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I
[ For the Temperance Crusader.
WRITTEN FOR HATTIE’S ALBUM.
Perhaps, in after years, thine eye
May chance, along this leaf, to stray;
T len, Hattie, wilt thou think of me,
Asa friend of jour youthful day!
Sweet lady, when the dreams of youth
Those joyous dreams so bright, so fair,
Before the sterner light of truth
Shall fade and vanish into air. . ;.
When the sweets of life, so brief, are past,
And visions bright are seen to flee;
When the lights of earth are glim’ring fast,
Oh! wilt thou drop a tear for me?
*’ “Win.it.
For the Temperance Qrusader.
THE CANE CONTROVERSY.
Messrs. Editors —Two years ago, I en
tered Mercer IJiiiversify with feelings of
high -personal respect for each member of I
its Faculty. No act of discourtesy,’ injus
tice, or censure front .the^Faculty,foffiviiK
__nally or collectively,'towards myself, tnts #
eccurreil to change.the sentiment hborv Tx
pressed. The circumstances attCinidfjt'on
theaction of the Trustees in reference ii> the
*late Professor of Aifoient Languages, “ren
dered any demon strut ion on the part of ijn*
stndeuts in favor of one party, in my Inure
ble'opinion, indelicate—since the time pm:
circumstances might naturally justify ah
inference of ednsure on the other. Hence,
I—although conscientiously ave.rse'to tak
ing partizan ground—opposed the presear
fcation of the cane unless accompanied hy
a distinct disavowal of any design to een
sure the action of the Trustees or to cast
any unfavorable imputation on the Presi
dent of the University. The subsequent
action of the minority forced me <Mi what
might seem to he bartizan groin ftf; mfo J
lienee, I wrote the article which
in the Banner of the 15th ult., over the.sig- >
nature “A Student Tims mftcli f fia w
- thought proper to sayqfrom motives of self;',
respect, and from a decent regard for the
of others. ‘
In conclusion, allow me to adyc'rt.orfoif-y
to a communication fromJ. A: i.1./’ pub-’
lished in the ‘first number of the
The idea of a serious reply is utterly out of
the question. lam unwilling to descend,
into the mire, of Pdiingsgafe to exchange”
mud-balls with that individual, knowing
that in all such encounters,fhe blackguard
is on a level with the gentleman
A STUDENT. . 4
For the Temperance Crusader.
PASSING AWAY.
Sad are the recollections of.tlie puAt. —
Around the destruction which marks the
track of time, memory lingers with melan
choly-and regret. The records of human’
grandeur lie scattered in the pathway of
decay, and dark desolation now reign where,
the proudest and most sublime monu
ments of human genius once stood in all
their glory. These mournful trophies that
meet the eye on every hand, speak in the
awful voice of prophecy that the grandest
honors of man are fleeting and evanescent.
The most splendid empire the world has
ever seen, has crumbled into oust, find ner
temples and columns, around which the
beams of thesetting sun lingered and play
ed, are now a heap of ruins. The palace
of Caesar and the forum where The rever
berations of Cii;ero’s eloquence’ still echo. j
stand as a sad testimony that the glory of!
the past is fast passing away. That eru j
pire, whose eagles waved in triumph ovci i
a hundred battle-fields, and tbe fame flj
whose statesmen and orators still ■ well on I
the brightest pages of History, is now reyol- j
lected as an illustrious example of the be- i
cay of human power. The brilliant victo-i
ries of tier armies and the profound k h owl - ;
edge of Mu* sages are fast fading before the j
march of progress. Decay is robbing her I
of her past renown. Time moves swift h j
on, and the memory of her greatness Wifi |
be gradually effaced from the re col he.
tions of the world.
Away in the-distance, beyond tbe desert, ;
a proud city once arose. Ifer templed etui \
works of art the most beautiful of OrierUaij
creation. The glory of her achievementsl
and the beauty of her maidens dazzling the !
admiration of the world. Tbe*sp!eiidor of 1
her monarchs and the rapidity of her rise!
bidding fair to eclipse the fame of the city !
of “seven hills.” But, alas! when she had j
gained the very zenith of her glory;'ami
like a brilliant planet sent her radiance far
and wide, ambition Wasting
away the foundations of her greatness and
for one moment of vain glory the beautiful
Zenobia sacrificed the triumphs of rt hnn
dred years. The vietqyicus Cohort*- of
Rome laid waste her marble palaces j sod
golden temples, and the bloody Anrelian
rode in triumph amid the stemUov jn rdes
olation. And where once-sfnod the noble
cky of Palmyra, the bate tree stands nud
the flowers now “waste their sweetness bo
the desert air.” - ‘*
And (Spain, “renowned romantic Hand,”
what a melancholy example siie presents,
where is her glory? A Wav back in the j
past we see her armies marching -to con- j
quest ands riuurph. f glorious deeds of
the Cid and
Don Roderick Shedding nvfmnd that |rri iif
country a blaze of £lor\\ But these It av
ail passed away. A land riHr imthp Wot
ty of her scenery and once r rfbwneuior
the valor of her warriors. Bin ov,. das
how changed. The-last vestige of her an
cient glory has left he*-soil, ami her degen
erate children can exult only iYi IVcr prist,
renown. Sarfomust *be the reflections of
her sons as standing on the summit of the,
Sierra Nevada of wandering by tlye flower
covered ha-iips of the Gaurieltaiuver, Their
memory wanders back to ti.c Ume when
* the gallant cavalier drove out -the Moocibh
invader and when the triumphant shouts
of her victorious feejdiers’ echoed -through
the halls'of the Alhaudwa. And then as
he looks out at her present degradation,die
must weep at the awful -truth that the glo
ry of Spain is -fast passing away.
” Cast your .eye back on-ail ‘the nations
and cities of antiquity-ami the same mourn
ful spectaple presents itself. There re-’
mains a few columns where stood The.
splendid city of Persepolfs, and tin* waves
of the ocean mourn aroatid the ruins of
desolated Tyre. The grand ami .giunous of
other days are passing away, -and the mon
uments of former ages are fading, out in
the distance. The time may come when
some antiquarian shall stand amid the ru
ins of the proud cities that now decorate
the earth. Such is destiny. The grand
est achievements of man are but for time,
the remorseless grasp'of decay sweeps over
the. work of centuries and all is.ruin.
lon.
for the Temperance Crusader.
THE USE AND ABUSE OF FICTITIOUS
LITERATURE. F r
Napoleon once observed, that Imagina
tion ruled the world ; a fact that experience
and observation-substantiates, imagination
is that part of the mental machinery which
gives tone, feeling and beauty to the more_
commonplace objects of life It gives to
stubborn and unwieldy tacts what color
gives to the’ inanimate picture. Neverthe
less sonte who possess pot the power of re
straining’it haV allowed it to gaiiT the as
cendancy t>ver judgment, and they have be
come slaves to it.
If we look around and see the immense
quantity of “trash” the productfdn of
“cracked-brained scribblers’* who stand in
need of better employment—that is flood
ing the country, we are apt to condemn fic
tion, generally,'(is pernicious to the ‘welfare’
bPsbeiety. This is a conclusion founded on
a superficial consideration: for the greater
portion of our standard literature is compos
ed of works of fiction. The greater por
tion of the classics that have been preserved
from amid the general wreck of Time par
take of this nil tut e What would become of
Virgil,-Horace. Anacreon, or the blind bard
of Sekfs rocky isle ? Would we write their
epitaph oft she shores of Time, to be wiped
out forever, by the dark waves of oblivion?
Would we stop.up those Pierian Springs,
! whose waters flow to the filling of so mitnv
‘minds—there classic ‘streams that so-please
and delightthe soul? It is_ mostly from such
works that we gain an insight info the ous
toms, natures and general tenor of a people
“shrouded in the veil of the Pasti Some
may contend that if these were all facts,
that the effects of the study would thereby
be enhanced : “this* from experience, we
know to he false, for if the young mind had
to gain a know lege of the classics through
‘the dull'medium of facts there would he few
proficient, therein, as all their beauty consist
in the imagination. Many there are that
find the study of tacts, even in their mother
tongue, not a pleasant task; and how much
more so in a foreign one. It is no fiction
that genius achieves those grand triumphs
that fill the mind with a sense of admiration
and awe. It is from fiction that we gain
that beauty of style and “copious flow of
diction” which renders intercourse agreea
ble and beneficial. It is from the pen of the
imaginative writer that flow those lofty
ideas which
“Takes up the imprisoned soul
And laps it in eicsium.”
die it is that can mould from the flinty stone
’ forms of beauty. 5 and make them breathe
as'it were the breath oflife He it is that
can make inanimate nature speak, and tell
man there ik a God ? It is only when we
follow these creatures of fancy that wefeel
tree from the shackles that bind us to Earth!
’Tls then we dream of Immortality ! It en
obles the -oul and lifts it above the grovel
ing things of earth * Hermit is that we can
see more- distinctly, the line of demarkatfqn
j between virtue and vice. Here we can see
[ solne"of the forms in which misery presents
j itself and unlocks- our steel-encased souls to
: the sufferings of humanity. It strikes a
j chord of sympathy, which will cease to vi-
I brate, only, with the latest breath. It is on
j iy ill rough the aid of imagination that all
Mhe passions’ of man can be exhibited, and
! how, from abuse- they can make man their
Slave. Shall the immortal Banyan be de
prived of his laurels merely because his Pil
| grim did not really exist on earth, but only
! in ins'imagination- as the representative of
I an actual'being'? Or the lofty Milton, be
cause his characters existed only in his im
agination ? Shall Avon’s'bard—the faithful
j (Icfimeator-pf the human heart—be remern
| bered only as one among the “things that
jweto'“ Holy Writ; itseif, abound in alle
j goryJ— remarkable parables which
; could not have conveyed such sublime ideas
: without the aid of fiction, are instances.-
Who there can deny the worth of fiction f *
Fiona what we have sa?d we would not.
I have it inferred that we would recommend
fiction to the exclusion of history and sci
ence. By no means. We only recommend
it as aft auxiliary to polish and give tone to
rough h§wn facts. Indeed, we are’ free to
admit that it. like every other good, may be
carried to such an extent that it ceases to
subserve the purposes for which it was de
signed ; and there are many who have thus
abused it. Nevertheless, this is no reason
why we should condemn it. For what pur
pose. was judgment given to man ? Surely
to discriminate: and here we have an op
portunity of exercising it. We cannot make
a precedent, to discard every thing that is
susceptible of abuse ; if we did, there would
be but little security for the common bless
| fogs of life. Some have said that novel
i reading is productive of hypochondria., and
has even brought a bout suicide. We only
appeal to common sense to'contradict this
Is it not a ridiculous idea, to suppose that a
man can allow his imagination to so govern
his judgment that for the fate of son;e sor
row-stricken heroine, he wfli plunge into a
dark unknown ? If there be such in this civ
ilized world, they will be noToss to society,
as “we can fill their room with better com
pany.” (Hhers have said that they are read
only for temporal pleasure, and that their
existence is ephemeral. Oh, shades! ol
Bunyan, Milton and Slmkspeare, is. it thus
that posterity would profane your names ?,
bhall Scotia’s bnj’ds, or Italy’s “song of
songs” be so soon forgotten ? Palsied beThe
hand that dare desecrate your chaplet!—
When the blighting lrosts ot'TUne-shail have
nipped all that now speaks of the grandeur
of earth,and nought but man’s memory re
mains, he will weave fresh coronals to deck
their tombs. Will the steel-ciad knights of
qld, inspired by chivalrous romance to fight
for honor, be remembered as a dream ?
’“Sweet page by fairy Fiction dressed,
Thine is the power to raise from earth,
Mtufs sordid soul—purify the heart,
to feel a sense of Virtue’s worth.” >
Slif’ iiiWill We>;nev.
For the Crusader.
i am not weary.
“Go forward, —press onward, —
’ O! live not in vain!
There’s wisdom and-honor
And joy to gain; --• !
The path’s before you,
You’ve only to choose;
You win if you’re active, — .
If slothful, you los e.”—Colcsicorthy.
lam not weary. No; my heart leaps
wildly with ardent hopes and strong re
solved Why should I succumb to idleness
and drowse away the life given me for use
fulness ? Is there no good to perform; no
glory to’ which I may aspire, no labor to be
accomplished ?
Shall I merely eat, drink, sleep, and sor-
AIAVU at my fete,-whi 1 e the spirits of Howard,
Franklin, Clay, and Fulton, reprove foe for
my slothfulness ?
Arouse, Ambition ! Harden thy sinews,
renew thy courage and grapple with adver
sity. There are more than I lerculean tasks
to be performed and more than Herculean
strength must hd summoned.
The battle* of life is to be fought, reforms
are to bd carried on, laws are to be framed,
pew triumphs of art to be’ achieved, and new
principles m philosophy to be discovered.
Yes, if I arouse hut one soul from the apathy
of despair and render him a laborer in the
great reformatory work; if I can cheer
even one desolate heart and make it beat in
unison with mine, I shall not liaVe lived in
vain, and through countless ages, the effect
of my effort shall be felt, still radiating as it
rolls down the tide of time.
Then, shall If with youth and health and
strength, and with the spirit I inherit of my
fathers, rust out in uselessness?
Rather let mv palms be roughed with foil;
‘my vision fade beside the midnight lamp,
and my sympathies be ever On the stretch
for other’s woes, than I shall lay me down to
die, and sav, my life lias been in vain—-all
an empty dream ; 1 sported through it as
tlie mote danceth in the sun-beam, but the
sun-beam is gone and the mote is vanished
in darkness. Latimer.
i—
For the Temperance Grusader.
THE POLITICAL CONSEQUENCES OF
THE REVOLUTION OF 1688.
James the Second ascended the throne of
England at a period pregnant with perils.—
His brother, the complaisant aiid accom
plished Charles, had just closed a life of re
ligious hypocrisy, and acknowledged on his
death-bed that his whole life had been a lie
by refusing the sacrament at the hands of
the English Clergy, and accepting it from
the Catholic Priests. This circumstance
alone was calculated to arouse the popular
prejudice against James ; and when we con
sider this, in connection with the fact that he
had been reared a Catholic, imbued with
that religion from his earliest infancy, we
may readily infer that his accession to the
throne of England was not hailed by the
English people as an occasion of rejoicing
and public congratulation. His going open
ly to mass with all the ensigns of royalty,
and sending his envoy to Rome with pledges
of submission to the Pope, in order to pave
the way for a re-admission of England into
the bosom of the “Queen of Harlots,” were
circumstance's little calculated to allay the
suspicions of a people jealous of their rights
and their religion. Hence the chivalrous
Monmouth feeling the pulse of the English
heart, and finding it beating in harmony with
his own ambitious schemeSTdetermined to’
raise the standard of rebellion in the hope
that the King’s religion would drive all to
the rebel flag. In this he was unsuccessful,
and James cnme'ofl’triumphant. This tri
umph phrensied the brain of James so that
we soon find him dictating the limits of the
clergy, and bringing the weight and dignity
of royalty to enforce and build up the Cath
olic Religion.
His next step was to proclaim religious
toleration, which was an abolition of the es
tablished church, and at the same time sends
an ambassador to Rome to express his obe
dience to the Pope and to reconcile his king
dom to (he Catholic communion. Thus un
der the specious garb of religious toleration,
he was proceeding, by regular steps, to
place the neck of the English people under
the foot of his holiness, the Pope. No won
der that the contempt of the English people
was excited, when they beheld such treach
ery ,1n the Royal Camp-—no wonder they
received the Prince of Orange with open
arms—-no wonder that James was forced to
abdicate his throne—no wonder at the Eng
lish Revolution in 1688.
The political consequences oT this revolu
tion are few and simple, or so remote as l/e
beyond the ken oi youthful vision. The im
mediate consequence to The English people
was, that they exchanged one Prince for
another, the Romanist for Calvanisl—the
bigot find fanatic for the cool and planning
reformer-—James for William. It was ow
ing to this revolution, or father to the reli
gion of William, that a freedom of religious
opinion first got hold in England. William,
himself, being of a faith different from the es
tablished religion, was, in fact, anxious to
carry out what James publicly and falsely
professed, to-wit: religious toleration, not
to abolish the established religion of the
State but to grant protection and to secure
the liberty of conscience to all. In this he
succeeded, to a great extent.
This revolution had the effect to widen
and deepen the guff between the English
Government and the See of Rome. A Ro
man Catholic * King had been forced to ab
dicate his'throne and in his stead, a Calvan
isl had been elevated. This was not the’
worst feature in the case. The reason of
the rebellion was on account of the religion
of James, and his prostration was a direct
blow by the English at the papal power and
the Catholic religion. It showed the utter
hostility of the English mind to the Roman
church, and lessened the probability of the
re-establishment of That religion upon the
English Government.
Other consequences, which perhaps'may
be ascribed to this revolution, were the en-.
croachments which the Parliament, foade
upon the prerogatives of the crown during
the reign of William. This Prince seemed
ambitions only m humbling the Ring of
France; so the House of Commons vo
ted him sifopliekv for carrying on his wars
against that moiWch ; but in every other
particular he was content to yield to the call
and demand of the people. Hence it was
that during his reign the English govern
ment made such rapid strides in civil, and
stiff greater in political liberty. Walls were
erected around the King’s authority, over
which no sovereign has dared pass to the
present day.
This revolution again had the effect to de
monstrate the great principle that sovereign
power is ultimately vested in the people, and
in them alone; that all officers of govern
ment, whether ministerial, judicial, or exec
mtive, are not masters, but servants of the
people ; that though they may violate the
trust and confidence reposed in them, and
triumph fo'r a season over the rights of tin
oppressed people, yet there is a day of reck
oning in the future when they will be held
to account.for their abuses in office by those
from whom they have received their author
ity. U proved also that the throne of an
absolute monarch in the midst of an intelli
gent people is precarious, and must soon
crumble and mingle with the dust; that the
progress of an enlightened people is ever
tovyat ds liberty , and at war with tyranny
and oppression. And finally, this revolu
tion may be considered the last link in the
ohain of the many bloody struggles which
have secured to tire English people (in the
opinion of many) the finest and best govern
ment on the face of the globe.
College.
DEATH AND VANITY.
The St. Louis Herald, of Wednesday,
says :
“Some of our fashionable ladies, owing to
an excess of vanity in order to give tone and
permanency to their complexion, or as they
sav, to improve their complexion, are in the
habit of taking arsenic in small doses.—
Within the last week two ladies of this city,
members of wealthy families and ladies of
fashion, have died very suddenly. Their
nearest ft lends and relatives say that they
were ‘arsenic eaters,’ but in order to guard
against scandal the real cause of their death
has not been made public. However, those
same persons do not hesitate to say private
ly that an over-dose of arsenic was the real
cause of their death. Out of respect for the
living relations we forbear mentioning the
names of the ladies and only allude to the
circumstance for the purpose of warning
others of the great danger and risk they run*
in continuing such a dangerous and baneful
practice. Vanity must indeed be an almost
uncontrollable passion with persons who,
to gratify it, will hazard their very exis
tence. The re is no doubt of the tact that
this practice is general among our fashiona
ble butterflies, at least to such an extent as
to become alarming.”
THE POWER OF THE WIFE.
Who shall say the power of a wife over
a fond and loving husband is not irresistible?
A good wife brings more happiness, cour
age, strength and endurance home to the
heart of man than everything else found in
the broad field of life : with a bad wife,
comes the direct opposite—ever will she
make her household one continual scene of
discomfiture—all will be confusion and it
will need more, strength than most men pos
sess, to endure the trials consequent upon
the confusion, indolence, extravagance and
folly to be found in his home. No man can
long endure, without murmuring bad domes
tic influence. Though man’s heart may be
strong, it is not adamant; he delights in ac
tion and enterprise and he needs a whole
heart and tranquil mind to sustain him in all
the adverse scenes of life. Man’s moral
tbrce becomes expanded ’mid the conflicts
oi the world, and his home must be to him a
place of cheerfulness and comfort—ofrepose
and peace he can never recover his equa
nimity and composure in a home where he
i meets with nothing but reproaches, sullen
ness, bad temper and discontent. Under
such order of things hope vanishes, his spir
its are crushed out of his body, his heart
breaks, and he sinks in despair. —Spirit of
the A&e.
O
• —*-| 0 I
TEARS.
Tears are the liquid crystal of feelings,
wherein the purest affections and the tender
est woes sparkle with the brightness, and
thrice the value of the rarest gems.
Tears are the sensible out-pourings of the
soul—the sacred waters baptizing the first
-13 >nl emotions of the spirit with a power of
sincerity and truthfulness and love which
grow green and healthy in the refreshing
shower.
The precious streimlet of tears moistens
the heart with wholesomeness, and there is
the fountain whence they flow* And that
streamlet yields life and strength to high
purposes and noble sentiments ; to impulses
toward the beautiful, and aspirations after
the great poetry of nature.
What is there not in tears that is good—
what is in them that can be evil ? Radia
tions from heaven leap off from the eye
drops of the mourner and rejoicer—of him
that hath lost or gained a yellow harvest in
the broad field ot human desire and human
labor.
The magic wand, which strikes the rock
of the hardened bosom, and bids the tears
flow, is wielded ever by a ministering hand
losome cause ofnoble verity. The rivulet
of tears may flow o’er flinty pebbles, and
grow turbid in its distant course —losing its
first sweet music in deepened echoes, and
the fresh taste of its earliest ripple.
A mighty and solemn sacredness dwells
in tears ; they are the genial gush of a God
implanted sympathy with the beautiful weak
ness and the sweet protection needed by all
created things. If they be indication of the
fallible nature which lost Paradise, they as
sert the Heaven-like and immortal power to
fvin it back again, when most needed by the
weary and patient-suffering.
They are the voiceless prayers of many
hours—those gentle tears I—and the infor
mal religion of a Great First Cause !
Like holy pilgrims, wandering for aid and
love, and way-sore with toil, come those
tears; and he who can resist their tender
mournfulness, their vast appeal to all good
in our nature, cannot himself call them up
when he most requires their aid, and chokes
for their delicious relief.
Cjie Ccmpfrancf Cntsakr.
PENFIEIX>, GEORGIA.
Saturday Morning* January 19,
Where is Joe Gresham— Dabney Jones—
and Ben Brantly?
What has become of that old grey-haired sire, ami
whole-souled philanthropist, Father Joe Grisham ?
who has always constituted the strongest vertebra in
the spine of our Temperance Brotherhood —who was
always hoard above the din of confusion and conven
tional strife, adhering closely and indissolubly to his
temperance principles, and ever proclaiming tKcm in
finitely more righteous than all corrupt political pre
dilections and party obligations —and whose stento
rian voice thrilled the inner heart with fresh encour
agement and reanimated faltering resolutions ? Has
he become wearied of this noble cause, and retired
in disgust at the waywardness of the human race V
Has he said, let them alone for they are joined to
their Idol? We opine his resolutions were too de
termined ever to be stayed by any obstacle, so long
as he has a voice to speak or is able to raise a hand
in behalf of a cause so near his heart.
Where is Uncle Dabney P. Jones? —that old pio
neer, whose name is more or less familiar to every
household within the limits of our State, as a well
tried servant in the work of regenerating prostitute
humanity—whose voice has been heard in almost
every Town and Hamlet, with happy and flattering
effect, in convincing the doubting, causing the
thoughtless to meditate, and reinstating backsliders?
Has he, too, become silent, and retired from the field
of action? Has he given up in hopeless despair?—
We hear nothing from him ! (We fear he has said
of us, that he will have nothing to do with us.) —
“Weary not in well doing, for ye shall reap in due
season, if ye faint not.”
Where, again, is old Uncle Benja? who, for so
long a time stood upon the watch tower, and distin
guished himself as a faithful sentinel upon the walls,
—whose labors in this great cause have endeared
him to every true patriot, and order-loving citizen
throughout our land, —and w’hose name shall live in
the memories of his countrymen so long as Truth,
Virtue and Morality shall be considered as sparkling
gems?
He, too, is silent, and mute! Has he deserted the
‘glorious standard?
Uncle Benja led the Temperance hosts for many
years, and was a faithful Motes, hut it is reserved to
us, the Young Joshua, to introduce them into the
land of “milk and honey,” beyond the Jordan.
To these old Heroes, let us saj r , be of good cheer,
for the “end is not yet,” Our cause shall yet be tri
umphant! Political thimble-riggers, and ten-pen
sa-penny demagogues may gull the dear people, and
paralyze, for a season, the progress of our great Re
formation, but it will only madden and anger the
popular wave. It will gain strength even though it
be driven back to the fountain. Temperance may
have Us transient ebbs, but there is a strong tide of
public sentiment behind, urging it onward, and it
will flow on until it over-rides wine vat and distille
ry, wiping out their pollutions from the face of the
earth. The soverign people have sworn upon the
Home-altar their wrath that they will suppress the
iniquity which has scourged them for ages, and they
will redeem their oath. The doom of the traffic is
heard in tones unmistakcable. It is written upon
the pages of human events as with a sun-beam pen-
oil—and the heart swells with enthusiasm as the
loud jubilataof triumph is heard to echo from State
to State as our principles become victorions, and are
backed by the constitution, and endorsed and up
held by the heads of pow er, and the ablest Jurors.
Georgia is i*ot to be behind in this work. She will
not permit this damning curse always to blacken
the pages of her history.
And now is the time for us to labor, while the
minds of the people are calm. Our object is to be
accomplished by deliberate and unimpassioned steps;
political triumphs are always gained through excite
ment —the “triumph of principle” in a political con
test is the veriest farce ! Our cause, and ours only,
involves principle, and let it succeed and it is a tri
umph of truth, mercy and justice, and all the enno
bling attributes which God has bestowed upon man
kind.
Then wm would say to our friends throughout the
country, commence anew —gird on the armour of
battle, and go out with new determination against
the giant Philistine; circulate among the people tem
perance journals and urge them to patronize the
Press, for it is the great Lver that is to move the
world. You have the Crcsadeu in your midst,
spread it around among the masses. Wc are “in for
the War,” and were it possible to continue the strug
gle until dooms-day, we would be found in harness
at the last hour. Encourage. u§, fellow-citizens,
with a liberal support.
Taking Political Papers.
Some of our patrons have expressed a desire to
discontinue patronizing Temperance and Religious
Journals, to take a Political sheet. We would ask
them which will you take? Choose any, and you
will live and move in but one shadow. Every jour
nal makes the party which it endorses, pure and im
maculate, though it may be as corrupt as corruption
itself. They serve to increase and heighten the dif
ferences which divide and alienate the masses. See
our Congressmen,—sent to the halls of Congress for
their wisdom and knowledge, to regulate the affairs
of government,—they are there growling at each
other over the offices, like big curs over a “bone,”
each afraid to touch. Each party considers all oth
ers too vile and corrupt to join hands with any of
them. They are having an awful mess of it, and we
expect they will “pitch into one another soon, gouge
each other in the countenance, and break up In a
general row. We recommend it to them.
To our friends who wish to become politicians, wo
would say, there is nothing to be gained by it.—
Stick to your Temperance Journals, for they are the
true advocates of order and reform, and every indi
vidual should encourage them.
A Drunkard’s Objection to Water.
“A drunkard being urged to drink ‘the beverage
prepared by God himself, to nourish and invigorate
his creatures, and beautify his footstool’—‘No,’ said
he, ‘water is dangerous—very. It drowns people—
it gets into their chests—into their heads—and then,
too, it makes the infernal steam that’s always blowin’
a feller up. Water! No—l’ll none on’t; let them
drink it what likes.’”
Sharp gentile that! He should have a horn-bag
ging-needle stuck In his naml protuberance, and one
ear slit, to distinguish him from the ordinary breed!
Whisky is innocent! It only scorches a fellow’s eyes,
making them look like two burnt holes in a blanket,
—adorns his nose with rum-blossoms,—indates his
corpus until it resembles a stuffed hog-skin*—rots
his viscera^ —and tumbles him into the grave. Umph!
that’s all a thing of nothing,—give me a gin cock-tail
or a brandy-sling with a little nux vomica in it.
“Watchman, What of the Night?”
The gloom whjch lias settled on the Temperance
cause in our State, is the darkest which has ever
marked its history. From no quarter can we hear
of any encouraging prospects, or receive a word of
good cheer. All life and animation seems to have
departed from its friends, while they have passively
settled down in a state of apathetic lethargy. Why
is this? We can discover in the circumstances no
thing which ought to be productive of this want of
feeling. Twelve months ago the friends of Temper
ance advanced to, and boldly occupied a position far
more prominent than at any time since their first or
ganization. They then cherished fond hopes that
their earnest desires were about to be accomplished.
But they weredefeated in their ends, and their bright
hope's blasted, Should we despond, or be for a mo
ment discouraged at a esrill so contrary to our wish
es? We might, were there not circumstances in the
events themselves which bid us still hope on. A
casual observer might think that our cause was des
perate,. that the fiat of the popular will has been cast
against us, and that thenceforth there is no device or
alternative by which we can maintain our position.
It is irue that the late election went against us so dv
cidedly, that were it taken as an expression of opm
ion by the mass of the people, we could have no ex
pectation of future success. But we cannot take it
thus. Other issues were presented, which though of
far less importance, were of much greater weight
among the multitude. The wants of political dema
gogues were to be satisfied, the ends of their chica
nery to be answered, and all other questions were
thrown aside, as of no importance. Every means
which could conduce to their ends became welcome
instrumentalities in their hands. In (he grogshop
they found a valuable auxiliary, and many a worth
less office-seeker floated into power on the dark tide
of Intemperance. Party Spirit spread throughout
society its maddening influence, and hQrriedoff'mcn,
bound in its strong embrace, to perform its unright
eous behests. No; the late election was not a calm,
deliberate decision of the voters of Georgia against
the cause of Prohibition. Those who voted for Ovcr-l
by were not the whole body of Temperance men in
our State. It was only those who could dare to pass
through the fiery furnace of persecution rather than
bow down to the golden idol which political leaders
had set up. Thousands were led away by the se
ductions of the charmer, violated the dictates of their
consciences, and inflicted an irreparable injury upon
a cause for which they had professed devotion.
Let us then, take courage. Though we have been
defeated by the wiles of Party intrigue and the ma
chinations of politicians, let us again nail our colors
to the mast and press on with renewed energy. Let
us take new counsels, devise new schemes, discover
other means for the accomplishment of our objects.
We may still hope for a time when men, delivered
from the despotism of party bonds, will come to a
calm consideration of this important question; when
it will be presented to them as a primary issue,
their votes will be an umnistakeable index of their
opinions. A solemn and unbroken gloom now s rests
upon our cause ; but
“The darkest hour of the night
Is just before the dawn of light.”
It may be that the day is even now nigh at hand.
The friendS of Temperance may, ere long, awake im
a sense of their duty, burn with new ardor for th&r
cause, and array themselves in the righteous habili
ments of Love, Purity and Fidelity. The feists of
prejudice, which have so long enveloped this subject
may at length roll away, and men look upon it with
impartial eye. Whenever the people of Georgia east
aside all minor considerations, deliver themselves
from the shackles of Party, and vote according to
the dictates of their consciences, we feel that the
Temperance cause will prevail. Wayside
and village tippling shops will find their power
glory gone. The poor inebriate, manfully, yet vain
ly struggling with his master appetite, will find the
Law a helping friend in his hour of trial. Prohibi
tion will triumphant reign, and fully accomplish that
reform, for which moral suasion has for long years
vainly striven. Then will the Temperance man, who
has labored long, and patiently, and zealously, for
this great end, have his quiet rest, and season of re
joicing; then will he be prepared to dance like Miri
am on the shore of his hopes, or shout like Simeon in
the temple of his God. *
“The Good Time Coming.”
There is a natural desire- in the human mind to
better its condition; an inward yearning for some
thing which it does not possess; an eager looking
forward to future good. The past may “have been
crowned with blessings, the present may afford its
pleasures and enjoyments, but the soul turns
all these, and contemplates with delight the prospec
tive visions of “the good time coming.” This far off
time, never defined or experienced, floats ever in the
distance, like the ignis fatuus to the benighted wan
derer, or the glittering mirage to the traveller in the
desert It is always coming, yet never arrives; a
promise never fulfilled, yet never broken. How
mysterious, yet how great is the influence wielded
by the hope of “the good time coming.” It heals
many aw'ounded heart, drys many a tear bathed eye;
yet never for a moment is that good time felt or seen.
It assuages the well-springs of sorrow in
and bears up the soul through the darkest hours of
temptation and trial. It comes over the spirit in ac
cents more melodious than the soft echoes of a dis
tant bell, and by its mystic magnetism lulls each anx
ious thought to rest In every period of life, this
principle possesses this secret charm, wields this po
tent influence. No adversity can crush, no prosper
ity can erase it. In childhood, it dashes from the
eye the pearly drops which momentary passion has
produced, and restores to the youthful countenance
the rosy smiles of innocence. It imparts anew im^
pulse to the energy of manhood, and adds a richer
glow to the hopes which adorn the meridian of life.
When the soul is bowed like a broken reed, and
weeps in sorrow for the loved and lost, Hope whi >
pers in the ear of the mourner kind promises of oth
er friends and dearer hearts in the future. When
the dark clouds of affliction hang over him, and the
strong man is bound in the of misfor
tune, he still hopes fbr a better day, and takes‘cour
age to press on to his journey’s end. The weary,
care-worn man, with a heart dead to pleasure and
enjoyment, is gently wooed by the of
better things, and won from his dark, gloomy
thoughts. So long ns he lives, this wish, this expec
tation controls his actions and directs his destinies.
And when on the threshold of eternity, and Life is
closing its last scene, he turns his eyes from the’ fleet
ing shadows of Time, and hopes for a “gpdd time
coming” in “the bosom of his Father and W^God.”
Dr. Leconte’s Reply.
We notice in our exchanges, a rejoinder of Dr. Le
Conte to the letter of Dr. Church, of Athena, in
which he places him in rather an uuenviable situa
tion. It seems that controversies between the Presi
dents and Professors of our Literary Institutions are
becoming fashionable amusements —bad policy.