Newspaper Page Text
THE WASHINGTONIAN:
AUGUSTA, AUGUST .5, 1843.
: 1 ■Bj,;a>Lai^ia»jß,,. ll i. . ~ ~—— —-
i( 'nehinglOH Total Abstinence I’ledge.
U't whose names are hereunto annexed, desirous
of forming a Society for our mutual benefit,
and to guard against a pernicious practice,
which is injurious to our health, standing and
families, do pledge ourselves as Gentlemen,
not to drink any
Spit itous or Malt Liquors, Wine or Cider.
EDITORIAL COMMITTEE.
Rev W. T. BbaKtly, Dr. P. M. Robertson,
“ W J.Hard, Dr. D. H-.ok,
“ C. S. Don, S. T. Chapman, Esq.
" Geo. P. Pierce, James Harper, Esq.
Col. John MillEdce,
To Correspondents.
(£?" The communication signed “So
briety,” is received, and on file for consid
eration. “J. G.” in our next. The se
lection, “ Deacon Gile’s Distillery,” has
been published in our paper.
We refer our readers to the 4th
page of to-day’s paper, for an account of
the Proceedings of the Temperance Con
vention, held at Penfield, in this State, on
the evenings of the 24th and 25th ult.
The Temperance meetings of this city,
indicate a declension of the enthusiastic
interest which has marked the progress of
the reformation throughout this country
and Europe, and W'hich even now charac
terizes many other communities. What
ever the decree of philosophy may be
iis to the reaction consequent upon great
excitement, it is not to be denied that the
principle has been invested with a power
and a certainty of result that does not ne
cessarily belong td it, and has been
stretched to cover an indolence and an
apathy—the effect of meagre convictions
of duty—the want of a sturdy determina
tion to do right, rather than the unavoida
ble sequence of a mental law. We often
adopt an explanation of an existing state
of things—a state injurious and to be de
precated, not because its principles are
legitimate and its truth demonstrable, but
because it serves the purpose of conceal
ing the true causes, and of exculpating
those who really are to blame. We will
not, however, at this time, discuss this
general view of the subject, but would
suggest to our readers to institute an in
quiry into their individual cases—to search
out the motives which have influenced
them in their neglect, and seriously to de
termine whether they are not culpable
before God and the country for any lan
guor in this great enterprise.
We can hut think that the members of
the churches are grossly guilty for their
repeated absences from the meetings of
the society. The disciples of religion
ought to be ready “ for every good word
and work,” and to manifest a decied and
well sustained interest in every practicable
scheme for good order and human happi
ness. Let them attend in mass—shedding
the light of their countenance upon the
cause and its advocates, and saving the
officers from the mortification and dis
couragement of empty houses on succes
sive eallsfora meeting. Their attendance
ought to be regulated, not by the anticipa
ted entertainment of a popular speaker,
Gut by the intrinsic merits—the incalcula
ble advantages of the cause.
We ate inclined to think, if the society
were to have their meetings monthly, and
wore to select speakers not so frequently
before the public as the ministers of the
Gospel, the effect would be salutary.—
While every preacher holds himself ready
to recommend Temperance by his exam
ple and his speeches, the very fact that
nothing else is expected of him, subtracts
from the interest of his addresses. Ano
ther, who is not professionally, and as a
mater of course identified with the right
side, would be more efficient as a speaker.
Let the Law yers—Physicians—the young
men beginmng life—the intelligent of any
class, who are pledged to the cause, be
invited to speak, and the people will feel
the attraction of novelty and rally from
their dispersion.
—— ** ——
! EDITORIAL COMMUNICATIONS.
j . ■ _ - X- —.
Messrs. Editors —l have noticed a pe
culiarity consequent upon the use of spirit
uous liquors, which has not yet received
merited animadversion—it is theoflensive
odour emitted from the body. It cannot
.probably be characterised so as to be
known before it has come in contact with
the olfactory nerves; but when it has
1 once invaded the sensitive region of these
iterves, it will be known ever afterwards
: from all other odours. Besides its inhe
j rent offensiveness, it has the additional
Jdisgusting quality, of always producing in
| the mind, the painful idea of sensual bond-
I age and moral ruin.
> I have perceived “ this mark of the
, beast” on the persons offriends for whose
welfare I had the most anxious solicitude,
and the discover)- has made n.y hopes die
’ within me. Ah! who can tell the des
pair of that moment? Language fails
me—l will not attempt it. But I will say,
: that these friends have committed the most
aggravated offence against friendship!—
. No man has a right to betray the confi
. dence which friendship reposes in his
. virtue ! In doing it, he becomes recreant
5 to the high and solemn ties that bind one
honorable man to another. No man has
a right to win love, respect and confidence
i by a manly course of virtuous life, and
l then chill all to death by vice and degrada
■ tion ! He is recreant to honor in doing
i so; for he has raised hopes, only to dash
them to the ground,—brightened faces,
only to cover them with enduring shame, —
loosened tongues to constant praise, only
to paralyze them forever by his abomina
' hie vices. Tims have I been treated! I
feel wronged, aggrieved, insulted. I must
have satisfaction! The amende honora
ble is imperiously demanded ; that is, as
the case requires, a return to temperance
and virtue, and the purification of the body
from this horrible smell. Nothing else
can satisfy me ; for nothing else can re
store me to my self-respect—without these,
I stand charged and convicted in my own
bosom of wasting my affections on unwor
thy objects.
And if the case be so with the friend,
what shall we say of that of the father?—
the mother?—the wife?—the sister?—the
brother?—the child? Oh! it places be
fore us a picture too awful for contempla
tion, —where nothing is seen but the
fragments of the best affections, and the
brightest hopes of the human heart.—
Gloom and despair sit enthroned on the
countenances of the figures in this picture.
There is not one ‘cheering ray of hope :
for in return for their love, their trust,
their constant services, they have only,
and always —the smell of rum. From
him, from whom they had a right to expect
and demand support, protection and respec
table station—they obtain penury, insult,
degradation, — and the smell of rum.
Rum drinker! look at this picture, and
then purify yourself from this stench; or,
before high heaven, angels and men, I
will pronounce you lost to every noble
sentiment—every generous emotion.
I have somewhat to say to professors of
religion, who occasionally have the smell
of rum, or peach brandy upon their per
sons ; but as I shall deal xvith these per
sons with ungloved hands, I am anxious
to give them warning of the approaching
storm, before its pittiloss peltings shall
heat upon their defenceless heads. But
if I smell the “critter” again—find my
olfactories are keen and far-reaching—l
will not spare them. 11.
Gentlemen —lt is now nearly time to
set out your Strawberry plants for the
subsequent year. I have pursued the
following plan with success, and have
had more certain crops—larger and bet
ter flavored fruit than under other sys
tems of culture.
I select my ground, and after spading
in some well rotted stable manure, form
it in ridges, three or four feet apart, and
about six or eight inches high. The base
of each ridge is about a foot wide. On
these ridges I plant my sets, about five or
six inches apart, taking care to have
about every third or fourth plant of the
male species—which an observant eye
can easily distinguish and mark w'hilst
the plant is in bloom. Having thus set
! out the plants, I fill the intervening space
i between the rows level with pine straw,
bringing it close to the sets. In this con-
IIIIM lll■■■■■■
dition they are left, and only noticed in
■ order to replace such as die, until the
- following spring, when I prepare a com
- post of three quarters rotten manure and
1 one quarter lime and ashes mixed.—
t The straw is slightly withdrawn, and
t this sifted about a half inch thick over:
? the rows—The straw is then replaced,
r and the row is kept free from grass or
s weeds, and the earth slightly stirred
s around the plants.
s The advantage of the pine straw is,
- that it keeps down the weeds and renders
1 the culture more easy. It also attracts
i and retains the moisture, and prevents
- the sets from suffering from excessive
heat, or drought; and as it contains (ac-j
J cording to Leibig’s Agricultural Chemis-i
? try) 8 or 9 pr. cent of potash, it is pecu-i
, liarly suited as a manure to the plant.
C.
1
Clover.
' The impression in this region is gener
> al that Clover cannot be successfully
! cultivated. The secret of cultivating this i
" crop consists in deep ploughing, careful
‘ sowing, at the proper season and the judi
-4 cious shading of the tender plant from
1 the early heat of the summer sun, until
! its tap root has struck so deeply into the
5 earth as to reach the point of perpetual
moisture. The soil must have a clay
* foundation, so as to retain water—it must
■ be well cultivated, loose and free from
1 other grasses, it must be productive and
1 well limed, or plastered. It ought to be
1 sowed 20 lbs. to the acre, on a wheat
' crop, after that grain is fairly set, and
during the winter months. Thus it will
he protected until the month of June,
after which it should by no means be
pastured until the second year.
The S. C. Planter has the following
on this subject, and that of grasses gen
erally :
“It is asserted on high authority, in
fact it has been demonstrated by actual
experiment, that almost any of the Vir
ginia and Kentucky grasses will grow
luxuriantly in this State, if lime is added
to the soil. We heard Mr. Ruffin re
mark that he saw as fine clover growing
in Edgefield, as he ever saw in Virginia,
and Professor Ellet of the College, has a
. small lot of it, which is said to be equal to
, any that can be seen in the Northern
States. Judge O’Neall has tried it in
’ Newberry we believe with very great
1 success, and so have many others. To
make it, however, a really profitable pas
! ture, lime or ashes should be used: and
. surely any planter may aiford enough of
lime for at least a few acres.
“The Luccrn we know grows well
here, and for soiling, (that is, cutting and
feeding in the green state,) is a very val
, uable grass. The Musquite grass has
, been planted several years by Col. ITarnp
: ton, and if we mistake not, is a very va
luable one : it grows luxuriantly, and af
fords a very rich pasture. We shall en
deavor to gain more accurate informa
tion respecting it, and will refer to it
again.”
For the Washingtonian. >
Messrs. Editors —Like all those who
are endeavoring to do good, we have our
enemies ; and these enemies, after they
have tried one mode of attack and find it
unavailable, immediately devise and resort
to another. They seem never to tire in
evil doing. The enemies of the temper
ance cause in this place are seeking to get
an idea abroad that our society is on the
decrease—that there is not now the same
interest taken in its success as formerly—
that the members are daily erasing their
names, or, to use a Christian phrase, back
sliding. But I was happy to leam, the
other day, from one of our most zealous
brothers, that these statements are erro
neous—that instead of a decrease in num
bers, there is a decided increase ; and
that now there are upwards of thirteen
hundred members—and, comparatively,
very few erasements.
But, as I have already hinted, we must
expect these unfounded reports to be put
in circulation about us. We are ever}
day gaining ground. Temperance is
every where exciting general interest.—
It is becoming the popular theme in other
countries, as well as in our own, —and
while it must excite the admiration of
many, it cannot but arouse the envy and
disapprobation of a few; for there are
some people in this world, who would sell
: their birth-right, not for a mess of pottage,
s but for a gill of liquor, to gratify their
, lowest animal appetites. In such people!
• we may always expect enemies, unless by
i acting upon the principle, the importance
i of which, I desire now to urge upon your
consideration, we get the great mass of
! mankind on our side, and then, perhaps,
■ rather than be unpopular, they will sign
I [the Pledge. Perseverance is our only
■hope of success ; and it is the importance
lofthis truth, which I wish now to fix upon
the mind. Patient continuance in well
! (doing, will meet its just reward. The
j immeasurable importance of this principle,
, thfen, cannot be too much dwelt upon by
i our orators, and our writers, —they should
s never cease to ring it upon the ears ofthe
: ' t people, for it is this principle that removes
: difficulties mountain-like in their magni
tude. It was upon this principle, acted
out, that the great and good Washington
; left us the unqualified heirs of liberty,
jboth in thought and action. Yes ? more :
it was upon this principle, acted out, that
the noble and Christian-hearted Paul, as
it were, plucked us from the very dun
, geons of superstitious darkness, and placed
, j us, cleansed and purified, in the broad and
open field of truth, luxurient with divine
i richness and verdure.
We owe, what good order, Christian
benevolence and peace, characterizes the
present age, to the adoption of this princi
ple by many of our beloved ancestors
whose life’s blood was the forfeit of their
unbending adherence to it. I would,
therefore, invoke the blessed shade of
Washington—the glorified spirits of the
martyred saints of old, —the example of
Christ—and, in fine, the whole revelation
ofGod, that I might impress the importance
of this principle indellibly on every heart.
It Is, as I have already observed, the all
essential cause of our success. Oh ! in
view of so praiseworthy, so desirable an
object as the temperance reform, may all
of us, who have put our shoulders to the
wheel, conscious of the potency of perse
verance, never release our hold, until with
the eye of proud satisfaction, we behold
the car of temperance arrive triumphant
at its destined bourne—the reformation of
all mankind. 11. J. S.
For the Washingtonian.
Messrs. Editors —ln glancing over the
columns of the Washingtonian, I find fre
quent notices of temperance celebrations
throughout the country on the 4th of July.
This seems to l>e rather novel, to celebrate
deliverance from that, which formerly
gave zest to the enjoyment of too many of
those who participated in our national fes
tivities. But, notwithstanding the exclu
sion of intoxicating drinks, there seems to
have been no lack of patriotic feeling on
the occasion; but one spirit pervaded
every bosom, and prompted to action every
unclouded mind.
At the dawn of this reformation, many,
though fully convinced of its necessity,
hesitated to lend their efforts for fear of
defeat; yet some, inauspicious as the
prospect seemed, did embrace, and have
been actively engaged in securing its
success. This cause must succeed, com
bining all that can promote happiness.—
Its foundation is the spirit of philanthropy,
its guide intelligence, and its great design
the elevation of man to his pristine digni
ty. There is a combination of influences
and interests in this cause w hich cannot be
found In any other. However men may
differ in their political principles, religious
views, or secular feelings, when this
cause presents its claims, all either unite
heartily, or stand silent spectators, unable
to urge an open argument against it.
I am truly sorry, that some allow their
interest to warp their judgment and blind
their moral perception—that while they
are willing to admit the ruin consequent
upon intemperance, do not appreciate the
means put in active operation to arrest its
progress. Those use their secret influ
ence to counteract the efforts ofthe Wash
ingtonians ; they deter many, who might
be induced to sign the Pledge, and others
to abandon it, who had been restored
again to society by its influence. Those,
who are thus endeavoring to undermine
this good cause, and curb that spirit of
enterprise which has been so effectual in
relieving the miseries of many, and re
storing peace where sorrow reigned su
preme, rejoiced when that enthusiasm
ceased that characterized the advocates of
the Pledge at its adoption, and gave them
zeal to arouse the people to a just estimate
of their condition and privilege—to un
mask the native deformity of this vice,
land to pourtray all the ruin oeeusioned by
?; its influence. And when other questions
ri agitated the public mind, they fondly hoped
f that speedy triumph promised would be
defeated, and even that slow yet steady
i progress would be so effectually impeded,
y that it must die away amidst the disap
? pointment of its sanguine advocates. But
i recent indications are enough to convince
1 any reasonable mind that the cause is
? prospering—it still survives the collision
, of party feeling, and the contentions that
y too often mar the face of the country. All
1 claim it as a common cause ; all selfish
? interests are merged for the cause of hu
s manity, the public welfare, and the eleva
tion of those principles that must give
Ijtone and emphasis to patriotism, virtue
l and religion.
, Those, then, who have been active in
: this labor of love, should not for a single
t moment abate that zeal that has so signal
sly marked their actions. The cause must
-prosper, and I would rejoice to see the
1 time when this pledge will spread its ge-
J nial influence throughout every land, and
? those who are now' the slaves of alcohol
shall be restored to their families disen
i thralled and free, amidst that joy and
; peace that mark domestic bliss when cares
. are calmed, and the ills of file allaved.
• L .
r COMMUNICATED.
’ A. Friend T., how is it that you do
1 not take the ‘ Washingtonian,’ nor aid
the Temperance cause with your purse?
T. Because of my poverty. It is
1 unpleasant to confess it, but to you I
may tell the truth—l am barely aWe to
• support my family from day to day.
A. My dear sir, you spend money
1 enough on cigars alone, to pay a year’s
1 expences of the temperance society !
' T. True, but cigars are necessary to
my health and comfort.
A. So says the toper of rum !
Am an.
I
I The Drunkard's Wife In a Temperance
|- Meeting.
Upon that page, perhaps, the fond and
faithful wife is gazing, heedless of the
passing crowd. Her thoughts go back
. to the dark ruined home she has just left
w ithout a hope, and to her poor babes,.,
who, weak with hunger, wept themselves,
to sleep. With borrowed cloak to hide
• her destitution, she stole out at the dark
‘ hour, and mixing in the crrwd, found
place amongst her fellows in poverty and
C distress, who came at least to hear of a
strange but simple plan for calling hack
such wanderers as her husband long had
‘ been. And now she listens more intent
-1 ly, for the language in all such as comes
i home to her experience, and is level with
1 her understanding. The speaker muse
have known her case. He tells of hopes,,
but no—that never can he hers! If he
were here—perhaps—and then a deepy
’ deep sigh bursts from her lips; but she
> listens still, and more intently, to the
f speaker’s moving words, until her heant
. becomes too full; and she looks round
, to see if any amongst her neighbors—
for of friends she has none left—are
' there to profit by these words of touching
‘ truth. What ails the woman ? Whom
- has she seen amongst the crowd ? Her
, cheek is flushed with burning crimson,
, and iter eyes arc bright with living fire.
ft is—it must he he! She cannot he
mistaken in her husband’s form, stilii
' beautiful to her. Far back amongst the
’ crowd he stands with folded arms, his
r gaze intent upon the speaker’s face. No
5 smile of thoughtless folly flits across his
, brow, but a deep earnestness is stamped
i on every feature as he gazes on. But
what is that w hich moves him now' ? A
’ simple tale of woman’s truth. The wife
beholds him dash the tear drop from his
r eye. A gathering mist is in her own,
1 but she forgets it all; nothing is present
. with her hut that other self—that life in
which alone she lives. Alas !it is all
over: the speaker ceases, and the com
! pany break up. The w ife waits anxious
-5 ly the moment when her husband shall
. withdraw, thinking to join him at the
. door ; yet fearing to intrude too hastily
t upon his softened feelings, she stands
patiently resigned, with folded arms up
’ on her breast, pushed here and there by
1 the receeding crowd, no one of whom
, takes note of her or hers. Still there is
• something to be done beside the platform
f where the speaker stands, and numbers
( gather to the spot. A book is opened—
a pen is offered—a kind and friendly
' voice invites the company to sign.—
■ Make way! the figure of a man advances
i from behind. Make way! for wonder
f glances forth from every eye. Behind
, that figure is a female form—a shadow
> —a pale, faded thing so feeble that she
cannot stand, but leansupon his should
’er with one clasping arm. “There! I
• have signed !” exclaims the man ; “and
now, mv wife come home, and tet us