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From the Rose of Sharon, for 1844.
The Good Resolution,
B Y MISS S. C. EDGAKTON.
Quite away from the dusty turnpike, and
across sweet-smelling clover-fields, in n small,
quaint, moss grown edifice, dwell Job Good
ell and his daughter May. Job had been a
fisherman in his better days, bdt, sad to tell,
hud been drawn away from his honest occu
palon by the seductive charms of the village
inn. There he might be lound I'rom early
morning till midnight scarce turning his steps
lomewardto the frugal meals prepared bv his
■atient child, and leaving with her the whole
tare and toil of providing for their family nec
” utim'.vSv ■ ‘ ‘ 1 11 1
Happy was it for May, poor girl! that her
teart was as brave and hopeful, as ii was pas
tient and loving. Whoever passed her door
on a bright spring morning, might hear her
voice, singing songs ns sweet and merry as
hough she had not a care or sorrow in the
world. And that little quaint old cottage!
who would have deemed it the home of an in
veterate tippler, with it3 neatly swept grass
sward, its bed of fragrant carnations, its honey
.suckles, azalias, and mossroses!
Job loved his daughter May—was proud of
her—and, save his great neglect, always treats
ed her with kindness. In his worst stages of
inebriation he exhibited no phasis of cruelty;
he was only excessively and shamelessly silly,
and disposed to lavish on May a world of fools
ish and fondling caresses. May, in turn, was
always gentle and patient with her father, nev
er reproaching him for his vile habits, but of.
ten tenderly entreating him to stay nnd assist
her about her garden, or to spend the long win
ter evenings with her, instead of hurrying
away to the “Admiral.”
One very beautiful spring morning, Job
stuck his old hat jauntily on one side of his
head, and stood crowding the tobacco into his
pipe, ever and anon casting a wishlul look to
ward May, who was busily wiping the break
“Can Ido any thing for you, father?” said
she, looking up with a pleasant and encour
“Ah, you’re a good girl, May, a blessed
girl! I hate to trouble you—but just now I’m
all out of change—and a curse on these times,
1 say, when an honest man can’t get trusted for
a shilling to save him from want.”
“Dear father, I would willingly give you
what little money 1 have, but if Ido we shull
be forced to go without dinner or supper, I
“Are we really grown so poor as that? Ah,
well! these are melancholy times for us poor
fishers. I’ll not take your money, May; I can
win a shilling from Ned Watkins any day, at
nine pins, and that will be easier than to rob
“Oh, papa! if you will not go to the admiral,
to-day, but will help me plant out my little
garden, and transplant those fine strawberry
vines that yield us so many dollars every year
—Oh! dear papa, I cannot tell you how hap.
py you will make me, how very gratefully I
shall remember the kindness.”
“Little need of my assistance'” answered
Job with a good-natured luugh, and a sly
wink, that sent the bright blood gushing nil
over May’s dimpled cheeks. “Younger and
steadier hands are all at your service, and on
old man like me would bo in the way.”
“Oh, no! no, papa!” exclaimed May, earn
cstly dropping her work, and clasping her arm
in his, at the same time lifting up her beaming,
tearful eyes most imploringly.
Job was touched. Tears were unwonted
visiters to those joyous and radiant eyes; so,
at least thought he, who saw few indeed of the
many that were shed for him.
“You are a good girl, May,” said he, patting
her head, and kissing her white forehead,
with parental delicacy; “you are a good girl,
and I wish I were a more worthy father. But
let me go now, dear, and I will soon be back
again to help you.” With this promise, he
tore himself away.
May had been too long accustomed jo have
her entreaties disregarded, to shed rfinny tears
for her present disappointment; so having coins
pleled her household arrangements, she tied
on her little cottage straw —its pretty blue
ribbon somewhat faded, it is true, but thereby
better suiting the exquisite delicacy of her com.
plexion—and proceeded to the garden. There
was a freshness and exhilaration in the soft,
spring air, that soon removed from her heart
and fuce nil traces of unhappiness; and if her
cheek had previously been a shade too pale,
this defect was remedied the instant the sound
of a buoyant and hasty footstep fell upon her
The person who approached was the son
of May’s nearest neighbor, widow Lovell. J
He was a fine looking fellow, with a complex
ion of the clearest white, eyes of the darkest’
blue, nnd hair that would rival the gloss and
blackness of“a raven’s wing.” He held a has.
ket on h's arm, full of young plants.
“You were wishing lor some of those gor
geous pansies, May. See, 1 have b-.-cut fortun
ate enough to procure you some.”
“You are my good genii Harry. I have
but to wish, nnd lo! the prize is at baud.—l
thank } ou a thousand limes.”
The young friends busied them-elves in |
planting the roots, for some time in silence,:
They were lovers, though not ncknowvdced [
ones. The confession bad been long tremb- :
ling on Harry’s lips, (silly fellow! d:d lie notl
know bis eyes had already told it over and uv-!
er again?) but there was something in May’s!
manner which restrained and embarrassed’
him. This morning, however, he had quugl.t
her with the determination of avowing bis love.!
For nothing was 1 lurry Lovell more remark*!
able than for his readiness and eloquence ol'j
speech. It was astonishing what could keep!
him sosilent on this occasion. Root after root ■
•tv us fix I'd m rhe ground,'’ find stiff -firs tongue
faltered in its instructed duty. “This is noi
place,” thought he, “with the sun glaring)
down upon us, and in open view of half the)
village.” He rose I'rom tlie garden path, and
lifting his new palm-leaf lint— May’s hand I
hud braided for bin:—brushed back from his’
forehead, which was ave y while mid hands’
-some one, a mass of black, glossy curls.
“You arc weary, May,” said he,“and the’
sun is really oppressive. I have my thoughts’
on a glass of your nice root beer. Together )
with the shade of the porch, it will be very ;
May laughed, and led the way to the house.
The beer was brought, drank, and praised; the!
glass removed, and .May with Iter bonnet off, j
and her soft, brown hair parted smoothly from 1
her brow, had seated herself on the threshold’
of the door. Harry chose a situation on the
door-step.—Here they were quite sheltered’
from the sun, and quite bidden from the view of
the villagers. Hurry had no excuse fur si
lence; and so, in a quiet way, but with a burn- <
ing cheek and eloquent eye, he told the tale ol
May heard him with many heart-throb-1
bings, and a few ill-concealed tears. “O
Harry! 1 feared this,” she said. “Sweet as it
is to know that you love me, it is bitter indeed
to feel that we can never be happy in this af
“But what shall hinder us, dear May?”
“My father, Harry, I can never leave him - ”
“Os course not; but he shall have a home
“You must not think of the thing, dear Har
ry. You have already a mother to support,
and I can never consent to bring upon you
such a burden as poor father would he. Were
he merely old and decrepid, 1 might not look
upon the case as so hopeless; I* might almost
then consent that lie should became a burden to
you, but as he is, O Harry, you know his un
fortunate weakness; you know how unfit he is
to sit at any fireside, or be a partaker of any
domestic society except such ns nature has
made sacredly his own. A (laughter can par
don, cun bear with Itis infirmity; but, O, Har
ry! your home would be desecrated by such an
inmate - ”
Poor May* how bitterly she wept, ns this
painful nnd humiliating reflection was breathed
into her lover’s ears; but he, like a generous
und devoted friend, soothed nnd encouraged!
her; nnd though ho found to combat her res
olution wits idle, lie still declured that she only
had, und ever should have undivided empire
over his heart.
Now all this while,there was a little by scene
going on, which wo must not conceal from our
readers, especially since it has reference to
the issue of our talc. Job VVoodwell, when he
parted from his daughter, struck across the j
“liet (he Blessings of Government Descend upon All without Partiality.”
ROME, FLOYD COUNTY, GEORGIA, MARCH 23, 1844.
clover-fields toward the Admiral; but instead
of entering, as was his time-out.of mind cus
tom, lie turned aside and springing down the
rocks, sat for some time gazing thoughtfully
upon the great expanse of ocean that lay
spread before him. On his left, frowning over
the cliffs rose the roof of the old Admiral, enti
cing him to his folly, but the sweet, pleading
tearful face ofhis loved May would steal into
his heart, nnd paralyze the power of the temp
ter, in a manner that surprised even the poor
“I told May l would soon return,” said he,
“but if I go there Ned Watkins and a whole
gang of loafers will beset me, and drive all
thoughts of home out of my head. So 1 will
keep out of their sight, and for once fulfil my
Job reached his house just after Harry anil
May had entered it, and hearing their voices
as lie came up toward the porch where they
were sitting, he stopped in front of a window
that opened at the side of the porch, and gazing
through it, could not only distinctly hear the
language, but cot'ld also see the faces of the
young lovers. ‘I he mention of his own name
kept his feet riveted to the spot. Their con
versation has already been detailed, and itself,
feet upon Job, in bis present mood may well
be surmised. At first the hot blood rushed ip
torrents to his brain and fuce, and the deep dis
gust lie feit lor his own folly was pictured in
every lineament of his fuce and countenance.
But when lie saw May in tears, when lie heard
her sweet, tremulous voice, pronouncing C e
doom us Harry’s fondest hopes, andjill for sis
sake, vim had so cruelly wronged and dtts
g ue: J her, he wrung itis hands in agony, ar and
unable to suppress lis feelings, hurried ca i
tiously through the back entrance of the e,
and shut himself up in his chamber.
A sail day was it for May Woodell aft ;r
Henry reined. Her garden had lost its In
terest. Even the favorite pansies only ma le
her w eep when she looked on them. Ste
prepared a dinner for her father, howevt r,
;.i:J s'rove, by an increasing devotion to i lis
wants, to forget her sorrowful thoughts. But
the day wore on, and Job did not appef r.
Thu dinner was removed uniasted. “t\Lr
lather! ’ said May, “I told him I had scarce
money enough lo liny us a dinner: I four
has denied himselfout ofeonsiduration for mcl.”
Anti -lie tried to believe this the true solutixm
to ihiH tklny, though experience had ii.ucJ’fc
lidrmai itis neglect oi meals was aoJ(f a •
sioned by a worse than ordm JJIh.
How different would have been lu'h disl. Ilgs
had she known that Iter erring parent was jwiis
moment in his own chamber, overwhelrrvft
with anguish and remorse! Hoiv quid ly
would she have forgotten every thought of
self, and hastened to pour into his ear us? tr.
unceof her forgiveness and love! All, it vas
better for him May, that they tender mercies
were a while withheld.
“1 do think father will return to te t,”
thought May; and she hastened to prepare a
dish for him which she knew ho very much
liked, and which she bad made some perso lal
sacrifice to pro: ure. Those only who hnve
but one object to care for, one being to smile on
their toils, owe friend to whom their cxiste ice
seems a peculiar blessing, can alone underst md
how every thought and feeling becomes a * ers
vitor at one shrine.
Job, meanwhile, hearing her light step about
the house, rose from the bed where he had
thrown himself, bathed his lace in the brsin
of cool water that May’s hand kept constantly
supplied in his chamber, brushed his Imir, and
putting on his hat, stole cautiously down into
tite yard, and betook himself to May’s bed of
pansies and carnations. Her she espied, itid
ran out to meet him. Her,first glance reliev
ed and gladdened her lieatt. She held out
her hand to greet him. “How long you have
been away, papa! and how glad I am to see
you home to ten!” she said, looking into his
face with a smile, that told him how happy md
grateful she felt to meet him iu a rutunal
mood once more.
As they sat together at that tea-table, cfiat.
ting in a social and affectionate way, of the
thousand little interests dear to a father, and
child even though one, alas, is but such m
name, May felt not a solitary trace of her
morning’s sorrow. If she thought of Harry,
it was with love and gratitude, hut scarcely
with pain and regret, for though the lame
enuse remained to prevent their union, how
could she think of anything unpleasant or mel
ancholy, while her dear father sat ‘by, giber,
and full of kind words and gentle attentions!
A week passed on, nnd Job daily usiisted
Mny in arranging nnd planting her garden,
never once going near the Admiral, nor 1 lilt
ing a glass of spirits to his lips. May was in
raptures. Only one thing disturbed her fcliei
ty; Harry was not by to partake of it. ‘<lt is
foolish in him to stay away so long,” thought
she; “lor though we must not be lovers; wo
might certainly he friends.” Perhaps the
change would not have been so easy, Maj?
One morning after breakfast, Job rose from
the table, and put on his old hat, (May had
just braided him anew one,) saying, as he did
so, “I am going up lo the Admiral tin* morn-
Ned IFutkins, and some of my friends thore,
will begin lo wonder at my long absence* ]
Only think, May, it is a whole week since I j
have “been there.”
May’s smile changed tea look ofundisguisa- ‘
ble distress at this unwelcome announcement.
“O, father!” she exclaimed, in a tone of touch,
ing entreaty, “do not go any more to that ’
wretched place. I have been so happy this
past week, I cannot spare you away. You ’
will not go, dear father.”
Job smoothed her bright hair, and looking
good humoredly into her troubled face, repli. !
ed; “If f go, your friend Harry will come to
see you again; but so long as 1 stay, you arc
not like to enjoy much of his society.—l will
not be in your way, my child;” and without
stopping to listen to her earnest remonstrances,
he imprinted a tender kiss upon her cheek and
hurried away to the Admiral
He found the usual bar-room club assem
bled. Immediately upon his entrance they
bagan their assaults upon him for his long ab
sence. He evaded them, marching up to the
bar, and throwing down a sixpence, “Give us
a mug of stout flip, Rawley,” said he; and
while this was preparing he picked up the
stump of an old pen, dipped it into the batter
thick ink that stood on the desk, and drawing
an old letter from his pocket, tore off the back,
and scribbled upon it the following remarkable
1 “This certifies that I, Job Woodell, do
hereby give my solemn pledge to abstain
wholly, henceforth and forever, from the use
of all intoxicating drinks as a beverage.
(Signed.) JOB WOODELL.
I This he placed in the hands of his old fel-
J. low-tippler, Ned Watkins, bidding him read it
aloud to bis companions, while he seized his
mug ol‘flip’and hurried to the door - Lifting
it toward his lips, to make the temptation as
• strong as possible, he suddenly turned it up
side down, spilling its smoking contents upon
; the ground. Then placing the mug in this
reversed position op the bench, he took his
: pipe from his mouth, and delivered this brief
isojjloquy: “Job Woodell, thou art a man
j again. The fetters that bound thee are brok
en, and thou art free! Job Woodell, thou art
:j a father. Henceforth the child of thy lost
: May has a lather’s arm to rely upon lor her
’ ‘ support, and a father’s heart to bless and cher
i ! ish her. Jod Woodell, thou art redeemed.
r- junw .and sine thfv linlleluiuhat”
I Having thus made and solemnized this
Good Resolution, he entered the bar-room
jin quest of his hat. He found the group hud
: | died together, in vain striving to spell out his
rude hieroglyphics. “Here, let me read it for
I you, said Job. And taking the paper from
Ned’s hand, he proclaimed in their astonished
J ear, tidings ofhis redemption.
‘ *J°b Woodell?” exclaimed Ned Wat
kins, prefacing the name with a loud oath.
I “What has brought you to this nonsense?”
| “My daughter's love has brought me to this
sense , was the calm reply, and he turned
with a serious aspect to the door.
When he entered his own house, he found
Harrv there, standing with May’s hand clasp
ed iu his, and both looking very much afflicted-
I May sprung forward with an exclnimation of
joy, and twined her arm in his •O, father!
; 1 was sure you would return, you are so very
; kind of late.”
“But why do you welcome me, my love,
since my arrival will be a signal for Harry’s
departure! And pray what have you been
saying to each other to cause you to look sor-
“Harry is going to leave us, papa. He lias
adopted your old profession of whaling, *and
goes out in the Dolphin, to-morrow.—He was
‘just bidding me farewell, ns you entered.”
j “Ah! how is this? 1 thought you loved May
too well to leave her,” said Job, laying his
hand on Harry’s shoulder. j
“1 dp! 1 do!” answered he, with great emo
tion, rising to depart; “but what avails it— she
refuses tube mine.”
He from the room to hide
the tears that forced themselves to his eyes,
when Job’s l and detained him. “Stop a mo.
men!,tny sol,” said he. “As you pass by
Dix’s grocery, just be kind enough, will you,
to post up this little notice on their door. 1
j wish to make it as public as possible-”
“Harry’s eye glanced hastily over it.—
‘Blessed be God!” cried he, his whole lace
lighting up with joy. “Is this true? Have
‘you deliberated? Are you serious, Mr. JVood
“Yes, my dear Harry, it is my serious, de
! liberate, irrevocable pledge—signed, sealed, j
and solemnized. Show it to Mny—she stands )
staring at us in dubious wonder.”
May needed but one glance. She threw !
; herself into her father’s arms, and but burst!
into tears. Father and daughter wept togetli.
er, but they were delicious tears, expressive
of joy that words could not utter. Harry’s
eyes, too, were overflowing with sympathy,
but ho retired to the porch, feeling that their
joy was too sacred to be witnessed except by
la a few minutes Job recalled him. Taking
hi* baud, ho placed it in one of May’s and hold
them clasped together between both his own.
“My dear children,” said he, “one week a S°>
I was a witness and auditor of the interview
you held in the porch. It awakened me to a
sense of my great wickedness, and that very
moment 1 vowed to reform. 1 have served a
week’s noviciate, nnd feel no desire to return
to my old life. There lies my pledge. It
was written in the haunt, and amid all the
temptations of my old vice. I read aloud to
my old companions. They sneered at me,
but I did not shrink. I pitied them. - And
now, my dear children, since 1 have done all
this for your sakes, show me your gratitude in
making yourselves as happy as possible.
How could they refuse a request like this?
Harry said nothing further about going to sea,
and in the following autumn took Hay Wood
ell to his homo with the title of Mrs. Lovell.
Job lives with them, and never yet broken,
nor repented of his Good Resolution.
From the N. Y. Plebeian.
The Effects of a Fliicluatiug Curren
cy upon the Nlorals and
!f we glance the condition of the people of the
United States, for the last fifty years, we will
find, that poverty and crimes have increased
and decreased in a corresponding ratio to ‘.ha
fluctuations in the circulating medium or mon
ey of a country, la Great Britain, according
to an English writer, criminal offences increase
and decrease with the rise and fall in the price
of provision and the bills of moality show that
the number of deaths rises and falls from the
same cause. But as prices of the necessaries
of life, in nine cases out of ten, rise and fall
with an increase and decrease in the quantity
and value of the circulating medium, the true
cause of an increase of crime and poverty,
are to be referred to a fluctuating currency.
The virtue, independence, and happiness of
the people cannot be preserved, so long as they
are surrounded with poverty, destitution and
want. “It is hard,” says Dr. Franklin, “for
an emty bag to stand upright.” There is no
country in the world wheie wealth is so much
! regarded as a means of distinction and happi.
ness, as in the United Sta'es. Genius and tal.
j ent are indeed respected by our people; but the
respect attaches in nine eases out of ten, from
the fact that they enable the possessor to ac
quire welath. Were it possible to deprive tal
ent nnd genius of the power to accumulate
wealth, the present generation would pay very
t."t in <l.^.
Hence, we find that men will sacrifice every
noble quality of the human intellect in order to
Men without talent, without genius, averse
to physical labor, have so managed it, by the
aid of our vicious and corrupt Banking System,
as to accumulate large fortunes while hundreds
of others who hnve produced this verv wealth
were at the same time suffering for the neces
saries of life;
An examination of the calendar of our crim.
inal courts, will show that a large proportion
of the offences against law and moral.tv, for
the last ten years, may be directlv traced to
our Banking system. Men, whose character
lor morality and itegrity were unsullied, have
been found guilty of the grossest offences a.
In order that a nation should be happy and
moral, it is necessary the people individually
should possess a competency. All the laws
punishing crime that ever were or can oe en
acted will be insufficient to preserve the mor.
als and ensure the happiness of a people wan.
ting bred. And men cannot be happy with
only sufficient means to procure subsistence
for the next twenty four hours. Thev must
have a lair prospect of enjoying the means of
a permanent provision for themselves and
i ‘amides. The price of labor should be suffi.
cient to support a man, and enable him to ac
cumulate sufficient to provide for his wants
h w hen he arrives at that period of life when his
mental and physical abilities proclaim that his
labor should cease, and to provide for those
ordinary cases of sickness to which he is sub
The power that governs men in civilized so
ciety, and makes them virtuous and happv, is
more a moral than a legal power. A compe
tency, or the means to procure it, would ban
ish ninetenths ol the vice and crime that now
exist. If the legislators and philanthropists of
the present generation would direct their whole
energies with a view that the labor of every
individual should secure to him a competency
of the necessaries cf life lor all ofhis legiti
mate wauls, we believe that the accomplish
ment of this single object would uo more to of*
| evate the human race, and banish im- .
v.ce, and crim. from the worM lllan * their tt £
| decessors have accomplish; j f rom lhe J ?
• ,V C .“■•**“? *man to the present day.
But ti the price of labor was adequate to the
wants and enjoyments of the laborer, and la
i bor was in constant demand, they could not re
main so under a fluctuating eurency. As the
currency expands the prices of the accessaries
ol lito increase, and although the price of labor
may also increase, the laborer is no hotter off
—bis earnings will not procure more of tha
necessaries ol lile—and when the contraction
which mevittibly follows an expansion takes
place the laborer is thrown out of employment