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About The Dawson weekly journal. (Dawson, Ga.) 1868-1878 | View Entire Issue (July 21, 1870)
THE BAWSON WEEKLY JOURNAL. rTs. R. WESTON. 321 Jloumul, " fCß Lisaw *7«* rnoMDir. Three mnnitu , 2 S O.e * ftr \/gRTI3INQ : OXI MONTH. I TWO MONTHS | THREE M'THS J | SIX MCNTHS. j ONI TEAR. So. mb'** s7m f 5 00 # 7 00 #l2 50 S2O 00 — ■" SCO 76010 00 18 00 25 00 n 00 10 00 12 00 20 00 30 00 jimii. 7 w ano U 00 16 00 26 00 40 00 four* 77~ 10 00 1 8 oo 25 00 40 00 60 00 —" 15 00 25 00 85 00, 60 00,170 00 I 1 CllL. w z== The money for aJ &£K!S£ and» .B« «* » li uvertidements inserted at interval, to be *iriditional charge of 10 per cent will A Je on advertisements ordered to be in "idrerti *» mein winder e head of “Spe i linticei" will be inserted for 15 cents **' f#r ih» first insertion, aud 10 cents I" ' ’r or ,ach subsequent insertion. velrinents in the “ Loci Column ’ -illhe inserted st 20 cents per line for the S, and lScent- per line lor each subse ’“ril communications or letters on business tamndrd for this office sheuld be addressed „"Ths Dawson Journal rail-ROAD guide. '• B,,,W 7e»SrTral.~ ad yijl, HOLT, Pres. | VIRGIL POWER, Sup Uavs Maces... .., n . u Arrive atEufaul* Y.L, „ Arrive at Mac*n * Connecting wi h AtSsoy branch train .• J.ithri le, aud wilt Fort Gaines branch train it CVhbf r . JUTACLX SISHT AND ACCOMMODATION TRAINS "?.'*? * Arrive at L'. 0 ' * “ Uevs “ ® [ “ ! Iffiff silicon . * Connect etS nithvlle with Al any train on Jfonday, Tuesday, Thursday »nd Friday liirbia. Ke train leaves on Saturday nights. COLUMBIA PASSENGER TRAINS. Leave 7: m. Arrive it 00lu m buß v v - L*ave p. m Arrive at M.con fi: ” s p - M COLUMBUS MIGHT PASSENGER TRAIN Urn Macon p. m. Arrive at Columhus 5.00 a. m Lane Columbus 7:00 p m Arrive at Jfacon 4:43 A. M. nitron and Brunswick Passen ger 'l’raiiie. GEO. W HAZELHURrST, President. Leave Maron 9:15 A. M Arrive a' Brunswick 10:20 p 1 M. Leave Brrinsaick ..4 30 a m. JrriveatM con 7:50 P. x TRAINS TO tIAWKINSVILLB Leave* Macon R tOO p. xi Arrive at llankinwilie 6:30 P M Leave H.wkinsville 7:'iO A M‘ Arrive it Macon 6:16 a. m This train tuns daily, Sundays excepted. W**tcrii dt Atlantic Railroad. FOSTER BLODGETT, Sup’t. NIGHT PASSKNQF.It TRAIN Dave Atlanta 7 00 P. M Arrive at Chattanooga 8.80 A. M Leave Chattanooga ........7.50 P. M Arrive at Atlanta '. .4 14 A. M DAY PABBKNQEK TRAIN. Laara Atlanta ...8.15 A. M Arrive at Chattanooga 4.20 P. hi Dave Chattanooga 7.10 A. M Arrive at Atlanta 3.17 P. M DALTON ACCOM ENDATION. Dave Atlanta 3.10 P II Arrive at Dalton 11 85 P. M Dave Dalton 2.00 A. M <rd». at aO.ni, ,1 OO A W Xribsjiwal ©ante. TI. F. SIMMONS, attorney at law, imh y+sojr, Gfiii |)ROHPT attention given to all business A lotruaud to hia care. •Ug6 9ttf ». wootxn. l c. hoyle. WOOTEN & HOYLE, Attorneys at Law, Jan S-ly. - Att y Law and Solicitor in Equity, SMITHVILLS, OA. lacutuiu* Ct tv u 'k Western rand Patau- Collections promptly remitted. J,K ‘ WARREN, attorney at law, "aaats%. lE ... M . *S«U. INMAN & C 0„ COTT OO factors n , AND Emission Merchants, * T. w **’ wVW© York. J WI3, A * cnt . Dawson, Georgia Dawson Business Directory, Dry Goods Itlcrciiiaiils, CIHW, & TUCK FIR, Dealers in all /kinds of Dry Goods and Groceries. Main Slreet. KITTWER. J iron, Dealer in all kinds of Dry Goods, Main street. IOYLESS * GKirm, Dealers J in Staple Dry Gnmls and Groceries, also and Commission J/ercbants, J/aln Street, McKEW WEY and CHOP €ll, Dealers In Drv Goods, Clothing, Staple Qoods and Family Groceries, Jfiin street. OKIS, W . F. Dealer In E’ancy and ato - nic Drv Goods, Main at., under ‘‘Jour nal” Printing Office. Grocery merchant*. J. A., Warehouse and Commission Merchant, and Dealer in lia con, Flour, Meal and Provisions generally, at Sharpe At Brown’s old stand, Mlin Bt. Ii'AH.HJU, Atl tRPE & CO.. Dealers in Dry Goods, Groceries, and Pianiation Supplies. CAREER & SimmOWS, Groeery V X and /*rovision Dealers, South aide Pub lic Square. HOOD, B. 11., Dealer in Groceries and Family suoui'es geuerallv, 2nd door to ‘Journal” Office, Main gt. MIZEI.L, K . C. & Cos. Grocery and Provision dealers. Next door to the Ho tel Main Street, Dawaon. Druggists. CHIEATHAYI, C. A., Druggist and / Physician. Keeps a good supply of Drugs and Medicines, and prescribes for all the ills that flesh is heir to. At bis old stand, the Red Drug Store, Main st JAWE3 Ac COYEESS, Dealers in Drugs, Jfedicines, Oils, Paints, Dye Stuffs, Garden Seed, ite., &c. BAKERY. re. 501,0710 W, Biker, Confee • tinner, and dealer in Family Groceries Fi-h and 0' »ters, J/iin Street, next to J. W. Roberts & 00. PHYSICIANS. HODS ETT W. 11. Prae-icing Phy sician, and Surgeon. Office at Cheat ham’s D' ug Store. DRS. J. W. PRICE & SOS, thankful for past patronage bv close attention and moderate charges hone to re. reive a continuance of the same. Offi.ie, Dr. Gilnin’s nH s-and jan IS, if « Watcli Kcpuircr. VI.I.XA, .loin P., will .epair Watches, Clocks, Jewelry, M usic Books, Acco dious, &c , always tube found at his old stand, on North side of Public Square. Livery S!aS>l«‘*. I’VARAI’TI, A 811 4IIPE, Sale 1 „tid Feed Stable. .Horses and J/ui- s for sale. Horses boarded. North side Pub lic Square. nitIHE, A. «S. & J. K.. Sale. L Feed and l.iverv Stable, Depot (Street. Good horses and vehicles sot hire oti reason able terms. April 14, ly. BAR ROOM. 1) IX WARD, Dealer in Fine Wines, Brandies. Whiskies, Lager B. er, &c , West side public Square, Main street. n. K. ADAMS, H K. WASHBURN, A A ADAMS, Eatouion, Ga Savannah, Ga. Ameticus.Ga. ADAMS. WASBURN & CO. FACTORS AND— Commission Merchants, No. 3, Stoddard’s Lower Range, ayl3Y.9;6n Savant ah. Ga Ai.k’t H CriQ'-iTT, James Pach^, Baker Cnuntv, G». New'oe, Ga. H i;G h 11. GoLQOITT, Savannah, Ga. COLQUITT & OACCS, COTTON FACTORS & GENERAL t OM MISSION MERCHANTS. Bay street, Savamiali, «»• Special attention to the Bale of Cotton, Lumber ant Timber. Liberal advances on Consignments. may6jtf brown house. K. E. BKOW.t «st SOM, Fourth St., Opposite Passcrger Depot Macon, Georgia. epnid House haviujr lately been refitted I and repaired, and is no* one of the best Motels in the State and the most conve nient in the city. The table ts su r pt.ed with everything the market affords. leblS 6. LYON, IitGRAFFENHEID & IRH\, m iA Macon, • * • Georgia- WILL (jive attention to Professional Busi ness in the Macon, .South.western, and Fatsul i Circuits; in the U S Courts, in ba vanuah and Atlanta ; and bv Spetial Con true! in miT part of the iState. Sept. 28,*6» ; ly. PLANTATION FOR SALE, Ism offering for sale a plantation near Whaley’s Jflll", in Terrell county, nine mile* Northwest of I) ivrson, con'aining St Hundred acres of Cat and Hickory laud ; 800 acres cleared, wi'l, good improvements, Gin House and Screw, &e , &e.. For particulars as to teims ut-d price, call on the subscriber in Zhwsnn. June 18,tf. WII. KAIGLEB. ERROBS QF YOUTH A Gentleman wh« suffered for years Iron, Nervous Debility, Premature Decay, and all the effects of youthful indiscretion, will, fc the sake of stiffering humanity, send free to all who need it, the receipt and directions for making the simple remedy by which be was enred. Sufferers wishing to pio?t bv the ad vestiser’s experience, cao do so by address ing in perfect confidence, j S ’ JOHN 13. OGDEN, tmcJ.ly No. 4*2 Cedar root, s»N.Y dawson, ga., Thursday, july 21, i8?o. SELECTED POETY. Till* Lift* I* IVltjii We 71a K«* it BY CHARLOTTE YOUNG. I.et’a oftener talk of noble deeds rarer of the bad ones, sing about our happy days, v4ud not about the sad ones. We were not made to fret and sigh, And when grief sleepa to wake it; Bright happiness is standing by-- This life is what we make it. Let’s find the sunny side of men, Or be believers in it: A light there is in every soul That takes the pums to win it. No ! there’s a slumbering 1 good In all, And we perchance may wake it; Our hands contain the magic wand— This life is what we make it. TTjcu here’s to those whose loving hearts Shed joy and light about them ! Thanks be to them for countless gems ne’er had knowu without them. O ! this should oe a happy world To all who may partake it, 71ie fault’s our own if It is not— This life is what we make It. Two Lillie Kitteus. Two little kittens, oue stormy night, Began to quarrel and then to sighs, One had a mouse, the other had none, And that was the way the quarrel begun. “/ 11 have the mouse,” said the bigger cat» “You’ll have that mouse? We’ll see about that I” “I will have that mouse,” said the elder one “You shan’t have that mouse !” said the little oue. I told yon before ’twas a stormy night When these two kittens began t j fight, The old woman seized her sweeping broom And swept the two kittens right out of the room. The ground was covered with frost and snow, And the two little kittens had no where to go ; So they laid them dowd on the mat at the door, While the old woman finished sweeping the floor. Then they crept in as quiet as mice, All wet with snow aud cold as ice, For they found it was better that stormy night, 7o lie down and sleep than to quarrel and fight. MISCELLANEOUS. The Way of Escape. BY T. S. A.BTIICR. My heart aches for the wretched man. His debauch was over; his nerves unstrung ; the normal sensibili ties of a tine moral nature, quickened, alter a brief into most acute perceptions. Such a haggard face ! Such hopeless eyes ! 1 see the picture now, as a haunting spectre. “Let the memory of tiiis hour, so burdened by pain aud repentance, be j as a wall of defence around you in all J the future,” I said. lie looked at me drearily. Slowly shaking his head, ho replied : “Suek memories are no defence.— My soul is full of them. When temp tation assails, they fall away, aud I am at tho mercy of mine enemy, who rushes in. like a hungry wolf, to kill j aud to destroy.” “Is there no help for you, then ?” I asked. Ho shut his eyes and was very still, j If an artist could have seen his face then, and faithfully caught its expres sion, those who looked upon the im age must have felt such pity in their hearts as makes the eyes grow dim with tears. “I fear not,” he answered, after a little while, in a hopeless kind of way “It cannot be ” 1 spoke confident ly and assuringly. “Mo man is given over to such utter ruin. There must ( be, and there is, a way of escape from every evil.” “Except the evil of a bad and de grading habit—that vile second na ture,’ he answered, “the steady cur rent of which is forever bearing him downward, toward a storm-wrecked ocean, fit l may seize the oars in u larm, as I have done scores of times, and pull against the current, making head for a* little while. But, human strength avails not hero. The arms grow weary, the spirit flags—it is eas fer to drift than to row; and down, tho current bears him again. It is tho history of thousands and tens of thousands, and I am no exception.” “It cannot be,” 1 answered. “There is help for every man, no matter how weak, nor how beset by enemies ; else God’s word must fail ” “It does fail, I think,” he answered, is a gloomy, despairing kind of way. “No ! no ’ no !” Quickly and cm- j pliatically did I reject his conclusion. “Have it as you will. 1 shall not argue the point.” He spoke almost listlessly. “Then, I say, there is help for every lnan, no matter where ho is or what he is. We cannot fall so low that the Everlasting arms arc n< t still beneaih us, ready to hear us upward to moun tain heights of safety.” "Oh, that those arms would bear me upward!” almost groaned my poor friend. “I have no strength in myself. 1 cannot climb. Unless lift ed by another, I must perish.” ‘ So bad as that ?” I said. “Just so bad,” he answered, slowly aud bitterly. “Tliis second nature I have made" for myself, is my ruler.— Reason, conscience, the love of my wife and children, my good reputation, pride, manliness —all human powers and virtues axe its slave. And such a bondage!’ There was uot a ray ot hope m fns dreary eyes. “You must try again, I said, cheer ily. "No mau need be a slave ’ “Easily said ! ’ was his impatient answer ; “while yet all men are slaves to so me habit from which they cannot “tSay, rather, from which they will not break. ’ , „ “You mock mo with idle words. “No; 1 speak only tho words of truth and soberness. There is human 1 strength, and there is divine strength. The Everlasting arms are always beneath and ready to boar us up, if wo will but lean upon and trust them. Human strength is but a.*> a broken reed ; divine strength is suro as God himself. It never fails.” There came into his heavy eyes a feeblo play of light. Tho stern rejection that upon his lips faded off. “In our own strength, nothing,” I said ; “In God’s strength, all.” I saw his hands moving in an un certain way. Then they rested one against tho other. Suddenly they were clasped together in a kind of spasm, while his eyes flow upward in a wild, half-despairing appeal to God. his lips groaning out tho words— “ Save me, or I ant lost! ’ • Even now, memory gives back the thrill that swept along my nerves as his cry penetrated my ears. Never from any' human soul went up, unheard, a prayer like that Ho who once and forever took upon him self our nature, aud who was in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin, aud who is touched always with the feeling of our infirmity, stands close beside us, knocking at the door of our hearts, that ho may eomo in and help and save up. All hell is poworless before him. Impure desires flee from his presence like night birds when the sun arises , and tho cords of evil habits are broken, as the withes that bound the arms cf Samson, at his lightest touch. I waited for a little while without speaking, watching him closely, to see if he would rise into anything like confidence. Gradually, tho hard, de sponding look faded from his counte nance, and I saw a calm resolve begin to show itself about his mouth. “One effort more,” he said, at last, speaking slowly, but very firmly.— “One effort more, but not ill my own strength I have tried too often, and shall never try it again. I give up the struggle as hopeless. If God fails me, I am lost.” What a fearful crisis! If God fail ? Ho never fails—is never nearer to us, nor stronger to help, that at the moment when, despairing of our owd strength, we turn to him. The only danger lies in our not trusting him fully. “13ut how shall I trust him ? ’ How shall I get a transfer of his strength to my will '( How is it that his power can supplement my' weakness ? lam away down in the valley of sin and shame ; how am I to get upon tho mountains of purity, peace and safety ? Will he bear me up as on the wings of an eagle ? or must 1 climb and climb, front day to day, until I reach the summit ?” “You must climb,” I said. “I cauuot. 1 have no strength. I have tried it a hundred times, and tailed.” He answered with returning doubt. “And will fail again, if you trust in your own strength. Bui, with God given strength, used as your own, tho ascent is sure.” “Ah ! 1 see !” Light broke all over his faco. “I see ! 1 see !” he repeat ed “God does not lilt us out of our siu and misery, but gives us divine strength, if wo ask him in all sineeri ty, by which we lift ourselves.” “Yes.” “It is very simple and clear.” He drew a long breath of relief, like one who has a toad taken from his mind. “Tho law of our dependence on God for help,” I said. “Yes. And now I see the meaning of this sentiment, in an old hymn I often heard sung when I was a boy, and which always struck me as a par adox : “ When 1 air. weak, then am 1 strong. “The Christian poet,” I answered, “lifted into something of inspiration, olten sees truth in clearer light than we w h o are down among tno mists aud showers.” “Ah mo !’’ he sighed ; “your closing words remind ino of the depth at which I lie, and the almost infinite distances above mo to which I must rise ere out of danger.” “Aud to which you may surely rise if you will,” I answered, with cheer ful assurance. “By God givon strength only !” he spoke solemnly. “Aye ; never, never for an instant lose bight of that! Never, no mattei how strong you may i'eul that you have grown, trust in yourself. Iu the hour of temptation, look upwards, praying in the silence of your heart for strength to resist. “Best of friends !” he exclaimed, iu deep emotion ; “You must have beun sent to me by God. Hope dawns on a night that has been starless. I see tue way of salt ty —for me tho only way. No one knows but myself how hard I have tided to reform, nor iu how many ways I have sought to es cape from a terrible thraldom. But all has been in vain. When this re morseless appetite that has enslaved me, asserted itself, my will becamo as i nothing.” Long time we talked, I saying all that 1 could to strengton him. i On the next Sunday, much to my l surprise aud pleasure, 1 saw him at church with his wife. I could not ro -1 member when I had seen him there i before. At the close of the services, ■ as 1 moved down the aisle with the ' crowd, someone grasped my hand | aud gave it a strong pressuro. I ! turned and 100 *ed into the face of the friend 1 had trie.l to save. “Oh, Martin ! ’ 1 said, as I received a glance luff of moaning, and then re \ turned his hand pressure. . Wo walked for a few moments aide by ride without speaking, and th*>n J wo soparatod by tho crowd, j On the aunoay Hollowing, Lo was at church again ; and Sunday after Sun- day found him in the family pow that for years, had seen him so rarely. Three or four months went by, and Martiu’s feet were still in the paths that led upwards. But one day I was shoet-od to hear that he had fallen again. On careful inquiry, I learne 1 that he had been with his wife to an evening entertainment, given by a cit izen of high worth and standing, whose name is on every lip as munifi cent in charity; but who, whatever may bo his personal conviction, is not bravo enough to banish wine from the generous board to which ho invites Iris friends. And I learned still fur ther, to my grief and pain, that the glass which broke down the good res olution of Martin, and let in upon him the fierce flood of repressed appetite, was proffered by the hand of this good citizen, as host. I lost no time in going to my poor friend. I found him away down the valley of humiliation, his soul in the gall of bitterness. # Shame and sorrow were in his heavy eyes; but not de spair. I took hopeful notice of this. “It is very hard for us, all but God forsaken wretches !” ho said, bitterly, after the first formal sentences had passed between us. “He gives, in a princely way, to churches and to char ities ; is oue of our -best and most lib eral citizens; and yet, utter I have taken a few steps heavenward, he puts a stumbling block in my wuy and I fall back towards hell!” “You could not have fallen over any stumbling block man or devil might place in your way,” I answered, “if you had boeu walking in divine, in stead of human strength.” “Well do I know that,” he replied. “And so,” I said, “let this sad fall keep you in a more vivid remembrance of human weakness. Never for one instant trust in yourself. Stand per petually on guard. The price of your liberty is eternal vigilance.” “It is a hard fight,” he said, with a sigh, despondingly. “Life is a warfare,” I replied. “Wo are nil beset with enemies, who know too well our vulnerable places,—ene mies that never sleep ; implacable, cru el, ever seeking our destruction. I, you, all men have them. Trusting only in human strength, no one gains a victory ; but in divino strength the issue of battle is suro. And so, my friend, gird up your loins again, and be weary and valiant” Hope and courage came back into his heart. “Beware of ambush,” I said, as I parted from him that day. “The ene my, coming on you unawares, is more to be dreaded than when he forms his lino of attack to the sound of trumpets. Seek no conflicts ; keep off liis ground ; but when he comes forth to meet you, giving challenge, do battle in the name of the Lord.” A few weeks afterwards I was pres ent when a gentleman of large wealth and good standing, both in church and society, said to him— “l didn't see you at my house last evening.” “No,” was tho rather curt reply; “It is safer for me to keep off the dev il’s ground. ’ “I don’t understand you, sir ! ’ re plied the gentleman, a flush of sudden anger in his eyes, for he felt the re mark as a covert insult. Martin’s face grew sober, and he answered with a calm impressiveness that caused the anger to go out of his listener s eyes, and a thoughtful con cern to take its place: “I am fighting the devil,” he said, “and must not give him tfie smallest advantage. J ust now lam tho victor, and hold him at bay. Ho has his masked batteries, his enchanted grounds, his mines and pitfalls, bis gins and mirey sloughs; and I am learning to know the signs of hidden danger. If I sass into any of his snares, I am in peril of destruction; and though 1 struggle, or fight my way out, 1 am weak or wounded, and so the less able to meet tho shock of battle when he rushes upon mu as 1 stand on guard, ready in Uod’s name, for tho conflict. “His enchanted ground is a social company, where wine flows freely. I speak of what it is to mo, aud call it, so far as I am concerned, tho devil,s ground. Ho caught me I here not long ago, and had mo at his own advant age. But, I will not again set foot thereon. If you, good citizens, make of your homes, in mistaken hospitali ty, placos where the young find tom tation, and the weak, stumbling block, men, such as I am, must shun them as the gates of hell.” “liis manner had grown more and more impressive. “Is it so bad as that?” remarked the gentleman, in a voice that showed both surprise and pain. “dust so bad,” Martin answered, impressively ; “I believe lieigart’s old est son was at your house ?” . “Yes.” It was the devil a ground for him ? An hour or two ago I saw him com ing out of a saloon, so drunk that ho could not walk straight. only three days ago, his father told a friend that his boy had certainly reformed, and that he now had more confidence in his future than he had felt for a long time.” “You cannot mean what you say?” The gentleman exclaimed in visiblo agitation. “I have told you only tho sad and solemn truth,” was Martiu’s answer ; “and if I had accepted your invitation 1 might now bo lying at a depth of misory and degradation, the bare thought of w hich makes me shudder 1” The gentleman stood for a littlo wiiile ac if stuattad* “This is frightful to think of,” he sail, and I saw him shiver. “It is the last time,” he added,” of i ter a pause—“the last time that any ■ man shall go out of my house weaker . und more degraded than when ho | came in. If my offering of wine j cause my brother to offend, then will I not offer it again while the world stands. ’ “Ah, sir!” answered Martin, “If many, many more of our good citizens would so resolve, hundreds of young men now drifting out in;o the current of intemperance, might be drawn back into safer waters; and hundreds of others who are striving to make head against it, saved from destruction. I speak feolingly, for I am one of those who are struggling for life in this fa tal current.” Tho way of safety for a man like Murtiu, is very narrow and straight. If he steps aside into any of tho pleas ant paths that opon on the right hand and on tho left, lie is in the midst of peril. If ho grow confident in his own strength, aud losb dependent on that which is givon from abovo, tho danger of falling becomes imminent. Martin fell again. Alas that this should have to be told. “Was that Martin who passed us ?” asked a friend with whom I was walk iu S’ , “Nol answered, in a positive voice ; and yet as I said tho word my heart gave a throb of sea man was so like him. “It was, lam sure. Poor wretch ! Ho tries hard to reform; but that cursed appetite is too much for him. I m afraid there is no help. He’ll die a drunkard. I turned back quiety aud without a response, following the man we had passed. J ust as 1 came up to him, he had stopped at the door of a drinking saloon, aud was holding a brief par loy with awakened appetite. “In God’s i anio, no !” I said, laying my hand upon him. He started in a frightened kind of way, turning on me a haggard face and blood-shot eye. I drew my arm within his, and lod him away, passive as a child. Not a word was spoken by either, until we were in his office, which was n.it far distant, and the door shut and locked. He dropped into a chair with a slight groan his l ead sinking upon his chest. He was the picturo of abject wretchodnoss. “Ho leuveth the ninety and nine that are safely folded,” I said, speak ing in a low, tender voice, “and goeth out into the wilderness to seek that which is estray.” He did not answer. “You have looked to tho strong lor strength, you have prayed to him for succor, and ho has come very near to ’ you and helped you Because you again went out of the fold, his love has not tailed. II o has found you out in the wilderness and brought you back to a place of safety. Only trust iu him, aud all will be- well. He is the friend that stickoth closer than a brother. His is a love that never fails.” I waited for him to reply, but ho kept silence. “It must have been no ordinary temptation,” I said. Still he was silent. “The enemy must have eomo on you unaware,” I added, after a brief pause. “The bolt must have fallen ere you saw tho warning flash.” “I was taken at disadvantage; but I hud time to know my enemy', and should have given battle in God’s name, instead of yielding liko a cra ven ” Such was his reply. It gave me hope. “Tell me the whole story,” I said. Ho raised himself to a firmer atti tude ; and I saw swift lights begin ning to Hash in his dull eyes. “Wounded again in tlie house of a friend, ’ he roplied. What friend ? ’ “One on whom God had laid the special duty of saving human souls— our minister !” “Not Mr. L I” “Yes." I was confounded. “1 went to him for help,” continued Martin, “and instead of tho counsel and support I thon so much needed, for my old enemy, appetite, was gath ering up his strength, and setting his host in battle array, 1 was tempted and betrayed! 1 should have gone to God, aud not to man. With his Di vine Word iu my thought, and prayer in my heart, I should have opposid the awakening enticement of desire, us I have so often done and prevailed. “Tell mo how it happened," I said. “As I havo just told you," he re plied, “I .was not feeling very strong. That old restlessness of which I have spoken, had come back upon me, and 1 knew what it meant. So,. I said to my wife, ‘I think, Mary, that 111 step around and see Mr. L . Id like to talk with him.’ She looked at me with a slight shadow of concern in her faco , for sho had learned to know the signs of a coming hour of darkness, when the powers of hell renew their direful assaults upon my soul. ‘Do,’ she answered ; and I went. “I found Mr. L in his library, but not alone. Mr. E , the bank er, had called in to havo a talk with the minister about a college for theo logical students, in which both felt considerable interest. Eunds wore wanted in older to give the Institution | the required oflicieucy ; and tho ways ! and means of getting funds were earn | estly dijeussod by Mr. L and i tho capita ist. Astor an hour's ; talk, aud the arrangement of a plan I for securing the object in view, Mx. ; L - rang a boll- To the I who cr.nm in, Lo said, something in a ; low voice, that I did.'not hoar. Tho servant retired, but came back in a YOL. V. —NO. 23. few minutes bearing, to my surprise and momentary consternation, a tray with wine and glasses. I saw 1 pleased light in the banker’s’ eyes, as they rested on the amber-oulored wine. “ ‘Some fine old sherry,’ said Mr. L——, sent by a friond abroad. I want you to taste it.’ And he filled the three glasses that wore on the tray, handing one to his guest and an* other to me In myself—my poor weak self! —l was not strong enough to refuse. If I had looked up to God, instantly, and prayed for strength to do the right, strength would, I knov, have come. But I did not. I took the glass, not meaning to drink, but to gain time for thought. To hare refused, would have boon, I then felt, to set myself up as a rebuker of these men ; and that 1 had not the courage to do. No, I did not mean to taste the wine. But, as they lifted their glasses, drank and praised the fruity juice, I, iu a kind of mesmeric lapse of rational self-control, raised my glass also, and sipped. A wild, fierce thirst possessed mo instantly, and I drained the glass to the bottom 1 “A sudden terror and great dark* ness fell upon me. I saw tho awful gulf on whose brink I stood. ‘I will go home,' I said to myself; and ri»* iug, I bade the two men an abrupt good night and left them. But I did not go directly home, alas for me !* There were too many enticements by the way. Indeed, I don’t know how or when I got home. “Os the shame, the anguish, the despair of this morning, I cannot speak. You don't know what it means —have no plummet by which to sound its depths of bitterness. I left home for my office, feebly resolved to keep ttwuy from tempation; how feebly, you know ! If the good Lord who is trying to save me, had not sent you to my rescue, I would now be—oh, I cannot speak the frightful words I” “Ho never leaves us nor forsakes us,’ I answered. “He is always go ing out upon the bleak mountains, to the hot desert, and into the wilderness of wild beasts, seeking his lost and wandering sheep. If they hear his voice, and follow him, he will bring them into his fold, where is peace and safety." “Good Shepherd of souls,” my friend said, audibly, lifting upward his eyes, that were full of tears, “save me from the wolves ! They wait for me in all my paths ; they spring upon ine iu all my unguardod moments; they hide themselves iu covert places, thirsting for my lifo ; they steai upon me in sheeps clothing—they beset mo everywhere ! Good Shepherd 1 1 have no help but in thee ’’ Breaking tho deep, impressive si lence that followed, 1 said—■ “In liiin alone is safety. So long as you hear his voice, ami follow him, no wolf' cun touch you with his mur derous teeth. But, if you go out of his sheep fold, aud trust in your own strength to overcome the wild beasts that crowd the wilderness of this world, destruction is sure.” A few years havo passed since then, and Martin still holds, in divine strength, the mastery of appetite. Tho vile second nature ho had formed unto himself, and which bore him downward, for a time, in its steady current, grew Aveakor and weaker, as the new life, born from above, gained strength. In the degTeo that ho re- aud denied tho old desires, did they grow weaker ; and in their place, God gave him purer and healthier de sires, so that ho became, as it were, a new man. “The wolves are not all dead," I said to him one day, as we talked of the present and the past. He looked a little sober as he re plied— “No, my friend. I often heat them howling in the distance ; and I know full well, that if I leave toy Shep herd s side, and step off into the wil • demess, vainly trusting in myself, that I shall boas powerless to stand against them as a helpless sheep. For me, I am not safe for a moment, except when I trust in God’s strength to supplement my weakness. When I do that, all hell cannot prevail against me [ Wood's Household Magnate. What is tho diffronce between a soldier and a fashionable lady ?—One faces the powders, and the other powders the I’aceJ A sick man was told that nothing could cure him but a quart of catnip tea. “Then I must die, said he, for I don’t hold but a pink A fop in company, wanting his ser vant, called out, “where is that block head of mine V” A lady present an swered, “on your shoulders, sir.” June, give tho baby some landanum and put it to sleep, aud bring me my parasol, I am going to meeting for the melioration of the human race. Tho way to treat a man of donbtful ceeditis to take no note of him. The prime-evil forest avbs situatod in tho Garden of Eden. Advice to persons in search of em ployment—Westward hoe ! Tho Pope’s favorite bull—“l’m in fallibul.” Animadversion —any mad version of one’s opinions. Epitaph on a waiter—He could wait no longer—he is gone. Rations that one can seldom lira upon—aspiration. Played out—base bail, locauao It «aa- UOt bo p-UyoU i An agreeable perecn is defined "as oao who agrees with you.”. . s».
