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Till. BAPTIST BANNER.
BY JAS. N. ELLS & CO.
VOL. IV.
W gnptiM fanner,
DEVOTED TO RELIGION AND LITERATURE,
Is published every Saturday, at Atlanta, Georgia, at the
subscriptionprice of four dollars per year.
JAMES N. ELLS & CO.,
Proprietors.
THE CROSS.
Symbol of shame! mysterious sign
Os groans, and agonies, and blood
Hail! pledge of love and peace divine
From God!
Symbol of hope to those that stray—
The pilgrim’s step is led to thee;
Scar of the soul! thou £ uidest the way
To Calvary.
Symbol of tears —I look and mourn
His woes, wh >se heart for mine was riven;
Where, wanderer, is thy due return
To Heaven*
Symbol of empire! thou shalt ri-e
And shine where lands in darkness sit;
O’er pagan domes that mock the skies,
And minaret.
Symbol of glory! when no more
Eirtli’s broken idols claim the knee—
The universe shall Him adore
Who bled < n thee.
[for The Baptist Bonn r.J
A TRIP
Respectfully Inscribed to Dr W. F. W„ Surgeon,
Medical-College Hospital, Atlanta.
ON the evening of the —of May, 1863,
1 stepped aboard the crowded train on
the Western & Atlantic Railroad, and soon
found myself hurried on, in the direction
of Dalton. At this place I parted with the
obliging Conductor of the State-Road, Mr.
S. Bell, and started for Knoxville. Nothing
of interest occurred during the trip thus
far, and, indeed, 1 seemed quite inanimate,
only occasionally glancing out at the fields,
attracted by the fine condition of the crops
in that vicinity.
I mentioned above my indifference to
any thing passing; and my reason for so
doing was, that my mind was reverting to
the many changes that had taken place since 1
my last journey over this route —the brief
interval of twelvemonths. But now I was
•once again returning to my native State— '
■“ the dearest spot on earth to me,” my
home. Home! Oh, who can describe the •
joy of a return to this loved place ! The
soldier, night after night, as he sleeps be
neath his cdarse blanket, is cheered by
bright visions of home and its loved ones.
As his wasted strength sinks beneath the
|effectsof exposure and fatigue, he exchanges
his couch of dew and frost for the ward ol
a hospital; here, after much suffering, he is
kindly spared to receive that best boon (to
a soldier) —a furlough. Ask him what he
would take in exchange for this unutterable
joy—ask him what ‘‘home” is—and his
languid eye will brighten, but language will
fail to express the feelings of mingled hope
and gladness which invigorate his wearied
frame. See lhe exchanged prisoner, as he
gazes out upon the waters, as : f to penetrate
the many miles that separate him from his
home; how eagerly he watches every mo
tion of the steamer that bears him onward
to his native shores ! But, alas, how many,
thus watching and waiting, now sleep be
neath those waves !
After many tiresome hours, we neared
the old Mother State. New life seemed
diffused through my sluggish frame; each
flower, tree and shrub, revived my hitherto
drooping spirits; the very atmosphere be
came invigorating. The day was most de
lightful —the “day of rest.” At every sta
tion, large groups of gaily-attired “contra
bands” were standing talking. The cattle
were browsing over rich pasture-grounds.
The good old farmer had donned his suit of
brown russet, brushed up his time-worn
hat, and stood curiously gazing al the
crowded train as it rattled by his humble
dwelling.
But few save aged men can be seen along
thia route. I saw quite a large number ut
men on furlough, who were slightly
I wounded at lhe battle of Chancellorsville,
and who were watching the approach of the
ears as they stopped at Ahingdon, Salem,
Liberty, and other places. Sadly 1 thought
of the hour when the farmer-boy, lay ing
aside his plow, had gone forth to battle tor
his country’# rights and honor, but few ot I
them t*» return. In those little country
grave yards, or among the city’s crowded
dead, is mouldering the hope of many de
clining years. Urge numbers, too, rest
on the battle field, in lhe Soldier’s unre
corded sepulchre.
“ Here sleep ‘be brave, who rink to rest.
By all their country’* ‘ionor» bleit."
In this section, along the line of the Vir
ginia & Tennessee Railroad, the crops were i
A, BEMSSO'OT OD ffi , Aßag£'S r l»WsliPAS?ffiSi.
unusually fine in many places. Providence
seemed intelligibly to show His great care
for our condition. Flourishing nature, too,
seemed to calm our fears, and whisper
“ Content I See, here is bread for the army.’
I almost fancied that the inspiring spirit of
the hero Jackson was breathing around, and
his expiring words were still echoing, as
never to be forgotten—“ Send forward pro
visions to the men I ” Such was Jackson.
In the delirium of suffering, his soldiers,
his untiring care, were before his vision.—
In forced marches, in deadly conflict, he had
been ever vigilant, and the wants of his
followers were not forgotten. Oh, what a
rebuke is the dying language of Virginia’s
great and good son, to the untold numbers
of officers in varied departments of our
army, who neglect and sparingly provide
the necessities entrusted to them ! And
who can tell the amount of ill-gotten wealth
obt.ined by these unjust stewards? We
despise the enemy whose leaden bullet
swiftly speeds on its message of destruction
to the defenders of our homes; but society
tolerates with its fawning flattery the man
who can stealthily rob the soldier of his
rights, or, as is more often the case, misera
bly neglect them. On eaith but seldom
does “even-handed Justice” hold lhescales,
but there are balances where many will be
found “ wanting.” But enough of this.—
Such is life. We know', although we have
our courts of justice, our laws, our prisons,
that st dking abroad are those whose very
presence would contaminate the lonely cell
of the incarcerated felon. To the officers
of our army who quietly pursue, with “a
conscience void of offence,” their respective
duties, this merited chastisern* nt of the un
faithful will cause no feelings of desponden
cy, but rather, with the humble author of
this sketch, they will regret its truthfulness.
During a few days’ sojourn in the county
of Amherst, I frequently visited Lynchburg.
While there I made a visit to the “ Ladies’
Soldiers Relief Hospital,” under the super
intendence of Mrs. Lucy T. Oley, a lady
well known in Virginia, one who has suffer
ed deeply during our unhappy struggle. —
With the frosts of many winters on her
matronly brow, with an energy truly cha
racteristic of a patriot, she still administers
to the wants of the sick a”d wounded sol
dier. Many other ladies of this busy towi
deserve much praise, but as principal of
this institution 1 have briefly mentioned the
above lady. The hospital was exceedingly
neat and cheerful. There were some thirty
hospitals here, I was told ; had not an op
portunity of visiting them. I saw many
wounded Georgians walking about the
streets. I was pleased on Sabbath at seeing
so many soldiers in church.
On the morning of—, I left Ly nchburg
for the Capital, our modern Paris. On the
Lynchburg & Richmond Railroad the soil
seemed unusually prodigal with her gifts.
All who have travelled this route know
how hilly is the surrounding country. But
no craggy <>r rugged hill-side could thwart
the industry of man; for where hitherto
was seen a perpetual growth of trees and
shrubs, now waved grain of different kinds,
which seemingly nodded their little green
heads as if their great importance was felt
by their own unintelligent selves.
As the Danville train passed over the
bridges leading to the city, 1 could scarcely
convince myself that I was so near what
once had been my home. The roar of the i
James, and lhe splashing of its miniature
cascades, had been the lullaby of my child
hood, and for many hours I had watched its
waves as they sparkle! ’neath the rays of
a mid-day’s sun Every hill side, church
spire, or turret, were to me familiar.—
Swiftly sped memory , and adown the sha
dowy vista of the Past were many scenes
Jong enacted but never to be forgotten.—
Like living landscapes they arrayed them
selves to my view. Ote was an enclosure I
overgrown with tl »wers and tall grass,
where reposed the severed links of a once
| large aid happy household. Near by were
the grave* of two little forms who sleeo
side by side, the shattered idols ot a strick
■ en heart.
“ The grave yard Ins two a’ded mounds.
And hea .en two angels more.”
Let not the reader imagine the fAr famed
metropolis as a great cathedral of Woe, but
rather think of it as a great Mart. I reach
ed Richmond at an early hour, and a veil
I of mist was struggling w ith the approaching I
ATLANTA, GA., SATURDAY, JULY 4, 1863.
HIS BANNER OVER US IS LOVE.
J god of day. I felt as ii I would have wish
i ed to have entered the city in the full blaze
, of the meridian’ sun, when each roof-top
’ would have reflected back its gilding rays.
’ 1 felt a conscious pride as I gazed upon the
I great heart of millions of freemen, still
I hoping, still resolute, in the defence of
s rights and liberty; lut a recent rain had
somewhat saddened the prospect, and 1
, quietly wended my way to the residence of
a former friend.
After breakfast 1 commenced iny stroll
ing pilgrimage. Ilere all is life—motion—
no inactivity, save a few lounging officers
released from camp duties on some unim
portant detail. But do not think I envy
them what might be a little wholesome re
creation ; for worse than Yankee bullets
assail them now’: On yonder corner, that
oily-tongued gentleman, with the neat-fitting
suit of polished black, is weaving for them as
destructable a het as the fabled spider em
ployed for the fly ; and a little farther on
is a blue-painted sign with the golden daz
zle—“ Billiards.” Oh, would it not be
well if on the other side of that little sign
board were painted the “ Death head ” of
the pirate’s flag, as more appropriate of a
moral destruction ?—or could that insinua
ting, beguiling faro-dealer (but the type of
hundreds of his class in our cities) be as
fully exposed to his victims ns he is to the
Eternal Eye whose recording angel jshud
ders as he pens the unhallowed deeds of
this almost inhuman specimen of depravity.
Another class of inactives were the many
wounded and wan soldiers, seeking relief in
the open air from the foetid atmosphere of
their hospital confines.
Passing on down Main street, thence to
Franklin, I concluded to call on Mrs. Judge
Hopkins, of Mobile, the principal matron
of the 2d and 3d Alabama. Hospitals. The
reputation which this most excellent lady
has won during the two years of conflict,
needs no added laurels, and indeed 1 feel
myself incompetent to twine a single flower
in her unfading wreath. Every thing about
those hospitals, as far as I could judge, was
most systematically arranged, and every
comfort afforded the suffering. Iloward’s-
Grove Hospital is a beautiful little model
of a village ; it is quite attractive from its
outward appearance of white cottages
shaded with stately trees, and is situated on
an elevation commanding a view of a large
portion of the city. ’ Mechanicsvi le, some
five or six miles from this place, at the head
of the Turnpike, was the theatre of some
thrilling events of this war. 1 passed many
large factory hospitals, which were as rough
as some of the beings who preside over
their various departments. Several hospi
tals in different parts of the city were well
attended to. I rode out near Camp Wind
er, but did not seek admittance. 1 was
told that so far as external appearances
were concerned, there was some improve
ment; but the ill-f d soldiers cannot but |
judge harshly of those who so unwisely
provide for their care these worshippers of
mammon.
Money in Richmond, as elsewhere, is as
abundant asspeculators. A man who does
not get rich is a fool—so his thriuing ne;gh
bor thinks —and not many wait to receive
this encomium, but press onward to the
goal which seems to await all who seek it.
I The prices of every thing were almost fab
: ulous, but the markets were crowded, and
, the ladies, in magnificent costumes, were
I flitting about. ” Queens ”of May, excur
sions to Drury’s Bluff, Theatre, Concert
halls, lady equestrians with gay gentlemen
Attendants, were the amusements of the
Capital. I sa* none of the higher officials,
save Mr. Memminger —a quiet, gentleman
ly old man.
Two days in Richmond, ami 1 left for
I Petersburg, paid a visit to several friends,
{took a stroll around the city, and in the
evening took the train for Lynchburg.—
Soon after arriving in that place, rec. ived
intelligence of the fight Culpepper.—
It did not at first reflect much credit on our
Uroops, so rumor said. This is but another
warning to be ever vigilant. Oh, that a
civilized nation should be compelled toj
combat with an army of Sepoys. But.
sooner or later, the Right must prevail ;
and, notwithstanding the injuries effected by
croakers, speculator*, and traitors at home
and abroad, the white banner of the S -uthj
aith its stargemed cross, will yet wave in
triumph over our sunny land.
Adieu. S. E. 11. |
THE LADIES’ COLUMN.
. A MOTHER'S KISS.
Not umrmed go they forth whose brows are wet
with the parting tears of children and of wives;
not without a helmet and a-shield are they who-e
• locks are wet with a mothe’s tender kisses—whose
forms are followed by a mother’s tender hourly
prayers.
Where the standards waved the thickest,
• And the ride of battle rolled,
Furiously he char, ed the foeman,
On his snow-wh>te steed so bold ;
But he wore no guarding helmet,
Only his long hair of gold.
‘ Turn and fly ! thou rash yotmg warrior,
Or this iron helmet we .r! ’
‘Na\ f but I am armed already
In the brightness of my hair;
For my mother kissed its tresses
With the holy lips of prayer! ’
U EABT” MOTHERS.
We wish it were possible topersuadesome
—otherwise most excellent mothers—how
much trouble they would save themselves
by exercising a little firmness towards their
young children. Os course it takes more
time to contest a point with a child than t<>
yield it; and a busy mother, not ft fleet ing
that it is not for one, but for I housands of fu
ture times, and to rid herself of importunity,
says wearily—“yes—yes—you may do it,
when all the while she knows it to be wrong,
and most injurious to the child. Then then
conies a time when she must say No! and
the difficulty of enforcing it, at so late a
period of indulgence, none can tell but
“easy” mothers of self-willed children.—
For your own sakes, then, mothers, if you
have not the future good ot your children
at heart—for your own sakes—and to save
yourselves great trouble in ihe future, learn
to say No, and take time to enforce it. Lei
everything go, if necessary, because this
contest must be fought out, successfully,
with every seperate child ; and otipe fought,
it is done with forever. When we see
mothers, day by day, worried—harrassed,
worn out by ceaseless teasings and impor
tunities, all for the want of a little firmess
at the outset, we know not whether to be
more sorry or angry ; at any rate have no
patience to stay by and-witness such mis
management.
JEALOUSY.
Jealous! are you ? Well you’ve got a
comfortable guest* to entertain, that’s all
that can be said for you. You musthavea
great idea of your husband’s nobility ol
character, not to mention unmistakable no
bleness and unsel ishness of your own soul
Don’t you suppose he is to feel any regard
or affection for any person but your own
sweet self? Are you so exclusive ? Don’t
you think he is ever to enjoy conversation
with any lady but yourself ! Did his mar
riage vow forbid all friendship —all affection
that is nut directed to you ? Do you go
upon that view of the case? How came
you to scream so< and rusdl down stairs a
if about to break your neck, the day that
returned Californ an entered your door?
Oh ! he was ‘an old and dear school-mate
and a native townsman.’ was he? ‘youi
brother’s best and truest friend ; and like
a brother to all of you.’ Very well—what
if your husband had caught you just a? y <»u
fell, (at the foot of the stairs,) all in a heap,
into this dear friend's arms? Wouldn’t he
have had cause to be jealous?
‘Jealous of Charles? How ausurd !
Why he knows that, though we always
loved each other, we were never in love—
if we had been, all we had to do was to get
married. It’s fo<»li-h to talk about being
jealous of Charles.’
Perhaps! But if so, why so touchy about
your Henry’s attention to Zus old school
mate? Pray allow him the same liberty
that you expect to take for yourself. You
think he ought to have faith in you—have
faith in him; and that will teach him toj
trust you. Don’t let him see that your I
eyeshave been green towards him—he is j
too noble tn'do aught’th tt you eomplam of; i
but if you show how you have aligned
yourself to feel because you have seen that
he has some thoughts that are not entirely
yours, you will inevitably, come down a
long step in his estimation—and you will
not likely ever retrieve that step; beware.
He is true to you in all that yuu have a
l right to claim. A man’s whole soul and
I affection —as a woman’s—belong only to
j the Lord—each earthly f iend and relation j
has its own appointed i<»ve; but none of ;
'these ought to exclude any other true love.
Because one loves one»p 'rson best of all.
' may he not have many friend-, who are very
lear, and must he be forever stiff and formal '
{to all these lest the one be not satisfied?
Believe it, wife, husband, that connuigal
love, which can only he kept secure by close
watching, is not worth the trouble. Fur
ther — t thus only it can be kept, it can’t
j l»e kept t hus. So that, in ai.v case, von I
I >'ay spare yourselves the pain, mortilica
lion, and trouble, yes, ; n 1 the means, of,
being jealous ; fir if your mate is good and
true, there is no need of it; and if not good
and true, there is no use in it.
I
Spiritual religion is an affair between
G »d and the soul, that is principally tr..n-s
- when no eye sees.
TERMS —Four Dollars a-ye ar.
A GROUP OF HOUSEHOLD CHARMS.
As an aid to the chief ornament of wo
man, “a meek and quiet spirit,' 5 we gather
some charmed talismans of kindly advice
' and warning, uniting them in one group:
The last word is the most dangerous of
. infernal machines. Hu-band and wife should
no mure strive to get it than they woud
sttuggle for the possession of a lighted
bomo-shell. Married people shou d s udy
each other’s weak points as ska’ers look af
ter the weak parrs of the ice, in O'dtr to
keep off them. Ladies who marry for love
should remember, that the union of angels
wi h women has been forbidden since the
flood. The wife is the sun of lhe social
system. Unless she attracts thete is noth
ing to prevent heavy bodies, like husbands,
from flying off' info space. The wife who
would properly discharge her duties, must
never have a soul “above buttons.” Don't
tru-t too much to good temper, when you
ge.t into an argument. Sugar is the sub
stance most universally diffused through
all natural products. Let manied people
raxe the hint from this provision of nature.
Mutual Forbearance. — That house will be
kept in a turmoil where there is no tolera
tion of each other’s errors, no lenity shown
to failings, no met k submission to injuiies,
no Soft answer to turn away wrath If y< u
ay a single stick of woud in a grate, and
.apply fire to it, it will go out; put another
and they will burn; and half a dozen, ai.d
you will have a blaze. There are olh r fires
subject to the same conditions. If <ne
member of a family gets into a passion,
and is let alone, he will cool down, and
possibly be ashamed, kud-repent; but op
pose temper to temper, pile on the fuel,
draw in others of the group, and let one
hat sh answer be followed by another, and
you will have a blaze, whith will enwrap
them all in its burning heat.
Maxims and Rales of Life. — Remember
'hat every person, however low, has righs
and feelings. In all c< ntentiun*, let peace
be rather your ol>j»ct than triumph. Value
triumph only as the means of peace. Do
not attempt to frighten children ai d inferi
ors by pas ion; it does more harm to your
own chaiacter than it does good to them ;
the sain? thing is better done by firmness
and persuasion. Find fault, when you must
find fault, in private, if possible; and some
time after the offence, rather than at the
i lime. The blamed are less inclined to re-
I sist, when they are blamed without wit
i uesses; both parties are calmer, and the
I accuse d pa 1 ty is struck with the forbearance
of the accuser, who has seen the fault, and
watched for a private and proper time for
mentioning it. — Smith.
HERO-WURiHIP.
One temptation is upon the people of
these Confederate States, arising from their
success ii arms; one sin they have to guard
against—a sin that doth so easily be?et na
tions w hich have great interests at stake,
and rejoice in wise and valiant captains :
we mean hero-worship.
Hero-worship is as dangerous as fascina
ating, and to be resisted in the ueginnmgs;
for it has often prepared lhe way for de
stroying the very blessings that heroism
has achieved.
Hero-worship is invidious, if not unjust.
The private soldier, whose name is never
mentioned in the official bulletins, but who
toiled, and bled, and died, did his part as
well as the epai Jetted chieftain. His heart
was as brave, his courage as heroic, his sa
crifice as patriotic. We wrong the many
l >y heaping all the, honors up m the few.—
Trie meed of praise should be distributed.
’ I’is a plea-ure to be grateful, but gratitude
should be just. Heroes are in the ranks as
well as on the staff. It n quires heroes to
execute a field order as welt as to give it.
Weil for us that this sentiment of honor is
so powerful and precious a commodity.—■.
1 It is the soldier’s pay —his gain—his wealth.
I Deal it out ungrudgingly, but fairly.
Hero-worship, especially to that excess to
which excited multitudes are prone, excludes
the worship of God. A poor return we
make to Him forgoing forth w>th our ar
mies and shaping our counsels, and streng'h
ening cur arms, and striking fear into our
enemies, w hen we celebrate the victory by
decreeing Divii e honors to man. “Cursed
is he that muketh flesh his arm.” O. peo
ple lean not on ii ! Our God is jealous,
and will not give His honors to another.—
When we begin to say, or to feel in our
hearts, that our own arm hath gotten the
vi- tory, our superior generals have brought
salvation, then wo ate nigh t«» humiliation,
nnd will s<>on be taught weakness by a sad
exnerietice.
Os course, as a means, and as secondary
causes, we accent in such times, as a great
gift <>f Ib-aven, able officers, valiant cap
tams judicious leaders. Bui God can take
them awav ata stroke, or, by the combi
nations of Providence, bring their shrewdest
' counsel ?o naught.
e confess to a constant fear, if not dis
trust, of the public this point
—a fear of a growing self complacence and
seif-reliance «>n the part of the propie. L> t
us beware < f it and keep cu' cause, in G"<j’s
ha’ d<. and give Him the glorv. Remem
ber them, and he warned, who “sacrifice to
j their net and burn incense to their drag.”
NO. 33.