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THE BAPTIST BA.\W. BY DAYTON, ELLS 4 00. VOLUME V. ®lu giajrtisi gunner, DEVOTED TO RELIGION AND LITERATURE, 13 published every Saturday, at Atlanta, Georgia, at the »“ «criptiun price of five dollar* per year. DAYTON,. ELLS & CO., Proprietors. A. C. DAYTON. JAS. N. ELLS. S. D. NILES Follow Me. “ And as he passed by, he saw Levi, the son of Al phe,u«, sitting at the receipt of custom, and »aid unto him, Follow me.”—Mark II: 14. Where shall we follow ? —show the way! Through tears, through groans, through pale dis may, To Bethany, where Jesus wept And Availed o’er him who lowly slept: To Calvary, cross bowed and wan, Say must we Ijullow, Sou of Man ? / Deep in the green light of the glade 1 iiud some foot-prints by thee made There thou did’st give the hungry bread; O’er pale disease a healing shed, And wrestle oft in midnight prayer! Say must we follow thee e’en there ? Dark clouds, O Saviour ! veiled thy head, So dark, thy lov’d disciples fled ; E’en he who braved the ocean’s tide, And walked with thee, shrunk bock, denied Thy holy name, and pale, aghast, Looked on, as Calvary-bound thou passed. O! must we follow ?—lend thine arm, Lest we shrink back in pale alarm, And fear to pass each phantom shade Which waits us through this tearful glade. O ! aid us till we reach that shore Where sin and death can wound no more; 'fill at thy feet, the cross laid down, We hear the words, “Now take the crown !” C. W. B. } [fi>r Th a Baptist Banner.]’ ADA MAYFIELD. BY' A LADY. CHAPTER I. YIAN I come in, Ada ?” vJ “Certainly; you are welcome to enter my room, whenever you find the door open. In truth, Lewis, I wish you would throw oil’ some of the reserve you seem to have acquired at college, and treat your sister with your old familiarity. Come and sit w ith me, occasionally, and read or talk to me, while at work ; it will appear more like the former happy days, when our pa rents were with us.” “ I will. Thank you for the invitation. 1 feel dreadfully blue, sometimes, especially on a Sabbath evening. This theory of riding four miles to church, Ada, is a different A thing from church going in the city, where it onl y affords us the opportunity of taking a pleasant airing. And then to come home, eat dinner, and lounge about, all Ihe after noon ami evening, with nowhere to go, is awful tiresome. And uncle Mark did not send to the office, yesterday ; so 1 have had no papers to read, to-day. How do you get through with these long Sundays, Ada I You were accustomed to going to church two or three times a day, in the city. Do you never get tired ?” “Oh ! no. I always find plenty to do; the day never seems long tome.” “ Pray, tell me how you ward off weari ness.” “ Alter prayers, on a Sabbath morning, I first go to the dining-room, to see how all is coming on there ; if breakfast is not rea dy, I sit down and study over my Bible lesson for that day, and hear the children, each one, re id a tow verses, or a chapter. After breakfast, I hear them go over their Sabbath school lessons; then it is tiipe to dress for vhuroh,as we have to go so far.— ’ After returning and dining, I assemble the children in my room, as you see now, study my Bible lesson, and assist them with theirs; and after having learned them pret ty well, we spend the remainder of the af ternoon in reading.” “ What do you find to read, so much as to occupy tin* whole afternoon I” “We have our Bibles Sabbath school books, and two or three religious papers.— Here is one the children have; see, it is a beautiful little sheet, printed expressly for them. They are very fond of it, I assure )ou; and i find it interests/hem more for ma to sit and lead aloud to the others, each one making remarks upon particular passa- * * ges. I always sit with them, and listen, too;' and the) frequently appeal to my judg invnt. I commenced it merely to please them; but I have coma to love the little paper as well as they do, and hail its month ly appearance with as much pleasure.” • Mercy <»u me, Ada! how ean you bear to teach children their leasons, day after di), especially when they are blundering and ftuuiidvting over hard word* and ques tions for the first time! and then, to crown all, to s*t and read such a thumper looking thing as this!” A JBUBSJI®X®ua AW HBWaJPAJPSJR. “ Because sister is not proud, and she loves us too,” said little Harriet. The children were all in the room, and had stopped reading, to listen to the conversa tion. “And don’t I love you, too, Hattie ?” “ I don’t know, sir. You never play with us, nor show us our lessons, nor listen to us read, like sister and uncle Mark.” “ Why, you little darling, I didn’t know you wanted me to,” catching her up on his knee. “Come, get your paper, and read some for me now.” Little Hattie, delighted that her stately brother was going to listen, got the paper and r -ad a story, enforcing, in plain, sim ple language, the necessity of repentance and personal belief. Lewis was charmed with her manner of reading, so clear and i distinct, showing that great pains had been taken with her; and he was more forcibly struck with the story than he was willing any one should see. Hatlie was not satis- I fied with merely reading, but turning her ' sweet childish face round, and looking full in her brother’s eyes, began to besiege him ! with questions, after the same manner she was accustomed to do her sister, not doubt- I ing that such a learned man could answer ‘ them all. 'But her questions were too pointed, too personal; repentance and faith he knew nothing of, practically, and he could not answer them. Confused beyond measure, because Ada was listening, he put the child off by telling her that was some thing they didn’t study in college,and tossing her up in the air, warded off any further questioning by playing with her. These were the children of Philip May field, formerly a prosperous merchant in the city of M . Every summer the fa rnily spent at the fawn of his bachelor brother, Mark Mayfield, where they now were. Two years previous Mr. Mayfield went to the city, in the summer, on urgent business. While there, the yellow fever broke out, and he was among its first vic tims. His wife, in feeble health, died from the shock, with her last breath giving her children to brother Mark ; and, pressing Ada’s hand, said, “be a mother to your brothers and sisters, and obey your uncle.” M ost cotiselentiuosly did she discharge that trust, advising the elder ones, soothing the troubles of the little ones, assisting them all in difficulties, nursing them in sickness; for their sakes, she resolutely refused every offer of matrimony ; in fact, devoted herself so exclusively to them and home duties, that the wise ones began to prophesy that Ada Mayfield would be an old maid. Lewis was at home now for a vacation, and his unele proposed that he should rest from school a year, and take some active exer cise on the farm; for he appeared too list less and indolent to suit the old gentleman’s notions. “ Stay hero, and knock about on the farm, a year, Lewis,” srid he; “hero is a horse at your service ; ride abmt; over look the hands some. and learn how cotton and corn are raised. Hunt up the stock for me occasionally ; you and I will be joint overseers for a year. Hey ! what say you to that, Lewis ? And * hen you are grown, if you should fancy a farmer’s life, yog will know something about it.” Lewis hap pened to be sensible enough to appreciate his uncle’s advice, mid t’dlow it; but he be gan to find country life very tiresome, on Sabbaths especially, a* he complained to Ada. “Ah! whit a laugh, my .little one; playing with your brother, eh ?” said Mr. Mayfield, walking in. “ Ada, have ; you resd this paper? It is h very inter, esting one ; here is a long article on practi cal pietv, and the duty of believers a regular feast—comes right home to the heart.” “ No, sir; I have not read that one yet; the children have rather a difficult lesson I for next Sabbath, and it has required more i of my time to-day than usual.” “ Yes !’’ replied Lewis ; “I came here to hunt company, to drive away the blues, and . I found Ada perched up here, like any • schoolma'am, with her pupils circled round her, conning their lessons. I can’t imagine how any on* raised in the city, and so well calculated to enjoy the best society, can > | content herself with such a humdrum life of . | seclusion.” “You know, L n wi«, it was mother’s dy liug charge to me to take care of the little 1 ones, and all the pleasures of the most re- ATLANTA, GA., SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 1863. HIS BANNER OVER US IS LOVE. i fined society could not induce me to betray i that trust. I shall consider my life well I spent if I can only raise them as she would • have done. Besides, it is a pleasure in it self, to watch the unfolding of their minds, to satisfy their eager inquiries after truth, i and to gradually prepare their hearts for : the reception of the blessed truths of the Gospel.” “ Yes ! it always was a mystery to me how any one can read the Bible so much. There were our parents, and uncle Mark, and some others I know, who read it year after year, with just as much interest at the last as at the first. It was always a dry, uninteresting book tome ; I can’t understand it; therefore I don’t relish it. There must be some kind of fascination about it that attracts some people, and something that repels others. Ido not know how to ac count for it otherwise.” “ Yes, my son, there is a fascination about its pages, I assure you ; there is a delight ful charm about it thatattacts the Christian, but which is entirely unpereeived by the unregenerated heart; for‘thecarnal mind is enmity against God ;’ it is a feast that never satiates, never wearies the lover of Jesus; but, to the natural man, its beauties are hid by a thick cloud of unbelief; they cannot perceive them because avail is over their hearts.” “ But, uncle, the Bible is a revelation from God to man —no* to one particular class—but to all men. is it not ? Does it not contain His will, as regards the conduct of men, what each one mu»tdo to secure sal vation ?” “ Certainly, it does.” “Then, we are all creatures of His own forming. He made each one of us, saint, as well as sinner, Christian and heathen, and i has given to each one a of i intellect, the capacity of reasoning and un derstanding which, in His wisdom, He saw fit. Now, why is it that, in this Book which He has jjiven us as a chart to guide us through life, there are some things necessa ry to salvation taught—many passages writ ten to console and comfort under affliction —to strength! n under trial —to cheer under fatigue—which some of His creatures fully understand and relish, w hile to others they are only dry, unmeaning texts —passages that charm some by their beauty, while others perceive in them only deformi ties?” “ Because of the hardness of the sinner’s heart, my son. The natural heart is at en mity against all holiness; filled with un cleanness, it has no relish tor the pure joys that spring from a conformity of heart and life tothe law of God, nor for a rule of con duct which condemns its depravity on everv page. “ But did’not God give us our hearts, un de, just as they are ? He'gave them to us, and are we to blame for not loving and obeying the law of God when the heart which lit us forbids it i “() LeMfis!” said Ada. “beware how you impute sin to God. By such language you make Him the author of all the wickedness in the world.” “No ; I did not intend that; but it is a mystery to me why God did not give us ail •pure hearts that would delight in His holy j law, in which alone happiness can be* found.” “ Man was originally made upright, my I son ; innocent he came from the hands of] his Creator, and was perfectly happy till he ! transgressed the law of God, and fell into: a state of rebellion and sin. When our first: parents ate the forbidden fruit they became sinkers in the sight of God, and entailed' their fallen nature upon th*?r wholi pos terity. We are all sinners by nature, and can see no beauty in holiness, and take no pleasure in obeying the requirements of the Gospel till we have been renewed in the, spirit and temper of our minds, mid beeuj created anew in Christ Jesus. Then the* scales fall from our eyes, the vail is taken from our hearts, and we delight in what wasj before distasteful to us.” “ 1 know, uncle Mark, that in Adam all mankind fell; that we are all made parts kers of his transgression ; but how is it ? That’s the difficult point that 1 do not un derstand.” “ There is no difficulty about it, my son, if vou will only consider Adam as the rep ’ resentative of the whole race of man. He ; acted not only fur himself, but.for his whole j ' posterity; consequently, the punishment I incurred by his guilt was indicted not only 1 upon himself, but whom he - represented- This wiH»M»*»-very clear to , you if you will only exercise your judgment , upon it, as you do in common things. For instance, Mr. Williams, one of the repre sentatives from our county, several years ago, introduced a bill into the legislature, reducing the license of tippling shops to a mere nothing. It was carried by a very : small majority, and the ruinous conse quences were felt by the whole community ; for the shops became so numerous, and the liquor so cheap, that many fell into the temptation who hail hitherto been sober ; and though the law was repealed the next session, the habit had been formed, and pro gressive sin and misery have been the con sequences. Mr. Williams suffered from it himself; for his eldest son, who was never known to drink before, became a habitual drunkard. But he does not suffer alone. — Those whom he represented feel severely the effects of this one ill-advised act of his. . So, Adam was chosen by God to be the representative of the whole race of man— placed in the garden of Eden—the forbid den fruit pointed out to him—and the con sequence of his disobedience explained to him. His acts, therefore, could not affect him alone, but all those whom he represent ed ; it could not be otherwise. Do you not see it?” “ Yes, sir. I perceive why we should be compelled to toil for a livelihood ; for as the ground was cursed for Adam’s sin, and brought forth thorns, and thistles, and nox ious weeds tor him, it must needs bear them for all the inhabitants of the earth. I can also understand w hy we should suffer from j disease and pain ; for as they were inflicted upon our first parents on account of their transgression, we, their dscendants, will, of course, inherit them ; but why should we be born sinners, prone to evil, and to evil only? Why is not each one born inno cent and pure, as Adam was before his fall ?” “My dear boy, can a pure thing come out of an impure? We were born after Adam’s fall, and as certainly as we inherit his physical nature, we inherit his mural na ture too. Not only was the ground cursed for disobedience, but God told him that in the day he ate the forbidden fruit he should die. They died in sin—not physically, for they stil lived upon the earth to fulfill the purpose ofxx^i —not intellectually, for they retained their reasoning faculties—but they died spiritually ; and as it is impossible for a dead tree to bloom and bear fruit, so it is impossible for one spiritually dead to bring forth children spiritually alive. It is just as reasonable that children should in herit the moral disposition of their parents as their physical and intellectual nature. — Whatever may be the order of a man’s in tellect, he receives it from his parents — i sometimes from the one, sometimes from i the other, often from both—the stamped his genius is theirs ; yet, by being raised in a different sphere, and receiving a different! course of cultivation, in many cases, he has advanced considerably in the seale # of intel lectual acquirements, and developed points jof genius his parents were not known to {possess, lion know, if parents are dis ! eased, they will transmit the disease to i their children : at first only the symptoms : appear, showing they are constitutionally! ! predisposed to to it; and, by proper care and attention, these symptoms may be con siderably checked, and the disease modified in its eflvuts; but the seeds are still there. Sometimes, by a careful regimtn corn-: rnenced in childhood, and continue j through! life, the disease does not fully develop it-j self, or assume a dreaded form, but the germ of it is in the constitution. So an in. I , fant, till he arrives at sufficient age t« dis-J (criminate between right and wrong, is njor- j illy innocent, though a sinner by virtue oft his descent from Adam. The germ of this I spiritual disease is in his heart; he is natu rally predisposed to sin, though it Las not i yet developed itself sufficiently to assume a dreaded form. The experience and ob servation of every day prove to us that by proper training it may be checked in its pro gress, and the man’s moral character, in stead of becoming more depraved, which is its natural tendency when unrestrained, as sumes a degree of refinement which pre , vants the commission of great crimes. How i TERMS —Five Dollars a-year. , | often do we see persons of the same natural disposition to evil becoming virtuous or vi cious according to the influences by which they have been surrounded,’and the instruc tion they have received. Both are sinners, because descended from the same parent, Adam, and, without an interest in the blood of the Redeemer, equally exposed to the wrath of God. We see the one who has been carefully trained and surrounded by refining influences, assuming a higher stand in the scale of moral excellence, and he may even seem, to all outward appearance to be devoid of sin; but it is because, in his case, the disease has not assumed such an aggra vated form. The germ of it is in his heart, and to be cured he must submit to the same remedy with the outbreaking sinner—must apply to the same Physician of souls. We are spiritually dead because deset nded from a parent spiritually dead.” “ I understand it now, uncle; thank you for the explanation.” “Didn’t they study that at college, . brother ?” said Charles. “ Why, I learned it in my Testament more than a year ago, ‘ As in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive.’—l Cor. v : 22. Did you never learn that “ I have heard that repeated from the pul pit often, Charlie, but 1 never understood it. You know 1 did not attend the Sabbath school as regularly as the rest of you. I did not like it, and w henever I could frame an excuse to mother I stayed away. We are all spiritually dead—dead in trespasses and in sin—all partakers in Adam’s fall; but some are made alive in Christ,” he said musingly. “That is another strange thing, uncle Mark. How can one that is dead be made alive again ?” “I will cheerfully try to explain this to you, Lew is, but prefer you should reflect a little more upon the fall of man ; it is so new to you, I would have you to ponder well upon it before you go any further ; and remember, my dear boy, you are spiritually dead. You are an alien from God, a rebel from His authority, and can never be re ceived into His favor except in and through the meritsand atonement of Christ; nothing hut His blood can cleanse you from the pol lution of sin. The germs of sin are in yon. You stand exposed to an eternal death, with all its horrors. But Christ came into the world and suffered death that such as you might be made alive, and He is ready and willing to heal all that come unto God through Him. Give up your heart to Him, my son, in the vigor of youth, and if you live to become gray wuhage and care, you will never regret it.” “ I will think of it,” Lewis replied. He leaned back till his face was shaded by the window curtains, and stroked Hat tie’s head with an abstracted air. Ada went to the dining-room to attend to the prepa rations for supper, and uncle Mark walked out on the piazza to enjoy the cool evening breeze. The children laid aside their books and papers, as it was getting rather dark to read much more, and the boys followed : their uncle ; but Lucy, the second sister, came out and sat on the lounge by her brother’s side, and leaned her head on his shoulder, as it she knew his feelings, and sympathized with him. He put his arm around her, and still caressed Hattie, but spoke not a word to either till the bell ! rung for supper. Then, taking a hand < f leach, he led them to the supper room. [to be continubd.J A Correspondent says that black and white lists are being kept in every company and regiment in Bragg’s army, containing ■ respectively the “stay at home,” the “ex i tortioner,” and the “speculator,” an<s that of our farmers and other patriots who have i assisted, and are assisting, the soldiers’ fa : milies. To obtain a correct list of these it ; is made the duty of every soldier to exert . himst If to the utmost in obtaining from his .home the names of those who constitute the 'two classes. Wen home matters are discussed aiound the camp fires, and the extortioner and the speculator held up in bold relief, even they are forgotten for the time when mention is made of the j oung men now at home,whose places in the ranks are filled by the honest soldier’s detestation, a substitute. Dyeing.—Take red oak Lark sufficient to make four gallons of very strong dye, boil very strong, then strain it, and add two table spoons full of blue stone, then dry your thread in the dye, then in strong lye, Repeat it tor four times, then hang out and •let it get half dry, and rinse in clear water NUMBER 2.