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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.