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BY H. C. HORNADY. VOL. 111. The Banner and Baptist IS PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING, AT ATLANTA, GA. Subscription price—Three Dollars per year, In advance. H. C. Hornady, Proprietor. TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION. Weekly, (fifty Nos.,) per annum, invariably in Advance. - - $3 00 Money due the Office, may be sent by mail a our risk —always mail it in presence of a friend (other tfian the P. M.,) or procure a friend to mail it ft,, you—never register. Contributors should write only on one side of each lea£ and number the pages, 1,2, 3, &c. The Editor will be responsible only for his own articles. Those wishing papers changed, should give the Post-Office they wish changed from, as well as the one to be changed to. Those forwarding names of subscribers or re mittances, should always write the name of Post Op rice, County, and State, in full. All letters containing remittances, or articles or the Paper, should be directed to the Banner & Baptist, Atlanta, Georgia, and not to the Edi tors by name ADVERTISING SCHEDULE. ~jl Mf). il Mo. |3 Mo, 5 Mo. 9 Mb.\ I2Mo. IsQUAKB $ 3 sU*~s'6o# ? uo $ 8 00 #l2 00 #l4 00 2 sq’us 500 7501000 12 00 18 00 22 00 3 SQ’RS 700 10 00 12 00 16 00 24 00 30 00 4 sq’bs 000 12 00 15 00 20 00 30 00 36 00 5 so’rs 11 00 14 00 17 00 24 00 34 00, 42 00 6 sq’ks 12 50 16 00 19 00 28 00 38 00! 46 00 7 sq’rs 14 00 17 50 21 00 32 00 42 00 50 00 8 sq’ks 15 00 19 00 22 00 35 00 45 00! 54 00 9 SQ’KS 16 00 20 00 23 00 38 00j 48 00 57 00 10 sq’rs 17 00 21 00 24 00 40 00] 50 Oh 60 00 A Square, is the space occupied by ten lines of Minion type. One Square, one insertion, SI.W; and SI.OO for each subsequent insertion. Professional and Business Cards, not ex ceeding five lines, $5 per annum; each addi tional line $1 00. Special Notices, fifteen cents per line, for the first insertion; ten cents per line for each subsequent insertion. School Advertisements.— Our charges for School advertisements will be the same as for othei'3, when not paid in advance. When paid in advance we will deduct Twenty-five cents im the Dollar from our regular charges. Cash for Advertisements considered due, and collectable, at one half the time contracted for insertion, except yearly advertisements, due and payable quarterly. LITE ItARY DEPARTMENT. \o Excellence without Labor. Napoleon, when about to lead his army over the Alps, said to the engineer who had been sent forward to ascertain the pro bability of the undertaking, “Is it practi cable ? ” •“ It is barely practicable,” was the reply. “Let us set forward, then,” said Napoleon. They did set forward, and that extraor dinary undertaking, which won the admi ration of the world, was successfully aceotn ■fhished. This short conversation furnishes an index of Napoleon’s character. It dis closes the secret of his success—his indom itable energy and perseverance in whatever lie chose to undertake. With regard to intellectual greatness, it is especially true that there is ‘ no excel lence without labor.’ No man ever rose from a humble position in life to that of j a distinguished scholar or great man, great in the true sense of the word, without much labor. All the great nun that have ever lived, men of learning and disciplined minds, became great by their own exertions. — They did not hesitate to make sacrifices, to undergo hardships, to expose themselves to persecution and ridicule in the pursuit of knowledge. They felt that knowledge was a priceless gem, an immortal prize for which they were seeking, one which would not desert them at death, but which, it rightly used, would conduct them to hap pier worlds above ; and iu the pursuit of this object, tlmy scorned whatever had a ten lency to divert their attention from this, their beloved pursuit. These great men frequently met with ridicule and per secution. Their motives and conduct were not understood and appreciated by the men of their age. It remained for after genera tions to honor and immortalize their names, and reap the reward of their labors, lo them we are indebted for all the great dis coveries and inventions that have benefited mankind, and for whatever civilization and refinement we now possess. Numerous instances might be given to I •show that there is no intellectual greatness without labor, Newton, the philosopher, I when asked how he had succeeded in making ■ so many important discoveries, replied ; *By think tog.’ By profound study and thought, this great man succeeded in tracing from the trifling occurrence of an apple falling from a tree, the laws which govern the motions of the heavenly liodies. By observation and study, Columbus became convinced of the globular shape of the ATLANTA, GEORGIA, SEPTEMBER 20, 1862. earth, and, sailing westward, discovered a new world. Franklin, after much obser vation and study 7 , succeeded in establishing the identity of lightning and electricity, proving that lig lining is only electricity on a large scale—thus.adding to his fame as a statesman that of a philosopher. What difficulties and hardships did the late Dr. Kane pass through in acquiring the admi ration and renown everywhere so deserved ly paid to his name ! Possessed in child hood of a feeble constitution, he overcame, as it were, by the strong power of his will, his natural predisposition to disease, passed through a seven years’course of study, and at an early age graduated with honor as doctor of medicine, having been character ized throughout as a thorough student.— It was there tlmt he acquired that mental discipline and well balanced judgment that so well qualified him for the duties that afterwards devolved on him as commander of an expedition to the frozen seas. These examples are sufficient to teach us that would we ourselves become great, we must labor for it. If we would distinguish ourselves above the common mass of man. kind, we must labor for it. If we would acquire an education that will fit us for use fulness and distinction, we must study— study diligently, study thoroughly. Lastly, if we are determined to obtain an education, no difficulties need discourage us. In this case, difficulties, instead of discoura ging us, will, by being surmounted, only strengthen our minds for further exertion. One writer has said, ‘The highest idea of education is the training of the mind to surmount obstacles.’ We are told of some ambitious young men, afterwards distin guished scholars, that they acquired their first knowledge of the classics by studying at night after their day’s work, by the light of the blazing wood fire on the hearth. — Let us emulate their example, and be dis couraged by no difficulties; remembering always, ‘no excellence without labor.’ Philosophy of Expenditure. I Economy is a good thing; but among the classes who, whether they are economi *cal or not, are sure never to go to bed hun gry, there is nothing in the triumphs of economy or in the accumulation of money to compensate for the deterioration of mind and feeling which is almost sure to accom pany the pursuit of so trumpery an end as i screwing sixpence a week out of the butter | bill. As intellectual education is more | widely spread, this is more keenly felt, and j persons become more unwilling ‘ to lose j life for the sake of the causes of living.’— it seems better to lay out money on learn ing and on mental cultivation, than to tie it up in a stocking. And the state of soci j ety at present helps this feeling. The old ; saying that a fortune is more easily saved than got is no longer true. Its truth be longs to a time when each class was shut up in its own narrow limits, when locomo tion was difficult and the chances of success in remote adventure were extremely small. Now a fortune is more easily got than saved. The habits and natures of families are naturally accommodated to this altered state of things. A prudent father does bet ter by spending his income on his children, so as to give them a fair start, than by ne glecting their present advancement, in order to prepare for their future needs. His ob ject is not to teach them to save money, but to get it, and spend it rightly ; and it is Impossible to teach this, unless a certain liberality and generous largeuess in dealing with money, proportionately to the family income, is openly encouraged. There is, indeed, a sort of idiotic wastefulness, by which silly people manage to dribble away vast sums yearly without any thing to show in return —that a parent ought of course to prohibit, by every means in his power.— But the general principle remains, that a fortune should be earned, and not inherited or saved, and that it should be spent with somewhat of easiness and magnanimity.— There is one test which will act as a perfect safeguard against too wide a departure from the rules of prudent economy : So long as debt is abhorred, everything is safe. We do not, of course, intend to say that one must, as a duty, spend all that he can get; though we do think that an income may be better spent without too much thought, than if every item is scrutinized and every penny paid away with a groan. “his banner over” us is “love.” Stick to Your Business. There is nothing which should be more frequently impressed upon the minds of young men than the importance of steadily pursuing one business. Tiie frequent Changing from one employment to another is one of the most common errors commit ted ; and to it may be traced more t han half the failures of men in business and much of the discontent and disappointment that renders life uncomfortable. It is aj very common thing for a man tobe dissat isfied with his business and to change it for some other, and which seems to him will prove a more lucrative employment; but in nine cases out of ten it is a mistake.— Look around you, and you will find among your acquaintances abundant verification of our assertion. Here is a young man who commenced life as a mechanic, but from some cause 1 imagined he ought to have been a doctor ; and, after a hasty and shallow preparation, has taken up the saddle bags only to find that work is still work, and that his patients j are no more profitable than his work bench, j and the occupation not a whit more agree- j able. Here are two young men, clerks ; one of them is content, when his first term ot service is over, to continue a clerk until he shall have saved enough to commence busi ness on his own account; the other can not wait, but starts without capital and with a limited experience, and brings up, after a few years, in a court of insolvency —while his former comrade, by patient persever ance, comes out at last with a fortune. The young lawyer who became disheart ened because briefs and cases did not crowd upon him while he was yet redolent of calf bound volumes and had small use for red tape, who concluded he had mistaken his calling, and so plunged into politics, finally settled down into the character of a med dling pettifogger, scrambling for his daily bread. There is an honest farmer, who has toiled a few years, got his farm paid for, but does not gro-w rich very rapidly—as much foi lack of contentment mingled with his in dustry as any thing, though he is not aware of it. He hears the w'onderful stories of California, and how fortunes may be had for the trouble of picking them up.— He mortgages his farm to raise money, goes away to the land of gold, and, after many months of hard toil, comes home to commence again at the bottom of the hill for a more weary and less successful climb ing up again. Mark the men in every community who are notorious for ability, and equally noto rious for never getting ahead, and you will usually find them to be those who never stick to one business long, but are always forsaking their occupation just when it be gins to be profitable. Young man, stick to your business ! It may be you have mistaken your calling. If so, find it out as quick as possible, and change it; but don’t let any uneasy desire to get along fast, or a dislike of your hon est calling, lead you to abandon it. Have some honest calling, and then stick to it.— If you are sticking type, stick away at them; if you are selling oysters, keep on selling them; if you are at law-, hold fast to that profession. Pursue that business you have chosen persistently, industriously and hopefully; and if there is any thing of you, it will appear and turn to account in that as w ell or better than in any other calling;—only, if you are a loafer, forsake that line of life as quickly as possible : for the longer you stick to it, the worse it ‘ stick ’ to you. Slander.—Yes, you pass it along wheth er you believe it or not. You don’t be lieve one-sided whispers against the charac ter another, but you wilt use your influence to bear up the false report and pass it on the current. Strange creatures are mankind! ITow many benevolent deeds have been chilled by the shrug of a shoulder! How- many individuals have been shunned by a gentle mysterious bint! How many graves have been dug by false report! Yet you will ke* pit above-the water by a wag of the tongue, when you might sink it forever. Lisp not a word that may injure the character of another.— Be determined to listen to no slander, tflat^ so far as vou are concerned, it mav die. i Piety in a Wife. ‘ That’s it; that’s first rate —if lam wild ! myself, I intend having a pious wife. That’s the very first qualification.’ So spake a wild and thoughtless, though talented and amiable young man. A few of us having met by chance at the house of a friend, agreed to amuse ourselves for a short time (doubtless we might have been better employed) with the ‘ Book of Fate,’ as it is called. Various characters, dispo sitions, qualities, etc., being written down and numbered, each person chooses a num ber, when the quality attached to it is read out to him. The number which this young man had chosen for the quality of his part ner was Piety , which called forth the re mark above quoted. It struck a lady who | heard it as something very strange, and as j an opinion either not generally entertained i or not generally known. This induced her subsequently to mention his remark in the presence of another young gentleman equal ly regardless of personal religion. He re plied that he was not aware that it was avowed openly, but he believed it to be j generally entertained by all honorable j young men. And is this the case? And do young ladies know it? Are they aware that when they are exerting all their ingenuity in pre paring to shine as the most brilliant stars at the fashionable ball or masquerade, that their more lowly minded friend, who per haps at that moment is, with a broken heart, before the Mercy-seat pleading for the sal vation of some poor, helpless sinner—that she, who has received the ‘ blessing of those who were ready to perish,’ holds a more exalted seat in the affections even of those who are utterly regardless of religion as it respects themselves ? There is something indescribably lovely in a devotedly pious young lady—something that reminds the soul at once of those bright angelic spirits which surround the throne of God. That calm serenity and composure —those eyes which beam with looks of holy tenderness and compassion for immortal souls; even the men of the world too well know their true interest to disregard these things. And the remark which another votary of the world made, speaking of the daughters of pleasure— ‘ Ah, those girls will do well enough for amusement, but give me a pious wife,” — is full of truth ; and conveys a sentiment which should, as it is no less exalted than true, be engraven as with the point of a diamond upon every female heart. If there is any difference who should be pious, it should certainly be females; they who hold the destinies of the earth, in its most em phatic sense, should be guided with ‘wisdom from on high.’ Ardent piety gives an ac complishment to the most faultless form, which can be furnished from no other source. It makes a kinder and more affectionate sister ; a more devoted and sincere friend ; and is everything for a wife. And whilst the brilliant enameling of the coquette may dazzle the beholder for a moment, piety alone can bear the troubles and disappoint ments of real life. Faithful Stewards.—Ethelwold, Bish op of Winchester, in the time of King Ed gar, sold the sacred gold and silver vessels belonging to the church, to relieve the poor people during a famine, saying: ‘ There was no reason that the senseless temples of God should abound in riches, while His living temples were perishing with hunger.’ Butler, Bishop of Dunham, being applied to on some occasion for a charitable sub scription, asked his steward what money he had in his house. The steward informed him there were five hundred pounds.— ‘Five hundred pounds?’ said the bishop, * What a shame for a bishop to have such a sum in his possession ! ’ He ordered it all to be immediately given to the poor. Home is the residence not merely of the body, but of the heart. It is the place for the affections to unfold and develop© them selves; for children to love and play in ; for husband and wife to toil smilingly to gether, and make life a blessing. The object of all ambition should be to be hap py at home; if we are not happy there, we can not be happy elsewhere. It is the best proof of the virtues of a family circle to see a happy fireside. TERMS Three Dollars a-year. WISSAHICON! God is everywhere. His words are in the heart. He is on the battle field, or in our peaceful home. Praise to His holy name ! It was in the wild of Wissahicon, on the day of the battle, as the noon-day sun carfle through the thick clustered leaves, that two ineti met in a deadly conflict near the reef which .rose, like some primeval world, at least a thousand feet above the dark waters of the Wissahicon. The man with dark brown face, and grey eye flashing with deadly light, and a mus cular form, clad in a blue frock .of the Rev olution, is a continental named Warren. The other man, with long black hair drooping along his cadaverous face, is clad in the half-military costume of a to;y ref ugee. This is a murderer of Paoli, named Dehaney. They met by accident, and now they fought, not with sword and rifle, but with the deadly hunting-knife they struggled— twining and twisting on the green sward. At last the tory is down—down on the turf, with the knee of the continental on his breast; the upraised knife flashed death in his face. . * “Quarter! I yield!” gasped the tory, as the knee was pressed on his breast.— “ Spare me; I yield ! ” “ My brother,” said the patriot, in a tone of deadly hate, “my brother cried for quarter on the night of Paoli, and even s he clung to your knees, you Stuck that knife into his heart. O, I will give you the quarters of Pqoli! ” And as his hand was raised for the blow and his teeth were clenched with deadly hate, he paused for a moment, and then pinioned the tory’s arms, and with a rapid stride dragged him to the verge of the rock, and held him quivering over the abyss. Mercy ! ” gasped the tory, tuning ashy pale, as that awful gulf yawned below.— “ Mercy ! I have a wife and child at home; spare me ! ” * The continental, his muscular strength gathered for the effort, shook the murderer once more over the abyss, and then hissed his bitter sneer in his face : “My brother had a wife and two chil dren. The morning after that night at Paoli, that wife was a widow—those little children were orphans. Ask mercy from them.” The proposal made by the continental in mockery and bitter hate was taken in seri ous earnest by the terror-stricken tory.— He begged to be taken to the widow and her children, and to have the privilege pf begging his life. After a moment’s serious thought the patriotic soldier consented. — He bound the lory’s arms still tighter, placed him on the rock again, and led him to the woods. A quiet cottage embosom ed among the trees met. their eyes. They entered* the cottage. There, beside the desolate hearthstone, sat the widow and her children. She sat there, a matronly woman about twenty-three years of age, with a face faded by care, a deep, dark eye, and long, black NO. 44. [Written for the Banner and Baptist] Without God. Without a Saviour! Can it be That Jesus shed His blood for me, And yet I know Him not? Though waves of guilt may o’er me roll, Of all the sins that stain my soul This is the foulest blot. Without a Saviour! Every breath But brings rae nearer unto deala— That death I fain would flee— And yet beyond the cheerless tomb No heavenly light dispels the gloom— No Saviour dawns for me. Without a Saviour! Lone and sad, In sin’s unholy vesture clad I tread the vale of life; Weary of all its glittering toys, Its hollow pomp, its fleeting joys, Its vanity and strife. Weary, yet never finding rest; Weeping, with no kind solace blest; In doubt and fear and pain— Is this the life for which I prove So callous to a Saviour’s love, So thoughtless and so vain ? Oh, Thou whose love can fill with grace The hardest heart, grant me a place Before Thy mercy-seat! The object of Thy pitying care, Oh, bring me, broken-hearted, there— A suppliant at Thy feet! S. E. B.