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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.