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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, A WEEKLY SOUTHERN NEWSPAPER, PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY, B Y EDWARD J. PURSE. TERMS:—TWO DOLLARS A YEAR. Three Copies for one year, or one copy three years, $5 00 Seven Copies, - - - - - - 10 00 Twelve Copies, - - - - - - 15 00 %* Advertisements to a limited extent, will be inserted at the rate of 50 cents for a square of nine lines or less, ior the first insertion, and 30 cents for each subsequent insertion. Business cards inserted for a year at Five Itoliars. IkF 3 A liberal discount will be made to Post Masters will do us the favor to act as Agents. OF* All communications to be addressed (post-paid) to E. J. PURSE, Savannah, <?•*