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TH3 LOVER S LIST.
BV MUa. OSGOOD.
*iCo lTie B,t on A*' 3 so shady,
k Sweot Evelyn sit with me!
l„<) count me your lover’s fair lady—
How many may they be ? “
maiden smiled on her lover,
And traced with her dimpled hand,
Os nnmes, a dozen and over,
Puwn in the shining sand.
I „ Und now,” said Evelyn rising.
•‘Sir Knight! your own. if you please,
I jndif there be no disguising,
IThfl list will out number these.
fhflo count me them truly rover! ”
And the noble knight obeyed,
And of nnmes a dozen and over,
He traced within the shade.
fair Evelyn pouted proudly, [done !”
She sighed “ Will he never have
And at last she murmur and loudly,
*• 1 thought he would write but one !”
••Now read,” said the gay youth rising,
“The scroll it is fair and free ;
In truth, there is no disguising,
That list is the world to me ! ”
She read it with joy and wonder, [name
Now the first was her own sweet
Aodagain, and again written under,
It was still, it was still the sumo !
Itk/l an with “My Evelyn fairest!”
/tended with ** Evelyn best! ”
And epithets fondest and dearest
Were lavished between on the rest.
There were tears in the eyes of the
lady.
As she swept with n delicate hand,
On the river bank cool and shady.
The list she had traced iu the sand.
There were smiles on the lip of the
nmiden,
As she turned to her knight once
more,
And the heart was with joy o’er laden
That was beivy with doubt before !
Report of the Committee on
THE STATE OF THE ORDER.
CBMITTED TO TnE NATIONAL Dl
iiiox of the Sons of Temper
ance. —1850.
I \i Committee on the state of the Or
itr big have to present their Report
on the general condition of the Or -
Itr.
All reform movements are found
in a deep-seated and influential
Win the final and permanent el
nation of man. Atnid all the fiuc
wionsot human interests, in times
deepest gloom and disaster, there
iev er a steady faith in the coming
of a brighter day, when the
shall triumph. This is the
Wavering testimony which hu
-san'ty,n'ty, i.ever losing the hope ot
complete redemption, gives to
- truih of prophecy. livery
i ß re ssive movement in morals
to indefinite enlarge
and full success. There is
provision made for its arrest, no
‘Station of its progress, no thought
01 being content with any advan
a“e sand concessions this side its
•feet ascendency. There is in it
nvev er inspired, the cheering
Bienne of sometime resting from
5 labors—its work being accom
'iisbed.
preeminently do these move
n's lake such powerful hold ot
feel that they have to do
J 1 des'inies of the perfect
We leel that they are not to
°^ lv n, that they cannot be defeat
!^a t the is in them the certain
•°f victory, that they will continue
° re and more to draw all eyes,
% all hearts, and employ all
till on the mountain tops
* light breaks and the day is en
toned.
The Temperance Reform works
btVj this inspiration and hope. It
to the utter and final extermi
ailcn\o{ the evil against which it
8 arr a}eil, and means never to re
zeal or effort till this eud is gain-
therefore, tire distinct measur
'to which at anytime we put our
Denote tn nnh srt, tjjf nf CfnijifnintT, (Dhii /dltnttsjiiji, Blnsnnnj unit (®fn?rnl 3ixtrlligrnrr.
hand, seem to fail ofhappy issues ;
if reverses here and there check our
fort ones, we do not despair. The
cause in its main front may still be
gaining ground ; as on the battle
field, squadron afier squftdron inav
g • down from ranks that are yet
moving to victory—as on the sen,
the billows on the surface mav curl
and break as though in retreat,
while the deep tide surges surely
on its flow. .
The review of our progress as
an Order, for the past year, calls
up mingled emotions of regret and
rejoicing We have no disposition
in public or private, to diguise the
truth. The number of defections
from our ranks within this period,
is unusually large.
Manv have forgotten their sacred
vows, and yielding to accursed
temptation, in an evil hour have
given themselves over bond-slaves
to their old captivity. We do not
deny that such betrayal hurts our
cause, let thos-e rejoice over it that
will. Every brother so falling
away not only breaks his solemn
vow and enclaves himself afresh,
but puts off the day of deliverence
to other captives, sin ngthens the
h*nds that forge the chains, and
blocks the car of emancipation.
Others still have left our frater
nity for other causes. Some, doubt
less, from motives that do them no
dishonor. Some, perhaps, weary
ing of so rigid a sell—restraint, or
unworthily influenced by personal
enmities, or charmed no longer by
novelty, or piqued at fancied slights
and not a few as the penalty of
mere negligence, or want of thrift,
in meeting the trifling taxes which
ensure them the pecuniary aid of
the Order in time of sickness and
disability. If any of these classes
are satisfied to have no more part
in so good an enterprise, the great
er loss we think is theirs.
There have been yet other re
movals, which we cannot pass over
in silence. That terrible, scourge
of God, whose approaches make the
nations pale, again overleaping the
sea from its Eastern home has again
walked through the laud. Some
of our brethren have fallen before
its mortal ravages. Their places
are vacant in our ranks —vacant
where they stood at posts of duty
and honor—vacant beneath the
roofs where the widow and father
less feel each hour the loss of their
stay and counsellor. But here in
our hearts their place is not vacant.
Peace to the memory of our depar
ted brothers, and when coming and
not distant days shall add another
and another name from our numb
er to the lengthening scroll of death
let each anticipate for himself this
living remembrance in the hearts of
survivors!
But the picture of the past is not
all so shaded ; it has brighter lines
lor our eye. With all the defec
tions and losses of which we have
spoken, the membership of our Or
der has still advanced wi:hin the
year by an increase of more than
30,000 souls, leaving us now but
little less than 300,000 strong,
‘This is a better progress, the Com
mittee are satisfied, than the rapid
and unhealthful enlargement of pre
vious years, which made a reaction
in some sense ine\ilable. Our ac
cessions now are of the right sort —
likely to be permanent, and convey
a more deliberate testimony to the
beauty and excellence of our Insti
tution.
The Committee fee 1 convinced
that the Order is actually strong
er and more vigorous for its work,
from the winnowing of the past
twelve-month. It is good to know
who are the true and faithful. Ab
SAVANNAH, GA.. SATURDAY, JULY 20. 1850.
>olute indifference—even open hos
tility—is better than faint-hearted,
wavering friendship.
The Order is manifestly taking
deeper and firmer hold upon the
confidence of ibe vvi e and good
in every part of our land. The
number’ of professedly Christian
men and ..of.lOiristian ministers
pledged to its covenants, is contin
ually enlarging. Such alliances
are nqt inofeed i eeded to make this
associated movement respectable.
I he. sight of humanity, on any of
its levels, struggling against the
despoiism of vice, and essaying to
disenthral its brethren also, is a
spectacle of moral sublimity that of
itself commands respect. But such
a membership as one feature of our
progress, and one element of pow
er in our working, has its peculiar
value, anil is fitting matter of con
gratulation.
This fraternity, too, is making it
self more and more felt as a bond
of intersectional attachment for our
own country. It binds together
the N rth and South, the East and
die We t, bv cords strong and sa
cred as household ties, and nddsthe
mighty chorus of its many voice
to the cry of every true heart, for
union, harmony!
Nav, it contemplates and is real
izing a wider brotherhood than anv
contained within the boundaries of
mere patriotism. It hasits disciples
in the British Possessions on this
continent, and beyond die Atlantic
under the very shadow of the Brit
ish throne.
The Committee, while taking
courage from these results and
these omens, are deeply impressed
with the wisdom and importance of
some measures on the part of this
body to secure the public advocacy
of the principles of our Order, and
its wider extension by the servicesof
menofgood character and distin
guished ability, employed to travel
and lecture on our behalf.
The Committee entertain the
conviction that the legislation ofthe
Order, and all changes in die same
should be based on the idea that
the paramount aim and design of
the Order is to redeem men, and to
preserve men from the evils of In
temperance, and that any other fea
tures are incidental and subordinate
and we express our deep regret
ihat under existing Constitutional
provisions so many of our brethren
should be cut off from our fellow
ship for pecuniary delinquences
alone.
The Committee do not wish in
this Report to submit propositions
for the action of the Nat ion rd Divi
sion, but simply to give utterance
to the expression of sentiments in
whice they hope the concurrence ot
this body.
The committee say, in conclu
sion that the position of this Order
is every year more and more re
sponsible. Had the attempt to
found such an Order failed at the
outset, that would have been at the
time comparatively a trilling calam
ity. There was then nothing gain
ed to he lost. But now, interests
of amazing magnitude aie commit
ted to this movement. We stand
strong here. Our tread shakes the
Continent. We have gathered
within our histories and destinies
the hopes of bleeding and suffering
humanity, for at least one quarter
of the globe. If we fail now, char
ged w'ith such precious and sacred
trusts, through indolence, or blun
ders of legislation, or weariness
in well doing, or angry controver
sies that shall rend us asunder, we
should deserve and receive the
“shames’* o f all Christendom.
A. L. STONE, )
P.S. WHITE, } Com tee
W. R. DRINKARD, )
fflrrteit.
THE MISTAKE^
BT LEWIS GAT LA RD CLARK.
I desire to narrata to you a cir
cumstance which happened in the
family of a friend and correspon
dent of mine in the city of Boston,
some ten years ago, the history of
which will commend itself to the
heart of every father and mother
who has any sympathy with, or af
fection for their children. That it
is entirely true you rry well as
sured. I was convinced of this
when I opened the letter from L.
H. B , which announced it. and
in the detail ofthe event which was
subsequently furnished me.
\ few weeks before he wrote, he
had buried his elded son, a fie,
manly little fellow, of some eigfit
years ot age, who had never, he
said, known a day’s illness until
ihat which finally removed him
hence to be seen no m >re. His
death occurred under circumstan
ces which were peculiarly painful
to his parents. A younger brother,
a delicate, sickly child from Ins
birth, the next in age to him, had
been down lor nearly a fortnight
with an epidemic fever. Inconse
quence of the nature of the disease,
every precaution had been adopted
that prudence suggested to guard
the other members of the family
against it. But of this one, the
father’s eldest, he said he had little
to fear, so rugged was he, and so
generally healthy. Still however,
he kept a vigilant eye upon him,
and especially forbade his going in
to the pools and docks near his
school, which it was his custom
sometimes to visit ; for he was but
a boy, and “ boys will be boys,”
and we ought more frequently to
think that it is their nature to be.—
Os all unnatural things, a reproach
almost tochil fish frankness and in
nocence, save me from a “ boy
mnn ! ” But to the story.
One evening this unhappy father
came home, wearied with a long
day’s hard labor, and vexed at some
little disappointment that had soured
his naturally kind disposition, and
rendered him peculiarly suscepti
ble to the smallest annoyance. —
While he was silling bv the fire in
this unhappy mood of mind, his
wife entered the apartment, and
said :
4 Henry has just come in, and he
is a perfect fright; he is covered
from head to foot with dock mud,
and is as wet as a drowned rat.*
4 Where is he? ’ asked the father
sternly.
‘ He is shivering over ’he kitchen
fire. He was afraid to come up
here, when the girl told him you
had come home.’
‘Tell Jane to tell him to come
here this instant/ was the brief re
ply to this information.
Presently the poor boy entered,
half perished with affright and cold.
His father glanced at his sad [flight,
reproached him bitterly with his
disobedience, spoke of the punish
ment that awaited hi in in the morn
ing as the penalty lor his offence,
and in a harsh tone concluded with :
4 Now sir, go to your bed ! ’
‘ But father,’ said the little fellow,
4 I want to tell you —’
4 Not a word sir ; goto hod
4 1 only want to say father, that
With a pre-emptory stamp, an
imperative wave of his hand to
wards the door, and a frown upon
his brow, did that father, without
other speech, again close the door of
explanation or expostulation.
When his boy had gone supper
less and sad to his bed, the father
pat restless and uneasy while sup
per was being prepared ; and at
tea table ate but little. His wife
saw the real cause or the additional
cause of his emotion, and inter
posed the remark—
‘l think my dear you ought at
least to have heard what Henry had
t>sa v. My heart ached for him
when he turned away with hi<
eyes full of tears. Henry is a good
boy, after all, if he does sometimes
do wrong. He is a tend r-hearted
affectionate boy. He always was.’
And wherewithal the water stood
in the eyes of that forgiving moth
er, even as it stood in the eyes of
Mercy, in ‘the house of the Inter
preter,’ as recorded by Bunyan.
After tea, the evening paper was
taken up, but there was no news
and nothing of interest for that
father in the journal of that even
ing. He sat for sometime in an ev
idently painful revery, and then
rose and repaired to his bed
chamber. As he passed the bed
room where his little boy slept, he
thought iie would look in upon him
before he retired to rest. He crept
to his low cot and bpnt over him.—
A big tear had stolen down the bov’s
cheek, and r sted upon it ; but he
was sleeping calmly and sweetlv.
r fhe father deeply regretted his
harshness as he gazed upon his son ;
he felt also the “sense of duty;”
yet in the night, talking the matter
over with the lad’s mother, he re
solved and promised, instead of
punishing as he had threatened, to
make amends to the boy’s aggrieved
spirit in the morning for the man
ner in which he had repelled all ex
planation of his offence.
But that mo-mng never came to
ihe poor child in health. He awoke
the next morning with a raging fe
ver on his brain, and wild with de
lirium. In 4S hours he was in his
shroud. He knew neither his father
nor his mother, when they first
called to his bedside, nor at any
moment afterwards. Waiting, In
watched for one token of recogni
tion, hour after hour, in speechless
agony did that unhappy father bend
over the couch of his dying son.—
Oncehe thought he saw a smileof re
cognition light up dis dying eye,
and he leaned eagerly forward, for
he would have given worlds to
have whispered one kind word in
his ear, and have been answered;
but that glance of apparent intelli
gence passed quickly away, and was
succeeded by the cold unmeaning
glare, and the wild tossing of the
fevered limbs, which lasted until
death came to his relief.
Two days afterwards the under
taker came with a little coffin, and
his son, a playmate of the deceased
bov, bring ihe low stools on which it
was to stand in the entry hall.
I was with Henry when lie got
into the water. We were playing
down at the Long Wharf, Henry
and Charles Munford, and I; and
the tide was out very low ; and
there was abeam run out from the*
wharf; and Charles got out on it in
opt a fi-h line and hook that hung
over where the water wa-s deep,and
the first thing we sau. he had slip
ped off, and was struggling in the
water ! Henry through off his cap
andjnmped clear from the wharf
into the water, and, after a great
deal of hard work, got Charles out,
and they waded up through the
mud to where the wharf was not so
wet and slippery; and then I help
ed them to climb up the side.—
Charles told Henry not to say any
thing about it for if he did, his fath
er would never lei him go near the
water again. Henry was very sor
ry, and all the way going home he
kept saying—
-4 Wbat will father say when be
sees me to night ? I wish we held
not gone to the wharf! *
* Dear, brave boy ! ’ exclaimed
the bereaved father, ‘and this was
the explanation which I cruelly re
fused to hear!* and hot and bitter
tears rolled down his cheeks.
1 es.that stern father now learned,
and tor the first time, thit what he
had treated with unwonted severity
as a fault, was but the impulse of
a generous nature, which, forgetful
ot sell, had hazarded life for anoth
er. It was but the quick prompting
of that manly spirit which he him
seli had always endeavored to
graft upon his susceptible mind, and
which, young as he was, had al
ready manifested itself on more
than one occasion.
Let me close this story in the
very words of that father, and let
the lesson sink deep into the heart
ot every parent who shall peruse
this sketch :
‘Everything that I now see, that
ever belonged to him, reminds me
ot my lost boy. Yesterday l found
some rude pencil sketches which it
was his delight to make for the
amusement of his younger brother.
To-day in rummaging an old closet
1 came across his boots, still covered
with dock mud, as when he last
wore them. (You may think it
strange, but that which is usually
so unsightly an object,is now 4 most
precious to me.’) And everv morn
ing and evening 1 pass the ground
where my son’s voice rang the mer
riest among his playmates.
All these things speak to me viv
idly of his active life ; but I can
not —ihough I have often tried
l cannot recall any other expres
sion of the dear boy’s face than that
mute, mournful one with which he
turned from me on the night I so
harshiv repulsed him. Then my
heart bleeds afresh !
“ Oh, how careful should we all
be that, in our daily conduct toward
those little beings sent us by a kind
Providence, we are not lying up
for ourselves the source of many a
future bitter tear! How cautious
that, neither by inconsiderate nor
cruel word or look, we unjustly
grieve their generous feeling ! And
how guarded ought we to weigh
ever}’ action against its motive lest,
in a moment of excitement, we be
led to mete out to the venial errors
of the heart the punishment due
only to the wilful crime !
“ Alas ! perhaps few parents sus
pect how often the fierce rebuke,
the sudden blow, is answered in
iheir children by the tears, not of
passion nor of physical or mental
pain, but of a loving yet grieved
or outraged nature.”
O
I will add no word to reflections
so true ; no eor-relative incident to
an experience so touching.
i o
An Ordinary License — A neat
little girl apparently about nineteen
says the Fredrick Herald, a few
days ago entered the Clerk’s Office
and removing her bonnet, inquired
of the (Governor, ‘H ive you any li
cense to dispose of f Yes, madam;
will you have a retailer’s or an or
dinary License ?’ ‘An ordinary will
do, Doctor. I am only going to mar
ry a little Dutchman !
How to Exterminate Roaches.
—Sprinkle corn meal in a plate,
covering the entire surface and over
ihat sprinkle powdered sulphur—
ikit so much as to cover entirely the
meal, but sligh iy. Then place
shallow vessel# or saucers c attain
ing water near by. In a few days
he Roaches will disappear. This
has been tried and found effectual.
None are either eo happy or qn*
happy as they imagine.
NUMBER £0