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IP> 10 (ET t& Y □
From ilie Hampshire Gazelle.
A Yislcu.
Borne on imaginai&irs -rings,
Abovelhe scene of earthly things,
1 sailed through ®lher’s east expanse,
Ami then I pitched against th e/ence!
Again I took an airy flight,
Beyond the sphere of day anJ night;
1 sailed in giddy circles round,
But found myself flat on the ground!
I soared again with rapid flight,
Mid scenes beyond our mortal sight,
I giddy grew —began to flutter-
And found myself plump in the gutter!
As quick as thought I upward started,
From earthly toils and troubles parted ;
I sailed on seas of huihan blood,
1 looked and lo Vlisaa nought but mud!
Once more in airy flight I venture
In empty space quite to the centre:
While circling o’er a lake infinite,
i. In giilJy whirl i tumbled in it.
Again o’er land and sea I flitted,
As far as wind and waves permitted,
While in mid air l met a float—
My head came plump against a pod !
Aloft again I soareJ with wonder,
Mid lightning’s flash and crashing thunder,
My plumage took a crazy flirt,
AnJ I was landed in the dirt!
Once more in air I took my station,
And viewed with ease the whole creation,
I balanced wed as I was able,
But found myse f snug in a stable!
I took my ’kerchief—wiped my nose—
Then laid me down to calm irposc.
Wften 1 awoke, as pvo related,
I found I’d been lntoxicatkd !!
The following heart felt an I wo.ninlv fire
well to a faithless lover, is, says the New York
Mirror, Iroarihe graeful pen of Mrs. Fa a .sen
S. Osu'UD— a true poet.
Yes ! “ lower to the level”
Os those who lauJ thee now !
Go join the joyous revel,
Arid pledge the heartless vow !
Go—dim the soul-morn beauty
That lights that lofty brow !
Fill—till the bowl ! Let burning wine,
Drown, in thy soul, Love’s dream il.vine!
Yet, when the laugh it lightest,
When wildest goes the jest,
When gleams the wine-cup brightest,
And print Jest heaves thy breast,
And thou art m.i lly pledging
Each g \v and jovial guest,
♦ A ghost shall glide amid the flowers—
The shadoof Love’s departed hours!
And thou slult turn, in sadness,
From all the splendor there,
And curse the revel’s gladness,
And hate the banquet’s glare,
And pine, ’mid Passipn's madness,
For true Love’s purer air;
And feel thou’d’stgive their wildest glee,
For one unsullied sigh from me.
Yet deem notthiß my prayer, love!
Ah, no! if I could keep
Thy altar’d heart, from care, love!
And lull its griefs to sleep,
Mine only should despair, love,
I I sloop should weep!
I—l alone would mourn the flowers,
That fade in Love's deserted bowers.
=SL-'-' --I Msmsv" J
Actionl Action!:
In order to secure the ultimate
triumph of total abstinence we mast
labor with sleepless vigilance, with
untiring perseverance, and with an
industry commensurate with the
grandeur of the enterprise. There
must be no abatement of zeal; no
shiinking from toil; no fear of op
position; no lack of faith in its final
success. There must he, in us and
among us, union of feeling and union
of action, a spirit of self-suci ifice and
self-devotion, a disposition to bear
and forbear. We mast look upon
man, in his relations to God and to
his fellow men ; consider his origin
and destiny ; the high rank he holds
in the universe of intelligences, and
how lie degrades and debases himself
by intemperance. We must survey
the ravages alcohol has made and is
still making on “this goodly frame,
the earth look at the loss of prop
erty, and character, and happiness,
and life which it occasions ; bring to
remembrance the friends of our ear
ly youth, who have descended to the
tomb of infamy, or who are drag
ging out a miserable existence,
through strong drink; look over the
surface of society and behold the
young and rising race in far too
many instances fast becoming the
bond slave of appetite and rapidly
ripening foi a dishonored manhood
or an imbecile old age; sec beauty,
in her bloom, sacrificed upon the 1
altar of this Moloch and sink from t
our remembrance, in destitution and I
death, through the influence of the i
fatal cup. We must recollect that, 1
although much has been done; al- t
though thousands of drunkards have l
been reformed, and tens of thou- <
sands of moderate drinkers have J
ceased to drink, and hundreds of i
thousands more have pledged them- i
selves lo tolal abstinence, there are i
multitudes who still drink, and who i
will continue to diink, unless they t
shall be n- rested by the onward pio
gress of the temperance enterprise. (
And the only way in which these per- (
sons, many of them at least, can he I
preserved from becoming drunkards, j i
is through the force of public senti- I
merit; and that sentiment can be l
made sufficiently powerful to effect i
this, only by an unintermitted agita- i
tion of the subject. We must keep j *
the matter before the public; we I
must listen not to the suggestions of j i
those who toil us to cease our labors; I
to pause nnd take breath; to give (
lip our public meetings and turn our ';
attention, for a while, to something i
else. Such a course would he disns- i
Irons in the extreme. It would he
the ruin of our cause. The enemy, 1
like some ravenous beast, would I
leap into oar places, and take pos- i
session of the field —the fires of the i
distillery would again he lighted up, <
and the smoke of its torment black
en the heavens —drunkenness would 1
again run riot over our beautiful hills <
and luxuriant rallies, and our nation i
would soon become, ns formerly, a i
nation t>f ilrunkants. Poverty, crime, i
and suffering, linked bund in hand,
would stalk through the land, nnd we |
should full a prey to anarchy and
bloodshed—our civil and religious
institutions would he uprooted and (
Scattered to the winds, and America
—the land oft he biuve, the home of
the free—would become u bye-word
and a hissing among (lie nations.
Let us watch the fire that has been
kindled on the altar of temperance,
| with the sleepless vigilance of the
I fabled guardian of 1 lesperides, and
see that it goes not out.
The part we have to act in the
struggle now going on between in
temperance and sobriety is one of
momentous importance. It is for w«,
of the passing century; it is for us,
of the present generation, to say,
whether drunkenness or sobriety
shall be the inheritance of our sons.
{ Let us, then, he up nnd doing ; gird
| out selves for the combat and strike
a bold and heavy blow for virtue, for
j temperance, and for truth. It is a
moral battle that we wage. It is a
battle with a subtle and unyielding
' foe. Bat, in God we shall conquer.
| Our weapons, wrought in the armory
of Heaven, and tempered by the Al
inightv, will not be foiled. Yet there
is much —very much for each indi
vidual to do. And it is in the power
of the humblest of us to set a spring
in motion that shall vibrate through
the world. Who will not throw his
whole soul into the cause—pledge
himself, now, that from this time for
ward to the dose of life, he will do
all he can to promote the cause of
total abstinence? Fathers! Moth
ers! Sons! Daughters! Brothers!
Sisters ! will you not pledge your
selves? And will you not leap for
vvuid with bounding and exultant
he its to aid in the deliverance of
your neighborhood, your town, your
conritiv, and the world from the
c.use of intemperance? We know
you will. We hear a voice, low but
deep, borne upon the four winds of
. Heaven, and waxing louder and
deeper, like those fierce hurricanes
that sweep across the ocean, saying,
Intemperance shall be no more ! ! Let
us add our voices to swell this choral
anthem, and sound it through the
world.— Mill<llesex IVa sh .
\
The Inebriate—A Sketch.
He stood leaning upon a broken
gate in front of his miserable dwell
. ing. His tattered hat was in his
s hand, and the cool breeze lifted the
: matted locks which coveied his onee
> noble brow. His countenance was
r bloated and disfigured; hut in his
eye there was an unwonted look—a
I mingled expression of sadness and
regret. Perhaps he was listening to
the low, melancholy voice of his pa
tient wife, as she soothed the sick
bahe on her bosom; or perchance he
was gazing upon the sweet face of
his eldest daughter, as at the open
window she plied her needle to ob
tain for her mother and the poor
children a scanty sustenance- Poor
Mary! for herself she cared not;
young as she was, her spirit was al-;
ready crushed by poverty, unkind
ness, and neglect. As the inebriate
t bus stood, tiis eyes wandered over
the miserable habitation before him.
The windows were broken, and the
doors hingless; scarce a vestige of
comfort remained ; yet memory bore
him back to the days of his youth, i
when it was the abode of peace and
happiness. In fancy he saw again
the old arm chair where sat his fath
er, with the bible upon his knee;
and he seemed to hear again the
sweet notes of his mother, as she laid
her hand upon the head of her darl
ing boy, and prayed that God would
bless him and preserve him from
evil. J.orrg years had passed away,
yet tears came into the eyes of the
drunkard at the recollection of his
mother’s love.
“Poor mother!” he muttetod,
“it ts well that thou art sleep'll" in
thy grave; it would break thy heart
to know that thy son is a wretched
and drgiaded being—a miserable
outcast from society.
Ho turned slowly away. Deep
within an adjoining forest was a dell
where tire beams of the sun scarce
ever penetrated. Tall trees grew
on either side, whose branches, meet
ing above, f rated a canopy of leaves
where the birds built tlreir nests, and
poured forth their happy songs.—
Thither tlie drunkard bent his steps,
[t had been his favorite haunt iit the
days of his childhood, and its he threw
himself upon the soft green swim!
tiro recollections of past scenes came
crowding over his mind. He cover
ed his face with his hands, and the
prayer of the prodigal burst from his
lips—“O, God rect ivo a returning
wanderer!” .Suddenly a soft arm
was thrown round his neck, and a
sweet voice murmured, “Ho will
forgive you, father.” Starting toj
his feet, the inebriate saw standing)
before him his youngest daughter, a i
child of six years.
“Why are you here, Anne?” Ire
said, ashamed that the innocent child
should'have witnessed Iris grief.
“ I came to gather the lillies which
grow upon the hunks,” she replied:
“ see, 1 have got my basket full, and
now lam going to sell them.”
“And what do you do with the mo
ney ?” asked her father, as he turn
ed his eyes to the basket, where
among their broad green leaves the
sweet lillies of the valley were peep
ing forth.
The child hesitated ; she thought
she had said too much; perhaps her
father would demand the money and
spend it in the way in which all his
earnings went.
“You arc afraid to tell me, Anne,”
said her father kindly. “Well, Ido
not blame you; I have no right to
my children’s confidence.
The gentleness of his tone touch
ed the heart of the affectionate child.
She threw her arms around his neck,
exclaiming—
“ Yes, father, I will tell you.—
Mother buys medicines for poor little
Willie. We have no other way to
get it. Mother and Mary work all
the time they can get to buy bread.”
A pang shot through the inebri
ate’s heart “I have robbed them
of the comforts of life,” he exclaim
ed ; “ from thi- moment the liquid
fire passes my lips no more.”
Anna stood gazing at him in as
tonishment. She could scarcely
comprehend her father’s words ; l>ut
she saw that some change had taken
place. She threw' bac k her golden
ringlets, and raised her large blue
eyes, w ith an earnest look, to his face.
“Will you never drink any more
ruin ?” she whispered, timidly.
“Never! Anne,” her father re
plied, solemnly.
Joy danced in her eyes. “Then
we will all be so happy,” she cried,
“ and mother won’t weep any more ;
oh, father what a happy home ours
will be!”
—Years passed away. The words!
of little Anne, the drunkard’s daugh-!
ter, had proved true. r l he home of
the reformed man, her father, was
indeed a happy one. Plenty clown
ed his hoard ; and health and joy
beamed from the faces of his wife
and children—where once squalid
misery alone could he traced. 'I lie
Pledge had raised him from Iris deg
radation, and restored him once
more to peace and happiness.
[Norwich Spectator.
A New-Year’s Appeal.
What is the best thing a father
can say to his child on New Year’s
day ? We supjiose some will reply,
“Here is a present for you, my son.”
Well, a present is always acceptable.
Hut theie aie various kinds of pres
ents. There are piesents of toys
and playthings, and there are pres
ents of good books, and there are
presents of new clothes, and there
presents of good advice and good
principles. Now we have a little
good advice to give all our good
cold water children as they enter on
a new year; and we hope it will be n>
favorably received ns it is kindly given.
Life is a conflict. There is no day and
no hour in which we are not called to
contend with some enemy, which, unless
resisted, will overpower and destroy us:
and our worst enemies come upon us
most unexpectedly, in the form of inno
dent indulgences. As yon grow into life
dear children, you will find nothing s<
powerful as fashion. She will enlist you
early in her service. She will put upon
you her yoke; and though for a sensor
you may sit restive under her dominion
yet you will ultimately find her bondage
pleasant, and he yourselves perhaps a
great persecutors of those around you
who wall m>t submit, ns others have been
of you. Under this dominion, yyu must
drink; drink of the intoxicating cup:
drink, and perhaps become a drunkard.
Think of it a moment. Is there, can
(here, be nnv thing more debasing ; more
horrible? We knew a lovely youth wh<
became a drunkard. Before he was
twenty he was staggering about the
streets; falling in the gutters; uttering
die most horrid blasphemies. He saw
dreadful sights, gnash* d his teeth, and
gnawed his tongue, and died under the
curse of God. O, what a life to live!
| what a death to die ! Now, dear children,
I we would do nothing to make you un
! happy; we would deprive you of no in
| noccnt enjoyment; we only wish to keep
\ou from that which will make you
wretched here and ruin you for ever.—
Keep, then, from the intoxicating cup
Keep from the grog shop. Resist th<
enemy in every shape, and ho will flee
from you. And we wish you to begin
the year in active service for the good ol
I others. 0, w hat may not each and all
of you dons soldiers in the Cold Water
Army, in spreading abroad our glorious
principles; in enlisting others in the
cause; in getting their names to the
pledge; and in sustaining the temperance
meetings wherever you are. Now, dear
children, come up to the work. It is a
gootl cause. It demands your attention.
It demands your love. It will pay you
and pay your parents, and pay all who
come after you richly for all you do for
it. Begin the year, determined it shall
he one in which, as far as you can cause
it.shall bc-one of great glory to the tem
perance enterprise You,'ll s Tern. Ado.
Nero Year's Hospitalities. —A deci
ded and happy change is seen all over
our country in the character of the New
Year’s entertainments; the day which,
to a sad extent, was devoted to drunken
ness and ruin, especially the ruin of
young men. is becoming one of decided
sobriety and quietness. The wine-enp.
the hot whiskey-punch, the nice cordial
which once composed an essential part ol
this day’s entertainment, are now never
seen in thousands of families. The re
cent temperance efforts in this city have
been made to have a good hearing on this
point, especially the addresses to the la
dies. The supplication goes up from
thousands of hearts to them, “Do not on
this day give young men that which may
ruin them (or this world and the next,”
Our city circulation will be before the
first, and we hope it may do something
to quicken the friends of temperance in
heir efforts to perfect this important
change.— Am. Temp. Union.
MedUng u-ilh other people's business.
—Mr. Gough says he knew a man in
Boston who was years ago a common
drunkard. He adopted Washingtonian
principles long before they received that
1 name. He had been a poor, miserable.
ragged, bloated inebriate, a complete
! laughing-stock. But a short time since
> he had the pleasure of riding with this
person, when he remarked, “ Only think
of if, two reformed persons tiding in a
carriage drawn l»v a pair of horse s own
ed by one of us.” This was the effect
ot meddling with ofher people’s busines*
He thanked God that any body ever
meddled with his business, for previous
:o that, he was a poor friendless outcast,
receiving no respect from others, and
having none for himself.—,4m. Tem Un.
Drunkenness is but voluntary rude
ness ; it emboldens men to do all sorts of
mischiefs; it both excites to wickedness,
and discovers it; it does not merely make
men vicious, but it shows them to lie so.
ffaniYais.
rpilK Proprietor of th»* has just re
X Ct-iv ed,and added to his hnetofoiu well selected
assortment, a further supj ly of
mw AOT 'M&vywuz
m±: 9
AND OTHER MATERIALS
| oV. curt and (i^artc^
JOB PRINTING:
—H tH A* —
Circulars, Cljccks, Kotcs, Receipts,
HANDBILLS, Bl SINESS CARDS,
Invitation Tickets, Bill Heads, Labels, if. ie. .
c?- Bt)OKS, Pamphlet*, Addresses. Catalogues,
tc ol any sizr ami quality of j*a|*t_*r f hound or
will In. done in the neatest manner,on reasonable tei ms
The Proprietor returns his thanks for past favors, and
resj ectfuiiy requests a portion of its con muauce.—
Krom Radical experience in the basimss, he
flatters irimst ll th.it hexvill be able togiTe gt-neial sut
isiaction, both in execution and price o. work.
(Jrderslrom the Country w ill meet with prompt
attention.
Augusta, September 21st, 1^44.
Ladies of Augusta, Hamburg & tlie Country.
NOTICE THIS!
EVERY LADY HER OWN DRESS-MAKER FOR
THREE DOLLARS.
Jl/f RS. S VV. RUSH, ihmugh this, in
forms the Ladies ot' the above places, that
site has returned to this city, w 111 her new pa
tent rig lit for cutting Ladies Dresses, Halms,
Sleeves, Yokes, Cajies, Cellars, &c. Ac. of any
.leserption, si/.e, fashion, and style, hy which
system any lady is enabled, with less than three
m>urs instiuetion, to ml any of said articles--
not only in the very best manner, Init aisn in an
economical way, without any risks or mpfiis
I’he subscriber will In-found trom 9 in'he morn
ing until G in the afternoon, on Broad streit, at.
No. ‘237, one door above the old br.dge-bauk
building.
For the above price, Ladies will be instructed
in classes ol trom one to ten, and eneli Lady will
he entitled to a Booh ot Instruction with the
Chart. M
1 lusts no mathematical theorem, but an im
provement on any thing of the kind eve taught
before.
No charge is to be made unless satisfaction is
given.
Ladies not wishing to be taught, can be fur
nished with a full sett of Patterns lor st) Cents.
Li” 'J'ukc Notice. — Ail Ladies who have been
taught, and do not understand it, let me beg them
to return uiid accomplish the undertaking.
S. W. RUSH.
October 12 13 ts
i 'cling JLadics Seminary,
iinducted by Nliss L. R. Williams,
from the British Provinces.—Ti e Course
of Instruction m this Seminary, is the same a»
in the best institutions ol Europe Nliss YV.has
been long in the practice of Teaching, ai.d with
perleet confidence invites parents and guardians
to place their daughters and wards under her
care, pledging herself to give the strictest atten
tion to every branch of education, as well as to
morals and manners.
Unc of tin* most approved Music 7 e<’clttrs is
engaged for that department: these who wish to
attend .v.usic, will.out joining other classes, can
do sol
O’ A number of Boarders will be received
with advantage to themselvt s. '
For terms, a| ply at the Seminary, Broad-st.,
first door above the Bridge Bank Buildings, Au
gusta, Ga.
liKmu.N es— Hen. M. M. Dye, Rev. E, E.
Ford, Dr. D. Hook.
Sept 28 11 9m
NEW SERIES OF H E
SOUTHERN MEDICAL & SURGICAL JOURNAL,
TO E-: PUBLISHED AT aUGUSTM, BY
P. C. Gll EU ,
AND EDITED BY
P. CARTIN’, N-.L. A I ALL F.EYE.M.D.
ASSISTED by able collaborators.
The work will he issuul punctually on the
first of each month, and each number will con
tain f.,rty-eigbt pages.
First part will be devoted to original commu
nicartmns.
Second part, to reviews, extracts, and a gencr- *
al summary of medical iulellt;'i nee
The price of subscription is $3 per annum,
payable on reception of the first number, ex
perience having taught that such an undertaking
can only be sustained by payment in advance.
I he profession may rely upon the permanence of
the Journal —its continuance being already se
cured.
All letters containing subscripliotis will be di
rected to P. C. Guieu, the publisher, frankid by
|>ostwasters, as the law permits; and ennimunica
tions for the Journal to the Editors, free of post
age.
nov 21 GG
BOOTS AND SHOES, at wholesale
anti retail —The subecribers are now re
ceiving I heir Fall stuck of
&SHD BS2®22j
Consisting of a general assortmenl ot all kinds,
among which tire, L adies Shoes,Ladies and gen
tlemens Rubber Shots, Grnllentens fine calf,
sewed Boots, calf, peg’d and kip Boots, Gent.e
mens call sewed Bootees, Men’s Kip Brogans.
A ml a very large stock ot
NECBO shoes.
£ll of which we offer low—and rs good a
stock as can be found in the city. Call and ex
amine for yourselves.
3 CLARKE & WOOD,
Nearly opposite Eagle & Phoenix Hotel,
- Oct 26 *5 U