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VBKVBS&SSBVA IS.
MORAL HEROISM—INTERESTING INCIDENT.
We are indebted to a friend for the facts of the
following interesting narrative, the scene ot which
is laid on one ot the rich paiairies on the \\ a
bash river.— lndiana J isitor.
It was harvest time. There was a reformer
farmer in Division, who could not procure
hands to harvest his grain without furnishing
liquor! All his neighbors and former friends re
fused help, because he was a “ Son,’ and would not
employ w/uskey in his fields. 1 heir own harvests
were going bravely on with good cheer, and the\
laughed and made themselv es meiry at the ex
pense of the poor Son , toiling all alone in hi>
large and waiving fields. Once he was hail fel
low well met, and he could idle away his hours
and his fields were neglected, and his prospects
for comfort were put in peril, his family and all
that was sacred to his heart, were suspended
upon a poise over the gulf ot perdition b\ intem
perance. By the timely and well-dn ected efforts
of the Sons he was brought to consider. A mo
ment’s reflection unmasked the demon destroy ei
in all his fearfulness, just ready to devoui him.
With anxius eye he sought a refuge from the hid
eous monster. There was one place alone which
afforded him security —there was one place the
demon could not enter —that glorious place was
under the banner ot the feons —within their halls,
surrounded by their company and counsels.
Here, with sealed lips and closed doors, there
was restand peace to the troubled mind, and safe
ty to all that was endangered.
With temperance firmly established in the heart
as a principle ot action, there was created
a cheerfulness of spirit, a quiet and agreeable
habit, that carried itself to the domestic circle,
and rendered all peaceful, happy and prosperous.
No wonder that the fields rejoiced to return from
their fruitful bosoms a rich reward to the renew
ed industry and watchful care of their regenerated
lord. But alas, harvest, with her golden treas
ures, her laden fields —the end and object of all
his toil and care, came with its stern demands!
These fields must he reaped! Interest, duty, and
necessity, all clamored —“ they must be reaped .”—
“But who shall reap them?” he asks while he
stands alone before his attentive wife and depen
dant babes. They ponder the question, and an
swer “ who ?” His neighbors stand ready, on one
condition , to enter the fields and gather the harvest
quickly home —that condition is, we must have
Rum! Here principle and policy stand up and
look each other full in the face 1
“Yield,” says policy, “ you can’t see your
fields goto waste, your labor lost, and your family
brought to want, just for the mere matter of being
a Son of Temperance ! A man’s first duty is to
take care of his household.”
“ Provided he can do it honestly ,” replied princi
ple. “We must first inquire if it is right , before
we act, let the consequences be what they may.”
“ Right /” sneeringly replied policy, “ you stop
in a case of this kind to enquire what is right, and
vou’ll soon come to want —that is not the way of
the world—necessity knows no law ; the grain
must he cut /”
“ Trul} r ,” said principle, “ this may not be the
way of the world, but with me that is a small
matter —happiness depends on inward peace, and
a conscience void of offence towards God and man. —
It is morally wrong to give your neighbor strong
drink, a woe, yea, God’s curse rests upon that in
fernal thing, and if the grain falls in the field and
rots, the hands of no man shall touch it, if it has
to be at the saciifice of right, of truth, of honor
and a pure heart! ! ”
Principle triumphed gloriously in the heart of
the Son ! He cast his eyes to the motto on his ban
ner and read with renewed delight, “ Love, Purity
arid Fidelity,” and felt his heart grow strong in faith
and hope in that moment.
Policy turned off with a shrug of the shoulders
and a cant of the head, and murmured as
he went off, “ Well, if you are fool enough to let
your grain go to ruin, rather than give up your
superstitious notions, go it —thousands of others
may follow my advice and make money and fare
sumptuously every day.”
But nowithstanding all this, the struggle in the
breast of our noble hero was over. In his heart
“truth bore the victory,” and principle gained a
most signal triumph over false-hearted, time-ser
ving, double-faced policy. With a glad heart our
noble hero entered his fields alone! —alone he
threw the cradle in its circling sweep, into his
whited field, and laid at his feet the long swath
of mown grain. At every sweep of the cradle,
amidst the jeers and scoffs of his merry dram
loving neighbors, his heart grew large with the
sentiments, that if I am to lose a part, God will
give me comfort with what my own arm will
save. A ea, it is because I have acted on principle
that these rich fields wave in plenty before me,
and God forbid that this should be the occasion
ot my fall or ot offence! I will do my duty
and leave the rest with God.
I hus alone, laboring and musing, the toilsome
but patient hours pass away. Saturday evening
drew on, and our honest and unflinching Son had
left his field to seek repose in the peaceful circle
of his thrice-blessed family, where with a peace
ful heart, quiet'conscience, and wearied limbs, he
gave himself to the embrace of “ nature’s sweet
restorer.”
His Division was .some miles distant. His
brethren, however, heard of the “ floods that
were lifted up against him,” seeking to overwhelm
him, and forthwith called a meeting. They met
in secret and secretly handed together to aim them
-1 selves for the conflict and to go to th c field of action
in a body, and “ work their way thiough ..
It was night and the moon shone camly and
brightly upon the scene. Our heroic Sonssallu (
forth, and arming themselves with cradles, hooks
and rakes, they moved in an unbroken column
toward the silent field. At each step, the bound
ing heart filled with glee and joy, all joined in
siting their favorite chorus
o o
“Pledge, brother pledge, should e’er affliction ciave,
We’ll fly to succor and to save.”
On, on thev went, and soon arrived at the un
reaped field. Here it lay, in silent lonelines, wit i
a slight impression made upon one border by the
“lone Son.” They stealthily stept into the en
closure, stole a march upon the unsuspecting
hour, and one after another led in slaying each a
broad swath, followed by rakes and binders. The
action thus begun was cheerily kept up until there
was not a standing spire of grain to be found in
the field. The next duty was to gather up the
w T ell-banded sheaves and arrange them in neatly
formed handstacks, setting upon each a crown.
This accomplished, nothing remained but to
make a quiet and ‘secret’ retreat to their respective
domes, bearing off their successful sythes, sickles
and rakes, and be found in bed before the sacred
Sabbath should arrive.
But for the triclash thought of the signal and
3loodless victory that had been so silently won —
the great surprise of the lone Son, when he should
awake and find all his grain in shocks —the cha
grin, shame, and mortification of those whiskey
neighbors who should witness the triumphs of
virtue and principle over them in despite of whis
key, jeers, or scoffs—but for these busy thoughts,
w r e say, our noble boys would have fallen into a
refreshing sleep after their nightly toil. But the
inspiring energies of “Love” to the brethren, “Pu
rity” of purpose and “Fidelity” to the cause of its
votaries, had filled their hearts to overflowing.
Over such a feast the heart must tarry and regale
itself to the full! It is truly a luxury to relieve
oppressed virtue and administer to the protection
and support of the man of principle and integrity.
On these dainties the Sons of Temperance feast
as on hidden manna.
The night passed off in quietness, and the light
of the Sabbath morn had again made visible the
unsurpassed beauties of those prairies and wood
lands, now in a high state of cultivation, along the
borders of the beautiful Wabash. Never did the
sun look dow r n upon richer fields of grain than
adorn this Egypt of the West. The man ot toil
and of principle arose from his couch, with the
cherished anticipation of a sweet day of rest —rest
to his wearied limbs and anxious but unbending
mind. He walked forth upon his portico to catch
the morning breeze and cast his eye o’er flocks
and fields, as he was wont to do, to see it all was
right. His eye lit upon his reaped field! He
started as if he had lost his reckoning and it was
some other field! “But no,-that’s my field,” said he
—“certainly!!” “But these shocks —what! how 7
can this be? Amazement overcame him, he paus
ed—“wife,” he cried, “come here—do you see
that field—reaped, bound and shocked —the
whole of it!! Do you see, my children? Tell
me who harvested that grain so neatly? Who
wife? Children, who came in the night and cut
my grain and put it up for me so handsomely into
shocks?” All stood in speechless w r onder for a
moment, when he exclaimed, “the Sons —the
Sons of Temperance have done it!!! God
bless the Sons of Temperance,” he exclaimed—
each heart responded “God bless them,” while
tears of gratitude stood in the eye of every mem
ber of the happy circle.
Oh the blessedness ot doing good ! “It is more
blessed to give than to receive.” What Son of
Temperance, in all our extensive family, is there,
that would not have liked to have taken a hand
with our brethren of Division in cutting
and shocking that field of grain ? Not one. We
could have filled that field with hearty noble
hearted Sons, who w 7 ould glory in such a cause.
Let us on all occasions, brethren, “Fly to succor
and to save.”
But to return to our moral hero. How proud
and noble must have been his feelings, when he
looked back to the hour of his trial, when he
planted himself on the pure and immutable prin
ciples of truth and righteousness, regardless of
the trifling inconveniences and losses to which he
supposed he had exposed himself. How 7 he stands
above his fellow r s—his fields are harvested while
his neighbors are yet exposed to all the storms
and losses with which he had been threatend.
Above all he had kept his integrity. “Love, Pu
rity and Fidelity” had borne him through, and
in his heart there was a ceaseless fountain of
pleasure—pleasures that fade not aw 7 ay.
Again. How wretchedly miserable must those
neighbors feel, w r ho, knowing the dangers to
which a former inebriate is exposed, would unite
all their influence to ruin him! Alas for poor hu
man nature. How 7 corrupt, to take pleasure, Sa
tan-like, in ruining immortal beings—ruining poor
innocent women and children by destroying their
only protection and support. We turn away in
horror from the scene.
TAKING THE STARCH OUT OF ’EM.
The following “ cold water sketch ” is given in
the last “ Flag of the Union.”
A lot of idlers stood upon the end of a pier
which ran out into the Hudson river, in one of
tlie small towns near Albany a few days ago,
amusing themselves with hurling stones into the
broad stream, each vicing with each other in the
endeavor to pitch a missile at the farthest dis
tance from the shore, when a tall, rugged built
Vermonter, direct from the Green Hills, suddenly
made his appearance in their midst, and for a
while remained a cpiiet observer ol their move
ments.
He was a brawney strong looking Yajikee, and
was very decently clad. The efforts ot the little
party had been exhibited over and over again,
when the stranger quietly picked up half a brick
which lay near him, giving it a jerk, it fell into the
water a long way beyond the line which had as
yet been reached only by the foremost of the
crowd. At the conclusion of this feat a loud
“ bravo ! ” went up from half a dozen voices
around him.
It was a cold clear day in October, and the men
determined not to be outdone, renewed their at
tempts, but the Vermonter, without saying a svla
ble to any one, continued to pitch the pebles
far into the stream, which seemed to annoy one
of them in a green jacket, the apparent leader of
the gang,who declared he wouldn’t be beaten by
a fellow right straight out of the woods no how ;
and sidling up to the stranger he determined to
make his acquaintance.
“ Where do you come from, neighbor? ” in
quired the other.
•‘Me ! Wal, I hails from Vermont jes’ naow,
friend.”
“ Haint been in these parts long, I reck’n ! ”
“ Wal —no. Not edzackly ycrc —but up and
daown sorter.”
Yis—so I ’sposed.”
“ Yaas,” continued the green ’un, carelessly,
and seizing a billet of wood, be twirled it over
his head, and it landed several rods from the
shore, in the water.
“You’ve a little strength in your arms, neigh
bor.”
“ Some ‘punkins,’ is them flippers, stranger. —
Up in aour town, more’n a munth ago, I driv them
are knuckles rite strut thru a board more’n an inch
’naff’ thick !
“ Haw —haw !” shouted his hearers, the man
in the green jacket laughed the loudest.
“ May be you dont’t b’lieve it.”
“ Not much,” answered the crowd. “We aint
very green down here in York, we aint,” said the
fellow in the green jacket, “we’ve been about
you see.”
“Wal, you jes look yere Triend,” continued
the Vermonter, in the most plausible manner,
“up in aour caounty, we’ve a purty big river,
considerin’—lnyun river, it’s called, and may be
you’ve hern on it. Wal, I hove a man clean
across that river t’other day, and he came down
fair and square on t’other side!”
“Ha, ha, ha /” yelled his auditors.
“ Wal, naow, you may laff*, but I kin deu it
agin ”
“ Do what ?” said green jacket, quickly.
“ I kin take and heave you across that river
yender, jest like open and shet ?”
“ Bet you ten dollars of it.”
“ Done !” said the Yankee ; and drawing forth
an X (upon a broken down east bauk) he cover
ed the bragger’s shin-plaster.
“Kin veu swim feller!
“ Like a duck,” said green jacket—and with
out further parley, the Vermonter seized the
knowing Yorker stoutly by the nap of the neck
and the seat of his pants, jerked him from his
foothold, and with an almost superhuman effort
dashed the bully heels over head from the dock,
some ten yards out into the Hudson river.
A terriffic shout rang through the crowd, as he
floundered into the water, and amidst the jeers
and screams of his companious,- the ducked bully
put back to the shore and scrambled up the bank,
half frozen by this sudden and involuntary cold
bath.
“ I’ll take that ten spot, if y r ou please,” said
the shivering loafer, advancing rapidly to the
stake holder. “You took us for green horns, eh ?
We’ll show you how we do things down here in
York”—and the fellow claimed the twenty dol
lars.
“ Wal, I reck’n you wunt take no ten-spots jes’
yit, cap’n.”
“ Why? You’ve lost the bet.”
“Not edzactly. I didn’t calkilate on douin’ it
the first time —but I tell yeu, I kin deu it”—and
again in spite of the loafer’s utmost efforts to es
cape him, he seized him by the scruff and the
seat of his overalls, and pitched him three yards
further into the river than upon the first trial !
Again the bully returned, amid the shouts of
his mates, who enjoyed the sport immensely.
“ Third time never fails,” said the Yankee,
stripping off'his coat; “I km deu it I tell ye.”
“Hold on !” said the almost petrified victim—
“ And I will deu it —es I try till to-morer mor
nirCr
“ I give it up !” shouted the sufferer, between his
teeth, which chattered like a mad badger’s—
“ take the money.”
w
The Vermonter very colly pocketed the ten
spot, and as he turned away, remarked ;
“We ain’t much acquainted with yeu smart
folks down here’n York, but we sometimes ‘take
the starch out of ’em,” up our way —and p’raps
yeu wont try it on tu strangers agin. I reck’n ye u
wunt,” he continued, and putting on a broad grin
of good humor, he left the company to their re
flections.
THE FIRST MEETING.
BY SOLITARE.
The first St. Louis Agricultural Society, as near
as I can discover, was started by three amateur
farmers who, although they were gifted with an
abundance of the theory of cultivation, yet they
had “never set a potato in the field, or of the
raising a cabbage knew no more than a dandy.”
The old farmers looked upon the society with
much suspicion, and like all new projects gave it
the “cold shoulder;” but they were, neverthe
less curious to see how the new system of farm
ing by science would succeed.
The founders stood alone, but they resolved
to “ go ahead ; ” so they elected each other to the
different offices, and put trust in time, and their
experiments in farming to convert members.—
The progress of the President was often humor
ously related by his father-in-law, a venerated de
ceased citizen, something in this wise:
“ Ah, sair, do you know my son-in-law ? vat is
his name ? (his memory was bad.) Veil, no mat
ter, he was my son-in-law. He has start sair, one
grand agricultural society ; zat is vair well, vair
good sing. Did you know how he make ze weed
of his grain field ? Ah, ha! sair, zat is one grand
idea. He plant his field wis grain—zat is vair
good ; he grow up vair fine ; zat is good too; hut
zair grow up wid de grain vair much weed.—
Ah, ah! zat vair bad; but my son-in-law he say
lie will burn ze weeds up, and zat is vair right,
to burn up ze weed ; but morbleu ! sair, he burn
up all ze grain too, at de same time wis his fence
and de weed.”
The Secretary’s idea ran on fat pork, and he
hoped to raise a specimen which would make his
whole neighborhood, if not the whole west, envi
ous of his reputation as a stock raiser. He was a
chemist, and indulged in splendid visions of the
power of the science when applied to agricultural
pursuits. He thought too, that it could fatten
pork, but all his experiments failed to improve
his pigs ; they were thin when he commenced,
and they daily grew thinner. In passing one day
by a Kentucky neighbor, whose stock looked in
fine condition, he ventured to remark to him that
it was curious all the pig tails in the neighbor
hood, except his own collection, curled in a fat
and saucy kind of kink.
“It’s all in the feed, ’squire,” said his neighbor.
“ Can that be ?” enquired the Secretary.
“ I give them my chemical fattening mixture,
and good corn.”
“ That ain’t my way,” replied the farmer.
“ Well, what is your way ?” eagerly enquired
the Secretary.
“ Oh,” says the Kentuckian, “ I give ’em the
corn without the kimikal.”
The Treasurer also had great faith in the Sec
retary’s chemical mixture. He thought if admin
istered in large doses the effect would be more
rapid, and to fully test its powers he tried it upon
a pair of fine oxen. Taking his fa voriie negro to
the barn with him one evening, he mixed the agri
cultural dose, and remarked to Sim, whose eyes
were widening as they looked upon the experi
mental food.
“ Sam, this will make the fat jump up on stock;
you can almost see them improve under its influ
ence.”
“ Ah, ah, de lor massa,” responded Sam, “ dat
is high.”
The dose was administered, mixed with bran,
and the Treasurer waited patiently for Sam’s re
port. Presently he presented himself, his eyes
shining like full moons,
“ How do they look?” inquired the Treasurer
—“eh?”
“Bress God, massa, dat stuff you gib de oxen
last night make um berry fat but it kill em herey
dead too/”
Ao License in Vermont. —The people of Vermont
have determined that no license to sell liquor
shall be issued in that state for one year to come.
Last year they voted just the other way. *The
returns have not yet been received, but the No
Licene majority will not be less than 10,000 or
12,000. Twenty towns give 8000.
aTriend of the family,
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