such by bis fid low men.”
!“Tako for instance,” he said, “a case
in point, here is a man, lie is looked ]
j upon by all as a genii men, as honors- !
t hie, high-minded—one lliut would scout!
to do wrong; aye! he may be a man
; that stands high in the church, an ex
ample of Christian piety and moral ex
cellence. This man comes forward,
voluntarily—ol his own free-will and
! accord —and pledges liis honor as a man,
m the siglw of God, angels arid men,
with solemnity und wiinout any reset- 1
vution whatever, that hk will neither
! make, buy, sell, nor use as u beverage, i
any spirituous or malt liquors, wine or!
cider.” Now he has made a solemn and!
a good pledge, and one that every maul
ought to make, and keep. “But to j
return, —let his motives been whatever
they may have been, he never will vio {
lute that pledge, for ho knows what
perjury is, both in thesight ot his area
tor and liis fellow-men ; and it being
such an awful crime, he neve r can
commit it, and if he could even get liis
own consent to commit so heinous a sin, j
the four of the scorn and indignation of!
I bis lellow-mun, will cause him to keep*
j it. though lie fear not God ; he never
j can withstand the withering artd blight
mg contempt of associates. Hut time
rolls on ; Mr. such an one has violated
the pledge; poor fellow, aHsay,o\i
habits were too strong for him, what a
pity he could riot resist the temptation—
ho bid fair to do v ell; but he is lost
now; 1 fear ; and such remarks are
made at the time, but it soon ceases trf
be remarked about, and soon Squire
B breuks his pledge, and Capt.-
C , and Dr. G -and Lawyer F;
and Col. M , and after awhile our
j Christian gentleman; forgets his vows,
i violates his pledge. As soon as’ lie
does the awiul deed, does not horror
seize his soul t Does be not fee; the
brand of Cain burning on his brow ?’
Does ho not sink beneath the thought
of the withering contempt of his fellow.”
men ? Does he not feel the curse and
wrath of an offended God consuming
him ?” “No, not ho. Ho holds Iris
head ns high as ever, and moves among
his fellow.men as If he had done no
wrong, and prays to God as if he tVaS
as other christians, und had done no
sin.” But liis f'ellow.men. they shun
him ; spit upon him, yea, flee shun his
presence ns if the air lie breathed wits
pestilential, and ns -if sin and death fol
lowed in his train.” “Not so, no such
thing! Ilis fellow-men treat him as if
lie never had sinned.”
“Again: Col. B. of Mnj, O. centres
out as candidates for the Legislature,
the election is likely to he a close one.
Hither and thither over the count/
they go, evev little gathering of tlie
people they are suro to ho there, and
every possible means to get votes arff
used; bribing, treating, intriguing. Ac.
i’he election comes on, one of them is
elected; At the proper time', he goes
to IMilledgeville ; but before tnkiug his
seat, there is an oath to he taken—ho
hears it ; poor fellow, he has lost his
seat, af'lor all bis trouble, sin and ex
pense to obtain it, for lie can’t take that
oath, for lie knows, and God knows,
(before whom ho would have to swoar
if lie took the oath,) and cvefy body
knows, (hut If he took that oath, he was
a perjured man. He will have to go
back home, mortified, disgraced. Not
he! YV hat docs he do ? takes the oath,
takes liis seat a perjured man, (in the
sight of God, if’not in the sight of men,)
to make laws fir a great common,
wraith. Oh, how great are the mer
cies of our God, that h'e does not blot
us out as nation of the earth, where
perjurers aro our law-maker sand Itw.
givers. But this man, cun he ever
again visit his constituents? Can ha
ever face them again ? Will they not
hiss him out of the country, should he
| ever return among them? No; they
will send him to Congress next term.
.Shall we then he astonished that cor
ruption and evil is rife in tho land, and
that oaths have lost so much of their
sarctity?”
He sard much more on this subject;
but I have given enough for the pres- 1
ent. May the lime soon Como that, not
only in Georgia, but every where, the’
opportur ity to treat will be lost, by tha
entire banishment of the liquor traflio
as a beverage.
BALM AGUNDA--
May, 1853.
For the Temperance Banner.
Dear Banner: —it indeed has be An
long, und perhaps it ought to have been
long, since t took my peri to write, con
cerning temperance. Il is not because
l’j 1 have gro vn slack in the gobd cause,-
: that 1 have not written, hut because 1
I wiser heads and abler pens have been’
• busy In writing on the stihjpct, and F
• contented myself by reading. \Ve
• verily believe that the bright dawn of
better days is fast approaching', and we
! are glad of it. Lately we saw— ...
• | what l something that would hnve
i moistened your eyes had you seen it
too. A Indy with ten children, flying
from the face of their drunken and übu
-ive husband and father, with not a sin
<4,lo o*lll with which to buy food, and
i only a few clothes. She stated that
he abused her children very badly and
| affirmed that tie would kilt iter, and she
was leaving his abode to seek an ssy~
ium elsewhere. While her and her
children wept, we thought that that was
only one <d thousands ot such cases,
ev.-n in Freeborn, happy America JI f-
Huoh a state of things is intolerable,-
and how our good, sweet, pious, charit--
able brethren of the Gross, cun oppose’
temperance in this enlightened day,-*
j will take a wiser head than ours to ex
i plain satisfactorily. Brethren, von
! must feel middling shabby to oppose’
temperance, and call on God to uless
j you in il. If lie saw as men see, lie
would split you wide open for your pre
: sumptuous hypocritical petitions !!!
Bro. Brantly, suppose all lemperano*'-
men, women und children, were to fast
and pi ay on some special day to Al
mighty God, to aid us in the caus: do
you rim think lie would leu Ia helping
hand? He always has, and always
wt/l, hear the prayers ot Ids distressed.
NO. 22.