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JOHN 11. SEALS, )
kiiitoii. V
\FU SERIES, VOL. I.
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Lord Byron.
BY TIIR LATE ALEXANDER COFFIN, U TI!K BOSTON BARD.”
“His soul is dark as Erebus. ’’
Satan his harp to Byron gave,
And said—“Go, sweep it well;
Thy throne, the murderer’s reeking grave ;
Thy theme, the feats of hell.
“To misery’s child, new misery add—
Tell him no pardon’s given ;
Drive, drive the shuddering sinner mad,
And break his hold on heaven.
“Sweep, sweep the lyre to godless themes—
For vice a chaplet twine;
Os horrors be thy waking dreams—
Os horrors that are mine.
“Os agonies in hell that rise ;
Os darkness that is felt;
Os reeling worlds—of sundering skies—
Os terrors yet unspelt.
“Dark be tho picture—let no light.
Not one dim raj’ illume;
Dark, dark, as never-ending night,
As self-destroyer’s doom !
“Man’s hope, man’s peace, forever mar,
Eclipse Religion’s sun;
Tread out salvation’s golden star,
And see thy work well done !”
He said; his lordship took the lyre,
And swept tho strings along,
While Satan stole from Heaven the fire,
And tuned the godless song.
.■ -
The Election—The Result.
Thank God, the right has triumphed. Myron 11.
Clark, who hesitated not to commit himself to the
Maine Law in the days of its unpopularity, when pol
iticians shrunk from it as they would shrink from
contagion—•'ho, through a three years senatorial ca
reer, gave to it an unswerving and vigorous champi
onship, that indicated the honest Christian Statesman
rather than the self-seeking politician— Maron H.
Clark, the faithful friend of temperance—the honest,
independent, clear-headed Senator, who never shrunk
from the performance of a duty, and never betrayed
a public trust, and whose intelligence and integrity
have always proved an overmatch for the cunning and
ambition, though backed by position and talent, which
have been pitted against him— Maron H. Clark,
the man of the people and the man for the times, is
Governor elect of the State of New York!—and upon
him, we doubt not, will devolve the signal honor, so
insanely rejected by Horatio Seymour, of signing a
Prohibitory Liquor Law for New York, and thus iden
tifying his name with an act of legislation, alike wise
and beneficent, and freighted with blessings to the
State at large, to the age in which we live, and to gen
erations yet unborn. — Prohibitioniet.
Gov. Clark's Message.
We extract the following portion of Gov. Clark’s
Message which relates to a prohibitory law. It will
be read with interest by nil the friends of the mua
sure:
“The subject of the revision of our Excise Laws
will demand, and I doubt not will receive your seri
ous attention. To the practical operation of these
laws, either through their inherent viciousness, or in
consequence of their lax administration, is attributed
no small proportion of the drunkenness which afflicts
our land. Something of this is undoubtedly attribu
ted to the non-enforcement of our laws, such as they
arc; but I will not withhold my conviction that the
laws themselves arc radically defective, and however
faithfully administered, must ho held justly responsi
ble for the evils which they foster, and in many in
stances create.
If the consequences of intemperance were confined
to its immediate victims, though even then the State
would have an interest at stake, there might, perhaps,
bo occasion for Legislative action. But such is not
the fact Every interest of society which it is the
province of Government to protect, is immediately or
remotely involved in these consequences.
Intemperance deprives the State of the productive j
energy of thousands of her citizens, and so far dirain- :
ishes its wealth, impedes its enterprise, and militates ;
against the common good. It is a fruitful source of
the pauperism which imposed heavy burdens upon
industry and capital; and its intimate relation to
licbotci) to temperance, literature, (General Intelligence, axrb t|c latest Ilctos.
ci,me, and consequently to the burdens which crime
imposes upon ns, is too obvious to escape your ob
servation. If the purely moral aspects which it pre
sents shall be deemed as not entering within the scope
ol your duties, its relation to taxation, and its pro
ducing causes, is clearly within the province of legis
lation, and demands a degree of attention correspond
ing to the great issues which that relation involves.
Lite r.glit to legislate in reference to the traffic in
intoxicating liquors, will not be denied. Our present
Excise System is the fruit of such legislation. It has,
in the process of time, undergone many modifica
tions, but its restrictive element, throughout all these
changes, has been retained, iu subservience to the
original purpose of the system, viz: the prohibition
of the traffic so far as the public good may demand
and the constitutional limits of the law-making power
will permit. All restrictive legislation contains the
germ of prohibition—is, in fact, prohibition partly
applied: so that what is termed prohibitory legisla
tion in regard to the liquor traffic, is only the exten
sion of a principle endorsed as sound by successive
Legislatures, and its impartial application to ail.—
The. object proposed by the founders of our State,
when they incorporated the license system into its
legislation, has not yet been attained; neither has the
constitutional power of the Legislative in reference
to it yet been exhausted. With the utmost desire to
reach right conclusions in relation to this matter, and
to guard against the assumption of powers not con
ferred by our fundamental law, I have found myself
unable to come to any other result than this—that
the legislative prohibition of the traffic in intoxicating
drinks is not only demanded as a measure of protec
tion to the health, the pr perty, and the lives of our
fellow-citizens, but that it is also distinctly indicated
by the nature and purpose of civil government, and
clearly within the limits of its constitutional powers.
These opinions, differently entertained at first, have
been wrought into convictions by a careful study of
the limitations and duty of the law-making power,
by judicial decisions, nearly orromotely alfecting the
principle involved, which have been had in the sev
eral States that prohibit the traffic in question, and
by the dicta of the Supreme Court of the United
States, which cover the whole ground in controver
sy, and leave little room for either cavil or doubt
That the good results hoped for from the legisla
tion recommended, are legitimate to it, several of the
New England States, especially Maine and Connecti
cut, furnish the most gratifying evidence. The steady
diminution of crime and pauperism in the States re
ferred to, with a consequent and corresponding re
duction of taxation ; and the new impulse given to
almost all industrial pursuits by the transformation
of those who were once a burden upon the State, into
producers of wealth, constitute an argument in favor
of the policy advocated, which, while it carries con
viction to the statesman, will be no less appreciated
by the multitude, unskilled though they may be in
casuistry, but also undebased by appetite and unper
verted by interest. If anythingis to be learned from
the example of other States, or to be deduced from
our own increased experience, it should be made
available to our use—and our legislation, upon all
subjects, should keep pace with our advancing intel
ligence, always expressing the highest truth we have
received, and reaching forward to the greatest good
attainable.
1 know of n > subjsct that is likely to elicit your
attention, that involves graver and more momentous
interests than the one thus presented for your con
sideration. That it is hedged about by difficulties,
which demand the exercise of great prudence, and
that it may not always be easy to reconcile conflict
ing interests with a nice adjustment of the scales of
justice, lam not disposed to deny. Hut, guided by
the purpose for which Government was ordained and
keeping steadily in view the well-being of society,
which always rests on a moral basis, these difficulties
will disappear or be overcome; and you will be able,
I trust, so to perfect the details of a Bill as, on the one
band, to secure the suppression of a demoralizing
traffic, and, on the other, to protect personal rights
and give no just cause of complaint to those whose
interests may be affected by the prohibitory legisla
tion which the higher interests ol the community de
mam!.”
“His Servants ye are whom ye Obey.”
“No beings on God's footstool are more perfectly
the slaves of Satan than the distillers and renders of
thisliqui 1 fire. They stand at the devil’s sluice-way’s,
open his turnpike gates, and tend his mightiest and ;
im st destructive engines. They who do his will in \
the heat of hell itself, do it not more thoroughly than
those who here on earth, for the sake of gain, keep
up his lires; for his fires they are, and the distil ers
and venders arc doing his work. Th -y may scorn to
do the dirty drudgery of the distillery, may never
stand at the vats, nor drain the fiery draught with
smoking ladles. They may be known only as mer-j
chants, sitting in the counting-rooms i>f their g:eat;
warehouses, occupied, mainly, with ledger?, invoices j
and correspondence. But not for this arc tin y I*;** |
his siaves. The burning rafters of tiie world of woe j
do not more truly cover his dominions, than they, as j
fixtures in his machinery, support his burning throne, i
Had they command of the pestilence walking in dark- j
ness, or the destruction wasting at noonday, they could j
not so thoroughly compass the extremes of misery
and perdition to which they arc now consigning
whole masses of the human race. If God had given j
them his own thunderbolts and lightnings, or the !
! sweep of bursting volcanoes ani earthquakes, to wield :
! a t their pleasure, they could not thus heroine such
destroyers of mankind as they now are. For (he
j work of their life is the ruin not only of the bod lor
i but of the sou's of their fellow-men. But the hand
of God is against them, and if ever the proverb was
PRIIRLD, lAIWDAf, JANUARY 20, 1855.
fulfilled, ‘lie that is greedy of gain troubleth his own
house,’ t has been in their case. It has been ascer
tained, by most rigorous investigations into t .r for
tune and families of’ distillers, lhat the bus'mss
which seemed for a time prosperous to themselves,
and runinous only to others, has it the end involved
their own perdition and that of their household in
time, ns wi 11 ns for eternity.”
The Transgressor.
IIY JAMES RRKS.
PAGE I.—THE GAMESTER.
The first page of the hook of life opens years ago
with a view of a gambling house in New Orlean-.
There is a mixed assemblage of men, on whose dis
torted features could be read whole volumes of crime
and passion. I counted thirty persons, besides those
whose business it was to set the gambling machine
in operation. Tho tabic was covered with money,
upon which the excited wretches gazed with nervous
earnestness, and as chances, or fraud, perhaps both,
operated against them, tho deep volcanoes of the soul
burst out in wild exclamations, intermingled with
oaths and curses. A true picture of hell is a gam
bling bouse!
One old man, whose grey hairs hung wildly about
his neck, grasped dollar after dollar, ns it turned up
to his number, and tho ghastly smile told how it
soothed tho anguish of his mind, lie won, but there
were those who lost; what a picture did their counte
nances convey of the passions that reigned within?
Eyes distended, lips compressed, the nervous trem
or, all showed that the spirit If gambling was doing
its horrid work. One young man there was, who
more particularly attracted my attention, for in him I
recognized a fellow boarder. Ho lest, but his coun
tenance gave no indication of it; he smiled, but the
close observer might have discerned a sudden twitch
of the lower lip, and nervous action of the arm, which
plainly told that all was not calm within. The book
of fife opened for him dark, and the page was blotted
with the tears of an absent parent.
PAGE IL—THE ROBBERY.
It was in a largo boarding house, tho view from
the balcony was beautiful; it opened out upon the
Mississippi, whoso dark waters rolled along towards
tho ocean, in all the grandeur and glory of the “Fa
ther of Waters.” Myriads of steamboats floated
along, laden with the riches of tho “upper land,” and
the hugo ships freighted fur Europe gave goodly ev
idence, tiiis indeed was the “Emporium of the West.”
This page of tho book of life opened beautiful and
bright, and as I gazed upon it, 1 wished in my heart
tiiat it might bo oternal!
While I stood gazing, thoughts carried off on the
wings of imagination were rioting in tho anticipations
of tho future:
“ What is thought ?
Imagination's vast and shoreless sea,
Which shifting light and darkness play athwart
In rapid change; inscrutable and free,
A mirror where wo find forms of all things that be.”
A friend approached me, upon whose countenance
a shadow of grief rested and hid the sunshine of his
heart. So great a change struck mu, and I inquired
the cause. “I have boon robbed,” he replied, “rob
bed of my watch and two hundred dollars in cash.”
At that moment theyoung man of tho gambling house
came up, 1 caught his eye, it quailed beneath my
glance—was it guilt?
“Robbed, did you say,” taking up the words of
my friend—“how very strange ; l too lost my watch,
a valuable lever, the gill of my mother. We have a
thief in the house.” I gazed at him intently as he
spoke, and calmly observed— "yet, and a gambler ,
too!” His face Hushed, then grew pale as death, his
lips quivered, and ho hastily loft its.
“Look after that man, Sanford—he rooms with
you, does lie not!” I asked.
••Yes.”
“Mark me, Sanford—that man is tho robber ?”
“He a robber ! why he is the son of wealthy
planter. Why suspect him?”
“Simply because I study the pages of the book of
life.” Tho first and second chapter of his eventful
career arc written and stereotyped on the eternal
tablets.
PAGE III.—THE FORGERY.
It was in another city, a vast, populous, commer
cial city, that I found myself busily ongagod, and for
a while neglected the book of life. I read men ns
they appear in the great mass. Tho pages were fill
ed with trade nnd traffic, and in the hurry and con
fusion of my vocation f lost sight of individuality.—
But a circumstance occurred which brought up Im
mediately before me, one of the actors on life's stage.
Extensive forgeries had been committed, and so in
geniously too, that the rogue bad already realized
from ttie brokers upwards of forty thousand dollars.
These drafts purported to have been drawn by a large
cotten house in New Orleans, on their agent in New
York. When I first heard the circumstance and the
name of the firm in llm Crescent city, I as strin k
with the curious coiueid nec that associated my gam
bling acquaintance with the forgery. Th name by
which fie was know n in that city was Mot ton, and the
drafts I ascerlai ed were made payable to Mortimer.
True the similarity in name was not in itsel suffi
ciently striking, but what strengthened my suspicion
was the fad, that the gentleman alluded to in the se
cond page as being robbed, was a clerk in tfic very
house by whom the drafts were said to be drawn. -
Satisfied in mv own min i of the truth of my own sur
mises, I immediately started off to the broker to gc-t
a sight of one of the drafts. -lust as I reached the
corner of the str ct in which his office was located,
who should I meet but the object of my suspicions.
He was followed by a black man carrying a heavy
trunk ; as soon as be saw me be dunged color, and
passed rapidly on, with head averted purposely to
avoid ma He is guilty I exclal nod, and Inis tilled
the third page of the hook of life !
PAGE IV.—THE MURDER.
It was in a wild part of the State of Pennsylvania, in
the year 1887, where the huge mountains rise up al
most perpendicular, and seem as if they were play
ing hide and seek with the clouds. 1 was there tor
the benefit of my health, ns was also some thirty or
forty others. We enjoyed our time most delightful
ly, hunting and fishing occupying two-thinls of it.—
Then we made up parties for sailing, and when the
moon poured down its silvery rays upon the. water,
and wo sang to the wild notes of music, which gave
to the scene a romantic tone, nnd which found a cor
responding chord to vibrato upon in every heart. I
shall never forget my visit to the mountains of Penn
sylvania. In a place so remote from the infectious
vices of a populous city, it was to ho expected that
tho people were virtuous ami happy. Nor had there
occurred aught to disturb the tranquility which pre
vailed there, until the second week after our arrival.
One morning the body of a young girl was found
on the bank, or rather tho margin of a small stream
which washed the liase of the mountain, near the
town. It was recognized as being the daughter of
a pour woman who mangled for the hoarders of the
hotel. How did this fearful accident occur ? was in
every mouth. Ah, here are marks of violence, and
evidence of foul play. Suspicion soon rested upon
a young man, who had been lurking in the neighbor
hood, and whose sudden disappearance gave rise to
the report that he must lie the murderer. On her
person was found a piece of paper with the words,
evidently written in haste, Meet me at eight—at the
usual place, signed M.
The paper I saw, the letter M staggered me ; there
was something in its appearance that attracted my
attention; it seemed to speak. A mysterious feeling
crept over me as I gazed, and mentally exclaimed, it
is Morton! 1 turnod the piece of paper over, exam
ined it closely, it was evidently written on the back
of a letter. Ah! what do I sec—on a portion of tho
address, these letters were visible “tinier,” part of
the post mark w as on it, and I could plainly decipher
—cans, La.
It required no key, it was plain the letter was post
markod New Orleans, nnd directed to Mortimer !
Strange! Murder completed tho fourth page of life!
PAGE V.—TIIE EXECUTION.
The first pago presents a view of the gallows. The
scenery around it differed from any that l had over
gazed upon before. On the right rolled the waters
of tjje Susquehanna, on the left arose the blue moun
tains covered with the mighty oaks, those old forest
trees, whose ages could alone be reckoned by the
wood rangers; for they bore impress of centuries.—
An immense multitude had assembled to witness the
execution of a hardened criminal, one convicted of
committing a most horrible murder. It was a fearful
sight to gaze upon. Tho scaffold was erected at a
point of the forest known as the crossroads; it was
a rude constructed thing, but firm. The clouds were
gathering in dark folds above us, but over and anon
the sun would dart forth its rays, and striking the
dark shade of the trees, gave to that portion of the
scene a supernatural appearance of brightness. •
Around and about the gallows stood the anxious
spectators. There was a mingled look of pity and de
fiance to feeling on each countenance, which gave to
the uplifted faces of the thousands an unearthly if
not fiendish expression. At last the culprit ascend
ed the ladder, followed by the hangman; the rope
was arranged, a solemn silence reigned among the
vast crowd - not a sound was heard—-respiration it
self was tutpended! The clouds had passed away,
a sickly ray of fight shone for a while upon tho aw 4 -
ful preparations. Again it ceased to shine, the clouds
gathered in fearful blackness, the thunder rolled, the
lightning flashed, and a breeze which swelled to a
miglity wind, swept down from tho mountain. At
the moment the unhappy man raised his head from
his heaving breast, and gazed around with a wild and
maniac stare—l started—the action attracted his at
tention, our eyes met, and the next moment lie was
launched into Eternity! It was Morton ! The book
of ife is completed!
The Horrors of War.
There are two great powers continually laboring
and striving, one for the salvation and li'isscdness of
man, the other for his destruction for this world and
that which is to come. We are engaged in attack
ing one form of assault upon man's happiness, but
God forbid that we should be either so selfish or so
nsrrow-minded ns to be insensible to the other cau
ses of human degradation and human w retchedness,
especially when they are forced upon us with all the
power of an avalanche from the mountains. We
have sometimes said that intemperance is a greater
■ evil in the world than war. It doubtless has des
troyed, from age to age more of the human family;
and in each Individual case, there is more of deep
degradation, if not of woe and anguish, yet it steals
insidiously upon men and is not seen at once, as in
war, in all its horrors. Now we have a spectacle of
these, such as the world has seldom witnessed, in
t'>c < ‘rimea—where such sufferings as both Russians
and the allies arc called to endure, and all for what?
We wonder the whole world do not cry ut against
war in indignation and horror, and make one uni
versal effort for its prohibition. And yet, how still
arc our pulpits, our press, men in private circles and
in all the public walks of life! We are glad to sec
that the Rev. Mr. Beckwith, Sec. of the American
Peace Society, is ready to rebuke the public for tbeir
vol m-iMiR a
amazing apathy. On other them s, he says thev
are eloquent, but here, how pnlshil!
“Take tho case of the Arctic, and contrast it with
every week’s report of w hat is going on in the Cri
mea. True, there was, in tho sinking of ilmt noble
steamer, a fearful loss of life in the vigor of its pow
ers, and the buoyancy of its hopes; but it was only
physical evil —calamity without crime, suffering
without guilt—no work, as in war, offiendish hate,
no achievement of cool, calculating, triumphant re
venge. There was no malice in it at all, but many a
touching scene of sympathy and love. Husbands
and wives, parents and children, companions and
friends, startled nt the sight of n common doom sud
denly staring them in the face, tenderly’ embraced
one another, and went down into their briny’ grave
locked in each others’ arms. A sad spectacle, but
one on which even an angel might gaze without a
frown to mingle with his tears. How unlike one of
those sea-fights respecting which Franklin, in his
fable, niakis the young, inexperienced angel indig
nantly say to his older guide, “You promised to con
duct me to the earth ; but you have brought me to
hell.” Mow utterly unlike the battle of the Alina, or
any of the bloody scenes enacted every week around
Sebastopol by men calling themselves Christians
scenes where the fiends of ambition nnd malice hold
their revels, where murder meets applause, and the
utmost science, skill, and resources of Christendom
arc concentrated in death-struggles, to inflict mutual
mischief.
“Her* arc themes of greater nnd more alarming
moral significance than the sinking of a thousand
An tics, than any marc accident, however calami
tous, can possibly be. It is the sin, the offence
against God, the libel on our holy, peaceful religion,
the sending of thousands on thousands to their last
account in guilt and lilood, the very hell of selfish,
angry, u alignant passions, burning, like the fires of
Gehenna, over the hills of the Crimea, if not moro or
less through ull.Christcndom itself. If accidents like
that of the Arctic arc so wisely and zealously turned
into themes for the pulpit, ought not such terrible
tragedies of guilt as those or the Eastern War to be
used in the same way with still greater frequency
and earnestness? To a mind in full sympathy with
the Prince of Peace, they suggest so ninny topics for
reflection, so many lessons of truth and duty, ofwis
dom nnd warning, that we mi lit well deem it su
perfluous to urge a single argument in favor of such
a use of these passing events by the ministers or
Christ.” Jopr. Am. Temp. Union.
The Power of Habit
The forco o( lmbit is prodigious, and, when exer
cised in vicious forms, it is terrible. lam well ac
quainted with an ingenious mechanic, who, in bis
own trade, has no equal in the community where he
has long resided, in early childhood his training for
drunkenness began under the auspices of an intem
perate father. Before he was bis own man, lie was a
drunkard, not to such a degree as subsequently—still
a drunkard. His growing appetite for rum whs ar
rested for ii time by his attache cut to a young lady
whom he knew he could never win so long as he was
reputed intemperate. With iron will he put the bit
on his appetite, and seemed an entirely reformed
man. Ills self-denial was rewarded by the reciprocal
affection of the young lady, and she has proved her
self altogether worthy the love of a good husband.
This did not last long. Tbolove of woman proved
to bis vicious habit like the flaxen thong on the limbs
of Sampson. Again he was seen reeling drunk
through the streets, and again he began to neglect
his business, liis rupentings were as frequent ns bis
falls, and most bitter; ami yet, when temptation as
sailed him, (he enemy within unbarred the gates and
gave the strong man bark to captivity. Hopeless
beggary to bis family, and an early grave to himself,
were now staring him grimly in the face. At this
crisis a gentleman appealed to him through his love
of gain to abandon ruin entirely. “If tie would only
become temperate, the whole com inunity would rally
around him, and soon his ingenuity and industry
would give him a home of his own.” The motive
struck him powerfully, and to the delight of all, he
forsook his cups. The community redeemed their
pledges, business returned to him, and soon lie bad
sufficient to purchase a bouse, on which there whs
only a small incumbrance, which a year or two would
suffice to remove. He bad become an active man in
the Temperance reformation. His means and his in
fluence were freely used to do good to his fellowtuen. 11
Certainly he must be safe now*, under the protec- j
lion ol so many kindly and powerful influences. He ]
loves bis wife and children, and they love him. lit (
is rapidly securing a worldly competence. Ho is r ,
member of the Christian Church, and lie lias identi ,
tied himself thoroughly with the great Teinperanc.,, !
enterprise, llow can he he plucked from the mid*,
of such safeguards* Ah, the force of his hnb't wa
to be tried again, and most disastrously for himsel , rs
Some of his old companions induced him just to tast
a little for “auldlang syne,” and the restraints whir Js
had held him thus far parted, like the anchor of
ship tossed by a tempest. Again lie is drifting t
wards the abyss with accelerated rapidity. I cnnn ln
detail all the horiihtc realities attendant on hisretu, L . ~
to drunkenness. Suffice it to say, at this very day -
sc ms a hopeless drunkard, and his case proves tl
vice wears a deep chaunel in the soul, as a rapid ri’ jj jj’
wears n bed through the solid ro ,-k. 1 can now thi „„J”
of no wav to save him, but to convert the coun re
around him into a drunkard’- asylum, by enact
and enforcing “the Maine Law.”
There's force and fixedness in habit which on
to make every one tremble at the thought of fond’ “ rn
a bud habit. j ,
JAMES T. ILL A IN,
( privu-.m.