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BY HORNADY & ELLS. VOL. IV. ®ls lauim aafl ISpthst, DEVOTED TO RELIGION AND LITERATURE, Is published every Saturday, at Atlanta, Georgia, at the subscription price of three dollars per year. HORNADY & ELLS, Editors and Proprietors. H. C. Hornady.] [James N. Ells. Bteam Press of Franklin Printing House—J. J. Toon A Cos. MISCELLANY. IN THE DISTANCE BT MSS. R. B. IDIOM. The sky, that wraps so lovingly Her azure mantle, soft and fair, About the rough and sullen rocks, VVhloh lift their foreheads stern and bare, Turns, when you gain the toilsome height, To chilling draughts of common air. A rainbow spanned the weeping sky Right royally, one summer day; Childlike, I sought the slender pine, Within whose tassel:d boughs it lay: When, 10l Sts arching gorgeousness Sprang ilgh'ly o’er the far off bay! This morning, when my eager eye* Peered through the frosted window-par.*-, Lo! fairy hands had strewn withpearle The shrul sand grasses of the pialn; I grasped the glittering gems, to find Them only drops of frozen rain ! Ah, ever thus these mirage charms Obscure the good to-day may bear ; And men still vainly try to grasp What, in the distance, looks so fair: Like children catching in their play, Gay baubles, bursting into air! Shattered by the First Storm. A STORY FOR YOUNG MEN. AT the ripe age of'twenty one, handsome Harry Melville decided to go into bu siness on his own account. “Wait until you arc twenty-five,” said! Harry’s prudent father. “ And lose four years! ” returned Harry, I almost with indignation. “It is folly.” “And gain ten,” said old Mr. Melville, j “ The earlier a young man goes into busi- j ness, the oftener he has got to fail before| he grows wise t-nough and strong enough, for success. My advice is to wait until ; you are thirty. There will be ten chances j in your favor then to one in your favor now.” But Harry considered his father old fo gyisli and behind the times, and so let his prudent counsel go for naught. He had been three years in a jobbing house on Market street, and considered himself fully posted up in business matters, and quite equal to the common run of merchants. — Indeed, to hear Harry talk on matters of; trade was quite edifying; and an uninitiated listener would hardly fail to give him cred it for considerably more than was his due. Harry Melville had ten thousand dollars j left to him by an uncle. At twenty one, j the property came into his hands. It was I in the shape of State stocks, and readily convertible into money. Upon this sum he commenced business, in company with a young friend about his own age and about equally experienced. Teu thousand dollars in cash was some thing of a basis for credit; and, although j our young merchants expended twenty five; hundred dollars in fitting up their store,; they found no difficulty iu stocking it with more than all the goods they needed. The times were propitious. Credit was cheap. Everybody bought and everybody | sold, with scarcely the formality of inquiry; as to the basis upon which confidence rest ed. Iu less than two years, Melville &j Morris were doing business at the fast rate of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars per annum, and making fabulous profits.—! To marry, and set up flashy, domestic es j tablishments, came as a natural result.—; Both the young partners committed thisi additional folly . To marry would have been well enough, if modest Prudence had smiled her quiet blessing on the rites. But, as it was, silly Pride and weak Ambition reigned triumphant. Old Mr. Melville shook his head, looked grave, and remonstrated in private with his son; but Harry grew impatient at the old gentleman’s narrow-thoughted interference, and finally requested him to cease the repe tition of language that was only felt as an annoyance, Of course, the father was hurt, | and did not go near his son again for some weeks. Asa peace-offering, Harry bought ; anew house, for which he paid down three thousand dollars in cash, and gave his notes 1 for the balance, four thousand. With the title deeds in his pocket, he called at the; modest paternal residence, Mr. Melville received his son kindly, vet not with the old cordiality, for one or two sentences, ut~ j tered during their last interview, stung him I severely, and the pain had not vet subsided. “ W hat are those 1 ” asked the elder Mr. ] Melville, as Harry laid upou a table, before! his father, the title papers of the new house, liead them,” was the smiling answer. With a half curious manner, Mr. Mel villa opened a broad parchment sheet. His eves glanced hurtled!) over the contents; but his face, instead of brightening, grew clouded. “Explain this, Harry," he said, looking up at his sou> “ Does it not explain itself, father ? ” - No.” “ You are scarcely two years in business, my son; and now* you propose to take from that business two thirds of your orig inal capital, and put it into a house for me.” “But we have made over fifty thousand dollars, and are actually coining money in jour business.” “ Profits on paper, at best,” answered the incorrigible old man. “But, my word for it, if the footing up is so large, there is a mistake in the figures somewhere. The thing I regard as simply impossible. You are dashing ahead at too desperate a speed, my son, as 1 have before declared; and just so sure as any disastrous change in the business world takes place, will you be hurled to swift destruction.” In anger, Harry parted with his father on that day. On the next, his bank offer ings were all thrown out. He called in surprise, upon the cashier, to ask the rea son. There was a stringency in the mar ket, an unusual demand for money ; depos itors were drawing out heavily, and the bank was restricting its loans. This was the comfort he received. He tried to bor row from accommodating neighbors; but everybody had been cut down or cut off at bank, and so everybody was “short.” A pulse of fear throbbed suddenly in the heart of Harry Melville. He took down sundry bank notices from a rack, and ascertained the amount w hich must be paid before three o’clock. The sum reached the uncomforta ble aggregate of fifteen thousand dollars; while the bank balance was below three thousand. So there were twelve thousand to raise. ATLANTA, GEORGIA, NOVEMBER 29, 1862. ’Mr. Melville shook his head to make his “no” still more emphatic. “ I have always looked forward to this time with a pleasure that words can hardly express,” said Harry, leaning towards his father, and speaking with a sudden warmth of manner. “These papers are simply the title deeds of a house, which is yours.— Take them, as some small return for all that I owe you, A son’s debt to a good father can never be wholly cancelled.” Mr. Melville was touched by this act, and softened by the manner of his son.— For almost a minute he sat with his gaze upon the floor. Then, looking up, he said, in a low voice that trembled with suppress ed feeling : “ My dear boy, it pains me deep ly to refuse what, in the generous impulse of your heart, is now so freely offered.— But this house is not yours to give, and, therefore, honor and right compel me to decline its acceptance.” “ Not mine to give? Father! what do you mean ? ” ‘ It belongs to your creditors, Harry.” “My creditors! Am 1, then, only a bankrupt in your eyes? Father, this is too much ! ” Young Melville considered himself great as a financier. His self-confidence over leaped all possibilities and impossibilities. But the time of trial and proof had come now. Credit and confidence are sensitive things. When banks restrict, private lend ers take the alarm ; and the price of money goes un to ruinous figures. So our young merchant found it. Melville’s financiering operations on that day were things for after remembrance. He has, probably, not for gotten them up to this time. At three o'clock his notes were all lifted, but at a sacrifice fearful to contemplate. After a glance at his bill-book for the next, day, Melvife started for his luxurious home, to meet his dainty, fashionable wife, in a state of mind bordering on to despair, for the next day’s payments were over twelve thousand dollars. He had seen and heard enough, during the day’s financial ex periments, to satisfy him that not one-half of that sum oould be raised ; and so a vague terror took the place of conceited self con fidence; and the frightened young mer chant, who had come in and gone out with such an elastic tread and proud bearing, entered bis home with ail his feathers drcoping. So quietly had he coine in that his waiting wife failed to hear the opening door and familiar step in the passage.— Wondering at her husband’s long stay be yond the usual hour, she came down stairs, under the influence of a restless feeling.— Entering the parlor, she started in sudden surprise and alarm, for there, reclining upon a lounge, was her handsome young hus band, his pale face the image of weak de spair. “ Oh, Harry, you are ill! ” she ex claimed, flying across the room and drop ping down upon the floor in front of the lounge. “ I am in trouble,” was his choking re piy “Oh, what has happened, Hurry ?” “ l don’t know,” he answered. “I am bewildered. Something has gone wrong in business. Oh, Flurry, t have passed thro’ a tearful day ! and there is no strength left in me.” What a change from the bold, business braggart of the das before! But Harry Melville was a mere dandy in trade. There w>s no muscle in the man, no reserved power, no elastic property. He had grown as a balloon grows, and, like a balloon, col lapsed at the first sharp puncture. V* hat could a mere summer blossom of a wife do to help a man in such an extrem ity i Nothing. She could weep, and wring iher hand*, and sob like a distressed actress. “his banner over” us is “love.” But she had no comforting suggestions, no brave words, no hopeful sentiments to offer. Did our young merchant, after a period of cool reflection, take heart again? Did he go out on the next morning, and nerve him self for another struggle with the difficul ties which had so suddenly closed around him? No! Busy memory,‘•through the remainder of that day and evening, sup plied him with data esc ugh to complete his overthrow as a man of nerve and action.— His boy ish partner came to see him, and tried to reinspirit him with brave words.— He was panic-stricken by the fearful aspect of things, and gave up without a struggle. On the next day the notes of the firm went to protest, An assignment followed ; and, at the settlement of affairs, the credit ors received a dividend of twenty cents in the dollar! Just twenty-three years of age was Har ry Melville, when he shrunk back from his advanced position in the business and social world, a bankrupt, his name a word of re proach or contempt on hundreds of lips, and sought a hiding-place with his helpless wife in the house of his father, whose pre dictions had been too speedily fulfilled. — His bark was shattered by the first storm. Take the lesson to heart, ye too eager young men. The story is scarcely an ex aggeration. Old Mr. Mellville was entirely right in his counsel to his son. A business commenced at twenty-one, or even as early as twenty-five, is almost certain to result in failure. The first thing a young man, who hopes to succeed in the world, needs to learn, is economy in his personal expen ditures. If, as a clerk, he spends his entire earnings, and trusts to get in business by virtue of credit, the chancss of failure are two to one against him. His habits of mind will tempt him to almost certain de struction. Passages in the Life of an Old Georgia Preacher*. NUMBER IV. My way being somewhat hedged in, I concluded to have a monthly appointment at a country school-house, which was sur rounded with anti-Missionaries and Univer salists, who were of course my opponents. I had, as sympathizers, only one brother and two sisters. Yet 1 was‘impressed to preach there —and so I went. The people came to hear, out of curiosity. Under my first sermon the most prominent and popu lar young lady in the whole region was deeply impressed. The second visit l made, she was converted while I was engaged in prayer. Her mother was a Christian, 'but her father, an influential man, was a violent opposer and a most profane, wicked mor tal. Soon after the conversion of this young lady, as was my custom, I spent a day in the neighborhood before preaching, visiting from house to house, exhorting the people and praying with them, ft was thought her father would repulse me; but I was kindly received—prayed with his family, and urged the claims of religion upon him personally. Ilis daughter, with many others, was soon baptized, a church constituted, the father converted—who, subsequently, became an eminently useful man—and the whole settlement revolution ized. The church is still in existence, a de voted and pious band. 1 cannot too highly recommend to young ministers the practice of family visitation and prayer. It affords opportunities for doing good, such as can not be enjoyed otherwise. 1 regret to be lieve it has g >ne too much into disuse in these days. Before the Christian Index was removed to this State, there were very few Baptists who took any religious paper, or who were in the habit of reading either religious tracts or books. To remedy this deficiency as much as possible, 1 was diligent in gather ing up all the papers and tracts that 1 could, and distributing them in the following man ner : I would make them up into neat and small packages, as if they were important documents, and take along a supply, as I travelled, in my saddle-hags. These packa ges were dropped so as to attract the atten tion of travellers, who were sure to pick them up and apt to read them. Sometimes in passing a house, they were left at the gate or thrown over into the yard, and it was rare that l passed a grog shop without leaving temperance tracts or papers, where they might be found by those who frequent them. The “ seed thus sown beside all wa ters” produced fruit after a time. It whs my custom, on election and court days, to fill a box with such reading, and having la belled it, “ Take one,” set it in reach of the crowd, I have often had the satisfaction to see fifteen or twenty men standing around my box, reading. And iu this wav I haw scattered thousands of tracts and religious papers, by which means ! have known drunkards reclaimed, and sinners turned unto the Lord. If, brethren Editors, any of your readers shall gather a hint from this, which will promote their diligence in the Master’s cause, 1 shall have accomplish ed my object in giving this part of ray his tory. Service like this may be performed by hymen as well as ministers—by Chris tian uwne* as well as Christian men. At an early period of lifs I became oon vineed of the danger of using intoxicating liquors, and adopted the first temperance pledge I ever saw. Of course I was pre pared to become an enthusiastic advocate of the Temperance Reformation, which be gan to attract public notice between 1825 and 1830. My ardent and impetuous na ture sometimes carried me to imprudent lengths iu the advocacy of this good cause. 'My policy was to ask no quarter, and to give none. 1 could riot have expected any thing else than the most violent opposition from those who were not prepared for the change. My life was frequently threaten ed, and I have no doubt was frequently in peril. Once my person was assaulted, and on different occasions 1 was subjected to abuse and insults on the highway. Yet my faith never failed and the Lord deliv ered me out of the hands of all my ene mies. I have been a strong advocate of a Prohibitory Law, (like the Maine Law,) but have lived to doubt the wisdom of such a measure. Indeed, I have now but little confidence in any reformation, which is not brought about through the agency of the church. It seems as if in this matter, as in others, “ God will not give Ilis glory to another.” “[f the truth ( His truth) shall make men free” from drunkeuness, “they shall be free indeed.” And not till then, I fear, will they be free. Starting life with a slender education, and a constitution predisposed to disease, my prospects were anything else than flat tering. I have learned by experience, how ever, that a man may improve the latter as well as the former. Preachers, or all public men, are exposed to temptations to excessive labor—especially to the use of the voice after it has become husky and shattered by continuous effort. Against this practioe I would warn my young breth ren. It is absolutely suicidal. I came near losing my life by such imprudences, in one tour of preaching, some twenty five years ago. And I then resolved that I would never again speak with a cracked voice. I have adhered strictly to that resolution, the consequence of which is that my general health has greatly improved, and especially my lungs. For years I have preached to large audiences, almost daily, with compar ative ease, and have already lived many years longer than 1 had expected. Warn ed of my end, not far distant, I would say something that may be profitable to the living after I shall have been gathered unto my fathers. Harrison. Table Talk. The table talk of some eminent persons, as Coleridge and Rogers, has been consid ered worthy of being published, and sent down to posterity. Nor w'as it false judg merit, that decided to put these unstudied thoughts in print. Whoever, reads them will find that they are, in some respects, more deeply interesting for their extempo raneous character. Yet such table-talk as we read in books is far less important to fam i lies than that w bieh is not recorded on the printed page. Around every family board there is heard conversation each day, that exerts a silent but moulding influence upon the parent. Dr. Franklin’s father was so confident of this that be studied to lead the conversation at the table to subjects of im portance. Dr. Franklin said of the prac-! tice of his father: “At his table he liked; to have, as often as he could, some sensible ! neighbor or friend to converse with, and always took care to start some ingenious; or useful topic for discourse, which might tend to improve the minds of his children. By this means he turned our attention to] what was good, just and prudent, in the conduct of life; and little or no notice was ever taken of what related to the victuals' on the table: whether it was well or ill-: dressed, in or out of season, of good or bad j flavor, preferable or inferior to this or that; thihg of the kind; so that I was brought! up in such a perfect inattention to these! matters as to be quite indifferent what kind j of food was set before me. Indeed, I am I so unobservant of it, that to this day I can; scarcely tell, a few hours after dinner, of what dishes it consisted. This has been a great convenience to me in travelling, where my companions have been sometimes; very unhappy for the want of a suitable gratification of their more delicate, because, better instructed, tastes and appetites.” It is worth while, then, to examine this, subject of table talk as an element of early | culture at the fireside. Whether parents allow their children to talk at the table or! not, it is equally important that the con- j vernation to which they listen be instruc-: tive and elevating. They sit at the liable! not far from an hour each day, which is! three hundred and sixty-five hours a year, or thirty days of twelve hours each. One month every year spent at the table! And much of this time conversation is carried on and young ears open to every word ! Is it strange that there is a moulding influ ence in this way of exchanging thought*? Four weeks of schooling twelve hours each; day, or eight weeks of six hours each day,: is opportunity to make considerable ad-‘ v&ncement. \et parent* are talking more thoughts into their children, in a given. time, than a teacher cau. We ask, is it; strange that character should be moulded at the table ? TERMS —Three Dollars a-year. The Christian's Balance Sheet. “ For I reckon that the sufferings of the present time are not worthy to be com pared y|ith the glory which shall be reveal ed in us.”—Romans viii: 18. . How frequently we dwell on present tri als and sufferings, rather than on “ the glo ry which shall be revealed in us;” w r e think more of the “ light affliction which is but for a moment,” than of the “ eternal weight of glory,” which is in reserve for us. Paul was a man who knew how to work experimentally on suffering and trial; per haps no one ever endured so great a varie ty of suffering as he did, and no mortal ev er had such manifestations of the Divine glory. I never think on the above text but 1 imagine a sort of spiritual balance-sheet laid before the tried and afflicted Christians, drawn up by one who is fully competent, under Divine influence, to give such a de tail of losses and gains, and of riches in actual reversion, as will not fail to cheer him amidst the trials and vicissitudes of which he is the subject, if he will but calm ly, prayerfully, and in faith consider this statement, relying on the faithfulness of that God who influenced the apostle to draw it up for the consolation of the children of God. Let us now take a glance at the bal ance-sheet, in the hope that we also may arrive at the same conclusion as did the Apostle Paul. Dr. “the sufferings of the present time.” In labors more abundant. In stripes above measure. In prisons more frequent. In deaths oft. Forty times received I forty stripes, save one. Thrice was 1 beaten with rods. Once was I stoned. Thrice I have suffered shipwreck. A night and day I have been in the deep. In journeys often. In perils of robbers. In perils by my own countrymen. In perils by the heathen. In perils in the city. In perils in the wilderness. In perils in the sea. In perils among false brethren. In weariness and painfulness. In watchfulness often. In hunger and thirst. In fastings often. In cold and nakedness. Besides those things which are without, that which cometh upon me daily, the care of all the churches. Total, “ Light afflictions, but for a moment.” Cr. “ THE GI.OKY TO BE REVEALED IN PS.” For we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God ; an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered Into the heart of man, the things that God hath prepared for them that love Him. That He might make known the riches of His glory on the vessels of mercy which He hath prepared unto glory. Henceforth, there is laid up for me a crown of which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at that day; and not to me only, but unto all them also that love His appearing. When Christ, who is our life, shail appear, then shall wo also appear wth Hirh in glory. And so shall be ever with the Lord. Total “An eternal weight of glory.” The Apostle Paul having carefully ex amined the foregoing account, deliberately makes the following declaration: “I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” [ The Christian Helper . In Season. —My preparations for the Sabbath have been habitually, almost al ways, and uniformly made in season, never, to my recollection, except in two instances, deferred to the last day of the w eek ; nor do I know any better way of gaining time, labor, knowledge am] health than such an arrangement. \l)r. Spring. If you have unreservedly given yourself to Christ, you have no reason to doubt that Christ gave Himself for you. Defer not thy charities till death, for cer tainly, if a man weigh it rightly,, he that doeth so is rather liberal of another man’s than his own. Nothing betrays so much weakness of understanding, as not to perceive the mise ry of man without God. Nothing is a su rer token of extreme baseness of spirit, than not to wish for'the reality of eternal promises, NO. 4.