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THE BAPTIST BANNER
BY JAS. N. ELLS & CO.
VOL. IV.
@lw gnpifot giniw,
DEVOTED TO RELIGION AND LITERATURE,
Is published every Saturday, at Atlanta, Georgia, at the
.subscription price of three dollars per year.
1 JAMES N. ELLS 4 CO.,
Proprietors.
Jas. N. Ells. S. D. Niles. A. K. Seago.
Steam Press of Franklin Printing House—J. J. Toon & Co.
[For The, Baptist Banner.}
C'tiaplains--TTlieir Delinquencies and
Discouragements.
JU
[continued.]
Brother Hdilor:
Another and a third source of discour
agement to some Chaplains is found in ir
religious commanders. Os these there are
three classes. One class, though not ex
perimental Christians, and therefore irreli
gious, yet really are inclined to assist, by
their authority and example, the chaplain
in his arduous work. Os course this class
is not obnoxious to the charge mentioned.
Another class hate religion and the Chap
lain, and prefer to have nothing about them
that will, in any way, rebuke them fortheir
wickedness. “They love darkness rather
than light because their deeds are evil.”—
Neither will they come to the light, if they
can help it, lest their deeds should be re
proved. Few, if any, will openly avow
their hostility, yet their vyliolc conduct con
victs them beyond successful contradiction.
They can, and often do, issue their or
ders in regard to drill, review, inspection,
policing the camp, pulling down and re
pitching the tents, and removing from one
camping ground to another, so as to coun
teract and ellectully frustrate many of the
chaplain’s plans for public preaching, espe
cially on the Sabbath. It is a mourn
ful, humiliating, painful truth that war
knows no Sabbath. An army custom makes
it the day for inspection ; and by this more
than by any other army movement, are the
men reminded of the approach or presence
of that holy day. vain does God say to
men in the army, as well as to men every
where else, “liemember the Sabbath day to
keep it holy.” In vain has Christ taught
that only works of necessity and mercy may
be performed on that day. Men clothed
with human authority, by their actions,say
to the Ruler of the universe wc not,
and to men under them you shall not, obey
this Divine law. This 's a crying evil for
which the people of the land are, in a small
degree, responsible. As yet, no measure
has been eonsumated, which will relieve the
people from the guilt of this army sin. It
is to be hoped that the late movementamong
Christians of different names will be so con
ducted as to throw off the guilt of this sin
from the people of the land, and at the
same time stop the abuse among officials.
A third class of officials embarrass the
chaplain by indifference and neglect. They
do not oppose,donot intentionally throw ob
stacles in his way. They don’t care any thing
about him or his work. They afford no fa
cilities, do not lend their authority, in any
way, or their example to his assistance.—
He may get along as best he can. .1 hey
have no objection to his succeeding, and
don’t care if he fails in his work. They are
seldom or never seen in attendance of the
services, seeming to think that the chap
lain and his work are intended solely for
the men and not for themselves as well.
it is difficult to decide that this class of
commanders allord any less embarrassment
and discouragement to the chaplain than the
actual opposer. Few things are more
withering and effective for hindrance or de
struction to any cause than cold indifference
and neglect. Such officers may not so in
tend. may not think about the matter at
all. but their example has a powerful influ
ence on their subordinate officers and men,
and the repetition of their example by offi .
cers of lower grade, seconds, multiplies and j
strengthens the effect upon the privates.—
For if the officers think that the chaplain
and religion are matters only for privates,
the latter fqpl that, that which is unworthy
of the attention of their commanders is
useless to them. The chaplain sees and
understands all this, and perhaps sinks un
der its weight but holds his peace. He eith
er yields to an influence which he feels he
is unable to contend with, and works indif
ferently and without h n art, or resigns his
office and seeks another field of labor.
More anon. Respect fully, Ac..
Observer.
——
A Request.
One of the best colporters in this city
came to me today, saying that in the hos
pitals which he visits are many Georgians,l
and that almost every day he is inquired!
of by some of them whether it “ is possi
ble to get a paper from Georgia,” and fre-i
quently they ask for a copy of the (Aris
tmn Index or of The Banner <(* Baptist.—
“ Now 1 wish you,” said the colporter, “to
w rite to the editors of those papers, and
request them, if they can possibly do so. to
send me p'r'ty copies every week ot each
paper.” !
This is more than the editors can well do
without aid. \\ ho will aid them ’ broth-j
er llornady, can’t you and the patrons of
vour paper send on the fifty copies' to the
;..l| Jtet 1 X. E. D.
Richmond. \ a., Dec. 2, 1862.
A AW® MKSSaABX OWim.
ATLANTA, GEORGIA, DECEMBER 13, 1862.
THE SISTERS.
A TALE OF THE SIEGE OF JERUSALEM.
ONE morning in the month of March,
A. D. 70, a young girl, clad in a long
robe of white linen, and followed by a sin
gle female attendant, was crossing on foot
the fertile plain between Ramoth and Jeri
moth, which is sheltered on the north by
Mount Gilboa. Her face was concealed by
the folds of an ample veil, and she walked
along with an air of doubt and timidity.—
After some time she paused within sight of
a dwelling, whose flat roof was shaded by
the foliage of two fine olive trees; thatched
sheepfolds bounded in a semicircle a wide
court, in whose midst a deep cistern con
tained an abundant supply of clear water.
At one side a green, sloping bank, shadow
ed by a sycamore, invited the traveller to
repose ; while on the other was a rich pros
pect of cultivated fields, verdant meadows,
and flowery orchards watered by limpid
streams.
As the stranger and her follower paused
before the door, a sweet sound of young
voices, singing, met their ears. The young
girl turned towards her attendant, who said :
“ It is the morning song of the daughters
of Sion ; while your mother lived, 1 often
heard it sung in your father’s tent.”
The stranger sighed, and was silent.—
Presently the gates opened, and the scene
became ful lof life. The fields were cover
ed with white heifers, with milch cows,
with sheep and lambs; while the courts
were filled with servants, who passed and
repassed, some to milk the cows, some to
carry back the vessels filled with the rich
milk. Others watered the flowers, already
parched by the burning sun ; while of the
remainder, some gathered fruits in the or
chard, and others carried baskets of linen to
be washed in the stream.
In a few minutes a beautiful girl of sis
teen, dressed with all the luxury and ele
gance of a noble daughter of J udah, bounded
out of the house and across the court, appa
rently intent on rivalling the speed of the
graceful gazelle which followed her. Per
ceiving the stranger, she approached her,
and said, with a beaming smile :
“Maiden, whoever thou art, come under
the roof of Eleazar my father. TTe and
Abigail, my mother, are both from home,
but I will try to supply their places in en
tertaining thee.”
Raising her veil, the traveller displayed
features of no common beauty ; and, ex
tending her arms, she cried, “ My sister !”
“ Sister I ” repeated tire daughter of Abi
gail, with surprise.
“ Yes, Berenice. Art thou ignorant of
our father’s former marriage and my birth?”
“ I have heard, indeed, of my father’s first
wife; but I knew not t hat she had a daugh
ter.”
“ Yes ; and 1 am that daughter ! ”
“Ah, my sister 1 ” cried Berenice, em
bracing her, “ come with me into our —.
into thy house.”
“ No ! ” replied the maiden, in a mourn
ful voice; “the daughter of Marcia and
Eleazar may not enter as a stranger be
neath her father’s roof. But come, my
sister, sit down next me on this bank, and
let me speak to thee of tilings concerning
the safety of thine, of mine, and of the
doomed Jerusalem.”
At a sign from Berenice, the servants
hastened to bring milk, fruit and cakes,
which they placed before the sisters, and
then withdrew.
Paulina, for such was the traveller’s
name, having cooled her burning lips with
a refreshing draught of milk, took her sis
ter’s hand, and said :
“ Marcia, my mother, was the sister of
Arricidia, both daughters of Tertullus, a
Roman prefect. Arricidia married Titus
Sabinus Vespasianus, now emperor of
| Rome, and whose innumerable army is en
camped to-day around the Holy City.—
Marcia married Eleazar, the son of Simeon,
one of the chief men of Judah. Shortly
before my birth, my mother became a con
vert to Christianity, through the preaching
of Paul, the apostle of Jesus Christ. My
father, in wrath, sent her from him, divorced
her, and, two years afterwards, married thy
mother. Mine is now dead ; and Titffs,
my unde, has adopted me, and loves me
as a father. To-day, while on the point of
reducing Jerusalem to ashes, he has yielded
to my tears and prayers, and allowed me
to come and rescue thee, thy mother, and
our father, who has never yet called me his
child.”
As she spoke, her young listener’s dieeks
grew very pale. “God of Israel ! ” cried
she, clasping her hands, “ bring back my
’sister to the faith of her fathers! ”
“ God ot the Christians !” said Paulina,
I raising Ker eyes towards heaven, “ vouch
safe to lead my sister, and all who are dear
to her, into the knowledge of Thyself, and
of Thy Son Jesus Christ ! ”
At that momenta cloud of dust appeared
in the distance, and presently the mother
of Berenice approached, riding on a camel.
The young Christian veiled her face, while
her companion ran forward to embrace her
mother. Abigail descended, and. as she
folded her daughter in her arms, said,
weeping,
“Dear child, we can no longer sojourn
'in our peaceful home; the armies of the
HIS BANNER OVER US IS LOVE.
usurper are advancing, and Jerusalem is the
only refuge that remains. Come, let us
prepare to set out.”
“ First, my mother,” said Berenice, ta
king Paulina by the hand and gently lead
ing her forward, “ suffer me to present to
thee my sister, the daughter of my father
and of Marcia.”
“ She is welcome,” said the kind matron;
“ I will be to her even as a mother. But if
she be a Christian, how shall I present her
to my husband?”
“ If it seem good in thine eyes,” said Pau
lina, “ name me to him at first simply as a
guest; then I may see my father’s eye look
on me without anger, and so, if God will, I
may find favor in his sight.”
“ Let us then all set out together,” re
plied Abigail; “my husband expects us to
night to eat with him the passover.”
“ Alas ! ” sighed Berenice, “ I would ra
ther eat it in our quiet, country home, than
beneath the lofty roof o.f the palace of our
fathers.”
“My daughter,” said Abigail, “ thy fa
ther hath commanded—we must obey.”
It was not yet midday when Abigail, the
two maidens, and their attendants, each
mounted on a came], quitted the valley of
Ramoth ; and they made such good speed
that ere sunset they approached Jerusalem.
At its first distant view, Abigail exclaimed,
“Jerusalem is no longer a city of holiness
and of peace, whose prosperity testified to
the nations around that the Lord himself
had chosen her. A. fierce enemy lies out
side her gates, and three factions divide her
councils within. Thou seest the tower of
Phazeal, built by Herod in memory of his
brother; that is the dwelling of Simon,
who governs the district inclosed by the
wall of David. John, of Giscala, is master
of Aphlon, and the environs of the temple;
thy father commands the remainder of the
holy city. Now the impending danger
which threatens us all has swallowed up the
memory of minor dissensions, and the three
chieftains have rallied their forces to op
pose the common foe.”
A few steps further, and the Holy City
lay spread before their eyes like a gorgeous
panorama. There was the Temple, with
its thousand pillars of white marble, and
its roof covered with sharp gilded arrows,
to prevent the birds from settling on it.—
The multitude of stately towers, fair white
porticos, and ample roofs, bespoke the
richesand beauty of Jerusalem.
The travellers entered the gate, and
turned their steps towards the palace of
Eleazar. That stately chieftain came out
to meet them, and the two young girls bent
the knee before him. He blessed Berenice,
raised her, and embraced her tenderly.—
Then, turning towards the young Christian,
he said, “ Maiden, who art thou? ”
“ Oh, my father,” sobbed Paulina, “turn
not away from the daughter of Marcia ! ”
Accustomed to control his feelings, the
fine countenance of Eleazar underwent no
change ; it preserved the expression of calm
dignity befitting a judge and a father in
Israel. “ Rise, daughter of Marcia,” he
said, “ and explain thine errand.”
“It concerns the interest of Judea, and
your own safety,” said Paulina, looking at
her relatives.
“ Then,” replied Eleazar, who was the
high priest, “follow me to the Temple,
where the feast of the passover is to be
celebrated.”
At these words Paulina involuntarily
drew back, but a thought of her filial duty
reassured her, and she followed Eleazar in
to the outer court of the Temple, where
was an imposing assemblage of priests,
pharisees, and doctors of the law.
“ My father,” said the girl, in a trembling
voice, “ suffer me to speak a word in thine
eur. Jerusalem is standing to-day ; to
morrow its walls will be razed to the ground
if you do not at once accept the proposal
of Titus, who oilers you peace.”
A loud shout overpowered voice.—
Some of the young warriors present, flush
ed with a partial victory which they had
gained over a Roman legion, cried, “ No
peace with the Romans ! Let our soil be
steeped in their heathen blood!”
“ Sons of Israel,” exclaimed Eleazar,
“ our enemies fight to destroy, and we to
save ! God is with us ! David, son of my
brother Saul,” he continued, turning to a
young pharisee, “ conduct this damsel to
the women's apartments.”
Notwithstanding her anxiety, Paulina
dared not again address her father ; so, cov
ering her face with her veil, she followed
her cousin to the house. He led her to the
door of Abigail's chamber, and when Pau
lina entered, she found the matron in tears,
embracing her daughter Berenice.
“ Well,” said they, “ what tidings ? ”
“The blindness of the people is marvel
lous,” replied Paulina; “but though lean
not save them all, let me at least rescue ye
and my father.”
“Alas’” replied Berenice, “my father
even now is preparing for my marriage, riot
considering that war may soon make me a
widow.”
“ David, the son of Saul, is not a warrior,
my daughter,” replied Abigail; “and thy
father's intention is a fresh proof of his ten
der solicitude for thy’ welfare. In the event
ot his own death, he provides 'thee with a
guide and a protector. The son of Saul in-
; habits the fertile fields near the banks of
Jordan, and after the passover thy friends
will conduct thee thither.”
Bbfore Berenice could speak, the loud
sound of the sacred trumpet was heard in
Jerusalem. Abigail took her daughter by
the hand, and led her towards the Temple.
Paulina, at her own request, remained at
home.
The foundations of the Temple were pro
tected by. mounds, which the Jewish prin
ces, especially Herod the Great and Agrip
pa, had raised by degrees. Berenice, whose
childhood had passed in strict seclusion,
was forcibly struck by the glories of the
Holy City ; and when they reached the hal
lowed precints of the Temple, gazed
with wonder at the gold covered gates, and
the rich ornamental.tracery executed in the
same precious metal. Behind the taberna
cle a veil of white linen, mingled with pur
ple and azure, shadowed the sacred light of
the seven-branched candlestick ; the odorif
erous clouds of incense—the groans of the
victims falling beneath the’sacrificing knife 1
—the deep-toned voices of men, mingled .
with the sweet notes of the children in the
choir—-the priests clothed in fine linen and
gold, with Eleazar in their midst, wearing .
his high priest’s robes sparkling with pre
cious stones—all this splendor dazzled the
young girl. She thought of her sister, ab
sent from this holy place—her sister whom
she had known but a few hours, and for
whom she now prayed fervently. Berenice
knew not that Paulina, with equal earnest
ness and a more enlightened faith, was at
the same moment praying for her.
Eleazar had returned to his home before
his wife and daughter, and when they reach
ed it, they were summoned to his presence.
He had taken oft' his priestly habiliments,
and replaced them by a warrior’s costume.
Paulina knelt before him, weeping bitterly,
while he turned his face away from hers
with an expression of indignant sorrow.
“ Abigail,” said he, as his wife entered,
“ when the daughter of Marcia sought our ,
dwelling, 1 thought we had obtained anoth- ,
er daughter to love. The God of Israel
has ordered otherwise—His holy will be
done ! This maiden, unworthy of her God
and of her father, has outraged both. She
has come, not to share our fate beneath the
ruins of Jerusalem, but to draw us away
from it—and that in order to introduce
amongst us the heresies of a new religion,
whose founder was, by the order of Pontius
Pilate, governor of the Jews, crucified and
slain. It becomes inc not to enter into
controversy with a woman—let her learn
obedience. But that I should not, O my
wife, needlessly risk the safety of those
who are dear to me, David, the son of
Saul, shall, to-morrow, espouse Berenice,
and then he will conduct you, her, and the
daughter of Marcia, back to our peaceful
retreat.” Having so said, Eleazar left the
three women, and went to preside in the
assembly of the elders of the people, and
deliberate on the measures to be taken in
the present emergency.
The next day, at the hour when the Le
vites offer the perpetual sacrifice to the
Lord, the bridegroom, accompanied by .
several young men, and clothed in his nup
tial robes, repaired to the dwelling of Elea
zar. The bride delayed long, but at length
she appeared, conducted by her mother,
and followed by a numerous train of young
virgins clothed in white. Berenice wore a
long robe embroidered with gold, and a i
tunic of pale yellow silk fringed with pur
ple. A girdle of the latter color encircled
her slender waist, and a veil of dazzling I
whiteness, fastened on her head by a circlet
of jewels, floated lightly around her grace
ful figure. The bride and her companions *
paused in the great hall, opposite the bride
groom and his companions. Berenice then
advanced towards her father, and knelt be
fore him. Eleazar blessed her solemnly,
placing both his hands on her head ; then
raising her, and taking her hand, he placed
it in that of David.
“My daughter,” said he, “ behold thy
husband ! Be to him what the vine is to
the elm ; let him find in thee the faithful
ness of Sarah, the tenderness of Rachel, the
fruitfulness of Leah, and the wisdom of
Rebecca.”
“Daughter of Eleazar,” said David, as
he gently pressed the hand of his young
bride, “ in after years it shall pass into a
proverb in Israel— ‘ Beloved as Berenice !’ ” j
Then the marriage song began ; the harps
and the cxmbals mingled their sounds with
the rich sweet tones of the choral voices.— ,
A sumptuous display of the splendid pres-J
ents bestowed by the chief priest on his
daughter’s husband succeeded to the con
cert. Afterwards, preceded by the young’
men and maidens, bearing branches of my r-,
tie and palm, David and Berenice entered
the banquet-hall. There the abundance ofc
the Hebrews was united to the luxury of
I the Romans. Rich draperies, heavy with
I purple and gold, shadowed the downy per
, fumed couches prepared for the guests.—
Delicious wines sparkled in cups of gold ;
1 while on the tables roasted sheep and oxen
i were mingled with the delicate dainties of
| Greece and Rome. The bird of Lamas, the
gazelle ofShenir, appeared, with game from
Sicily, and fish from the Iberian Sea; while
. the dates of Africa were mingled with the
golden apples of Persia, and the luscious 1
TERMS — Three Dollars a-year-
fruits of Cyprus with the varied confection
ery of Italy.
Suddenly a clarion sounded, and an at
tendant entered to announce that a mes
senger from Titus waited withqut the gate.
“ Let him enter,” said Eleazar.
Covered with dust, and a dress disorder
ed by hard riding, a stalwart Roman came
in. He raised his casque, and said :
“ Listen, O Eleazar! hearken to my
words, and despise them not. Titus, de
ploring the calamities which his vengeance
will bring on thy country, holds in his
clemency the sword still suspended, and
offers thee pardon and peace. Nothing
shall be added to the required tribute, and
he gives thy citizens three days to pay it.”
“ Are the fortresses of Jerusalem burned
down, and her defenders in the tomb, that
thy master should thus address us, young
madman ? ” replied Eleazar.
“ Chief of Israel,” said the Roman, in a
loud voice, “ here is my olive branch.—
Before I break it, think of thy city, of its
Temple, of thy people, of thy family, and
of thy daughter, whose days of wedlock
will else be early ended.”
“ 1 think but of conquering tyrants ! ”
exclaimed Eleazar.
“ Well! ” replied the ambassador, as he
broke the branch and cast it from him,
“ thou askest war, and thou shaft have it
—fierce, bloody, and exterminating.”
A shout of rage burst simultaneously
from the young liebrews present. Bere
nice arose, pale and trembling. “My
father,” said she, “ give this Roman a safe
conduct; else our people will tear him to
pieces.”
“ Spouse of David, I cannot refuse thy
first request,” replied Eleazar. “ Let thy
brother-in-law Daniel conduct this young
lunatic through the camp.”
Hurriedly the guests quitted the hall ;
their joyous bridal songs now changed into
sounds of war. The young men dropped
their festal garments, and donned their
armor ; each hand threw away its flowers
and grasped a sword. Meantime, prepara
tions were making in the plain ; palisades
were raised, trenehes dug, and fortifications
strengthened. While the soldiers flocked
to the ramparts, Eleazar took leave of his
wife and two daughters, and giving them
in charge to David, said : “ To-morrow at
daybreak you will set out; take the women
and conduct them in safety to your tranquil
home. If the God of Israel has willed the
destruction of His people, and the death of
its chiefs, you will protect these helpless
ones.”
As soon as the morning dawned,"Abigail,
Berenice, and Paulina entered a covered
litter, and, escorted by David and a mount
ed party of servants, took the road that .
leads from Jerusalem towards the south.—
When they reached the summit of the first
hill, they beheld the Roman camp extend
ed before their eyes. Abigail, seeing the
number and martial order of the legions,
wept and said :
_ “ The hand of the Lord is heavy on llis
people! Oh, God of Israel!* shall Thy
chosen city Be indeed cast down to the
ground ? ”
f< What signifies the destruction of the
earthly temple, O my mother,” said Pauli
na, gently, “ if on its ruins our Lord shall
build His spiritual church ? ”
“ Child, thou art a Christian,” replied
Abigail, “and canst not comprehend the
sorrows of a Jew.”
“ But may I not seek to assuage them
by pointing to the comfort which cometh
from above ? ” . < *
“ What comfort canst thou give to those
who lose all ? ”
» “ Dear friends,” said the young girl,
while her eyes filled with tears and her
voice grew tremulous from strong emotion,
“ would that you might receive comfort
where alone it is to be found, even by be- >
lieving on Him who hath sent his Son to
die ior our sins, and who hath borne our
griefs, and carried our sorrows.”
“ Cease,’maiden,” replied Abigail, in a
tone of unwonted severity ; “ cease to pol
lute the ears of thy young sister by allu
sions to the heresy which thou hast unhap
pily embraced. I, who would fain be as a
mother to thee, now command thy silence.”
Humbly and meekly Paulina obeyed,
but she ceased not to pray earnestly, in
her inmost soul, for the spiritual enlight
enment and temporal safety of those who
were near and dear to her.
After the little cavalcade had journeyed
some miles, and by the sepulchre of
' Rachel, the heat became oppressive; and
David, approaching the litter, invited his
i companions to alight and take some repose.
The place he had chosen was a delicious
spot of verdue, sheltered by lofty rocks
whose crests were crowned with olive trees,
and where the dear waters of a fountain re
freshed the weary traveller, and nourished
the gay flowers that grew around.
On this soft, natural carpet the servants
spread out a repast of bread, meat and
fruit: David asked a blessing and they all
tried to eat ; but their hearts were too full
and heavy with a sense of impending woe
to allow them to relish food.
When they arose to resume their journey
the attendants were going to carry with them
the scarcely touched dishes: but David,
mindful of that precept of the law v hich
NO. 6.
