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OR, VOL. I.] THE WASHINGTONIAN. PUBLISHED BY JAMES McCAFFERTY, TWICE EVCRV M.BTH. Office on Macintosh street—opposite the Post Office. TtftivTs. For asingla copy, forom* rear, One Dollar; for six Co|iies, to one a ldn-ss, Five Dollars ; for ten copies, to one a I Jr- ss, Eigtit Dollars—and so ill | roportion. Payment ia all rases to Be made in advance. ::J- All communications liy mail,must lie post paid, to re.'ei- e attention. WASHINGTON Total Abstinence Society of Augusta. OFFICERS: Dr. Joseph A. Eve, President. H-v W*. T. BHAxn.tr, Vice-President. Wji. Huxes, Jr.,Secretary and Treasurer. Managers—James Harper,Dr. F. M. Robertson, K. W" Tolman, Jesse Walton, James VV. Whitlock, William Shear, C. C. Taliaf rro. From the (Raleigh, N. C.) Temperance Union. Breaking the Pledge. The deep impression made on t ile minds of tin: < t orn minity by the lapse of a single individual Iro.n his adherence to the Temperance Pledge, is the strongest proof o! the fidelity of the great ) mass of Temperance men. At the commencement of the great reform, i frequent lapses were predicted hy its enemies, and j anticipted by its friends. How much the ex pec t itiuns o! boih have been disappointed, and how strong is now the lencc of its friends and j foes hi tin; general fidelity even of the reformed \ to their pledge, is dearly sh.iwn liv tae gi..,an of i the one and the chuckling of the other at a single inst tnce of relapse. Let the enemies of the Temperance cause re member what strong testimony they are bearing i to ils power and clliaaey by their glee and re- i -g, That a single individual has fallen again I from soberness and comparative respectability, j into the degradation of intemperance. We will not stop to inquire how much benevo lence is displayed bv those, who are delighted 1 with such an event, who chuckle with pleasure because a fellow-being has again become, that wretched thing, which we call .1 drunkard. We leave it to the good sense, and goo I feeling of the com ttunity, woollier the cause, which elevates man to sobriety and temperance, or that winch I encourages and rejoices in his degradation by intemperance, is most worthy their support and j approbation. We merely advert to the subject now, as clearly proving the general stability and fidelity ol the signers ot the pledge from the pow erful impression produced on the public mind bv a single exception. .Neither do su.lt events' afford an argument against the general good; effect of Temperance Associations. They show the frailty of human nature- -as it is shewn by | the failure of ail human institutions to producein j every instance the desired results. There was a Judas in the little hand of dissi pies around the Saviour himself His church lias not been lice from hypocrites and apostates. In civil g ivernmenis and armies, some prove defaulters, cowards and traitors. The various arts and inventions of civilized life, which minis ter to the comfort and happine-s of man, some times prove the destruction of thtise engaged in them. Tne sailor sometimes finds a watery giave, ami the traveller I ises his life by the very power which is speeding him on Ins journey, cut who would dream -if founding an argument against the Christian religion on theapostacy ol Judas—against civil governments aird armies,! from the defalcation of a Swartwout, or the! ■treachery of an Arnold—or against the invention ! of Genius, because a solit iry accident may occur j in tne midst of general success 1 Equally ridiculous is it, to argue against Tem perance S >cielies, because they are not tree from the imperfections an I failures attending every human iusti-ution. We have rather reason to 1 be astonished at t .eir general success, and the vast amount of good tney have already accom-! plished, than at the few unfortunate failures of their benevolent efforts. The drunkard who has been reformed and re lapsed, is in no worse condition than before his j reformation—we leave him where we found him If the Temperance Society had made him a; drunkard, there would be some cause for com-j plain', but certainly tiiere is very little reason for 1 complaing that we have kept lor a time a sober man, and that he has at last gone back to the! same state in which the enemies of Temperance I wished us to have permitted him to remain. We have one remark to make on this subject to the moderate drinker. It is that the/act that reformed men do sometimes relapse, constitutes the most powerful argument in favor of total ah- ! stinence. TOTAL ABSTINENCE ADVOCATE. ' the condition of the drunkard is so hopeless ' --it neither the most solemn resolutions, nor P edges ot his honor as a gentleman, are sufficient i to break the chains of habit and appetite, which 1 bind him down to the misery' and degradation of; 1 drunkenness—who, in full view ofalTthe evils of 1 i-uch a course, would foster this appetite and ha- 1 1 hit in himself ’ Let those, who urge as an ob jection against v\ ashington Temperance Socie- 1 ties, that the drunkard eau never be reclaimed, ponder well, with what fearful weight this argu j nicnt tells against moderate drinking—against the f.lunation of an appeiile, whose end is, ac cording t,i their theory, and 100 often in fact, j unavoidable, remediless ruin. Never tempt a man <0 break a good resolu tion—« noble example of early times. j About the year ] 7?(i, a circumstance occurred, j which deserves to be written on adamant In the wars of New England with tile aborigines,' I the Mohegan tribe of In lians early became j friends..!' the English. Their favorite ground! was on the banks of a river, now the Thames,! between New London and Norwich. A small i J remnant of the Mohegansstill exist, and they are | sacredly protected in the possession and enjoy ment ol their favorite domain on the banks ot'tiie ; Thames. The government of this tribe had bc , come hereditary m the family of the celebrated 1 Chief, Uncus. During the time of my father’s j mercantile prosperity, he had employed several 1 Indians of this tribe in hunting animals, whose I skins were valuable for their fur. Among these. I was one named Zachary, of the royal race, an j excellent hunter as ever lived. W hen he had somewhat passed tile age ol y(), several members j of the royal family, who stood between Zachary j i and the throne of his tribe, died, and lie found ' himself with only one between him and the em pire. In this moment his better genius resumed its sway, and he reflected seriously. ‘ How can , such a drunken wretch as I am aspire to be the Cniefof this honorable race 1 Can 1 succeed to I the great Uncas! 1 will drink no more.’ fie solemnly resolved never again to taste any 1 drink but water, and he kept his resolution. 1 had heard tins story, and did not entirely be lieve it; tor, young as I was I had already partook in the prevailing contempt for Indians, in the beginning of May, the annual election of the (then) colony was field at Hartford, the capital. My father attended officially, and it was cus tomary for the Chief of the Alohegans also to I attend. Zachary had suceeded to the rule over : his tribe. My father’s house was situated about j midway on the toad between Mohegan and Hartford, and the old Chief was in the = habit of coining a few days before the election and dining with his brother governor. One day the mis chievous thought struck me, to try the sincerity of the old man’s temperance. The family were I sealed at dinner, and there was excellent home- J brewed ale on the table. I adddressed the old ■ Chief—' Zachary, this beer is excellent; will you taste it V . The old man dropped his knife—leaned for ward with stern intensity of expression—his \ black eye, sparkling with indignation, was fixed j on me. ‘John,’ said he, ‘you do not know what J you are doing. You are serving the devil, boy! ; I tell you that Taman Indian, 1 tell you that I am, and that, if 1 should but taste your beer, I could not stop until I got to rum, and become again the drunken, contemptible wretch your father remembers me to have been. John, while you live, never tempt a man to break a good re solution.’ Socrates never uttered a more valuable I | precept: Demosthenes could not have given it in j more solemn tones of eloquence. I wasthun-; ! derstruck. My parents were deeply affected:! j they looked at each other, at me, and at the ven- j ! erable old Indian, with deep feeling of awe and i ; respect. They afterwards frequently reminded j me of the scene and charged me never to forcet i j Zachary lived to pass the age of 80, and sa- ! ! <'-red!y kept his resolution. He lies buried in the roval place ofnis tribe, near the beautiful falls of ! the Yantic, the western blanch of the Thames, in Norwich, on land now owned by mv friend, ; Calvin Goddard, Lsq. I visited the grave of the ; T 1 Chief latelv, and repeated to myself his ines timahie lesson.— [Col. John Trumball. Thr Temperance Cause in Florid*.-The j Sentinel, published in Tallahassee, though a po litical paper, manifests a warm interest in the Temperance Cause, and is doing much to advance j The Editor remarks in his last paper, (speak ing of Temperance,) “This glorious cause is still advancing with sure and rapid strides, and the j people of Florida are coming up to its support. Interesting meetings have been held at Pensaco- j j la - Apalachicola, Q-uincy and St Augustine. The meeting at Pensacola was addressed by Gov. Dale, of Alabama.—S C, Temp. Adv AUGUSTA, GA. SATURDAY. JULY 2, 1842. Incident of the Revolution. BY MHS. aNN S. STEPHENS. ****♦*%♦ It was a splendid scene; thedinner table of the English commander. Front his own land of lux > ur\ he had imported the massive plate and (h ie ! cate china that covered it, loaded profusely with viands. I.ritish gold had purchased the tory iar mcr's cutlery, goblets S|)arkled with wine like “molten rubies of liquid amber,” and brimmed to the lips ot the gay-young officers, who in their | glittering uniforms, suiroundcd by song and | "ine. were reveliing on the brink Os intoxication. Loud rose their voice of me rriment, in gleeful cho- I rus when a setvnnt entered with the information i that a female bad arrived at their camp with a flag ; of truce, and demanded an interview with Gen ! eral Howe. A haughty smile curled the Englishman’s lip,! as he addressed an aid-de-camp. "Who is this think you 1 the rebels must be in extremities when they send us women instead ! of ambassadors,” The aid-de-camp answered hisGeneral’ssmile, and demanded of the servant if the lady was young or old I * “ Young,sir.” “ And pretty V’ asked a dozen voices at once. “ Rather pale, your honors.” “ Young and interesting; our gallantry is lies- i tirring itself,” exclaimed some of the same voices.; “ General pray admit her,” Most ot the young officers were on their feet, j and all eyes were turned on the entrance, as Sa rah Easton advanced—her deep mourning ren dered her pale features almost ghastly and her crape veil thrown back so as to display her white forehead and eyes, touchingly sweet in their ex pression, even while resting on the form of him who made her heart desolate. Not a word was spoken by the group that surrounded the dinner tul'le; the merry smile was quenched on the lip * of each gay individual as he looked on the young American w ho stood before thorn in the beautiful majesty of her grief. Howe advanced with state ly politeness, hut she shrank from his approach and requested the body of Nathan Hale for chris t an iiu ial. Howe was evidently surprised at the nature of the petition, but courteously answered that it could not he granted. Captain Hale having alre dy been buried three days. “ ct surely he might he’disinterred,” persisted she. eagerly stepping lorward -then seeing denial in his looks she added beseechingly, “ You will not refuse his parents a look on the face of their son, if you are a fat her vou cannot he so cruel to humanity.” “Arc you a sister or wife of the deceased, that you thus urgently ask for his remains'?” ‘Neither, oh! neither,’ replied the tortured girl, pressing her hands over her eyes to hide the burst ot tears the question had unlocked. A young officer, pitying her distress, handed her a chair. !She sat down and endeavored to check her untimely tears, when another advanc ed a thing of laced scarlet and huge epaulctts, and touching the tip of her white neck, with his insolent finger, demanded, ‘ if she were neither the wife nor sister of the handsome spy, what else could she he unless it were a sweetheart ?’ I he blood flushed into the cheek of the insult ed girl, like sudden sunset, hut without answering him, she turned to General Howe, and said- I expected to be secure: hut as I find rnvself mistaken, I request an answer to my petition, and liberty to withdraw.’ Howe cast upon the young impertinent stran ger a look of stern anger, and then turning to Sarah, he said with smooth suavity of manner, so common to the man of the world, and difficult to contend against, so artfully does it charm away j opposition. ‘ Young lady, I regret that it is not in mv pow er to grant your request. The remains you seek have been disposed of according to law in such cases, and must not be disturbed. I should be extremely happy to gratify you, but in this, as I have sail!, it is entirely out of my power.’ Sarah was about to speak again, but with a bow of dismissal, he requested the young officer who handed her a chair to conduct her to the boat in which she came, Sarah shrunk from the offered arm of her c nductor, though much her trembling limbs needed support, and walked si lently to the shore; but just as she was stepping into the boat, he dfevv close to her side, and whispered— l be in that cove yonder at midnight, and I will help you to the possession of the body you are so desirous to obtain.’ Sarah, with a stifled cry of joy, seizing his hand: ‘And will you indeed help me? God bless you.’ ‘ Restrain yourself, we shall be observed; sail out of sight of the camp, and at midnight come as ! have directed to the cove: the grave is nearby: you can seethe tree’—he hesitated, hut too late : Sarah's tve hail fallen on that fatal old oak, standing hleak and alone, spreading its hu<re branches against the sky, like the congregated arms of giant executioners. A remnant of r. pe dangled Horn one of its guarded limbs. Sarah gave one piercing look, and her heart seemed for a moment in the dutch of a vulture;, and then with a shuddering gasp ot horror she sprang into the boat and shut out the fearful sight with her locked hands. * he same moan that had witnessed the parting o! liale and his betrothed, now shone upon her as she sat hv the side of his old father in the boat that lay upon her oars in the cove, rocking to the swell ot tlie rising tide, and lifting by degrees towards tlie shore. I'he watchers were anx iously looking for the appearance of the generous Englishman, within hearing of the sentinel sta tioned near the grave. His heavy measured step at length ceased ; and the sound of some voices came from where he was standing. There was u silence for a few minutes, a cracking of the brush-wood that skirted the cove, and ttien the young officer stood on the beach within a few paces from them. ‘Quick, pull on shore—l have got rid of the : sentinel for halfan hour—quick or we shall not 1 have time.’ 1 wo or three strokes of the oar brought the j boat to Ins teet. Ihe old man arose the very pic ture of stern grief—the moonlight displaying the ; still lineaments of his pale face, as lie grasped, with both ol his, the large white hands extended ! to assist hint on shore. The boatman followed, 1 and Sarah was left alone. It was a fearful halt hour to that poor girl, the waves moaning like unquiet spirits about her, and the dreadful sound of shovelling of earth and muffled voices coming from the distance. She dared not look after the three as they went to ward the grave; for her heart sickened at the thought d again looking at the gallows tree with its horrid appendage. A suspension oi sounds caused Sarah to raise Iter face from the toldsot her shawl where she had I buried it; no living being was in sight. But the " shadow of the bloody oak had crept along the j water like a vast pall endowed with vitality till ■ its extreme lay upon the edge of the boat; ’and was insidiously moving towards her. With a cry of terror, and shuddering all over, as if the un earthly dew of another world was upon her, the poor girl snatched an oar and shoved into’ the moonlight; again she looked up, and the three who disinterred the dead appeared, bearing him over the bright grass, in the cloak of the Englishman, the feet supported by the generous officer, and the grey hairs of the father streaming i over the bosom of his lifeless son. Noiselessly | they came to the shore. There the old man left j *>! s burden in the arms of the officer while he took his seat in the boat, and then his quivering arms ! were extended, and the body of Nathaniel, ; shrouded in his military winding sheet, was laid across the arms of his father, while his head rest j ed on the chilled bosom ot ins betrothed wife. They went out upon the waters—the livingand the dead, when old Hale raised his grey head and spoke to the young lady. 1 Sarah, in our mourn ing for the dead, we must not for get the duty we owe to our country. Let us search for the papers we are to carry to Washington.’ Then with his cold and quivering hands he unfolded the cloak, and found the papers containing the information, purchased at so great a sacrifice, secured in the vest. In taking them out of the bosom, the < orpsc was laid bare. I’he moonlight poured full upon his broad, white front, and there, just over the pulseless heart, Sarah, with a cry of ago ny, saw that long bright ringlet of her own hair. | How common, and at the same time how-very ; absurd it is for a 1 pretty girl,’ after she has been kissed by a chap, to turn round, pouting her line ami say, ‘you ought to he ashamed of yourself 1 * when every one must know she means nothing bv it. It is sheer nonsense, girls to make remark! of the kind and ‘you ought to be ashamed of yourselves for utteung them. Come right out, like the ‘down east gal, who had been kissed, and say, Vou das nt deu that again.’- Tee- Totaler. An auctioneer lately indulged in the following little bit of the pathetic: s “Gentlemen, if my father or mother, stood where you do, and did’nt buy those boots—those elegant boots—when they were going for one dollar, I should feel it my duty, as a son, to tell both of’em that they were false to themselves, and false to their country ” A tolerable Artist.— The Picayune tells of an artist who painted a mouse so natural, that when acit happened to enter the room, it started from the canvass with its tail at half mast, and in its fright jumped down the painter’s throat, that being the first hole that he found open. [No. 3.