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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.