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THE BAPTIST BANNER
A AO iXSBBABI OWBJPA
BY JAS. N. ELLS & CO.
VOL. IV.
I ■ . I 1 y——E
®lw gaptfet ;Baiiurr,
DEVOTED TO RELIOION AND LITERATURE,
Is published every Saturday, at Atlanta, Georgia, at the
subscription price of three dollars per year.
JAMES N. ELLS &. CO.,
Proprietors.
Jas. N. Ells. S. D. Niles. A. K. Seago.
Steam Press of Franklin Printing House—J. J. Toon i, Co.
MISCELLANY.
WASTED HOURS.
I’ve read of some young rosy child,
With laughter loving eyes;
With hair like heaven's own blessings, mild,
And cheeks like sunny skies;
Around her neck fair garlands hung,
Her voice was music’s own
Sweet as the birds that round her sung,
And warbled; one by one.
She played with childhood’s artless hours,
Sweeter than love’s young dream;
And, as she sung, threw garland flowers
Upon the silver stream;
Meandering at her feet, in song,
As soft as summer’s breeze;
So merrily it danced along
To mingle with the seas.
Upon the sparkling waves she threw
Each gem and treasure rare;
Careless as less and less they g»ew,
The buds and blossoms fair;
Too soon, too soon, they all were gone;
“ Give back my flowers,” she sighed
Unto the stream that rolled on
With never failing tide,
Regardless of her tears—and bore
The blossoms to the seas;
Whilst her voice echoed on the shore,
And died upon the breeze.
“Bring back my flowers !”—a vain regret—
No more shall they return
To bloom upon her lap- but yet
May live in memory’s urn.
’Tis thus as Time’s dark tides roll on.
Heedless we cast the flowers
Os life —to weep when they are gone,
And sigh o’er wasted hours;
Each pleasure jmst—each lovely joy,
We now in vain deplore;
Oh ! well those sacred hours employ,
For they return no more. 1
[from Sharpe'* London jtfngatlne.} I
The Discontented. Flowers. 1
IN the depths of a beautiful wood, far I
away from the noise of cities, and the 1
smoke of chimneys, is a bright clear pool '
of water, in which the drooping branches I
of the willow mirror and bathe themselves. I
Sweetly-scented lime-trees are grouped to- ’
gether near it, beneath the arching boughs I
of which the graceful fern and the blue-eyed I
forget-me-not flourish luxuriantly.
The banks of this crystal lake are fringed i
with moss and tall flowering grasses; and
the woodland paths beyond, where the
ground is not so moist, are carpeted in the
early spring with masses of the delicate:
blue hyacinth ; and no sooner has that faded
than the modest lily of the valley arises,
with her perfumed bells, to scent the air in
that sequestered spot.
Many a wayfarer has paused in his Jour
ney through the lorest to drink from the
limpid walers in that still retreat, and has’
wondered at the variety of foliage and
blossom growing side by side in that place;
and has been puzzled to account for the ap
pearance of some plants, which, according
to the botanists, had no business to be grow
ing wild in such a locality.
But there are records handed down from
tree to tree, and whispered from flower to
flower, of a time when the now extensive
wood was a private shrubbery, planted
with taste and care by a wealthy land-own
er ; and the pool, which is now the favorite
haunt of the May fly, the. dragonfly, and
their kindred, was once a fish-preserve.—
The aucient ferns, too, now rearing their
beauteous fronds as a shelter for myriads,
of the insoot tribe, have a faint recollection
of having been transplanted from a distant
region in their early youth; but they have
taken kindly to their present home, and are
too old now to care about making another
journey to the soil of their ancestors, so
they cling closer and closer to the rocks
that surround them, and spring up year as
ter year more vigorously than ever. And
the forget-me-nots, as the days go round,
creep farther and farther over the surface'
of the pool, laughing up in the sunlight
with their bright eyes, as though change
and trial were unknown to the flowers
earth.
It is indeed a very lovely spot, and the
sunbeams and the moonbeams linger there
by turns, right willingly, piercing playfully
through the coy leaves, which try so va
liantly to keep them out; but the zephyrs
come to the rescue; and to them the leaves
bow obediently at their Ugliest breath, and
make way for them. So the shining rays,
which are heaven’s messenger, follow swift
ly in the zephyr's path, and gleam and
shimmer down into the very depths of the
pool itself.
Surely if peace be known upon earth, she
haunts tnat favored spot! And there is no
lack of music either to enliven the tranquil
ity. It is not a dead ealm which reigns
there; for the song of the lark, the voice of
the cuckoo, and the ineiedy of the nightin
gale, are all heard there in due season ; and
day and night, in sunshine or In shade, there
is the never ceasing music of a rippling
ATLANTA, GEORGIA, FEBRUARY 14, 1863.
stream, which has its source in the spark
ling pool, and goes babbling on of the beau
ty of its home as it wanders far away, over
many a mile, to mingle its waters with
those of a mighty river.
The little streamlet has no name, and is
not known in the great world ; but it runs
its daily course with gladness, and beauti
fies and benefits whatever comes in its way.
Human eye gazes but rarely upon the
beauty of the scene I have been attempting
|to describe; but it is ever present to the
angels of God. And those whose mission
it is to bear earth’s incense of praise to the
courts above, have also a tribute to collect
from the dwellers in this fair valley ; fbr
surely joy and gratitude are due for the
cooling dews, the gentle showers and re
freshing breezes, not to mention the warm
bright beams of sunshine which the flower
buds welcome so gladly.
But I have to tell of a time when sorrow
found its way to mar the harmony of that
lovely scene. No human eye could have
detected the first symptoms of evil. Out
wardly all was fair and beauteous; but
“ the trail of the serpent” had passed even
there, and the guardian watcher knew it all
too well when the breath of praise rose not
as freely as it was wont in the still hour of
eventide.
There was a mist of discontent hovering
somewhere, which marred the fragrance of
that balmy hour; and the flower-spirit
sighed sadly as he lingered on his mission
and waited for the hush of night to investi
gate its cause.
At length the song of the birds was still
ed. There was no voice save that of the
murmuring brooklet. One by one the flow
erets closed their weary buds ; the beauti
ful blue forget-me-nots, and the fragile ve
ronica drooped their heads beneath the clear
cold moonbeams, and the lily nestled her
tiny belts closer to the sheltering foliage
around her.
And then the solemn hush was broken by
a sigh of discontent, which arose on the
evening breeze, and was wafted to the ear
of the flower-spirit. He heard an unthank
ful murmuring, and he knew whence it came,
for he marked a solitary Forget-me-not and
a single spray of Lily-bloom holding them-,
selves aloof from their kin, and eagerly lis
tening to the night-wind’s whispering and
to the babbling of the tiny stream. They
were discontented flowers ; they did not care
to live oii any longer in quiet obscurity;,
they wanted to see the great world, about
which the rivulet and the breezes had so of
ten told them. They felt cramped and con
fined in that lonely, unfrequented pond.—
They thought themselves wiser than their
neighbors; they had given more heed to
what was told them of the world beyond
the hills.
The brook was sorry that his babbling,
which had been intended to amuse and in
struct them, should have made them un
happy, and good-naturedly promised to
help them in any way that he could to
make their lot more enjoyable; but the
breeze—false friend that he was !—counsel
ed them to leave all their old acquaintances
!and relatives in the wood, and go forth to
gether and see the world for themselves.
This the brook did not cons der wise ad
vice; but the wilful flowers were only too
ready to follow it. and as his voice of dis
sent was drowned by the bluster of the
breeze, he said no more to dissuade them,
and was persuaded to join with the latter
in assisting them to leave their home. So
the sturdy little Forget-me-not tried more
and more every day to detach its roots
! from its fellows, and stretched eagerly to
i wards the bank, that the streamlet might
waft her down its current; and the Lily,
hour by hour, bent more away from her
sheltering vail of green leaves; and though
I her stem began to get crooked, and her pure
. bells splashed with mud as the little tad
poles played about near them, she did not
care for that; for she knew that before
many days her friend, the breeze, would be
able to snap her slender stem, and carry
her off
She was not happy; and both she and
the Forget-me-not agreed that they wanted •
change, and would be improved by travel- j
ling.
They had not quite made up their minds,
when or how they should return ; but, of
course, they meant to do so one day, to dis-I
play their knowledge of the world to their !
■ unsophisticated relatives.
Some of their companions, who knew ot
their discontent and their projected expedi
tion. tried t<> persuade them that the Good
bather knew best where to place his chil
; dren ; and the bees, who loved to nestle in
> the Lily s bells, and the butterflies and the |
I beautiful glossy beetles, who courted the|
, i sun, supported by the azure Forget-me-not.'
told them how useful they were in their I
I 'own neighborhood, and how much they I
•; would be missed if they really succeeded in j
getting away. Alito no purpose, howev- (
» er; the headstrong things thought they
> should be of far more use in a wider sphere
■ of action. Besides, the zephyrs had told
> them of beautiful flower-fetes and grand
f festivities in which they might take partj
and have their share of admiration too, in j
I stead of being cooped up in such an out of ,
> the-way place.
r I The elder plants shook their heads sor i
HIS BANNER OVER US IS LOVE.
rowfully when they saw these young things
so obstinately self-willed, and prognostica
ted evil if they left their parent-stems; but
the Lily laughed at them for croakers, and
the Forget-me-not agreed with her in eve
rything.
They did not think theirs at all a blissful
lot; and having nothing for which to be
grateful, they offered up murmurs instead
of the incense of thanksgiving; so when
their gentle watcher found the origin of the
evil, a remedy was determined upon.
One disaffected member of a community
makes many, and it was not right that the
general harmony should be disturbed by
these two unthankful murmurers.
So it chanced, ere long, that a youth lost
his way whilst rambling through the wood,
and lying down to rest at the edge of the
peol, caught sight of the Lily and the For
get-me-not just within his reach, and stretch
ing out his hand, he gathered them both.—
The Forget-me-not responded so eagerly to
his touch, that he took away a part of her
root as well.
Now the two flowers were supremely
happy, and even rejoiced at having man
aged so cleverly without being under obli
gations either to the breeze or the brook.
They smiled down triumphantly upon the
friends they left behind them as, securely
fastened in the youth’s button-hole, they
journeyed away with him.
He had a long distance to go, and at first
the runaways enjoyed this elevated position
exceedingly; but when the hot sun began
to parch up the juice in their steins, and
there were no cooling waters to refresh
them, they felt faint, and drooped their
heads; indeed, the Lily would certainly
have died, being the more delicate of the
two, if the journey had beeu much longer.
Suddenly they felt themselves revived by
the contact of cooling water, and the For
get-me-not, being the first to raise her head,
saw a young fair face bending over her with :
a look of eager delight. i
“ Look here, Claire ! these pretty flowers ;
which neighbor Charlie brought me are re
viving already. It is a famous specimen of
the Myosotis pahtstris, with a root, too. I <
shall dry it in a day or two.”
The little Forget-me-not did not like be- ;
ing called by such a strange sounding name;
it had never been heard in the valley : but !
the Lily was not sufficiently revived to pay ;
much attention to its displeasure. <
Claire, a little dark eyed damsel, some
years younger than her sister, gazed also
admiringly upon the two travellers, as her
sister went on talking about them. “I ;
hope they will keep fresh; I shall wear ;
them this evening instead of Captain Mow
bray’s splendid exotics; I know he will be ;
very angry ; but I don’t care for that! ”
laughed the young girl: “ I would rather
please neighbor Charlie.” And she took
out a wreath of artificial flowers, also lilies <
and forget-me-nots, and placed it for a mo
ment on her head. As she thus stood i
sportively before the glass, the wanderers
—now both quite wide awake—thought |
they had never yet seen any thing so beau- 1
tiful. Much more did they admire her a j
few hours later, when she was ready dress-;
ed for the ball in her simple white muslin, I
trimmed with sprays of the same tiny*flbw
ers to match her wreath, her only ornament |
a string of magnificent pearls round her (
neck.
“Good by, dear Claire,” said the young
girl, kissing her sister: “ 1 hear papa call
. ing me; I must go now.”
“Good-by, Edith; I hope you will enjoy
, yourself: but oh! wait a moment; you
have actually forgotten neighbor Charlie’s
flowers; let mo put them into your brooch'
for you.”
So the Lily and the Forget-me-not, look-!
ing very fresh and beautiful, were securely
. fastened on to the dress, and felt not a lit !
tie proud of their new position; in fact,'
: i could scarcely hold their heads high'
> | ejtough. They did not quite like being!
J covered over with the opera cloak ; but!
pride must bear a little pain, and they were
amply repaid for the temporary obscurity'
of their situation when the heavy wrapping
, was removed, and the fair Edith, leaning*
. on her father’s arm, enteretl the splendidly '
| illuminated ball room. But soon they be
gan to feel the effects of the heated atmos-'
1 phere, a - id the Lily thought remorsefully
I of the cool evening breezes which she knew
; were even then fanning her sister flowers
| in the quiet valley—her distant home. Nor
did the Forget-me-not feel much happier;'
but neither of them liked to complain.— (
Captain Mowbray, of whom they had heard,
danced with Edith once, and tried to
suade her to walk out on the balcony with
him, which, to the great niortifi< ation of
I the poor fainting blossoms, she declined.—'
At length neighbor Charlie led heruutinto j
* the moonlight, and the Forget nie-not
i raised her head once more; but the poor
Lily could no longer be refreshed ; she had
i d ro ppvd from ’exhaustion, and had been
crushed beneath the spurred heel of the
moustached Captain. Neighbor Charlie
noticed its loss, and his companion seemed
very distressed at the discovery ; but the s
; young man told her it did not signify, as
she had preserved the flower he wished her
always to treasure.
But the solitary Forget-me-not nu lun
-1 ger felt pride in her position: a terrible
i feeling of home-sickness came over her, and
she bowed her head in sorrow for the loss
> of her friend and companion, longing only
for an opportunity of escape from her cap
tivity. Fortune favored her at last. It
was early morning, and the two still stood
talking together by an open window, as
the guests were preparing to depart, when
all at once neighbor Charlie caught sight of
a moss-rose bud temptingly within reach :
“This will be a good substitute for the lost
Lily,” said he, as he gathered it.
The brooch was unfastened, but the
young girl’s fingers trembled as she placed
the rose-bud within it, displacing the For
get me not. A zephyr bore up the wander
er for a while, then wafted it down, down,
far away from the maiden and her lover,
rendering it quite insensible from the rapid
ity of its flight. When it again opened its
dimmed blue eyes, the little Forget-me-not
was lodged upon a mossy bank, within the
sound of splashing water —within sound of
it; but alas! not near enough to taste of
its sweetness. Poor little thing I she had
gained experience by her travels; but it
had been dearly bought. She looked wo
fully altered since she quitted her peaceful
home : a tiny rootlet was still hanging to
it, sadly parched and shriveled ; some of
its leaves and blossoms were quite dead,
and a bit of its stem dreadfully bruised. —
How she longed to be once more in her old
haunts, or just a little nearer to the refresh
ing water I A few more hours and death
would surely come I for the breeze had
lulled, and the oppressive heat of noonday
was setting in. Suddenly a storm arose,
and the drenching rain fell in torrents. —
Oh! how eagerly the languid wanderer
drank the refreshing drops! And then a
friendly breeze wafted it down the sloping
bank, and the rivulet, already swollen with
the rain, rippled nearer and nearer, and at
last bathed its little rootlet: then the cur
rent became stronger, and the Forget me
not, floating on its surface, went drifting
along, it knew not whither, unable to stay
its course.
Night closed in.ones more upon the tran
quil valley, and the stars looked down re
joicing over it; for the weary traveller had
at last found a resting-place amongst its
kindred. Though bowed and broken, and
shorn of all beauty, there was life in it still,
and a power of Endurance, till then uhtest
ed, had been called forth and strengthened
by its wanderings up and down in “ the
wide, wide world;” for the good World-
Father can bring good even out of evil;
and the humbled flower sighed no more for
a sphere other than that which unerring
wisdom had assigned to it. So the Guardi
an Spirit wafted upwards a hymn of praise,
unalloyed by regret or discontent —only
the lily-bells drooped more humbly as they
mourned for their fallen sister, who return
ed to them no more !
THE COLUMN.
HONOR THY FATHER AND MOTHER.
How beautiful was the filial love of the
great Washington when he was a boy! —
He was about to go to sea as a midship
man : everything was arranged—the vessel
lay just opposite his father’s house—the
boat had come to the shore to take him off’
to the ship, and his wholfe heart was bent
on going. After his trunk had been car
ried down to the boat, he went to bid his
dear mother farewell, and saw the tears
bursting from her eyes: however, he said
nothing to her ; but he knew that she would
be distressed if he went, and would perhaps
J never be happy again. And he just turned
! round to the servant and said: “Go and
' tell them to fetch my trunk back; I will
| never go away and break my mother’s
heart.” 11 is mother was struck with his
' decision; and said to him :
“ George, God has promised to bless the
' children that honor their parents, and I be
lieve He will bless you,” And we know
1 how God honored George Washington !
He became the “Father of his country,”
; secured its independence, and became Pres
. ident of the United States, leaving tn pos
terity a name unexcelled fbr patriotism, vir- »
tue, humanity and benevolence.
What a rare and beautiful instance of{
affection was that which Archbishop Tillot
son displayed when his father, a plain coun
tryman, approached the house where his'
sou lived, and inquired for John Tillotson,
and whether or not he was at home!
The servant, indignant at what be thought,
was insolence, repulsed him from the door.
; But Tillotson, who was then Dean of]
I Canterbury, hearing the voice of his father,!
.came running out of the house, exclaiming
. in the presence of his astonished servant:
; “Itis my beloved father!” and falling
down on his knees, he asked for his father's (
blessing.
Frederick the Great hail a young pige to:
whom he was much attached, and one day, 1
ringing the bell for his attendance, was sur- •
prised that the lad did not come. After
waiting sometime he went out into the
grand hall, and there he found the little i
page fast asleep in his arm-ehair; and ob- ’
serving a paper sticking out of the young i
man's pocket, he was curious to know what
,it contained. On reading jt, Frederick was ■
much pleased to find that it was a letter 1
TERMS— Three Dollars a-year.
I from the boy’s mother, full of affection, in
i which she thanked him for sending her part
of his wages to relieve her necessities, and
concluded by saying that God would be
- sure to bless him for his dutiful affection.
The King, after reading it, slipped a purse
full of money, with the note, into the boy’s
yocket. Returning to his chamber, he rang
the bell so loudly that it at once awakened
the page, whoinstantly made his appearance.
“You have had a sound sleep,” said the
King.
The page was at a loss how to excuse
himself, and put his hand into his pocket,
when he felt the purse full of money. He
took it out, turned pale, and, looking at the
King, burst into tears.
“Oh, Sire,” said the youth, throwing
himself on his knees, “ somebody seeks to
ruin me. I know nothing of this money,
nor how it came in my pocket.”
“My young friend,” said the King, “God
often does great things for us, even in our
sleep. Send that money to your good
mother; salute her for me, and assure her
that I will take care both of her and thee.”
Now, dear young friends, we relate to
you these simple stories to assure you that
God is certain to reward those children who
love and honor their parents. Remember
that your success in life, your character
and position in society, your present and
eternal happiness, depend upon the grace,
mercy ancl blessing of God possessing your
hearts ; if the love of God reigns there, you
will be sure to do what will please Him.—
To love and honor your parents is the first
commandment to which a promised bless
ing is attached. Let it be your delight to
honor and to obey your parents in every
possible way; and then God will surely
bless you.
THE ROPE-MAKER’S BOY.
It was one of the first days of spring,
when a lady, who had been watching by
the sick bed of her mother for some weeks,
went out to take a little exercise and enjoy
the fresh air. After walking some distance
she came to a rope walk. She was familiar
with the place and entered. At one end of
the building she saw a little boy turning a
large wheel; she thought it too laborious
for such a child, and as she came nearer
she spoke to him..
“ Who sent you to this place ? ” she asked.
“ Nobody—l came of myself.”
“ Dots you father know you are here ? ”
“ I have no father.”
“ Are you paid for your labor? ”
“ Yes ; I get ninepence a day.”
“ Do you like this work ?”
“ Well enough; but if I did not, I should
do it that J might get the -money for my
mother.”
“ How long do you work in the day ? ”
u From nine till eleven in the morning,
and from two till five in the afternoon.”
“ How old are you ? ”
“Almost nine.”
“ Do you ever get tired of turning this
great wheel ? ”
“ Yes, sometimes.”
“ And what do you do then ? ”
“ Take the other hand! ”
The lady gave him a piece of money.
“Is this for my mother?” he asked,
looking pleased.
“ No, it. is*for yourself.”
“Thank you. ma’am,” the boy said, and
the lady bade him farewell.
She went home strengthened in her de
votional duty, and instructed in true prac
tical philosophy by the words and example
of a little child. “The next time,” she
said to herself, “that dut) seems har’d to
me, I will remember the child and ‘take
the other hand.’ ”
The Power of one Good Boy.
When I took the school [said a gentle
man,'speaking of a certain school he once
taught], I soon saw there was one good boy
in it. I saw it in his face. I saw it by
many unmistakable marks. If 1 stepped
out and came suddenly back, that liby was
always studying just as if 1 had been there,
while a general buzz and the r./guish looks
lof the rest showed that there was mischFef
lin the .wind. I learned he was a religious
i boy, and a member of the church. Come
whet would, he would be for the riyht.—
i There were two other boys who wanted to
behave well, but were sometimes led astray.
These tw-o began to Took up to Alfred, and I
saw were much strengthened by his exam
l pie. Alfred was as lovely in disposition
as firm in principle. These three boys be
: gan now to create a sort of public opinioh
■on the side of good order and the master.
One boy and then anot||er gradually sided
with them. The foolish pranks of idle and
wicked boys began to lose their popularity.
They did not win the laugh which they used
to. A general obedience and attention to
' study prevailed. At last the pubjic opin
ion of the school was fairly revolutionized ;
| from being a school of ill-name, it became
one of the best behaved schools any where
about—and it was that boy Alfred who
. had the largest making the change.
Yes, boys, it is in the power of one right-
I minded, right-hearted boy, to do much good.
I Alfred stuck to his principles like a man,
and they stuck to him, and made a strong
and splendid fellow of him.
NO. 13.