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MACON, . OA -
Jm> I, 1844. - -
FLOYD llOL’Sa^*
BY 13, S. NEWCO
Macon, Georgia. „ ( °cL l9Jb 14 *
~'ETAIL DEALER.
WHOLESALE AND R > vlCrtS'tt
BOOTS A Y*. &15 , ’, , .
_ T , . ir '• Second street.
Near the Washington Ha,., tg44 . ,_ t j
Macon, Georgia. Oct. 1. —-
J. L. JONES i (l(X
f 1,0 Tll IHf « NTOR 1. •
West side .Mulberry Street, next door below »
Dig Hat.
Macon, Georgia. Oct. It*, 1344. 1-tl
NISBET & WINGFIELD,
ATT »ES AE Y S A T B. A « .
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Slate. i
Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19,154-1. 1-tJ j
DOCTORS .). M. & H. K. GREEN,
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Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19,1844. 1-tl
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.11 ABIT A CT O It V .
Healers in all hinds of Leather, Saddlery
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October 25, 1844.
JOSE I’ll N. SEYMOUR,
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B>SIY (4001)8, UUOCLIIIEB, HARD
WARE, AX,
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Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19, 1844. 1-tl
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Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19, 1841. l-il
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dealer in
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B. 11. WARNER,
AI’CTIOM AMD COMMISSION MER
CHANT.
Dealer in every description of .Merchandise.
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consignments al all times, by the consignees pay
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Macon, Georgia. 0ct.19,1844. 1-tl
£757 cross,
Has for Sale
DRY GOODS $ GROCERIES ,
BOOTS, SHOES, CAPS, AND HATS,
At John D. Winn's Old Store.
Macon, Oct. 25, 1844. 2-ts
•Urs. it it so n's Hotel ,
GRIFFIN, GEORGIA.
MRS. 111 SOM, fe
r HAKES this method of informing her
friends and the public generally, that she will
s till continue to keep a Hotel in this place, a lew
doors below the .Monroe Rail Road and Banking
House, just across the street from where she for
merly kept. Her charges will correspond with the
hardness of the times. The house will be fitted
"P in a superior style. She will take the house on
'he 20th day of /Aceir.ber, when every thing will
he in complete order.
AMELIA HUSON.
Gridin, Dec. 9, 1811. 10 2m
BY 11. C. CROSBY.
voi.niE i.
MISC E L I. A N Y.
THE PATRIOTISM OF ST. PALL.
1 erhaps tlte noblest model-man, whose
virtues have blest the world, and whose
devotion to human welfare should excite
the world’s emulation, was the apostle
I'aul. It would be well for us to follow
him as far as possible in the path in which
he followed One infinitely greater than
himself.
| He was a noble model when contem
plated in the character of a reformer. As
you read his writings, observe the mag
nanimity which characterised his demea
nor towards the varied world with which,
in his high capacity, he had to do: in his
speeches before rulers and enemies, there
is nothing of arrogance or brow-heating—
nothing of wanton attack or disrespect;
lie is every where true to himself and to
the cause he advocates; he is stern in his
argument and overwhelming in his ap
peals, hut every where he is superior to
the meanness of contempt. If you de
spise his theme, you are constrained to
acknowledge in the advocate, a frank and
an honest man.
When we consider this chief of apos
tles as a scholar, it is not likely that any
othr model will he named a* superior to
the merit lie possessed, and the admira
tion he has won. His purity and con
densation of thought, clothed in equally
pure and pertinent language, is perhaps
beyond the successful imitation of modern
minds. But the profoundness of his sen
timents renders his style neither bold nor
uninteresting, lie is full of vivacity and
,beauty. lie lavs the universe under con-
, jribt’Uon to his taste, and gives us, in the
coafye C's his argument, a copiousness of
illustra l ' on "bicL a * ( ls ft |e judgment no
, less than . U , charms lhe hearU He gives
's the proaJ iCt uml 1)r0,,,sI )r0,,,s of extensive
derive? 4 , ,mm sacrc4 writings
h ‘ eil c nanl. and fu™ contemporary liter
ltUre• jLiXe giant minJ® ol f ,, 1 , "! u,t y ' vere
i , ’ -como-mions their eloquent
hisfatmhai companions,. *
wisdom wav’ redolent on hi.* 1 [P»‘ !ls 13
proved by freq uent quotation. ,ni « r - P c rs
eu m uis works* >() wneieei&e
find such specimen** of logical reas. onin g
pathetic appeals, »nd crushing eloque. ,lce
as sprung from the we?l- furnished armory'
of Paul’s itueilci t, anJ glowing pas
sions of his ardent heart-
He participated in high' superhu
man agencies, tis true, but /Hat was not
all. lie was a scholar. He ti.ud studied
long and faithfully at Gamaliel’s feUL He
liad imhihed the fulness of that spir.f (,i
intelligence which hovered, like a mantle’
of glory, over his native land.
You see how that spirit clung to him,
alter his conversion, through sunshine ami
through storm, when innumerable cares
and sufferings, of which we can have no
adequate conception, pressed their moun
tain-weight of agony upon him in toil,
exile aud dungeon chains. Despite all
these, when he sent to have his cloak
brought to shield his body from biting
frosts, lie gave special charge that his
books and parchments should also he
brought to nourish his mighty and all
grasping mind. O there was there was
the scholar \vho could not only exhort his
junior partners in the ministry to give
themselves to reading anil reflection, but
himself set an example which God has
made it our duly to emulate, and the praise
of human-kind to revere.
It would seem ahnast superfluous to
speak of Paul as a Christian. Wherever
he is spoken of at all, he is noted in this
character. And he deserves all the re
gard that is paid him. After his conver
sion, he tells us that he “conferred not
with flesh and blood. lie retired to Ara
bia Petrca, where he received a revelation
of the mysteries of the Kingdom of God.
Then he went every where, preaching
Christ crucified, lie labored with his
own hands, to prove that he was influen
ced by no selfish motives. Contributions
were taken for Lis support, and be took
up contributions toaid his fellow-laborers.
He was instant in season and out of
I season.” He Idled bis own country with
the influences of the Gospel; so that by
the mighty revolution which he wrought,
through tue power of God, he was accu
sed of turning the moral world upside
down.
Then he crossed the JEgean sea ; and,
at Philippi, planted the first church in
Europe. It was his hand that kindled
there the little flame which was destined
to argment its brilliancy with its power,
and, amid revolution and carnage, to pour
its purifying light and redeeming energy
westward round the globe.
All this he had done before lie set out
on his fifth recorded journey to Jerusa
lem. It was then he spake the deep
meaning language recorded in Acts 21:
13. It was then that he is to be viewed
in anew and sublime aspect. lie had
declared his intention of revisiting the
city which hail been the scene of his for
mer persecution, anil which remained the
residence of his most Litter foes. His
Christian friends, merging for a moment
their Redeemer’s interest in their feelings
of friendship for the hoary-headed apostle,
besought him not to go. They gathered
in groups around him, and their hearts
bled while some of their number authori
tativcly prophesied that they would see
' his face no more. Then Agabus, an ac
credited prophet, took Paul’s girdle and
bound himself, saying, “thus shall the
Jews at Jerusalem bind the man who
: owns this girdle.” He Lad just beli.re
1 knelt on that sea-shore and prayed with
MACON, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, JANUARY IS 15.
them. The billows of the dark Mediter
ranean rolled at their feet. The ship lay
anchored insight. Paul turned to go from
them over those dark waters to that cruel
city, probably to die. Who wonders that
they wept? Who wonders that they fell
on his neck and besought him not to —o
thence to he murdered?
But consider Paul’s emotions. There
stood Ins bosom-friends. They had soot li
ed him in liis sorrows, aided him in his
poverty, and prayed for him in hisdistress.
lie had instructed them in their ignorance,
guided them in their convictions, and wel
coined Ihem into the Kingdom of Christ.
How tender must have been the feelings of
any man towards that weeping company
ol primitive Christians, undersueh circum
stances, and at such a lime. But remem
ber, it was not a man of common sensibili
ties. who stood there the object of so triuch
regard. It was Paul, the aged. In his
boyhood, he had been initiated into all the
relining influences of a refined philosophy.
In his early manhood he had matured his
mind with the delicate impressions of an
elegant and liberal education. The enno
bling influences of philosophy, science
and the beautiful arts, were familiar to him.
It was in the land ol wisdom, loveliness
ard glory that he lived, studied and drunk
in from beautiful landscapes, from sta
tues and paintings, from architecture, elo
quence, and poetry, a spirit which made
him keenly sensitive to every element of
beauty and tenderness. This is an item
by no means to he cast out of the account.
Education, while it aggrandizes the whole
man in point of mental excellence, at the
same time and in the same proportion, ren
ders the finest spirits susceptible of pain.
1 he ignorant man may pass over many
scenes both ot pleasure and disgust with
entire indifference, while the man of culti
vated taste and feeling will he moved most
sensibly. The same acute scnsibilitiiies
which lay a cultivated mind feelingly open
to ethereal beauty and transcendent worth,
render their possessor most fearfully ex
posed to the pangs of sorrow and the ills
of life:
“Ciinl* that vibrate siveetest pleasure
Trill the deepest noles of tvoe.”
A well-balanced mind, sternly discip
juied by science, beautified by the elegant
artJ- and sanctified by Grace—the high
est an J Holiest of all endowments—finds
a fmintni.' l sublimity and tenderness
welling up Ruthin, which nourishes the
noblest feelings and the acutest sense.—
All of these Paul possessed lo an uncom
mon degree. His eloquence, his pungen
cy of expression, his nobleness of charac
ter, Were built on them. Without these
endow,m'nts he would have been a nullity.
With theoi, where he now stands on that
sea-shore, surrounded by those weeping
friends and children of his he
feels for the moment bke a most wretched
man. Now, perhaps, J' ou * ec “l l be deep
meaning of those passional” words, “\Y hat
mean ye to weep and to hreOk my heart ?”
His soul was tremblingly alive t ° the scene
around him. He felt beyond the power of
language to express. His feeling's grew
into tears .and gushed from fountains’, oft
en stirred but never so emptied be lore- —
See that grey-headed apostle, his garments
hanging loosely from his aged limbs, his
eyes full of tears, —see him surrounded by
the young, the beautiful, the middle-aged,
all his dearest friends dissolved in grief,
and hear that voice trembling with emo
tion, exclaim, “What mean ye to weep so
in my sight? Let tne depart lo my mar
tyrdom without this sorest of griefs; Oh
why will ye break my heart!”
And why did he persist in going?—
Why did he leave the dearest friends and
the holiest associations for immediate per
secutions and prospective death? The
answer is given by himself. It was for the j
name of the Lord Jesus, that he was wil- |
ling, not only' to be bound, hut to die. He j
saw that the interest of the cause he once j
had so persecuted, depended on the peril- j
ous act. His choice was taken. For aj
moment he had yielded to the sensibilities
of his nature, but when he thought of what
was at issue, he lorgot every earthly 7 con
sideration.
Perhaps, in no other place, even in
Paul’s history, is the element of moral
heroism so distinctly manifested, as in the
language uttered by the apostle on this oc
casion.
Let us attend to a few particulars:—
Christianity was given not only for per
sonal salvation, but it is the foundation of
adjust laws and the means of perpetuating
all national worth. This blessed treasure
for man and for nations, was, at this fear
ful crisis, entrusted to the care and faith
fulness of St. Paul. It was made his du
ty to illustrate and enforce its precepts by
all honorable means, and at the sacrifice
of every thing but truth and justice.
The duty was clear. Paul was the
last man who would neglect it. Consider
the danger of discharging Paul’s duty, the
means lie employed, and the result of his
faithfulness.
I. llis bitterest foes were bis own coun
trymen. Those who lauded him most
when lie persecuted the trembling advo
cates of Christianity, were the fiercest to
revile, persecute and murder him when
he espoused the very cause he had oppos
ed. Probably religious prejudice is the
most hellish ofall hate, and it was poured
in full volume on Paul’s devoted head by
the incensed Jews. There was a nega
tive scorn and contempt which met him on
all hands I'rom tjie rabble, and an uncom
promising positive hate was hurled at him
PRO PATRIA F.T LEGIBTS.
! by the rulers and persecuting priests.—
j All classes were aroused to exterminate
the growing sect in general, and to crush
their distinguished advocate in particular,
j The philosophers dreaded him, tor lie was
equal to the mightiest, and could silence
them with their own weapons. No man
of reflection could conceive ol a yloer chas
ed and gnashed on by a hundred blood
hounds, as placed in a more perilous con
j dition, than was Paul in the discharge of
his duty. Almost every path was way
laid, cities were guarded, assassinators
were hired and vows taken to insure his
death. But an Almighty arm guarded
him yet a little while longer. He went to
Jerusalem, for the fifth and last time, to
proclaim Christ, the hope of the world.—
11* was accused before Felix, tiiul was
thence handed over to the pompous court
of Agrippa. The eloquence which went
to the heart of that prince, and thrilled
there like a spirit’s voice, saved the intrep
id apostle from immediate death. A frag
ment ot his speech is left us as a specimen
of noble advocacy for eternal truth.
Though lie made his judges quail at his
voice, and convinced their reason by liis
arguments, yet their malice would not set
him free. With other prisoners, lie was
sent hound on hoard ship to Rome. Fast
ings, storms and shipwreck awaited him.
At length he was cast ashore on the rocky
island of Malta, where fie proved his
harmless character by shaking a fiery vi
per from his hand.
After a dreary sojourn of three months,
he proceeded in another ship to Rome,
"'here he was put to death for the sake of
that truth which he loved more than life.
\\ ell might he remind the Corinthian
brethren of his abundant sufferings, as he
has so graphically done in 2nd Cur. Chap.
11.
11. Consider the means Paul used to accom
plish his great purpose.
He reasoned. It is interesting to the
thoughtful and minute observer of Paul’s
writings, to notice how vividly he discrim
inates between man as an animal and
man as a rational being. He adverts to
man’s baser propensities, not as the objects
of execration, but as the instruments of
usefulness, when properly educated and
subdued. When he has pointed out their
uses and abuses, he reminds you that how
ever much they may minister to your weal
or woe, the gratification of mere animal
passion will he limited to this life. But
he more frequently directs our attention to
higher and better powers. He points out
reason in man, and reverently appeals to
that as evidence and confirmation of what
he says. Wherever he went, he reasoned
of faith, righteousness, of a resurrection,
and of a judgment to come. He adapted
his argumentation to the capacities of his
hearers. He took their own premises; and,
by luminous and legitimate deductions,
fastened convictions on mind, which mind
could not evade. See him in the early
pari of his ministry', disarming cavillers
and conquering opposition. See him af
terwards at Athens, that centre of wisdom
and philosophic glory,—see him on Mars’
Hill, the central forum of the civilized
world, with the wisest sages of the age,
full of the bitterest prejudices, for his hear
ers, —see hi in subdue their haughtiness
i.iy his superior reasoning, and pour a
flood of light upon their minds, which
made converts of the mightiest foes. And
at a still liiter period, when manacled and
unsupported by the presence of friends,
lie appeared in he coutts of haughty prin
ces, “a scoff, a jest, a by-word through the
world,” —when, before Felix, he defended
himself, and before Agrippa, delivered the
most eloquent of his speeches extant; how
mighty were the tnovings of reason in
him, and how mighty were the cilects his
reasonings produced! We love to think
of him on such an occasion. The hour ar
rives lor his trial. His tribunal assem
ble. Their prepossessions are all against
the prisoner. The mob at their heels pant
for his blood. A slight tumult announces
the arrival of the victim. He is placed in
their midst. Every countenance scowls,'
and every eye flashes vengeance on him.
But look at the prisoner. He is calm and ;
collected, save when some perjured wretch
estities against him; and then bis bosom
gently swells, and his eyes,moistens at the
cruel perseverance of those whose good
he seeks and whom he has never harmed.
A signal is given for the prisoner to make
his defence. He arises in mild obedience
to the command. His brow is wrinkled
with caic, and his limbs tremble with age
and toil. The occasion reminds him of
the interests at stake, and he attempts
once more to speak. His voice trembles
with emotion. Ilis foes hurl defiance at
his weakness. But he kindles with his
theme. His ey 7 es begins to burn with
youthful splendor; his countenance bright
ens; liis voice swells out in mellow and
more thrilling tones, llis soul wakes up
to its wonted vigor; he rises superior to
hate and wrong and puny bickerings; he
lays hold of ethereal reason; he deals sound
arguments; he flashes conviction upon all
minds; he over ivhelms all opposition with
resistless force; persecution cowers before
his piercing glance; kings grow pale at his
eloquence; obdurate sinners quail at the
spirit that flashes through him, and cry out
“men and brethren wliat shall we dor”
Such was the apostle Paul. Such was
his manner of procedure everywhere.—
lie did not equivocate, he did not vilify,
he did not hate, revile, nor slander even
his bitterest foe. He reasoned, he demon
strated, he prayed, he loved, he travelled
S. .11. STRONG, Editor.
NT.M BEK 13.
|
by land and by sea; by night and by day
i he \\entwith Godlike hardihood Over the
wide regions of the civilized world, doing
this. Mountain and valley, palace and
hovel, city and desert, sunshine and storm,
friends and foes, all persons, all places,
all times, found this greatest of apostles
aud greatest of men in the same work of
reasoning on religion and eternal life.
111. We come now to consider the last
division of this subject—viz: the results b/
this resolution and conduct of St. Caul.
His Iriends fell on liis neck, and, with
tears, besought him to stay with them.—
j But be was told that duty required his
presence elsewhere. That was enough.
] He considered that the ultimate interests
, of the human race depended much on the
; stop he took. Ihe vacillating brethren of
Jerusalem needed to be confirmed in the
faith. The churches throughout Asia
needed the last remnant of his support. —
The incipient churches of Africa and Eu
rope, needed the guidance of his teaching
and the evidence of his example. He was
wont to detect in principles, the elements
of immortality. He saw in the Gospel the
germial seeds of eternal life. He had
proved its legitimate tendency on his own
intellect and heart. 11c saw in it the ren
ovating and saving power given to raise
man to Heaven, and that without it, man
must sink and sink and sink forever. lie
lelt that Christianity, in its proper use,
j lay at the foundation of all righteous law,
I government, science, and religion. In a
| word, in the same proportion as mankind
j governed their physical, intellectual and
moral powers, by r the simple hut sublime
principles committed to liis charge, they
! would be happy and blest; and, in the
| same proportion as they neglected or per
verted them, they would he wretched.—
1 Vnd what was belief in Paul’s mind eigli
j te en hundred years ago. is it not history
now? Go back to the wing of thought to
the auspicious night, when the Star of
Bethlehem first shed its beams on the hills
j of’ Palestine, and thence soar from the
Dead Sea westward, over Asia; Africa,
and Europe, to this New World, and mark
the rise, progress and destruction of my
riads of nations, down to the present hour,
i —and tell me, if the useful arts have not
flourished, science advanced, and religion
prospered; if good laws Have not been per
i petuated, and nations been Happy, in pro
portion to their observance of the Gospel
1 0l Jesus Christ? When the intellect is
renovated, and the whole rational man is
raised up to u communion nnd co-exist
ence with the blessed God, when earth is
made a gateway to Heaven, when time is
j made a rapture by the foretaste of a safe
| eternity, when all is won, and won only
by the Gospel, we see most vividly what
is due to the toil, groans aud blood of Je
sus (.bust, his Apostles, and the Christian
lathers. How many thousands experi
enced the most glorious results from the
; immediate effect ofthat one act of Paul!
j How many millions have since been mov
ed by his example and confirmed by the
lessons he taught! Who can tell but that
Luther and his coadjutors drank from his
j s ‘ n S le act > the spirit of that heroism which
disenthralled the world? Who can tell
i how much we are indebted to this single
act for the measure ol stability, mtelli
i gence, and happiness which preponderate
in out da\ ? Jhe ships that are bearing
the heralds of salvation to distant nations,
the millions of presses scattering religion
and learning every where, the joys of our
fire-side and the hopes of heart,—who can
tell how much they all have resulted from
that one act of the apostle Paul? Put
I bis patriotism over against common he
roes, and we shall the more distinctly per
; ceive the contrast.
The three hundred Spartans who were
slain the time of their heroical defence of
Thermopylae, lie buried where they fell.
The Grecian nation built a monument
over their dust, bearing this inscription—
“ Stranger, tell the Lacedemonians that we
lie here in obedience to their laws.”
Paul was beheaded at Rome. Could
we stand by his tomb, we should stand by
the ashes of a martyr to duty, the ashes of
the greatest moral hero the world ever
saw.
W hatover Paul may have accomplished,
lie did no more than, from the condition of
his being, he was obligated to do.
Paul had talents; so have we in a grad
uated measure; and we are as much obli
gated to glorify God in their use, es was
Paul. He has finished his course, he has
(ought (he good fight, and he has gone to
receive his reward in glory. We are fol
lowing him to eternity. Are wc, like him,
devoted to the interests of our race, and
the glory of our God? elm.
Richmond, July 4, 1542.
There were built at Pittsburg during the
year ending on the Ist of the present
month fifty steamboats of the aggregate
tonnage of 12,007 tons. Throe more are
now in course of erection, and one steam-
Iship of 1,000 tons is nearly ready tor
launching.
Do you know that B and I are ve
ry thick together, said a fat alderman to
, his neighbor. ‘Yes,’ was the answer.—
‘You are doubtless very thick together; lor
you are very thick separately !’
The factory girls of Lowell talk of es
tablishing a large factory to be worked by
themselves, and of which they shall be tho
Joint Stock Proprietors.
From tne l.it.lie s.Uugaztue.
HELEN AND EDWARD, OR AN
EVENING AT HOME.
BV T. S. ARTHUR.
‘Not going to the ball ?’ said Mrs. Lind
ley, with a look and tone of surprise.
What has come over the girl?’
‘I don’t know, hut she says she is not
j going/
‘Dosn’t her ball dress fit ?’
i ‘Yes, heautifullj.’
‘What is the matter then?’
‘lndeed, ma, I cannot tell. Y'ou had
j better go up and see her. It is the stran
gest notion in the world. Why 30U could’-
nt hire me to stay at home.’
j Mrs. Lind ley went np stairs, and en
tering her daughter’s room, found her sit
ting on the side of the bed, with a beauti
ful hall dress in her Hand,
j ‘lt isn’t possible Helen, that you are not
going to the ball ?’ she said.
Helen looked up with a half smiling ex-
J pression on her face.
‘l’ve been trying for the last halfhour,’
she replied, to decide whether 1 ought to
go, or stay at home.’ jt
' ‘But what earthly reasoncan you have for
doing so ? Don’t you like your dress ?’
‘O, yes, very much. I think it bcauti
i fill ?’
•Doesn’t it fit you ?’
‘As well as any dress 1 ever had.’
•A re you not well.’
‘Very well.’
‘Then why not go to the hall? It will
he the largest and most fashionable of ilm
season. You know that your father and"
myselfarc both going. We shall want to
see you there of course. Your father will
require some very good reason for your
absence.’
‘Helen looked perplexed at her mother’s
last remark.
‘Do you think father will Ire displeased
if I remain at home? she asked.
‘1 think he will, unless you can satisfy
I him that your reason for doing so is a ve
ry good one. Nor shall I feel that you
1 are doing right. I wish all my children to
act under the government of a sound judg
ment. Impulse, or reason not to he spo
ken of freely to their parents, should in no
1 case influence their actions.
Helen sat thoughtful for more than a
minute, and then said, her eyes growing
dim as she spoke.
T wish to stay at home for Edwards
sake,’
‘And why for his, my dear?’
‘He doesn’t go to the ball, you know.’
‘Because he is too young and too back
ward- You could not hire him togo there
But that is no reason why you should re
-1 main at home. Y r ou would never partake
iof any social amu.?einent where this al
ways to influence you. Let him spend
the evening in reading. He must not ex
pect his sisters to deny themselves all re
creation in which he cannot or will not
participate.’
‘He does not. I know he would not
hear to such a thing as my staying at home
on his account.’
i ‘Then why stay ?’
‘Because I feel that I ought to do so.
This is the way I have felt all day when
ever I have thought of going.—ls I was to
go 1 know that 1 would not have a l:o
--ment’s enjoymet. He need not know why
I remain at home. To tell him that 1 did
not wish to go will satisfy liis mind.’
‘1 shall not urge the matter Helen,’ said
Mrs. Lindley, after a sil°nce of some min
utes; ‘you are old enough to judge in a
matter of this kind for yourself. You will
not find Edward disposed to sacrifice so
much for you.’
‘Of that I do not think, mother. Os
that I ought not to think.’
‘Perhaps not. Well you may do as
you like. But I don’t know what your
' father will say.’
Mrs. Lindley then left the room.
Edward Lindlay was at the critical age
of eighteen; that period when many young
men, especially those who have sisters,
would have highly enjoyed a ball. But
Edward was shy, timid and bashful in
company', and could hardly ever be indu
ced to go out to parties with his sisters.
Still he was intelligent for his years, and
1 companionable, liis many good quali
ties endeavored him to his family, and
drew forth from his sisters a very lender
regard.
Among his male friends were several
about bis own age, members of families
with whom his own was on friendly terms
With these he assaciated frequently anil
with two or three others quite intimately.
For a month or two, Helen noticed that
one and another of these young friends
called for Edward, in the evening, and
he went out with them and staid till bead
time. T3ut, unless his sisters were from,
home, he went of his own accord. The
fact of his bineg out with these young men
had from the first troubled Helen; though
the reason of her feeling troubled she
could not tell. Edward had good princi
ples and she could not bring herself to
entertain fears of any defined evil. Still
a sensation of uneasiness was always pro
duced when he was from home in the
evening.
Her knowing that Edward would go out
after they "all left was the reason why He
len did not wish to go to the ball. Thu
first thought of this had produced an un
pleasant sensation in her mind, which in
creased the longer she debated the ques
tion ofgoing away, or remaining an home.
Finally she decided not to go. This de
cision took place after the interview with
her mother which was only a half an hour
before the time of starting.
Edward knew nothing of the intention
of bis sister. He was in his own room,
dressing to go out, and supposed when he
heard the carriage go from the door thu ; .
Helen had gone with the other members
of the family.— On descending to the par
lor, hewas surprized to find his sister sil
tin'. by the centre table, with a book in her
hand/ ‘Helen! is this you? I thought
vou had gone tp the ball. Arc you not
well ?’ hesaid quickly and with surprize,
coming up to her side.