Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

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