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THE BAPTIST BA!\XEH.
BY JAS. N. ELLS & CO.
VOL. IV.
Ste gawr,
DEVOTED TO RELIGION AND LITERATURE,
Is published every Saturday, at Atlanta, Georgia, at the
subscription price of three dollars per year.
JAMES N. ELLS 4 CO., j
Proprietori. j
Jas. N. Ells. S. D. Niles. A. K. Seago-
Prc Q ? Pphitlnr Hou* l * Jj T i £
GENile_haND.
1 did not hear the maiden’s name, but in
my thought I have ever since called her
“ Gentle Hand.” What a magic lay in her
touch! It was wonderful.
When and where, it matters not now to 1
relate—but once upon a time, as I was pass- 1
ing through a thinly-peopled district of '
country, night came down upon me almost
unawares. Being on foot, 1 could not gain
the village towards wh'ch my steps were
directed until a late hour; and I, therefore,
preferred seeking shelter ami a night’s en
tertainment at the first humble dwelling
that presented itself.
Dusky twilight was giving way to deeper
shadows, when I found myself in the vicin
ity of a dwelling, from the small uncurtained
windows of' which the light shone with a
pleasant promise of good cheer and comfort
The house stood within an enclosure, and a
short distance from the road along which 1 1
was moving with wearied feet. Turning '
aside, and passing through an ill hung gate,
I approached the dwelling. Slowly the gate
swung on its wooden hinges, and the rattle ‘
of its latch in closing did not disturb the 1
air until I had nearly reached the little
porch in from of the house, in which a slen- 1
der girl, who had noticed my entrance, '
stood waiting my arrival.
A deep, quick bark answered, almost
like an echo, the sound of the shutting gate,
and sudden as an apparition, the form of an
immense dog loomed in the door-wav. 1
was now near enough to see the savage as
pect of the animal and the gathering motion
of his body, as he prepared to bound for
ward upon me. Hia wolfish growl was re
ally tearful. At the instant he was about
to spring, a light hand was laid upon his
shaggx neck, and a low word spoken.
“ Don’t be afraid. He won’t, hurt you,”
said a voice that to me sounded very sweet
and musical.
1 now came forward, but in some doubt
as to the voung girl’s power over the beast,
on whose rough neck her almost ehddish
hand still lay. The dog did not seem by
anv means reconciled to my approach, and
growled wickedly his dissatisfaction.
“Go in. Tiger,” said the girl, not in a
voice ot authority. yet in her gentle tone
was the consciousness that she would be
obeyed, and, as she spoke, she lightly bore
upon the animal with her hand, and he
turned away and disappeared within the
dwelling.
\V ho’s that ? ” A rough vote® asked ths
ATLANTA, GEORGIA, JANUARY 24, 1863.
question, and a heavy-looking man took the 1
deg’s place in the door. 1
‘‘Who are you ? What’s wanted ? ’
There was something very harsh and for- 1
bidding in the way the man spoke. The i
girl now layed her hand upon his arm, and j
leaned with a gentle pressure against him. a
“ How far is it to G ? ” I asked, (
not deeming it best to say in the beginning
that I sought a resting place for the night, c
“T o G ! ” growled the man, but «
not so harshly as at first. “ It’s a good six <
miles from here.”
“ A long distance; and I’m a stranger, (
and on foot,” said I. “If you can make a
room for me until morning, I will be very t
thankful.” 1
I saw the little girl’s hand move quietly i
up his arm, until it rested on his shoulder, }
and now she leaned on him still closer. t
“ Come in. We’ll try what can be done t
for you.” 1
There was a change in the man’s voice i
that made me wonder. *
I entered a large room, in which a brisk t
fire blazed. Before the fire sat two stout t
lads, who turned upon me their heavy eyes
w ith no very welcome greeting. A mid- t
dle-aged woman was standing at a table, 1
and two children amusing themselves with
a kitten on the floor.
“ A stranger, mother,” said the man who f
who had given me so rude a greeting at the r
door, “ and he wants us to let him stay all
night.” \ f
The woman looked at me doubtingly for t
4 few moments, and then replied coldly— a
“We don’t keep a public house.” t
“ I am aware of that, ma’am,” said I, “but v
night has overtaken me, and it is a long <j
way yet to G .” t
“ Too far for a tired man to go on foot,”
said the master of the jhouse, kindly, “so a
it’s no use talking about it, mother —we f
must give him a bed.” > t
So unobtrusively that I scarcely noticed ]
the movement, the girl had drawn to the I
woman’s side. 'What she said to her I did a
not hear, for the* okief words were uttered r .
in a low voice; but 1 noticed that as she t
spoke, one small fair hand rested on the i
woman’s hand. Was 'there magic in that 1
gentle touch ? The woman’s repulsive as- 1
pect changed into one of kindly welcome,
as she said,
“ Yes, it’s a long way to G— ; 1 ’
guess we can find a place for him. Have t
you had any supper ? ” i
I answered in the negative. <
The woman, without further remark, drew !
a pine table from the wall, placed upon it <
some cold meat, fresh bread and butter, and I
a pitcher full of new milk. While these
preparations were going on, 1 had more <
leisure for minute observation. There was
a singular contrast between the young girl.il
1 have mentioned and the other inmates j
of the room; and yet 1 could trace astrong
likeness between the maiden and the wo- ;
man, whom I supposed to*be her mother, ■
browned and hard as were the features of
the latter. i
Soon after I had commenced eating my
supper, the two children who were playing
on the floor began quarrelling with each i
other.
“ John I go off to bed ! ” said their father, (
in a loud, peremptory tone of voice, speak- ;
ing to one of the children. i
But John, though he could not help hear
ing, did noVchoose to obey. <
“Do you hear me, sir ? Off with you,” i
repeated the angry father.
“ I don’t want to go,” whined the child, j
“ Go, I tell you, this minute.” <
Still there was not the slightest move- |
ment to obey, and the little fellow looked the
image of rebellion. At this crisis in the as- i
fair, when a storm semed inevitable, the
sister, as I supposed her to be, glided across 1
the room and took the boy’s hand in hers, t
Not a word was said ; but the young rebel ]
was instantly subdued. Rising, he passed <
out by her side, and I saw no more of him ,
during the evening, t
Soon after I had finished my supper, a |
neighbor came in, and it was not long be- <
fore he and the man of the house were in- t
volved in a warm political discussion, in j
which were very many more assertions i
than reasons. My host was not a very
clear-headed man, while his antagonist was f
wordy and specious. The former, as might j
be supposed, very naturally became exci- <
ted, and now and then indulged himself in ,
rather strong expressions towards his neigh- <
bor, who, in turn, dealt back wordy blows (
that were quite as heavy as he received and ,
a good deal more irritating.
And now 1 marked again the power of
that maiden s gentle hand. I did not notice
her movement to her father’s side. She
wai there when 1 first observed her, with
one hand laid upon his temple, and lightly
, smoothing the hair with a caressing motion,
i Gradually the high tone of the disputant
subsided, and his words had in them less of
| personal rancor.
Still the discussion went on, and 1 noticed
» the maiden's hand, which rested on the tem-
B pie when unimpassioned words were spoken,
? resumed its caressing motion the instant
p there was the smallest perceptible tone of
e anger in the father’s words. It was a beau
e titul sight, and 1 could but look on and won- s
der at the power ot that touch, so light and ,
e unobtrusive, yet possessing a spell over the'
HIS BANNER OVER US IS LOVE.
hearts of all around her. As she stood
there, she looked like an angel of peace,
sent there to still the turbulent waters of
human passion. Sadly out of place, I could
not but think her, amid the rough and rude;
yet who more than they, need the softening
and humanizing influence of one like the
Gentle Hand ?
Many times more, during that evening,
did I observe the magic power of her hand
and voice—the one gentle, yet potent as the
other.
On the next morning, breakfast being
over, 1 was preparing to take my departure,
when my host informed me that if I would
wait for half an hour, he would give me a
ride in his wagon co G , as business
required him to go there. I was very well
pleased to accept the invitation. In due
time the farmer’s wagon was driven into
the road before the house, and 1 was invited
to get in. 1 noticed the horse as a very
rough-looking Canadian pony, with a certain
air of stubborn endurance. As the farmer
took his seat by my side, the family came
to the door to see us off.
“ Dick I” said the farmer, in a peremp
tory voice, giving the rein a quick jerk as
he spoke.
But Dick moved not a step.
“ Dick ! you vagabond, get up I ” and the
farmer’s whip cracked sharply by the po
ny’s ears.
It availed not, however, this second ap
peal. Dick stood firmly disobedient. Next
the whip was brought down upon him with
an impatient hand, but the pony only reared
up a little. Fast and sharp the strokes
were next dealt, to the number of a half
dozen. The man might as well have beaten
the wagon, for all his end was gained.
A stout lad now came out into the road,
and catching Dick by the bridle, jerked him
forward, using, at the same time, the cus
tomary language on such occasions, but
Dick met his new ally with increased stub
bornness, planting his feet more firmly,
and at a sharper angle with the ground.—
The impatient boy now struck the pony on
the head with his clenched fist, and jerked
cruelly at his bridle. It availed nothing,
however ; Dick wasn’t to be wrought upon
by any such arguments.
“ Don’t do so, John.”
I turned my head as the maiden’s sweet
voice reached my ear. She .was passing
through the gate into the road, and the next
moment had taken hold of the lad and
drawn him away from the animal. No
strengt h was exerted in this ; she took hold
of his arm, and he obeyed as readily as if
he had no thought beyond her gratification.
And now that soft hand was gently laid
on the pony’s neck, and a single word spoken.
How instantly were the tense muscles re
ifaxed—how quickly the stubborn air van
ished !
“ Poor Dick ! ” said the maiden, while
she stroked his neck lightly, or patted it
softly with a child-like hand.
“ Now, go along, you provoking fellow,”
she a’dded, in a halt-chiding, yet affectionate
voice, as she drew up thd Bridle. The pony
turned towards her, and rubbed his head
against her arm for'an instant or two ; then
pricking up his ears, he started off at a light,
cheerful trot, and went on his way as freely
as if no silly crotche# had ever entered his
stubborn braiy.
“ What a wonderful power that hand pos
sesses said I? speaking to my companion,
as we rode away.
He looked at me a moment, as if my re
mark had occasioned surprise. Then a light
came into his countenance, and he said
briefly,
Every body and every
thing loves her.”
Was that, indeed, the secret of her power?
Was the quality of her soul perceived in
the impression of her hand, even by brute
beasts ? The father’s explanation was,
doubtless, the true one, yet have I ever since
wondered, and still do wonder, at the po
tency that lay in that maiden’s magic touch.
I have seen something of the same power
occasionally showing itself in the loving and
the good, but never to the extent as instanced
in her whom, for want of a better name, I
must still call “ Gentle Hand.”
A gentle touch, a soft word. Ah I how
few of us, when the will is strong with its
purpose, can believe in the power of agen
cies so comparatively insignificant. And
yet all the great influences effect all their
ends silently, unobtrusively, and with a
force that seems at first glance to be alto
gether inadequate. Is there not a lesson
for us in all this ?
Gems.
Light is but the shadow of God.
In all our choices this principle should
overrule us: That what is best for our
souls is best for us.
We judge of men's motives by their
actions; God judges of men’s actions by
their motives.
Unless a man is scrupulous in telling the
truth, he can not expect others to be scru
pulous in believing him.
i Riches are like nuts: many clothes are
torn in getting them, many teeth broken
jin cracking them, but never hungry appe-
I tite satisfied with eating them.
[For The Baptist Banner.}
The Banner over us.
While amid the roar of battle,
In the clamor and the strife;
Where the weapons clash and rattle,
Where the hero yields his life,
Proudly floats the flag of freedom,
There to catch the soldier’s eye;
Urging him to deeds of valor;
Urging him to do —or die I
See! another Banner o’er us,
Waving ’twixt the earth and sky,
Emblem of the love Christ bore us;
Emblem lifted up on high 1
Christian soldier ! ’tis your Leader
Calls to deeds of high emprise;
Fix upon that blood-dyed Banner, —
Fix on Him your eager eyes.
Would you nobly die for country ?
Break the bonds that gall you so ?
Free you from a hated tyrant ?
Free you from a mortal foe ?
Worse than earthly foes assail us,
Threaten us with endless death;
’Gainst their power what can avail us ?
’Gainst the powers of hell beneath!
Soldiers of the Cross, awaken 1
Wake to deeds of great renown;
’Till the throne of Sin is shaken ;
’Till the last foe is cast down.
In this cause, so great and holy,
If need be, your lives lay down:
Bear the Saviour’s banner onward;
Bear the cross and share His crown.
S.
[For the Baptist Banner.}
An Evening with the Past.
Fifty years, with their joys and sorrows,
have gone over my head, and they have left
lines of care on my brow and their white
footprints in my hair. This evening, those
fifty years have passed before me in solemn
procession, each buying the record of its
hour, and I sighed wfu n as I read what was
written in those books of the Fast. The
faces, too, of some whose memory I have
kept green through many years, came up
from their graves and smiled on me again.
There lies before me the portrait of a
lady young and fair. Thick masses of brown
hair shade the pale, sweet face; smiles
hover about the small mouth, and the dark
blue eyes are full of tenderness. The lady
was my mother, and this portrait was taken
shortly after her marriage. Beside it lies
another, taken a few months before her
death. In it the brown hair is thickly
sprinkled with gray ; but the same look
shines in the blue eyes, and the same smile
is on her lip.
Far back in the sunny days of childhood,
when I murmured my evening prayers at
her knee, I often wondered if the angels,
who watched by my pillow while I slept,
smiled more sweetly than she did; arffl
sometimes I saw them in my dreams, and
they had her eyes and smile. Many Springs
the grass has grown green, and violets
have-budded on her grave; but sometimes
I fancy she is bekide me —that I see her face
and hear her loving voice again.
I once had a sister —a blue-eyed, golden
haired fairy ; her name was Annie ; but
those who loved her —and they were many
—called her Sunbeam.
Our home, cradled in a lovely Valley
among the hills of Virginia, was very beau
tiful, and we were truly happy there. My
father's death was our first sorrow. It hap
pened forty years ago, but 1 remember the
scene as well as if it was but yesterday.—
He had been ill for several weeks, and my
sister and I had not been permitted to see
him that day. But in the evening, as we
were walking on the balcony, our nurse
cam« to us sobbing, and said our father
wished to see us. Silently we followed her
to his room. His bed had been placed near
the west window, and the sunset light fell
on his face, so white thin ; pale and
tearful, my mother bent over hipi, and eve
ry one in the room was weeping. He
clasped our hands in his and said:
“My dear children, I am goings to a far
country, and you will never see me on
earth again; but, some time, the angels
will take you there too, and we will be very
happy together. Henry, you must take
care of your mamma and sister until the
angels come for them; and my little Sun
beam will comfort her mamma and brother
when lam gone. Promise me you will
meet me in heaven.”
With many tears, we kissed his pale lips,
and promised. His hand groped in the air.
“ Wife, where are you?” he said feebly.
She placed her hand in his. “ Kiss me
again.” She pressed her lips to his; he
tried to put his arm around her, but it fell
down by his side, when my mother uttered
a cry, and sunk down on the floor. I heard
i some one say, “He is dead,” and then we
were taken from the room.
A few weeks after, my sister fell sick.
1 i At first, her illness was’not thought serious;
I but, as days passed by and she still grew
I weaker, sadness fell upon our household.
TERMS — Three Dollars a-year.
One morning, when my mother and I were
alone with her, she called us to her side
and said:
“ I wish to tell you of a pleasant dream
I had last night. I dreamed I was alone in
this room, when, suddenly, I heard a sweet
voice call me. I looked up, and saw two
angels hovering over me. They wore shi
ning robes and crowns of gold, just as you
say they do, mamma, and they beckoned
me to follow them. J hey bore me through
the air into a beautiful garden. Birds were
singing among the branches of the trees that
shaded the long walks, and lovely children,
robed in white, played among the flowers’
They came forward to welcome me, and as
they led me down one of the broad walks,
I saw papa coming toward me. He, too,
wore shining robes and a crown of gold;
his face was very beautiful, and he smiled
so sweetly when he saw me. I left the
other angels and ran forward to meet him ;
but just as his hands touched mine, I awoke.”
“It was a beautiful dream, my dear,”
said my mother, tenderly. I noticed her
cheek was paler than usual, and that day
she-did not once leave the sick room.
That evening, my sister went down to
the shores of the ‘ dark river ” —the shining
figures on the other side beckoned her
across. She smiled a loving smile to us,
and went—and they bore her away to the
Beautiful City.
Years rolled on, and I grew to manhood.
My mother, too, was changed,—silver
threads mingled with her brown locks, and
there were wrinkles on her once smooth
brow ; but my love and reverence for her
deepened as these imprints of Time’s fingers
increased. We were often separated, but
how precious the meeting after long ab
sence, when she would hold me to her
heart, and caress me as if I were still a child!
At length, I loved. The lady was very
lovely, with her golden-brown hair, and
eyes blue as the Summer sky. I opened
wide the doors of my heart and led my’.'*
idol within, and in its inner shrine I offered
up incense before her. But my idol was
only clay. A week before the time ap
pointed for our nuptials, I sat with my
mother in the old family parlor, talking of
•my betrothal; and she said in her low, mu
sieal she ran her fingers through
my hair with the old caressing motion, “ I
know love her dearly.” While she
was speaking, a letter bearing the familiar
post-mark, was handed me. I opened it
eagerly ; but my hrain whirled as I read
the few cold words, informing me that the
lady to whom 1 was engaged had pledged
her love to another before she met with
me, and ere I perused those lines, she would
be his bride. I read the letter through,
then dashing it upon the floor, went to my
chamber, where I remained all evening, re
fusing to admit any one. But late that
night, as I lay on my couch with mad
thoughts of self destruction rushing through
my mind, the door opened softly, and my
mother entered. She did not speak, but
approaching my bed-side, laid her cool
hands on my burning brow. I knew she
was weeping, but I lay perfectly quiet, and
she sat by my side, smoothing back my
hair caressingly, until I was soothed into
slumber. The next morning I was out
wardly calm ; but it was months before I
learned to forget.
A year after, I knelt by my mother’s
death ded. She placed her hand on my
head and murmured, “ May the blessing
of our Father in heaven rest upon thee, my '
son,” —her voice died to a low whisper;
she turned her dying eyes on me, and smiled; •
then a look of rapture broke over her face,
she raised her hands quickly—and my 1
mother was in heaven.
I shudder to recall the wretched days that
followed, when life appeared a barren des
ert where no green oasis cheered the weary
traveller with its refreshing shades and cool
fountains. But, at length, through the.mid
night darkness 1 saw the faint glimmering
of a far-off star, and following that dim
light, I found again the green fields and
pleasant streams, Slowly I taught my lips
to say, “ Thy will be done,” and Peace re
turned to my bosom.,
Craigsville. Va. M. M. T.
——
A Good Pastor. —The trye emblems of
a good minister are, a shepherd at the head
of his flock, and a parent at the head of his
family. The shepherd has an equal regard
for a 'll the flock, for the lambs as for the
sheep; he seeks the wandering, he applies
remedies to the diseased, he gathers the
lambs in his arms; he collects them into
the fold at ipght, and counts them as they
enter, so that none may lie left without,
and he leads them forth in the morning in
to the green pastures and beside the still
waters. His care and watchfulness descends
to all the flock. And so the father of a
family exercises special care over every
member of it, and seeks, with equal care
and diligence, the best good of them all.—
So a good minister should care for his j>eo
ple as a shepherd cares for his sheep, as a
father cares for his family—as God prom
ises to care for Israel.
A nominal Christian is one who rather
complies with the religion of the country
than believes it.
NO. 10
