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[For the, Baptist Banner.'}
AVKELS WITH ? S.
lu days when life’s first roseate morn
Her golden tresses laved.
Ere the storms of earth had ever blown,
Or Hood like passions raved;
And while ling ring flames of joy hung
On infant lips so dear, •
The angels, flown from homes of light,
Were then all hov’ring near.
When hope first flung her torch aloft
To light the distant sky,
Or souls to toss with mighty thought,
And lift themselves on high,
They lived with us in boyhood days,
And caus’d our wand’ring feet
To tread the splendid way of God,
Where love and wisdom meet.
The summer broad of grandeur came,
With manhood’s lofty joy,
With all her clouds of darkness 100,
And earth’s most sffern employ;—
In this long day of storm and strife,
The angels m irked the ground
Where we should pitch our roving tent,
. And came to camp around.
They led us down to hoary age,
And made our evening sweet,
Or bade our pains all rapid fly
Wl h winged time so fleet;
On evlry cloud they glady threw
Some golden flame of tire,
And swept their hand, to soothe the heart,
Across the trembling lyre.
And treading now the vale of death,
The darkly world of shade,
Where all the joy and pomp of earth
Begin to sink and fade,
They roll far back the heavy cloud,
And lift our thoughts on high,
And bending down their azure wings,
fn death still hover nigh.
Marlin's bepot, 8. C. W. T). M.
THE RUBY RING.
nr NETTA.
IT was a bright and lovely morning in
May, the month of flowers. The very
air seemed laden with perfume, and the
dew-drops sparkled like so many dia
monds upon the grass. Under the wide
spreading branches of an old oak tree—one
of those monarchs of the forest—sat two
lovely little girls, upon a rustic seat, which
had been constructed for the accommoda
tion of the weary traveler.
The busy inhabitants of tß* village were
already stirring, but the children heeded
not the passers-by ; they were too much in
terested in examining a ruby w ing worn by
tM fairest of the girls.
Mary,” said the golden-haired girl, ad
dressing her gypsy looking companion, “I
found that ring yesterday, going home from
school—is it not beautiful? Mamma says
I must inquire for the owner, and, if 1 find
no one, to claim it then as justly mine. I
want to tell you something strange about
it, though.” -
“<), Lena,” said Mary, “ if I had found a
ring like that 1 should hate any one to claim
it; but it is right to inquire for the owner.”
"’les,” answered Lena, thoughtfully, “it
is right; we must try not to break the
tenth commandment, but I am going to tell
you about the ring; if you interrupt me
again, I sha’n’t get through before break
fast.”
“Goon, Lena, and tell me all about it;
I am anxious to know.”
“’rhe ring was almost buried in the sand
of the street when I found it; had it not
been so bright, I would never Lave seen it.
It fils my forefinger so nicely that, when
mamma told me to make inquiries for the
owner, it grieved me at first, but 1 soon ac
know [edged her advice to be correct. 1
went to bpd thinking about the ring, and
wishing to know its history. How long I
lay thus I do not. know*, but was roused by
a voice saying, ‘ Little girl, if you wish to
know my history, and w ill hold your hand i
up where I can look into your face, I will
give you a brief sketch of my life and for
hut owner.’ I held my hand up as the ring'
directed, and it began its history.”
“It was a beautiful day in early spring,
and 1 was lying on a velvet cushion in the
jeweller's case, wondering it any one would
ever buy me and take me out into the w or Id,
when a middle-aged lady entered. She
asked tor rings; the jeweller displayed a
variety, and my s If m tile number. Ij
blusited, sparkled, and tried t<> look more
brilliant than < ver, hoping to please her.—
S’i ■> turned u< all over several times, and, i
alter some hesitation, selected me. I was I
plea . d t > belong to such a nice looking j
mistress, but when she arrived at home
and put me on the finger of a beautilul girl I
ot lilteen, my joy knew i.o bounds. On
place..! n • upon my new mistress’ hand,
hr mother said, ‘My daughter, von are
gong away to school ; you will not have
your mother to guard and guide \nu, but
lake this ing keep it. and wlienev er teinp ,
tition assa is yon. look at it; remember
your mothei's advice, am! ask God »or 1
strei ■; ito resist evil. lo'member, Etlie. I
it is yom mother's gill to her only child.’ i
“Slice ased ; my y< ing*mist ress kissed
her m ■’ icr, au-i promised never to forget
what she ha I sail Ellie—l liked the;
name; it. was as sweet as the five 1 loved
to g ■ a. I I tried to sparkle as bril
Lai. i\ as possible to ornament that small,
at d i\ ,uis t ly white hand —Etho It ft her
homo, a d in a large boarding school she
was of ea tempted to act w rong, bat on I
such « . si ~s 1 would shrink an! tighten
ab< u' het rn.ge.rs, causing her to recall her
mother's .i i\ ee. and bring the large tear
drops to her gentle blue eves. Tunc wore
on : Edi ■ numbered her s\. I.teenth birth
day, but there was so-row en her y oung
he . ’ ; sh had relume 1 home, having grad-
. i w h h'nor, but she was i > longer,
the I ghi ii tried, merry maiden 1 li: knew.
She loved* my young mistress |o\e I with
the whole strength.- f her r.altfte, Ooi
have I gar 1 on her flushed e'ieek> .v i the
new light in her ey e> as the dark an I gloom
ily handsome stranger would stoop to press
his lips on the very hand I sparkled upon, t
Once he remarked upon my beauty, and <
she told him all about me. 1 learned the
name of the stranger; it was Ivan Douglas,
and I thought it sounded sweetly from Ef
fie’s lips.
“ The cause of her sadness was her moth
er’s opposition to her marriage with the
man she loved. lie was good and noble,
worthy even her, but he was a divorced
man—his wife was alive. My old mistress
opposed the match in a most violent man
ner ; but the lovers had arranged every
thing, and intended uniting their destinies
unknown to her. A particular night was
appointed, and he was to meet her as soon
as her mother had retired. 1 was in ago
ny ; my mistress must not run away—
must not defy the authority of God and
man. .What could I do? 1 tightened my
self upon her finger, but mental suffering
was too great —she did not heed it. I
watched until her preparations were com
pleted, then making one last desperate ef
fort, I contracted myself as much as possi
ble—she uttered a faint cry and looked
down upon her hand. Thought had resumed
her sway, and with thought came repent
ance. Large tears gathered in her eyes
and rolled down her cheeks. She murmur
ed to herself, ‘ 1 ean’t leave my mother ; I
can not disobey the commands of God. 1
will see him, but it must be for the last
time; I would forget my duty if I met him
often.’ She stooped and kissed me, as
though she knew 1 bad saved her. She met
him I that young-looking man brightened
at her approach, as though a sunbeam had
flitted across his countenance. She told
him her decision; he did not attempt to
persuade her, but, only opening his arms,
he clasped them about her. For one mo
ment she leaned her head upon his shoul
der, and, twining her arms about his neck,
she said, ‘lvan, oh Ivan!’ —the words seem
ed wrung from her heart. She untwined
her arms, gazed a moment into his face, and
lied from the apartment. I heard the strong
man say, ‘Ellie, Effie, do not leave me,’but
she did not turn back.
“ Her mother never knew how near she
came to losing her child, for I kept the se
cret. My mistress faded and pined all
winter, and passed away with the early
1 May roses. She died —my beautiful mis
tress; she saw her lover once more; he
sought her to say that the barrier was re
moved that separated them —his wife was
dead; but it was too late; the angels were
then waiting for her. With one wasted
hand she pointed* upward, and said, ‘ln
heaven, Ivan ’ Aly mistress was no more.
I was taken from her hand by a kind neigh
bor, and put in a casket with other jewel
ry. How long I remained there I do not
know, but was stolen one night with the
rest of the jewelry, and lost by the way
side, where you found me. Keep me, little
girl, and I’ll be a guardian angel to you, as
I was to my former mistress.”
“Some sudden noise in the yard, Alary,!
awoke me, ami I found I had been dream I
in"; but there is the breakfast bell—r-we’ll
meet at school.”
Lena told her mother the dream, but
Mrs. Hall said she had thought so much
about the ring that it had caused her to
dream thus. There was no owner found,
and after the lapse of several months Lena
kept the ring with her mother’s consent. —
Mrs. Hall attached no importance to the
dream, but Lena did, and often, when on
the very verge of committing some folly, a
glance at the ring would prove an effectual
cheek
THE Ch‘LDREN’S COLUMN.
*ENIGMA.
' 1 am composed of sixteen letters -
■ My 10, 14, 13 —a gt tn.
>, 2, 10, 11 a member of the human body.
JO, 9, 12, 3, I—a female name.
•’>, 4, 6—the loose part of a coat.
8,7, I(s—an exclamation.
j My whole is a declaration in the last chapter of
, the New Testament. Bettie Gray.
| .1 newer nc.rt week. ]
[Aor the Buptixt Banner.]
LITTLE LIZZIE.
Little Lizzie, a hen about nine years old, I
one day, while singing with her mamma
this song,
My t'lir'stian frieipls in bonds of love, "
was affected tb fears, which being observed
by her mamma, she asked :
“ Lizzie, dear, what is the matter ?”
Nothing, ’ she replied, smiling.
Some twelve months after this, Lizzie'
'asked her mamma if she might join the
church. Her mamma told her that she was
fearful that she was not a Christian, and
rather she would wait awhile, asking her if I
she had seen herself to be a sinner—wheth
er she had ever prayed, and what she pray- ■
ied for. She told her mamma that she was
I a sinner, and that she had prayed for a',
| clean heart. Her mamma requested her to
make a selection of some song that express
ed her feelings, and she handed her mamma
' this one—
O. tor h thousand t nitriles to sinsr
My dear Redeemer\ praise.”
1 My dear little* friend, have you ;l clean ;
heart .’ It you have not, ask God to give ]
you one. _ M . T . u . 1
CRACKING THE COMMANDMENT.
Youp" Ben Bluff’ found a half dollar one
Jay. Holding it in his palm, h<* said to 1
himself:
"Ho. h>! this is a prize ! Good luck is 1
mine to-day. Capital !”
-1: isn’t yours. It belon"s to the loser, i
not t«» you.” whimpered Ben's conscience. «
*• Well, somebody lost it. I Cpose; but c
wha- do I care for that? Findinas are e
se<q : 1 -itiess, and 1 shall Ket n this half
dollar.” |j
1' MB BA ? 118 S BAW 88.
“It isn't honest to keep it. You ought
to find who lost it if you can,” muttered
conscience again.
“ People should take better care of their
money,” said Ben. as he placed his prize in
his pocket.
Ben kept the money several days. He
then heard that the widow Perth had bare
ly escaped being turned out of doors by her
stern old landlord because she had not been
able to make out her month’s rent, owing
to the loss of half a dollar. Ben’s conscience
then spoke again :
“You know to whom the half dollar be
longs. If you don’t take it to the widow,
you will be a thief. You have been a thief
at heart ever since you found it.”
Ben couldn’t stand this rebuke. So he
took the money to the widow and told her
how he had found and kepi it. hoping no one
would inquire about it, and how much bet
ter he felt now that he had brought it back
to her. The widow thanked him, while a
tear of joy glistened in her eye, and then
Ben went to his work, feeling more like an
honest boy than he had done since finding
the half dollar.
Did Ben break God’s law against theft
by keeping that money as he did? We
think he broke its spirit, or, as a little girl
once said, he cracked the commandment.
The little girl who said this took an or
ange one day from a basket full of that nice
fruit, which was for sale in a shop, and hid
it beneath her apron. Conscience told her
she was a thief, and she slyly put the or
ange back into the basket. But the next
minute she felt so strong a desire for the
orange that she took it a second time; a
second time she put it back again at there
buke of her conscience. She then went
home, feeling very sad. Going to her
mother, she burst into tears and said :
“O, mother, I’ve cracked one of the com
mandments! I didn’t break it, indeed 1
didn’t break it, mother—quite; but I’m
sure I cracked it!”
So with our friend Ben; if he didn’t break
the commandment, “l'm sure he cracked it!"
fie had the thief spirit until he won the
victory over it, and became an honest boy
again.
Children, it is dangerous even to “crack"
the commands of God. Better keep them
fully and lovingly, for “this is the love of
God, that we keep his commandments.”
THE SOLDIERS’ COLUMN.
CHRISTIAN'S BATTLE-SONO.
My soul, be on thy guard !
Ten thousand foes arise;
The hosts of sin are pressing hard
To draw thee from the skies.
O, watch, and fight, and pray—
The battle ne’er give o’er ;
Renew it boldly every day,
And help divine implore.
Ne’er think the victory won, 4
Nor lay thine armor down;
Thy arduous work will not be done
dill thou obtain thy crown.
Fight on, my soul, till death
Shall bring thee to thy God ;
He’ll take thee, at thy parting breath,
To his divine abode.
A Mother’s Parting Words,
TO HER SOLDIER BOY.
[Republished by request ]
J/y Dear Son: At the time of our sep
aration, rn.y heart was too tendeily and
deeply affected to permit me to give utter
ance to the words of affectionate counsel
which 1 longed to pour into your ears.—
My mingled emotions of love, grief, and
anxiety could find vent only in tears. But
I have concluded in this manner to trans
mit to you the words of instruction, warn
ing and Encouragement, which I should have
preferred to speak to you with my lips, had
not the feelings awakened by your depart
ure for the army, overpowered my self
control. You need not be told that 1 love
you, that I cherish a deep solicitude for votir
; welfare, and that my happiness is bound up
with your prosperity. 1 have a claim to
1 your attention which I am sure your filial
I affection will not allow yon to disregard.
I gave up my son, without reluctance—
, indeed, I may say with joy—to enter the
j army of his country. The war in which
we are unfortunately involved, has been
forced upon us. We have asked for no
! thing but to be let alone. We are con
1 tending for the great fundamental principle
of the American Revolution: that all au
thority is derived from the consent of the
1 governed. The attempt on the part of the
federal Government to coerce, not, as it
falsely pretended, a factious party, but free I
1 and independent States, governed by tin-
Iprecedentid majorities, is utterly subver-J
t sive of republican government. The ques
tion to be settled by this conflict is, whether
the Confederate States shall be permitted
to govern themselves, or whether thev shall
I be Governed by States whose political v ews
and social institutions are widely different
from their own. To the South, no’hing re
mains but absolute subjugation and debase
ment, or victory. In such a strife I cheer
fully oiler my son, the cherished jewel of
iny heart, on iny country’s altar; and if 1
hid ten sons. I would resign them all with
equal pleasure. I trust that mv son will
act the man. Fighting, as he is, for inde-!
pendence, home, honor, everythin" dear to
the heart ot a freeman, he would be unwor
thy of the sod that gave him birth—the
i.iu 1 ot patriots and heroes—the father
w hose name he bears, and the mother who!
imixd him —-it he should not prove himself 1
I ya! and t rave. Let me urge you, then, 1
my son. to be what 1 am sure you will be
1 - " ddier. Obey the commands of ■
your superiors, be courteous tn vour eq jals !
and be kind to the distressed, even to yonr'i
enemies, so tar as you mav w ithout strength- 1 1
ening the cause in whieh'thoy are.engaged. <
But I write to you chief!v, mv bov, to J
impress on your heart the ‘importance ofj
enlisting under the banner of the Cross.—
The Searcher of hearts knows that my
greatest desire is, that you should be a sin
cere and consistent Christian. I have fee
bly endeavored, by my instructions, pray
ers and example, to win you to the service
of Christ. You may have thought it strange
that I have conversed directly with you so
little concerning your religious state and
destiny. I desire to confess to you, and
with shame before God, my deficiency in
this respect. I have ever found a diffi
culty in speaking to my children on the
subject of salvation, arising from 1 know
, not what timidity, that has caused me great
sorrow, and especially since you have pass
ed to the dangers of the tented field, and
beyond the reach of my anxious, beseeching
words. Forgive me this wrong, and accept
this communication as the best atonement
‘which, under the circumstances, I can offer.
'• I feel now that if I could see you, I would
- from the fulness of my fond and burdened
1 heart, entreat you in such words as these :
1 You did not cease to be a moral agent
■ when you became a soldier. Assuming
new' responsibilities to your country, you
did not weaken your responsibilities to
‘ God. You should not only render unto
I Caesar the things t hat are Caesar’s, but unto
God the things that are God’s. Many good
and intelligent men have maintained that a
profession of arms is incompatible with a
' life of piety. It must be conceded that the
genius and spirit of Christianity are utterly
opposed to war. Christ is the Prince of
Peace ; at His birth the heavenly host sang
‘ peace on earth ’; the Gospel is a message
1 of peace, and its universal diffusion and
influence will banish war from the earth.—
Isaiah ii: 2, 4. But a careful examination
of the Scriptures must convince us that
there is nothing in the demands of a just
■nd defensive warfare at variance wiih the
! spirit and duties of Christianity. To say
1 nothing of Moses, Joshua and David, who
were renowned alike for their piety and
‘ their military achievements, we find that
several Roman centurions, in the very sun
light of the Apostolic age, w’ere commend
ed for their faith, devotion, and good works.
Luke vii 9; Acts x. John, the fearless
harbinger of Christ, exhorted the Roman
1 soldiers, not to abandon their standards,
I but to avoid the vices incident to t heir pro
fession. “Do violence,” said he, “to no
man, neither accuse any falsely ; and be
content with your wages.” Luke iii, 14.
I refer to these texts for the two-fold pur
pose of confirming my views, and leading
you to consult the Scriptures, the only safe
guide in faith and practice.
There are great and appalling obstacles
in the way of your conversion amid the din
and temptations of a camp. The lack of
religious instruction, and of opportunities
for retirement and secret prayer, together
with the excitements and corrupting influ
ences w hich attend a soldier’s life, are se
rious but not insuperable hindrances to
pi 'ty. W ithout abating one iota from his j
i duties to the country, the soldier may find
time for religious meditation, secret prayer
and the consecration of himself to Christ.—
Two young men, 1 have been credibly in
formed, at the close of the battle of Bethel,
were so impressed with the Divine goodness
in their preservation, that they 1 etired to
the forest and made ft full, solemn and joy
ful surrender of themselves to the Prince of
, Peace.
Let me urge you, then, my dearson, to
make it your first, chief, constant concern
to become a Christian. God demands no
thing but a willing heart. In the hour when
you are willing to forsake all your sins, and
to receive Christ as your Prophet, Priest
and King, you shall find mercy, and there
will be joy in the presence of the angels of
God over you. Christ never rejected a re
penting sinner, and He never will. Ah, my
son, if you have no soul to save, no sins to
be forgiven—if Christ did not die for you
j—if there is no heaven, no hell, no immor
tality—then you may live without repent
ance or salvation. But you have a soul;
you are. a sinner; Christ shed His blood
for you; you are a mortal, and destined
to the joys of heaven or the woes of perdi-1
! tion, and therefore religion is your supreme ,
necessity. You have motives to piety, not |
I only as a man, but as a soldier. Os all
men, the soldier has the greatest need of
piety. Under the privations and hardships
of camp life, he greatly needs the consola- '
tions that nothing but grace can minister.
1 And what but grace can preserve him from 1
the seductions to vice by which so many
promising soldiers have been ruined ? He!
is in frequent peril of losing his life, and
should have that constant preparation for ,
death which can be found only in sincere ,
devotion to Christ. Let me urge you, I
then, my child, by all the tenderness of a
mother’s love, by all the anxieties of a
father’s heart, and by, what should have
more infl icnce with you,all the compassion !
lof the Redeemer’s bosom, to enlist under ’
the banner of the Prince of Life and Glory. |<
Yon must, my dear boy, be a Christian, 1
or suffer a sad and irreparable defeat. You
may, without faith in Christ, storm cities, I
win battles, achieve the independence of!
your beloved country, and gain imperisha
ble renown, but you cannot secure the!
kingdom of heaven. Mahommed promised
Paradise to all who should lose their lives
in his wars; but Christ does not promise'
eternal life to them that fall in the battles
lof their country. He that would win a
crown of life, must gain a victory over sin t
The kingdom of God must be taken by*
•storm; but it can he stormed only by I
faith, and prayer, and obedience. “The
kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and ;
the violent take it by force.” It is not
reasonable to suppose that God will accent'
the services rendered to Crvsar for those!
due to Himself; or that patriotism should
be a substitute for piety. The heroic, but
ungodly, soldier may fill a grave honored
by a nation’s tears and marked by a tow
erin" monument; but his soul, alas! must
perish.
I would have you, my son, not only to
be a Christian, but to honor that sacred
name. Make the Bible your constant com
panion, prayer your delightful employment,
and the glory of Christ the end of all your
deeds. Seek to be adorned with all the
graces of the Spirit, and to abound in all
the fruits of righteousness. Keep aloof
from all the vices which corrupt and de
grade the army. I need not warn you
against profanity, that common but ill-bred
sin, which you have been taught to detest;
but I would specially guard you against
drunkenness, that most insidious, prevalent
and degrading vice. I would have you ab
stain from strong drink as you would from
henbane. All experience has demonstrated
that it is never necessary, but as a medi
cine. All the toils, exposures and priva
tions of a campaign may be endured with
out it, and better without it than with it.
I am sure, my child, you will not be a
worse soldier for being a good Christian.—
Piety will not make you effeminate or cow
ardly. Some of the bravest soldiers of the
world have been humble Christians.—
Cromwell, Gardiner, and Havelock, thun
derbolts of war, were as devout as they
were heroic. Our own illustrious Wash
ington maintained the claims of Christiani
ty, amid the demoralizing influences of the
Revolution, with a zeal corresponding with
the heroism with which he fought the bat
tles of our independence. Why should not
the Christian be courageous? He has less
cause to love life or dread death than other
men. In the path of duty he has nothing
to fear. Life and death may be equally
pleasing to him. The apostle Paul, in the
prospect of martyrdom, could say : “J am
in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to
depart and to be with Christ, which is far
better; nevertheless, to abide in the flesh
is more needful for you.”
And now, my dear soldier boy, I must
take leave of you. Remember that you
have a large share in my love, my sympa
thies, and my prayers. By day and by
night, you are in my thoughts; and often
the unbidden tear flows down my cheeks
when I think of your suffering and dangers.
Let me have joy of you,'my son; and I
can have po greater joy than to hear that
you are doing your duty—your whole du
ty —to your country and to God. I trust
we shall meet again. I pray the Father of
Mercies to cover your head in the day of
battle. Should life be preserved through
the perils of the camp and conflict, and you
be permitted to return in triumph to your
home, 1 need not assure you that you will
find a welcome, and that your presence
will diffuse a sunshine over our domestic
circle; and among all the loving hearts
that will greet your return, none will be so
thrilled with delight as your mother’s.—
Ami should you come back to my fond em
brace, not corrupted and degraded by the
temptations of camp life, but purified and
adorned by the grace of the Gospel, in an
swer to my poor prayers, then I can ex
-1 claim with the patriarch Jacob, when he.
heard that his favorite son Joseph was liv
ing, and raised to the Viceroyship of Egypt,
“it is enough!” But should you fall in
the stern conflict for your country’s rights,
you will fill an honored grave; and I hum
bly trust that, through the grace and right
eousness of our Redeemer, we may meet
in a world where wars and rumors of wars
can never disturb us, but where love, peace
and joy forever rtign. It shall be my ear
nest endeavor, as 1 entreat you that it may
be yours, to be meet for a participation in
the delights and glories of that world.—
Receive now the blessing of your own and
only Mother.
The Baptist Banner.
FOR 18G3.
The proprietors of The Baptist Banner
would inform the reading public, especially
heads of families, that, as an excellent
HOME PAPER,
THE BANNER shall be surpassed by none.
It will be published every Saturday morning
in Atlanta, at the rate of three dollars a year—
subscriptions taken for any length of time,
i The LADIES, the CHILDREN, and the I
SOLDIERS IN OUR ARMY, will receive
special attention; and each number, in addi
tion to a carefully prepared synopsis of reli
gious and secular NEWS, w ill contain a good
STORY—together with entertaining Miscella
nies, Sketches, etc.
It will he, emphatically, a FAMILY paper. I
The editor’s motto is, ‘ Make Home Happy.'
Those desirous of subscribing will please on-1
close the amount of their subscription, with the!
name and post-office, and address
JAMES N. ELLS & CO.,
January, 18G3. Atlanta, Ga.
Agent* for The Banner.
Wm. T. Beall, of Marietta, is our
General Travelling Agent.
Elder W. J. Speairs, Starrsville, Ga.
“ John 11. Clarke, Henderson, Ga.
“ P. A. Lawson, Guiffin, Ga.
William Lowe, McDonough, Ga.
(i G. F. Cooper, Americus, Ga.
“ J. 11. Stockton, Thomson, Ga.
“ Thos. Muse, Cuthbert, Ga.
“ Root. Cunningham, Maron, Ga.
“ Thos Aldridge, Millwood, Ga.
“ J. 11. Campbell, Griffin, Ga.
Dr. John Cheney, Columbus, Ga.
R. 11. Jackson, Franklin, Heard Co., Ga.
J. 11. B. Shackelford, Spring Place, “
William Roberts, Byrumville, Ga.
Contributor* to The Banner.
Rev. IT. C. llornady, Atlanta, Ga.
“ J. M. Wood, Newnan, Ga.
“ J. S. Baker, Thomasville, Ga.
“ D. P. Everf.tt, Orange Hill, Fla.
“ N. M. Crawford, Penfield. Ga.
“ B. F. Tharp, Perry, Ga. .
“ J. fl. Campbell, State Evangelist.
“ A. E. Dickinson, Richmond, Va. ,
“ W. D. Mayfield. South Carolina, j
HOUSE KEEPERS’ COLUMN.
Accidents.— Always send off for a sur
geon immediately an accident occurs, but
treat as directed until he arrives.
Burns. — If the skin is much injured,
spread some linen pretty thickly with chalk
ointment, and lay over the part, and give
the patient some brandy and water if much
exhausted ; then send for a medical man.
If not much injured, and very painful, use
the same ointment, or apply carded cotton
dipped in lime-water or linseed oil. If you
please, you may lay cloths dipped in ether*
over the parts, or cold lotions.
Scalds.— Treat the same as burns, or
cover with scraped raw potato; but the
chalk ointment is the best. In the absence
of all these, cover the parts with treacle,
and dust on plenty of flour.
Body in Flames.— Lay the person down
on the floor of the room, and throw the ta
ble-cloth, rug, or other large cloth, over
him, and roll him on the floor.
Dirt in the Eye.— Place your forefinger
upon the cheek bone, having the patient
before you ; then draw up the finger, and
you will probably be able to remove the
dirt; but if this will not enable you to get
at it, repeat this operation while you have
a netting.needle or bodkin placed over the
eye-lid; this will torn it inside out, and
enable you to remove the sand, or eyelash,
tec., with the corner of a fine silken hand
kerchief. As soon as the substance is re
moved, bathe the eye with cold water, and
exclude the light for a day. If the inflam
mation is severe, take a purgative, and use
a refrigerant lotion.
Lime in the Eye.— Syringe it well with
warm vinegar and Water (one ounce to
eight ounces of water); take a purgative,
and exclude light.
Receipt for Strangury, when produced
by a blister: Goldbeater’s leaf, laid on the
plaster, obviates this without preventing
the usual action of the cantharides.
Light Soda Cakes. —Five eggs, one and
a quarter pounds of sugar, three-quarters of
a pound of butter, a teaspoon nearly full of
soda, in a gill of water; as much flour as
will knead it into biscuits; knead it well,
roll it out thin, cut it with a large round
cutter, and bake briskly, of a pale brown.
Soft Gingerbread. —Three teacups of
mola-ses, tw r o cups of buttermilk, one cup
of butter, one tablespoonful of ginger, one
ditto of soda or saleratus, one ditto of cori
andSr.seeds, one egg; put in as much flour
as will make a thick batter; put in pie
pans, and smooth over with a knife; don’t
let it be at all runny. This will make six
pie pans full.
Cleaning and Polishing Marine Shells.
—Take boiling water; to every quart add
half a gill of muriatic acid, and let it boil ;
put in the shells while boiling, let them re
main in one minute; take them out, dip
them in cold water instantly, the colder the
water the better; then, if not quite clean,
dipthem in the boiling water and acid half
a minute, then again in water; then
dry with a cloth or brush. The acid should
be pure, unadulterated.
RAILROAD GUIDE.’
Georgia Kailroad & Banking Co
Augusta to Atlanta.. ..171 Miles.... Fare $6 00
GEORGE YONGE, Superintendent.
Morning Passenger Train.
(SUNDAYS EXCEPTED.)
Leave Atlanta daily at 7 00 A. M
Arrive at Augusta at 5 47 P.
Leave Augusta daily at 700A. J/ '
Arrive at Atlanta at 6 00 P. M
t
r Night Passenger Train.
Leave Atlanta daily at 6 30 P. M
Arrive at Augjstaat 5 30 A. M
Leave Augusta at 6 00 P. M
Arrive at Atlanta at 5 00 A. M
This road runs in connection with the trains oi
. the South Carolina and the Savannah and Augusta
Railroads, at Augusta.
Macon and Western Kailroad. ,
CHANGE OF SCHEDULE.
Macon to Atlanta ... .104 Mh.es.... Fare 15 CO.
ALFRED L. TYLER, Superintendent.
Leave Macon at 9 00 a . m
Arrive at Atlanta at 4 00 p.m
i Leave Atlanta at 6 30 a'm
1 Arrive at Macon 12 54 p. tn
This train connects with Central, South-western
, and Muscogee railroads at Macon.
Western & Atlantic (Stare) Railroad.
Atlanta to Chattanooga, 138 Miles—Fare,., .$5.
JOHN S. ROWLAND, Superintendent.
PASSENGER TRAIN.
Leaves Atlanta, nightly, at 700 PM
Arrives at Chattanooga at 4.37, A M
Leaves Chattanooga at 4.50’ P M
Arrives at Atlanta at 3.38’ A M
EXPRESS FREIGHT AND PASSENGER TRAIN.
Leaves Atlanta, daily, fit 700
Arrives at Chattanooga at 6.25’ P M
Leaves Chattanooga at 3 35’A M
Arrives at Atlanta at ’ 420 p M
ACCOMMODATION PASSENGER TRAIN.
Leaves Atlanta at - . . . 0.30 P M
Arrives at Kingston at - - - 749 p’ jq’
' Leayet-Kingston at - - - - 400 A M
Arrives at Atlanta at - 10.00 A M
This Road connects, each way, with the Rome/ /
Branch Railroad at Kingston, the East Tennessee
and Georgia Railroad at Dalton, and the Nashville
<k Chattanooga Railroad at Chattanooga.
Atlanta and West Point Kailroad.
Atlanta to West Point 87 Miles Fare $4 25
GEORGh, 3. HULL, Superintendent.
MORNING PASSENGER TRAIN.
Leaves Atlanta, daily, at 5 30 A M
Arrives at West-Point at. ‘n o?’ A M >
Leaves West-Point, daily, at. 12 Wi’p vr
Arrives at Atlanta at 5.28’ A M
EVENING PASSENGER TRAIN.
Leaves Atlanta - - . . . rt on p
Arrive at West Point - - - -11 ss’ p' m’
A^iv CS F Olnt ‘ ‘ ‘ 1 (JO > PM -
Arrives at Atlanta - - . -620 PM.