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Such is the title of an interesting and useful little work, of 54 pages, from the pen of that graceful and truly feminine writer, Mrs. Ei.lis, on the subject of Temperance. It is comprised in six chapters, viz : 1. Peculiarities of Intemperance as a . , . 2. Intemperance as it operates on in dividual character. 2. Moderation in drinking considered. 4. Total Abstinence the true remedy. 5. Public objections to joining the Temperance Society. 6. Private objections and general en couragements. In a former number we alluded to Mrs. E.’s “ Wives of England,” as a work of some merit. The present Tract, is writ ten perhaps with less regard to style and elegance of composition—but it breathes the same generous spirit as its predeces sor, and occasionally exhibits all the purity, disinterestedness and benificence of the true woman’s heart. What truth and simplicity for instance in the follow ing sketch of THE DRUNK ASd’s POSITION AND FATE. “ Intemperance is the only vice in the dark catalogue of man ’s,oflinces against the will, and the word, of his Maker, which directly assails the citadel of hu man reason, and by destroying the power do choose betwixt good and evil, renders the being whose similitude was originally divine, no longer a moral agent, but a mere idiot in purpose, and animal in ac tion. The man who is habitually intern perate consequently makes a voluntary surrender of all control over bis own con duct, and lives for the greater portion of his time deprived of that highest attribute of man—his rational faculties. It is, however, a fact, deserving our most se rious consideration, that in this state he is more alive, than under ordinary circum stances, to the impulse o£ feeling, and of passion; so that while on the one hand lie has less reason to instruct him how to act, on the other he has more restlessness and impetuosity to force him into action. “ It has been calculated that of persons thus degraded, there are at the present time existing in Great Britain more than six hundred thousand, of whom sixty thou sand die annually, the wretched victims of this appalling vice. “Such then, is the peculiarity of intem perance, that while all other vices leuve the mind untouched and the conscience at liberty to detect and warn of their com mission, this alone subdues the reasoning powers, so that they have no capability of resistance; and while all other vices are such from their earliest commencement, this alone only begins to be a vice at that precise point when the clearness of the mind, and the activity of the conscience, begin to fail; and thus it progresses, ac cording to the generally received opinion, by increasing in culpability in the exact proportion by which mental capability and moral power are diminished. “ What an extraordinary measurement of guilt is this for an enlightened world to make ! In all other cases a man’s culpa bility is measured precisely by the ability 1 he has to detect evil, and the power he 1 possesses to withstand temptation. In . this alone he is first encouraged by socie ty, and this is while his natural powers re- 1 main unimpaired. No bjame attaches to him then. He is a fit companion for wise and good men: but no sooner does his reason give way than he is first slightly censured by society, then shunned, then despised, and abhorred; just ac cording to the progressive stages by which he has become less capable of understand ing what is right, and controlling his own inclinations to what is wrong. * * * “Another characteristic of intemper ance is, that it often begins in what are considered the happiest and most social moments of a life. It begins when the hospitaf board is spread, and when friend meets'friend; when the win- : ter’sfire is blaiitog; when the summer’s 1 ramble is finished; on the eye of parting, when moments glide away with the pre piousness of hours; when hearts warm towards each other; when broken confi dence is restored; when the father wel comes back his son ; and when the yoimg and trusting bride first enters her new ! home. All these, and tens of thousands of associations, all as tender, and some of them more dear, are interwoven with our i recollections of the tempting draught, 1 which of itself demands no borrowed i sweets. ; i “ How different from this are all other i vices! Injurious to society in the first i instance,«s well as in the last, selfish in i their own nature, and avowedly abhorred,!l they no sooner appear in their nakedjj form, than a check is put upon them by j the united voice of society. The thief is jj ’ 4fc| >not welcomed into the bosom of kind fam ilies after he has been known to steal a i Utile. The miser, whose evil propensi ties are, next to intemperance, the most insidious in their nature, is spurned and : j hated before his failing has become a vice. And so it is with all who sin in H other ways. They are acknowledged to be dangerous as companions, and injuri ous as citizens, in the commencement of i their guilt. It is only by denying a l ; knowledge of their actual conduct, that j they are supported and countenanced ■! even by their friends. So far as they are acknowledged to be guilty, they are con jdemned, though having sinned but a lit tle; while the victim of intemperance ‘ .alone carries with him the sanction of so ;; ciety long after the commencement of his career ; nay, he drinks of the very same . bowl with the religious professor until he has lost the power to refrain. * * * “Inebriation, from the effect it produces ’ upon the stomach and the brain, has a more instantaneous influence upon the * nervous system, and consequently upon 1 the mind, than any other disease. There s are of course, degrees of this influence, . beginning first with the slightly pleasur , able sensation which some persons experi ' ence after drinking a single glass of wine. ; and extending to the last and fatal draught 1 of the poor outcast from respectable soci . ety. It it often asked, why does not the drunkard stop ? and he is sometimes most j severely blamed for taking too much, by J those who take only a little less. But ?! how should he stop, when his mind has t lost its healthy tone in consequence of the , particular state of his body ?—when he . ceases to be capable of distinguishing be • twixt good and evil, and cares not for any i consequences that may come upon him? How should he stop ? It is a mockery of common sense, and an insult to common feeling, to suppose that of himself, and unaided, he should have the power to do so. At that critical moment he has not even the wish to stop. So far from it, his ' inclinations is on the opposite side, and the whole force of his animal nature with an excess of bodily appetite, are i ncrcasi ng on the side of evil, in the same proportion that his mental capabilities, his con science, and his power of self-mastery, are becoming weaker on the side of good, “And this is the man of whom the world judges so hardly, because he has passed unconsciously the forbidden line— because he has never been able to ascer tain exactly where it was—and, most probably, because from some natural con stitution of body, the same draught which was safely drunk by another, was one of fearful peril to him. * * * * * “ No; such are the usages of society, than an individual in thestato here de scribed is almost sure to plunge deeper and deeper into the vice of intemperance, until in time he grows a little too bad for that society to countenance or endure. His early friends, those who sot out with him in the same career, then begin to look coldly upon him. They wish he would not claim them as friends, at least in pub lic. Ho next falls out of employment; he is not eligible for any place of trust; he begins to hang about, and his former acquaintance endeavor to walk past him without catching his eye. At last he be comes low, —his coat is.thread bare ; his hat is brown; he is a doomed man ; his best friends forsake him ; the good point him out as a warning to the bad ; he is a terror to women, and a laughing-stock to children, —and such are the tender mer cies of the world in which we live! * * “ I repeat, there is nothing more affect ing than the contemplation of the victim of intemperance, while the consciencestill remains alive to better things, and before the soul is utterly degraded. In this situ, ation, it appears as if the whole world, pa rents, friends, associates, even the wise and the good, were in league against them. Nor is this all. Those bodily powers which to the thief and the murder er are still left free and unimpaired, to the intemperate man are no longer under his own command. His whole frame is de bilitated, his nerves are shattered, and that excruciating agony, which is the re sult of an excited imagination, operating in conjunction with a disordered brain, so takes possession of him, that the hours of ! the long day, and the longer night, are 'only to be endured by having recourse to draughts of greater potency, and more frequent repetition.” Pursuing the same train of reasoning in a subsequent part of the work, our authoress thus forcibly and pointedly alludes to THE DANGERS OF MODERATE DRINKERS. “ If, then, it is the frequent and almost invariable tendency of those who take a little wine to make them comfortable, to take a little and a little more, as the body I under its various aliments may seem to require, what must be done when the mind with its long catalogue of deeper maladies become disturbed ? What must be done as it becomes a prey to all those gnawing anxieties which mix themselves in with the under-current of daily life, es pecially in the present state of society? - Why, the sudden intelligence of an unex- i ljpected los9, will often induce a man to -;gratify himself with this kind of imagina ti ry strength ; while the necessity of dis ci (missing a servant not less frequently a sends the mistress of a house for refresh -11 ment to her sideboard. And yet we arej o told there is no danger—no danger at all; -in all this. I repeat, that, not knowing! fjexactly where the line of danger is, it is; a;and must be a perilous experiment to all; t and nothing can tend more forcibly to d substantiate this truth, than the fact that e all men, and all women too, who are now - the degraded victims of intemperance, . began and went on precisely in this man e ner, not one among them intending, or . believing it possible at first, that they s should ever exceed the limits prescribed e by safety or decorum. e “ But what is it which makes this wine, * or this liquid, which soothes away our s pain, so desirable ? Is it not a pleasura a ble sensation throughout the whole ani e mal frame—a little warmth—a little com n fort—a little energy—a little confidence e—a little satisfaction in ourselves—a i, very little of all these, so little that we - could not define their combined opera . tion, except by saying, we feel better !. than before ? And yet this very feeling, t innocent as it may appear in itself, is in . reality a degree of intoxication. The e same sensation thrilling through the t; frame, is what, by advancing a few steps ir [further in the same course, would be tjeome muscular distortion—the same si pleasant glow would become restless fe -3 ver—the same sense of comfort would 3 be ecstatic folly—the same energy would . be madness—the same confidence would i be incapability of shame; and the same l self-satisfaction would be the same glo f rious exultation of the intemperate in his i own disgrace ” I DRUNKEN AUTHORS. 1 Again : how just the following, taken from the paragraphs upon those literary I wine-bibbers whose productions have so i generally been but the froth of their cups, i : and whose lewd and vicious effusions 1 have more frequently blackened the ' heart, than brightened the intellect of their readers : “ One of the most potent arguments in j ! favor of the use of wine, as it has oper- ] ated practically upon society, and espe- , cinlly upon young men of hopeful talent, , is, that some of our most popular writers, ( . as well as our most distinguished men of ; , genius, have been addicted to the use of , f it, in a measure far exceeding the bounds , of moderation. It is a lamentable fact, ( that such have been the case; but what- , , ever may be the fascination which popu- , . lar applause has thrown around the public , ( career of such men, we need only look in- , ■ to their private lives, to see how far they ( were in reality from being objects worthy ! either of envy or of imitation. , “No; these are not the men whom af | ter-ages regard as the benefactors of their , . race; and even if they were, what dark and gloomy chronicle shall tell of the | numbers now without a name, of equal or , . superior genius to them, but with less , ability to exercise that genius, not in con sequence, but in spite of, such habits of ( ; excess? And, after all, it is the number ( i of men of talent which makes a nation ( great and wise. It is not here and there a genius flashing in a century of igno- j , ranee. I repeat, such men are not the , pillars we depend upon for the intellectual j and moral dignity of our nation. Start- ( ling, brilliant, and eccentric, their course resembles only that of the fiercy comet— a blaze in the heavens—a w'onder to the J eyes of men. Yet how different from the j milder planet, or the fixed and constant j star, to which the traveller turns with trusting heart, and by which the mariner ! steers his trackless course along the mighty deep! “It is to men of deep thought, of pa- ‘ tient labor, and, above all, of steady ; mind, that society owes the greatest ’ blessing, which it is the privilege of en- j lightened intellect, to impart; and, in or- [ der to preserve that steadiness of purpose, j that fixedness of resolve, and that supre , macy of the mind over the body, which | ■ was essential to the efficient working out J ! of any great and lasting good, it has al- _ ways been found necessary to lead a j i temperate and abstemious life, both as regards bodily indulgence and animal * . excitement.” DRINKING CHRISTIANS. “There are social and convivial meet- : ings often held at the houses of religious \ people; and far be it from me to wish that it should be otherwise. Far be it 1 from me to attempt to throw a shadow over what I am happy in believing is the ! brightest aspect of human life—the path! 1 along which the Christian walks humbly ( with his God. Individually I have per haps rather too strong a tendency to think that religious people should, above i all others, understand the science of ra- ] tional enjoyment, and exhibit before the l world the important truth, that even s earthly happiness may be innocently, I cordially, and thoroughly enjoyed. In i Ithis very enjoyment, however, there is; excitement enough for the safety of what ought to be the habitual frame of the; Christian’s mind, in the meeting of I friends, in the freedom of social converse,! and, above all, in the exhilarating anu’ 'delightful sensation of uniting, heart to; heart, and hand to hand, with those whom we love and admire in one great, (one common, one glorious cause. “There is sufficient excitement, too, i occasioned by the general advocacy ofi this cause, by the public meetings, and the thrilling eloquence so often heard on \ these occasions—there is excitement enough in all this, and sometimes too much, for the even balance of the Chris tian’s feelings and temper, without the l addition of artificial stimulus applied to the animal frame, which at best produces! , only a transient accession of energy, to! be followed bv a lassitude and exhaustion; * unknown to those who never use such stimulus. “ I am, .however, one of these who be i lieve, that, in the sight of God, our habit i ual and secret feelings are of as much importance as the energy w r e carry with us into public effort. I believe that the ranks of the blessed in an eternity of happiness will be filled up, not by those who have merely moved others in a righteous cause, but by the meek and humble followers of a crucified Saviour, : whose consistent walk on earth has been in conformity with his precepts, and un der the guidance of his Spirit. It is not what we do, but what we are, that we must be judged by in the great day of account; and it is therefore the Chris-; tian’s duty to examine every motive, tej watch every act, and to control ever} impulse, so that his private as well as his public life shall be acceptable in the Di vine sight.” THE FIRST AND LAST STAGES OF INTEM PERANCE. “We are all too much in the habit of looking upon the sins of intemperance as belonging only to its extreme stage of degradation; but did men sin no more under its influence than they do in this helpless and abject state, the evil itself would be lessened by an amazing amount. It is not excess to which the ruffian yields himself when he contemplates a deed of horror. That would disqualify . his arm for the fatal blow. No, it is i what is considered moderation which stimulates to the practice, not only of ] open and daring crime, but of all those , act 3of deception employed to betray the i innocent and the unwary to their own destruction. It is the moderate draught which fires the passions of the revengeful ; and the malignant—in short, which gives 1 the moving impulse to that vast machine 1 ry of guilt, which scatters misery and \ ruin amongst our fellow creatures, which desolates their homes, shuts them oul from Christian fellowship, and lowers j our whole country in the scale of moral , worth. It is this moderate portion which | invariably makes bad men worse—need ' we inquire, whether it ever yet was known to make good men better?” , WIIAT THE DRUNKARD THINKS OF IT ‘ HIMSELF. “ And here let us observe, that it is i one of the peculiar and striking features I of intemperance as a vice, that its victims J often loathe the very monster on whose polluted altars they are offering up their lives ; nay, they even loathe themselves, { and hate and despise the tyranny whose badge of cruel servitude they wear. In i this state the struggles of the wretched}' victim to escape, are sometimes most! painful* and heart-rending to the confi-, dential friend to whom they are disclosed, i Sometimes prayer is resorted to, some-! 1 times penance. Every device which a wounded spirit can suggest, except the on ly sure and effectual one, is by turns adopt ed and renounced ; and still, though torn ! and lacerated by a thousand agonies, which the untempted can never know, until within the last few years, these \ miserable and isolated beings cried to , their fellow-creatures for help in vain. Sometimes, by the mercy of God, they have been enabled* to maintain through life a station of respectability at the cost of a lingering struggle almost too painful for nature to endure; and sometimes at an advanced age, as bodily infirmities have increased, the enemy at last has con quered them.” DR. JOHNSON. “ Dr. Johnson is often quoted as high authority in favor of the safety of absti- ■ nence, when compared with moderation. When asked by Hannah More, at a din-! ner party one day, to take a little wine.[ : he replied, “I cannot take a little, and; therefore Inever take any. Abstinence!, is as easy to me as temperance would be | difficult.” i LORD MORPETH AND TEMPERANCE. “At the ‘Great National Banquet ’j l which lately took place in Dublin, Lord } Morpeth, after giving particulars of the‘ ] return of outrages reported in the con stabulary office, by w r hich it appeared,! that since 1836 they had diminished one , third, proceeding to remark, that ‘of the>i I "■ ~ : heaviest offences, such as homicides, out rages upon the person, assaults with at tempt to murder, aggravated assaults u cutting and maiming, there were In 1837, 12,096 1838, 11,058 »| 1839, 1,077 1840, 173 . Facts like these require no comment; j the mere abstinence from one article of ,| beverage has done more in two or three f years to diminish crime, than could ever I be accomplished by all the powers of leg i islation, the activity of police, and the t horrors of military force. But it is not > in the diminution of crime alone, that we ■ see the cheering and happy fruits of the ‘ temperance reformation in Ireland.— tjThe returns of the savings bank prove ?j that improvidence has diminished, while > domestic comfort, intelligence, and wealth i!have rapidly increased. i “The depositors in the savings bank were, in July, August, and September, .1838,7,264; 1839,7,433; 1840,8,953; ■ 1841, 9,585; while in 1842, the increase iis still greater: and it is stated, that at i one of the branches of these valuable in ■ stitutions, the pressure of depositors was ’ so great, that the committee had to open ■ the bank another evening in the week.” e im e im ■t PROSPECTUS OF THE MISTI WASHINGTONIAN, VOL. 11. DEVOTED TO TEMPERANCE, AGRICCLTt'KE AND MISCELI.AN’Y : j PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY, At Aujfusta, Georgia, By JAMES McCAKVEBTY. In commencring the second volume of this pa per, the publisher has the gratification to present a sheet to the public, which In# trusts tv ill meet with their approbation--and he asks from those friendly to its prosperity, their aid in extending iits circulation. Competent gentlemen having kindly acceded to the call made upon them by the Board of Managers of the Augusta Society, to conduct the Editorial department, the publisher flatters himself that he will be able to place the paper on a jftrmanent basis, and to give it a much more elevated character. Thus far, the march of oar cause is onward, and in a lew years, it may reasonably he expected, that if the energy which has characterised the members of the \\ asWngton Reform, for the past three years, continue, an entire reformation | must take place, and that tile greatest curse to ; our country, will only be mentioned as among the evils that were. The subject of Temperar.ee will be the promi nent object of the “ Washingtonian;” yet then will he room for the stirring events of the day, and for other items of interest to the general read er—as Agriculture, Science, a Trices Current of the Market, Exchange Table, &.c. In short, the publisher will endeavor to make this paper* what lit should be—an able advocate of Temperance, and a useful Family Paper, strictly moral in its bearing. The “ Washingtonian” will be published EVERY Saturday, (on a Sheet ‘JO x 26 inches,) at the unprecedcn’tal low price of One DaLt.Aii per annum, always in advance-- thus placing it within the means of all who desire an excellent Family Paper, at a very cheap rate, to obtain it. The uublisher looks confidently to all the friends of 7 cmpcrancejand Morality, to aid him in carry ing successfully, this enterprise into effect—anil I with their aid, it can be done. | Jjf CLUBBING.—To persons who will club together, and forward to the publisher, ( rce of j|Mstage) Five Dollars, in currf nt funds, will he entitled to star copies, am) so in proportion. For ; a package of twenty-six papers, to one address, j 7 wenty Dollars. * i S~a > All Post Masters arc respectfully request ed to act as agents. Jpp All communications, by mail, must be po*< paid, to receive attention. By the rules of [the General Post-Office, Post Masters may | ekank subscription money for Newspapers. June 6th, 1843. 5Cr Editors inserting the above prospectus, or [noticing the appearance of our paper, through ! their columns, will confer a favor which we ! shall be happy to reciprocate, TYPE, AT REDUCED PRICES. rpYPES, and all other PRINTING MATERIALS, manufactured at Conner's United States Type and Stereotype Foundry, corner of Nassau and Ann streets, New-York — can be had at Eighteen per cent deduction from old prices. The undersigned respectfully informs the Old Patrons of the Type and Stereotype Foundry, formerly known as James Conner’s, and more recently as Conners & Cooke’s, and the Public in general, that they are prepared to execute Or ders for PR I TING TYPES. PRESSES, CHASES, CASES, IMPOSING STONES, INK FRAMES, and every other article to form Complete Printing Establishments, on as favorable terms, and as good a quality as any other establishment in the United States. New prices, per lb. Old price. i Agate, 96 cts. Agate, 108 cts. 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