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&|)e Atlanta Banner auft Baptist^
j OLUMN.
MAiUOS’S TEMPTATION,
“ Mamma," said Marion Leslie one day,
jo you know how.soon I shall be thir
teen years old ? ’
“Yes; in about three weeks,” Mrs. Les
lie answered.
“Exactly three weeks, mamma, count
ing from to-morrow. My birthday comes
on the thirteenth of October, you know.
“ And what of it?” asked Mrs. Leslie,
looking down with a smile into the eager
face upturned to hers.
“ Why, mamma ! I should like to have
a birthday party so much. May J, mamma?”
The flushed cheek and pleading eyes were
more eloquent than words, as Marion wait
ed breathlessly for the answer, which her
mother was somewhat slow in giving. She
considered it thoughtfully for a minute or
more; but presently she said:
“ I had not thought of it before, Marion,
but since you would like it so much, 1 think
you may. On one condition, however,” as
the little girl broke out with an exclama
tion of delight; “a hard condition, too, —
nothing less than that you shall keep your
temper for the whole time between now and
your birthday, and not get into a single fit
of passion during all the three weeks time.
Do you think you can undertake it?”
The little girl blushed deeply, and her
eyes dropped before her mother’s question
ing look. She knew very well that this
hasty temper was her besetting sin, which
had made trouble for herself and unhappi
ness for her parents very many times in
the course of her life. She was perfectly
a ware that it was a sin, and she really wish
ed that she could conquer it; she had even
made some efforts to do so, but because she
could not succeed all at once, she grew im
patient and discouraged, and declared that
it was no use trying; she never could do
any better. The excuse for all her pas
sionate outbreaks and unreasonable anger,
was: “I can’t help it, I’m sure. I have
tried till it’s no use trying any longer.”—
And so she had grown worse and worse,
more and more irritable and passionate,
until it had become a matter of very great
concern to her mother, who dreaded to see
the child growing up with a fault which
must entail so much unhappiness for her
self and others. She waited anxiously for
Marion’s answer, for she thought that this
eager wish of hers might be made an in
centive to a real effort for the acquirement
of self-control. But Marion was in no
haste to reply. She looked up at and
said, hesitatingly, •
“ Mamma, oughtn’t one to lie ashamed
to do a thing just for the sake of a reward
’
“ And not because it was right? Certain
ly, if that were the only motive, we ought
to be ashamed,” Mrs. Leslie answered. —
“ But I hope it would not be the only mo
tive with you. Your desire for a party, by
being often in your thoughts’, may help you
to be careful, but I hope that at the bottom
of your heart you would rather break your
self of the fault than to have a dozen par
ties.”
“ So I would, mamma,” Marion exclaim
ed earnestly ; “and indeed 1 will try; not
for the sake of the party—thorn h I warn
that very much, too,” she added, with a
smile.
“And l shall be most happy to give it
to you,” her mother said_ affectionately, “ if
the condition is fulfilled.' !am sure it can
be if you try the right way.”
“If you will only help me, mamma,”
Marion began.
“ Ood will help you, if you ask Him; and
that will be a great deal better than any
help /could give you,” was her mother’s
answer, so impress’vely spoken that Mari
on thought of it all the evening ; and w hen
sho knelt down at night to say her prayers,
she prayed more earnestly than she had ev
er done before for strength to resist her be
setting sin.
She remembered it next morning, too,
when she prayed, “ Lead us not into temp
tation, but deliver us from evil;” aud
throughout the long day at school, whenev
er she was in danger of losing her temper,
she remembered her mother’s words, and
asked in her heart for the help that is “ev
er present in our time of need.”
She felt very happy when she lay down
to sleep that night. It was the first day in
a great many days that had passed bv with
out any outbreaks of anger or impatience,
and she felt very glad and thankful, and al
so very much encouraged to hope that she
might really go safely through the whole
three weeks. And if she did that, w hy,
then, indeed she might hope to overcome
the fault altogether in time, to say nothing
of the party, which was by no means a
small consideration in the little lady’s
mind. She had it all planned in most de
lightful style, and had already decided what
dress she meant to wear, and which of he r
Xll MAMEMM AMB BA&VMW.
schoolmates should be invited, and how
th§|q should certainly be ice-cream and any
quantity of peaches by way of refresh
ment. And she fell asleep in the midst of
her plans and anticipations, only to live
them all oyer again in pleasant dreams.
This was ouiy one day, however —a very
small part of her probation—and she did
not find every day as easy or as satisfacto
ry by any means. The old temptation
came back very strongly many times, and
she did not always fight against the wicked
feeling as well as the outward expression
of it. She did not always, as at first, seek
help from the only true source, and more
than once she was only saved from some
hasty speech or act, which would have
spoiled everything, by a warning look or
word from her mother. The time passed
by, however, and she managed to get thro’
week after week in a tolerably creditable
manner, without any actual violation of the
condition imposed. The birthday was close
at hand, and Mrs. Leslie, who began to
hope that Marion would really deserve her
party, was making various preparations for
it, in which Marion of course took a very
lively interest.
She went to, school in high spirits ope
morning, after trying on the pretty tucked
muslin which she intended to wear, to see
if it needed any alteration before being
“done up” for the grand occasion. She
had not ventured to speak of the party to
her schoolmates before, for fear of some
unlucky accident; but now it seemed so
sure a thing, that she could not help telling
it to two or three of her most intimate
friends, and it was not long before half the
school knew it, and were crowding round
to congratulate her, or to put in a merry
claim for an invitation. All this did not
tend to make Marion watchful or careful.
She felt very proud and self-satisfied, and
every one knows that such a frame of mind
is not the best for resistance to temptationff
There were but two days before the thir
teenth ; the next day the invitations were
to be given, and since she had got on so
far, surely there could be no danger any
longer!
But—was it because she felt so sure, or
because she had hot asked that morning to
be kept “ this day without sin ? ” —the dan
ger came just when Marion was least
watchful and least prepared.
It was at recess, and she had run in from
the playground to find her handkerchief,
which she had left in her desk. One of the
little girls had been getting an inkstand fill
ed, and was carrying it carefully to her own
desk, as Marion rushed in heedless and ex
cited with play. The child’s eyes were
bent down, so that she did not see her
schoolmate’S%pproaeh in time to avoid her,
and the consequence was a collision, in
which half the contents of the inkstand
were spilled over Marion’s neat gingham
dress.
It was fully as much her fault as little
Hetty’s, if she was not even more to blame,
being so much older. But without think
ing of her own share in the accident,.she
grew angry instantly with the child, and
broke out into passionate expressions of
vexation.
“ I couldn’t help it, Marion ; it was your
fault any way ; you ran against me ! ” ex
claimed Hetty indignantly.
“ No such thing ! ” Marion answered hot
ly, forgetting everything but the irritation
of the moment. “It was all your careless
ness, and now you want to put it on me,
you little story-telling thing. Take that,
now ! I’ll teach you how to say such things
to me! ” and in the sudden passionate im
pulse, she raised her hand and slapped Ilet
ty violently on the cheek.
The child burst into tears, and Marion’s:
hand fell, and her face, flushed with anger,
grew pale suddenly, as the recollection of
what she had forfeited flashed upon her. —
What would she not have given now to
have recalled the last few moments! But
that was impossible; she had openly vfola-
ted her mother’s condition, and there was
nothing to be done now but to give up the
party —after she had told the girls about
it, too! Oh! how could she bear such
mortification as that!
It was a miserable afternoon at school,
and a miserable, evening at home. She
could not bear to tell her mother what had
happened, although she saw her going on
with various preparations for the day, and
knew that they ought to be stopped.—
Whenever her conscience urged her to the
; confession, it was put off with a ** By and
! by.” or “I’ll wait till to-morrow ; ” and all
;the time was giving ear to a subtle ternp-
Uation that whispered, “ What’s the use of
i telling her, after all ? It was such a little
| thing, and anybody else would have done
just the same in your place ; and when you
got on so well all of this time, it would be
a shame to have to lose your reward at last
for such a trifle as that. After you have
told the girls, too—and they will all laugh
at you so! Your mother need never find
it out. and it would be the best thing for
all to keep quiet about it. Of course it
will be a lesson to you always, just the
same, and Jhatis all yourmother cares for.”
It was like an actual voice, the evil sug
gestions were so plain and clear; and if
Marion had not been so willing to listen,
she would have known that they were veri
ly temptations of Satan, and have prayed
with all her might to be delivered from
them. But she only thought of her own
disappointment and mortification, and not
of the sin; and the end of it was, that she
went to bed that night without telling her
mother, satisfying her conscience by a half
promise to do it in the morning. It was
harder than ever, of course. Her mother
was busy, and there was no opportunity to
speak to her before she went to school. At
least she was willing to think so, and she
did not take pains to make an opportunity,
but went oft’ to school with the fault still
unconfessed. When she came in the after
noon, her mother showed her a pile of neat
ly folded papers, each one directed to some
friend or companion of Marion’s.
“ You may carry them to school and dis
tribute them to-morrow,” she said; “ and I
am very happy indeed, Marion, to think
that you have fully deserved this pleasure.”
Her words were so kind, her look so lov
inxr—how could Marion bear to tell her
then that she was so unworthy of it all ?
She despised herself in her heart, but still
said nothing, and the next day she distrib
uted the invitations amongst her school
mates. Aftt r that, of course, it was too
late to speak. The party must go on now,
at any rate, and she might as well make
the best of it.
But she bad no pleasure in it, and every
thing her mother did, and every kind word
she said, added to the shame and misery
she felt. She longed as much now to have
the party ove r and done with as she had
once longed for its time to come; and not
even her pretty dress, with the broad sash
and rosetted slippers, or the gay look of
the parlors, all decorated with the green
boughs and bright fall flowers, could take
away the wretched feeling or make her for
get for an instant how wicked she had been.
She forced herself to look happy, howev-'
er, as her guests began to come; and as
one after another arrived, and the parlors
grew full of laughing, merry children, she
was obliged to go amongst them, and laugh
and talk, and seem as gay as the rest, until
at last she began to enjoy the mirth and
the games herself, and for a while her trou
ble was put out of her mind. But it was
not long. One of the girls had left her fan
up-stairs, and Marion went up to get it for
her. But she wished she had not when she
saw that Cornelia Green, little Hetty’s sis
ter, was there, without Hetty. She had
just arrived, and was talking of her hood
and cloak, and Marion of course had to stop
to assist her, and to ask her why Hetty did
not come too, although it was very easy to
guess the reason. Hetty never had spoken
to her since the affair of the ink, or forgiv
en for the blow, and nothing could have in
duced her to come to Marion’s party. But
still Marion asked, “ why did not Hetty
come?” and Cornelia answered with a toss
of her head:
* “ Oh! it’s no use asking that, Marion
Leslie ; you know as well as I do that Het
ty wouldn’t come to your party if she nev
er went to one. She’s been mad with you
ever since you slapped her so hard the oth
er day—all for nothing, too, if l must say
so, for it was your fault more than Hetty’s
that the ink was spilled.”
It was not a very polite speech to make
to one’s hostess in her own house, but Cor
nelia Green was not celebrated for polite
| ness, and she was glad of the opportunity
|to revenge Hetty. So she flirted out of the
room, and as she went out at one door,
Mrs. Leslie came in at another, and Mari
on knew that she had heard it all, and the
whole story would have to be told now.
I am not sure that she was not glad to be
obliged to tell it, for certainly she had been
miserable enough in her deceit and false
hood; and when Mrs. Leslie knew all, she
saw that the punishment of her own con
science was quite sufficient. Marion never
had a birthday party again, but she learned
two lessons from this that she never forgot
—never to trust in her own strength to do
any good thing, and never to think any
thing worth having that must be gained by
! falsehood.
Scxdav School Scholar. —“My dear
child,” said a teacher to his Sunday school
scholar under alarming illness, “ have you
any reason to suppose that you love the
Saviour!” “1 hope I can say, sir, that i
do love Him,” was the reply. “And what
induced you to conclude in this manner?”
added the teacher; “you have, l trust,
scriptural evidence for the opinion you ex
press ” “ Why,” said the little girl, “ be
cause l love His word, l love. Ilia house, ]
love His people, aud I believe that He
loves me.”
If we the Saviour love,
We keep His holy word ;
Thus -hnl H s humble followers prove
Allesrianee to their Lord.
THE SOLDIERS’ COLUMN.
[Origin Bl.]
Tlie Soldier’s Dying Thoughts.
Cold death is treading on my breast,
I feel his iron feet;
I toss myself about and bleed,
A soldier’s doom to meet.
My heavy eyes are growing dim,
My pulse is beating slow,
And the warm floods of precious life
In purple currents flow.
Strangely mingled with light and shade,
My hopeful days are done;
Through joy, and toil, and battle-storm,
My short career is run.
The bursting thunder dies away,
An awful stillness reigns;
And sons of glory, noble dead!
Load all these gory plains.
Cruel war low my aching head
Hath pillow’d on this stone;
And all my comrades, gone away,
Have left me here alone.
Oh, darkly fate—to die alone!
With no dear sister by;
With no sweet mother’s magic hand
To wipe my glazing eye.
My lips are dry, and brow on fire,
My bosom torn with death—
To judgment rushing, rushing on,
With ev’sy panting breath !
The sun, through clouds of battle-smoke,
Is sinking down the skies;
For me ’twill whirl no more aloft,
No more, no more will rise.
Night is coming with darkness deep,
But with no happy dream —
Coming without a single star
To shoot its cheerful beam.
The world grows dark —I sink, I faint,
And feel that I must die;
Give back my soul to God that gave,
And wing my flight on high.
W. D. M.
Martin's Depot, S. C.
The Converted §oldier.
A soldier in the East Indies, a stout, li
on-looking, lion-hearted man, had been a
noted prize-fighter, and a terror to those
who knew him. With one blow he could
level a strong man to the ground. That
man sauntered in the mission chapel, heard
the gospel, and was alarmed. He returned
again and again, and at last light broke in
upon his mind, and he became anew crea
ture. The change in his character was
marked and decided. The lion was chang
ed into a lamb. Two months afterwards,
in the mess-room, some of those who had
been afraid of him before began to ridicule
him. One of them said, “ I’ll put to the
test whether he is a Christian or not,” and
taking a basin of hot soup, he threw' it into
his bosom. The whole company gazed in
breathless science, expecting that the lion
would start up .and murder him on the
spot. But after he had torn open his waist
coat and wiped his scalded breast, he calm
ly turned around and said, “This is what 1
must expect; if I become a Christian, I
must suffer persecution.” His comrades
were filled with astonishment. This was
overcoming evil with good. If the readers
of this piece will follow the example of the
tyrant, who by the grace of God was hum
bled and became His follower, they will
honor their Master.
Saved by lilt* Bible.
During the services of a Union prayer
meeting, some years since, in Ohio, Doctor
Awl showed a pocket Bible, and related an
interesting incident connected w ith it. He
stated that it belonged to a gentleman who
was a soldier in the English army in the
wars against Napoleon, who was a praying
man, and was much exercised in mind re
specting his situation. His mind was di
rected to the verse of one of the Psalms,
which reads: “A thousand shall fall at thy
side, and ten thousand at thy right hand:
but it shall not come nigh thee.” This
made a great impression upon him. On the
morning of the battle of Waterloo, he read
his Bible, as was his custom and instead of
placing it in his knapsack, he placed it in
his haversack. The division to which he
was attached was not called into action un
til three o’clock in the afternoon. He went
into the battle, and during the fight the
: Book was pierced with two bullets, which
| saved his life. At the conclusion of his re
marks, he returned the Book to the owner,
who was sitting in one of the pews. He is
now an old man, and still continues iti the
| service of the Captain of our salvation.
The Right Card. —“ I stopped at a tent,”
says a chaplain, “where a set was gambling.
On looking over their shoulders, I discover
ed that the game was blocked. ‘ M hat
shall I play ? ’ exclaimed one of the excited
party, holding two or three cards in his
trembling band. 1 I'll pfo> / the card for
you said 1, mildly, and laid a Testament
on the board ; *do you agree to it ? ’ The
soldier sprang from his seat, and cried out
with an oath, ‘ You may play it alone,’ and
left the eompauy. The other three came
to me afterwards with an apology, and said
they were ‘ resolved never to play again.’”
GENERAL Jfl RECTORY.
Confederate Government.
President —Jefferson Davis, of Miss.
Vice “ —A. 11. Stephens, of Ga.
The Cabinet. —Judah P. Benjamin, ol La..
Secretary of State.
C. G. Memminger, of S. C., Secretary of
Treasury.
George W. Randolph, of Va., Secretary
of War.
S. R. Mallory, of Fla., Secretary of Navy.
Thos. H. Watts, of Alabama, Attorney-
General.
John 11. Reagan, of Texas, Postmaster-
General.
The Senate.
Alabama —Win, L. Yancey, C. C. Clay.
Arkansas —Robert W. Johnson, C. B.
Mitchell.
Florida —J. M. Baker, A. E. Maxwell.
Georgia —B. H. Hill, John W. Lewis.
Kentucky —Henry C. Burnett, William
E. Sims.
Louisiana —Edward Sparrow, Thos. J.
Semmes.
Mississippi —A. G. Brown, Jas. Phelan.
Missouri —J. B. Clarke, R. L. E. Peyton.
North Carolina —George Davis, W. T.
Dortch.
South Carolina —Robert W. Barnwell,
James L. Orr.
Tennessee —Gustavus A. Henry, Landon
C. Haynes.
Texas —L. T. Wigfall, W. S. Oldham.
Virginia —R. M. T. Hunter, William
B. Preston.
House of Reprcsentativei.
Alabama: T. J. Foster, W. R. Smith,
J. P. Ralls, J. L. Curry, F. S. Lyon, W.
P. Chilton, David Clopton, J. S. Pugh, E.
S. Dargan.
Arkansas: G. A. Garland, James M.
Patterson. (Incomplete.)
Florida: James B. Dawkins, R. B.
Hilton.
Georgia: Julian Hartridge, Charles J.
Munnerlyn, Ilines Holt, Aug. H. Kenan,
David W. Lewis, W. W. Clark, Robert P.
Trippe, Lucius J. Gartrell, Hardy Strick
land, Augustus R. Wright.
Kentucky : (Not yet elected.)
Louisiana: Charles J. Villers, Charles
M. Conrad, Duncan F. Kenner, Lueien J.
Dupre, John L. Lewis, John Perkins, Jr.
Mississippi: J. W. Clapp, Reuben Da
vis, Israel Welch, H. C. Chambers, O. R.
Singleton, E. Barksdale, John J. Mcßae.
Missouri: W. M. Cook, T. C. Harris,
Caspar W. Bell, Adam 11. Condon, G. G.
West, L. W. Freeman, llyer.
North Carolina: W. H. Smith, R. R.
Bridges, O. R. Kenan, T. D. McDowell,
A. 11. Airington, J. R. McLean, W. S.
Ashe, William Landor, B. S. Gaither, A.
T. Davidson.
South Carolina: John McQueen, W.
Porcher Miles, L. M. Ayer, M. L. Bonham,
James Farrow, W. W. Boyce.
Tennessee: Joseph B. Heiskell, W. G.
Swan, W. H. Tibbs, E. F. Gardenshire,
Henry S. Foote, Jr., Meredith P. Gentry,
George W. Jones, Thomas Mennes, J. D.
Adkins, John V. Wright, D. 'M. Currin.
Texas: John A. Wilcox, C. C. Her
bert, F. W. Gray, F. B. Sexton, M. D.
Graham, B. H. Epperson.
Virginia: M. R. 11. Garnett, John B.
Chambliss, John Tyler, Roger A. Pryor,
Thomas S. Bococke, John Goode, Jr., Jas.
P. Holcombe, I). C. DeJarnette, W illiam
Smith, A. R. Botelor, John B. Baldwin,
W T alter R. Staples, Walter Preston, A. G.
Jenkins, Robert Johnston, C. W. Russell.
Government of Georgia.
Joskph E. Brown, Governor.
N. C. Barnett, Secretary b'f State.
John Jones, Treasurer.
Peterson Thweatt, Comptroller General.
E. D. Brown, Librarian.
John Billups, President of the Senate.
J. M. Mobley, Secretary “ “
Warren Akin, Speaker of the House.
L. Carrington, Clerk “ “
J. B. Campbell, Secr’y Executive Dep t.
H. H. Waters, Private Secretary.
J. S. Rowland, Sup’t State Railroad.
James A. Green, Keeper Penitentiary.
T. T. Windsor, Book-keeper “
Supreme Court Judges. —J. 11. Lumpkin,
of Clark. Charles ,J. Jenkins, of Richmond.
R. F. Lyon, of Fulton.
Times and places of holding Court . —First
District, composed of the Eastern, Middle
and Brunswick Circuits; at Savannah on
the second Mondays in January and June.
Second District, composed of the Macon,
Southwestern, Chattahoochee and Pataula
Circuits ; at Macon on the fourth Mondays
in January and June.
Third District, composed of the Flint,
Coweta, Blue Ridge, Cherokee and Talla
poosa Circuits ; at Atlanta on the fourth
Monday in March and second Monday in
August.
Fourth District, composed of the West
ern and Northern Circuits; at Athens on
the fourth Mondays in May and November.
Fifth District, composed of the Oemulgee
and Southern Circuits; at Milledgevjlle on
the second Mondays in May and November.
We shall be obliged to any one who can
send us numbers of The Banner covering
the time from the first number in March to
the last number in May, 1862.
