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THE REPUBLIC, IS PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY, OVER J. D. WINN’S BRICK STORE. COTTON AVENUE, MACON, GA. A T $3,00 PER ANNUM, IN ADVANCE. RATES OK ADVERTISING, &c. One square, ot 100 words, or less, in small type, | 75 ceuts lor the first insertion, and 50 cents lor each ' subsequent insertion. All advertisements containing more than 100 and less than 200 words, will becharged as two squares. To yearly advertisers, a liberal deduction will be tirade. Sales of Land, bv Administrators, Executors, or Guardians, are required by law to be held on the first Tuesday in the month, between the hours of ten in the forenoon, and three in the afternoon, at the Court House in the county in which the pro perty is situated. Notice of these must be given m a public gazette, sixty days previous to the day of sale. Notice to debtors and creditors of an estate, must lie published forty days. Notice that application will be made to the Court or Ordinary for leave to sell laud, must be publish ed four mouths. Sales of Negroes must be made at public auc tion, on the first Tuesday of the month, between the legal hours of sale, at the place of public sales, in the county where the letters testamentary, ol administration of guardianship, shall have been 'ranted, sixty days notice being previously given b o.'ie of the public gazettes of this State, and at <!l , f.'or of the Court House where such sales are ttlte c yield. • for leave to sell Negroes must be pub NotiCv f nur mouths before any order absolute lished for (hereon by the Court, shall be ma ~yof this nature will receive prompt All feusme. „ o ffi C e of THE REPUBLIC. attention at tn, ■ —sv«i. ca » p, j JOB PANTING ...... - T . s aud Dispatch. With RMltM6l 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 « . Office on .Mulberry Street, oner Kimberly s Hal Slate. i Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19,154-1. 1-tJ j DOCTORS .). M. & H. K. GREEN, Corner of .Mulberry and Third Streets. Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19,1844. 1-tl FREEMAN & ROBERT’S, Saddle, Harness, and II hip, .11 ABIT A CT O It V . Healers in all hinds of Leather, Saddlery Harness ami Carriage I t 'mailings, Oa Cotton Avenue and Second street, Macon, Ga. October 25, 1844. JOSE I’ll N. SEYMOUR, DEALER IN B>SIY (4001)8, UUOCLIIIEB, HARD WARE, AX, Prick Store. Cherry Steel, Ralston's Range, first door below Russell S. Kimberley s. Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19, 1844. 1-tl GEORGE .M. L()GAN, DEALER IN IMSCV AND STAPI.U OKY GOODS, Hard - Ware, Crockery, doss- H are, Sec. bee. Corner of Second ami Cherry streets. Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19, 1844. t—tl D. & VV. GUNN, DEM.KKS IN s T A I* L »•: *> St V (iOOBS, Groceries, Hardware, Crockery, Brc. j. Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19, 18 14. 1-ts SAMUEL J. I!AV & CO. ITCALKUS IN FAHtTASD SIAFLE DBY GOODS, Ready .Made Clothing, Hats, Shoes, &c. Second street, a lew iloors I'rom the Washington Hotel. Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19, 1841. l-il REDDING & WHITEHEAD, DEALERS IN FAXCY ASD STAI’LE DRV GOODS, Groceries, Jlanl It are, ( littery , Hats, Shoes , Crockery, &c. &c. Corner of Colton Avenue ami Cherry streets. Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19,1844. I—it B. F. lIOSS, dealer in DRY GOODS AMD GROCERIES. Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19, 1844. 1-tl J. M. HOARD.MAN, DEALER IN LAW, MEDICAL, MISCELLANEOUS and School Books; Blank Books and Stationery of all kinds ; Printing Palter, Sic. See. , Sign of the Large Bible, tiro iloors above Shot welt's corner, tvest side of Mulberry Street. Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19,1844. 1-tl B. 11. WARNER, AI’CTIOM AMD COMMISSION MER CHANT. Dealer in every description of .Merchandise. “The Public’s Servant,” and subject to receiving consignments al all times, by the consignees pay ing 5 per cent, commissions for services rendered 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.