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dHrfiftaffiE. For the Temperance Crusader. TEMPERANCE AND INTEMPERANCE. BY EMMIE EMEBALD. “ ’Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark Our coming, and look brighter when we come. ° Btron. ’Twas evening, a summer evening, at the tiiinn y south;* the soft breeze that stole along like some invisible musician, making low music among the rustling leaves, came la den with the rich perfume ot the wreath ing honeysuckle, the queenly magnolia, and the sweet cape-jessamine, that fairest and loveliest ot all southern flower#*; the skies above were blue as those of far tamed Italy, and as clear, save that a few fleecy clouds floated in the rosy west, and reflect ed gorgeously the bright beams of the set ting sun, whose last rays lingered golden ]y around one spot. ’Twas but a tiny vine wreathed cottage, and yet so beautiful, so fairy like it was, that it seemed to have j been formed tor the abode of love itself. On the threshold of this pretty cot sat j two beings,—a young mother and her babe. No rich robe flowed around the graceful, childlike form of that fair-haired woman; no rare jewel sparkled on her pure, open brow, and the boy was simply clad-—yet that mother and child formed a picture worthy of Raphael, as they sat there clothed in the loveliness of unaffected nature. The day-god sunk behind the western hills, and’ the gray veil of twilight fell on that garden,—still the watchers lingered— the mother with a sweet expectancy in her soft blue eye, and the smiling boy stretch ing out his dimpled arms as it to woesome wanderer home. Presently a quick, manly step was heard without; the little wicket was thrown open, and he for whom those sweet ones watched, was there. The beautiful boy was snatch ed to a loving father’s noble heart, and the fond kiss of a young husband pressed on the fair wife’s blooming cheek. Two years have passed. Come with me again, dear reader, to that love-lit home we visited of yore. A1 as! how changed. — But what has wrought this sad change? The summer time is on the earth; the south wind blows as softly; the birds trill their melodies as joyously; yon blue hea ven shines as fair and cloudless as then, and yet the bright flowers are gone —some have drooped and faded, while others lie trampled on the ground. Even the clus tering vines that clung so gracefully to that fairy cot, are torn down, and the white walls stand up bare and dismantled in the midst of -a lonely garden, where no sound of woman’s voice or childhood’s gleesome tone is. heard. What has worked this ruin and dead a-j tion, and where are those who dwelt here j of old? Alas! alas! the “worm of the still” | has crept into that earthly Eden, and trail-j ed over its flowers, and blighted its beauty, j its innocence, and driven out those gentle t ones, —that guileless woman and her sin- j less babe,- —into the cold and cruel world. j The silver stars looked down coldly and ; unfeelingly on a scene that would have | made angels weep for very pity. On the j damp ground, and unsheltered, save by the. starry canopy above, lay the slight form of] a woman, — a fair haired woman, — and by j her side, with his sunny head resting on | her cold, pulseless bosom, nestled a little ] child, —a tiny boy, —whose piteous cries j awoke the stillness of the hour, as he strove, with endearing caresses, to awaken the*; mother who slept there so peacefully, so | calmly, on the bare earth. See —the night j wind has waved back the Jong bright hair that fell around that lifeless figure, like a golden tinted mantle, and the woman’s up turned face gleams white and cold in the pale starlight. Great Heavens! can it be —can that poor wanderer, that homeles* j vagrant, —be her, who, like another Eve, j reigned in that little Paradise, that blissful home of purest love. Where is lie ? —that stalwart man of the strong arm and brave heart—that fond husband and proud father who stood so tenderly between those loved ones and the rude world. Where? alas! “echo answers where,” —for that strong arm is powerless now; that brave heart is stilled forever; and the noble form rests beneath the dark waves of yonder rushing river—while those he once so loved and cherished, lie there in the tattered garb-of; poverty, —the wife, broken-hearted —dead; and his darling boy, an orphan, —a drunk ard’s orphan,—with no friend, no heritage on earth. Augusta, Ga. For the Temperance Crusader. j • RURAL LIFE. . Go ask yon modern Tityrus if he is hap py. Has care furrowed his brow ? See with what conscious pride he views his flocks. He knows not a care, as he stretch es himself beneath the “shade of some wide spreading” tree. Ask the man “whose head i is white with hoary hairs.” where it was he spent the happiest moments of his life ? and he will answer, when in his childish sports he chased the gaudy winged butterfly over the lawn, or sealed by some bubbling brook listened to its waters rushing over the stony bottom. Ask the philosopher, where it was that he conceived his deepest theories ? ask the poet where it was that his imagina tion culled its rarest flotvers? The response will be, while viewing the grand and sub lime works of N ature —listening to the thun derings of the roaring cataract—jagged mountains looming up as some vast spectre, or viewing the peaceful valley—indicating peace and plenty. Here in the midst of God’s immediate handiwork, Fancy has a broader field for speculation. Not only does Rural life offer an opening for both mental and physical development, but for the culture of the heart. * Let us contrast a city life with* one in the country. What meets yodr view as you enter thecity gates?-nothing abut confused mass of Jiving souls—pushing, jayring and jolting each other—houses confined in such narrow limits as to convey the idea that the earth was not large enough to contain every body if they lived only one fltrata .deep.— There we see the mendicant, in tatters and rags, begging alms at the corners of the streets, as well as the lord in his “purple and fine linen.” There you behold drunkenness ■ Ml ■ “ ’ with all its concomitant evils ; debauchery, degradation, wretchedness, misery, and crime. There vice, like a breathing hydra, contaminates the surrounding atmosphere. How unlike this the home of the simple rustic, clad in his suit of “Lincoln green.” How unlike are the works of Nature to the frail fabrics which man erects for tempora ry purposes. Picture to yourself some lit tle suburban villa,-situated in a peaceful lit tle vale, far from the noisy hum of the busy world. Imagine a beautiful spring morn ing, when all Nature seems to have “put on her best” to beautify the scene; when the feathered tribe pour forth their joyful carols amid the branches of the surrounding forest or dip their mimic sails in the crystal water of a neighboring lake ; mingling their sweet, harmonious notes with the harsh murmur inga .of the brooklet, which meanders through the grass-covered meadow, anima- j ted by the strains of a thousand grass- j hoppers. The sound of the hunters horn ‘ echoing from a thousand hills, “Stai ts from his heathy couch, The antlered monarch of the waste.*’ Can we compare such a life as this to one j spent in the narrow confines of a counting- j room. The honest yeoman, rising from his couch, where he has spent a night in sweet repose, whistling some old familiar strain, wends his way, with a light heart, to the scene of his labor Not a care disturbs his “peaceful breast;” how unlike the merchant, whose whole fortune may depend on the successful voyage of some tempest-rocked craft. Having completed his toil for the day, he is welcomed home by the voice of affection and prattling innocence, that have learned to “lisp their sire’s return.” Here we can have all the pleasures that a home of love affords. Love,Peace and Happiness are his household gods, and no “forked tongue’s gossip’ enters therein to disturb the tranquility of the scene. They are hap py with themselves and the world, i Far from the mad’ning crowd’s ignoble strife, Their sober wishes never learned to stray; Along the cool, sequestered vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way'. Will Ween by. For the Temperance Crusader. • DRUNK, IS HE? “It is a little thing to speak a phrase Os common comfort, which, by daily use, Has almost lost its sense; yet on the car Os him who thought to uie unmourned t’wiil fall Like choicest music.*’ —Knowles. Look on that aged man bending under the weight of years, and drawn together by in firmity. See how he totters ! Drunk, say you ? Yes ; it is too true ! How he miU i ters curses on the heads of those who deem j it. sport to mock him ! Heartless fellows ! ! Knew they the history of that man, they ; would not mock him thus. Listen while 1 : sketch it. Among the sequestered shades of a quiet ’ home, his childhood came and went. And i there, methinks I see him now, a fair-haired ; boy whose mellow voice vied with the wild | bird’s note, and whose fair brow a mother I fondly kUsed, while hopeful visions of fu j ture life, entranced her with their promises. She watched him as he grew, and marked | the developemnt of hi* quick intellect, with | such solicitude ns only mothers feel. But, j “The spider's most attenuated thread Is cord, is cable, to man’s tender tie On earthly bliss; it breaks r.t every breeze.” lie loved his mother; but she died, and jibe cold earth hid her from his sight. No more did. she, | . “With a velvet lip, Print, on hw brow such language as the tongue ; Hath never spoken.” ! She was gone, and gone forever, He griev jed awhile, but gay friends found him soon, ! and he was one of them. A round the light, ! convivial board he oft was found, and. little [ by little, drop by drop, his blood was chang- I ed with poison. Think ye lie had no struggles l Often would his memory bring up the past, when he was innocent, and all was love and sun shine. But these unwelcome visions only made the cup of his despair more bitter. The gamblers life he led and its fate was his. Deeper he plunged into the dark abyss of ruin ; and. wandered far from early scenes and those who loved him once, he is recalled by them as one whose race of life is run and i now lies sleeping in his narrow bed, | Years have flea. Disgraced and friend j less now, he wanders hopelessly. None to soothe or speak a word of comfort, even as he totters on the brink of that dread preci pice, at the far foot of which, is dug the drunkard's grave. Thus goes he on. No friendly hand shall close his eyes when he shall take his last deep slumber; but stran gers, thoughtless as yourselves, shall pile i the clods upon his bosom, ns if it were a j cheering task to bury one who goes “Roaming and sorrowing still, like one who makes The journey of life alone, and no where meets A welcome or a friend, and still goes on j In darkness.” Latimer. For the Temperance Crusader. “LOLA LAPDOG.” Jilessrs . Editors —lTri willingthat the pub lic should he duped by tlie eloquent, but un true statements contained in the last issue of your paper, and —since “Kate” is married— being tiie exponent of the principles and sen timents of a large portion of “us girls” in the community, I deem it necessary to make some explanations, counteracting the dan gerous tendency of “Loin’s” unseasonable remarks. Unseasonable, because made at the opening of a .Term. A time, justly cel ebrated in the annals of parlor history, as ■ replete with disguised gallantry on the part oi the young gentlemen, and with deep and unaffected interest to the ladies. She seems anxious, and makes a grand at tempt, -todmpi ess it on the minds of the gen tlemen, that the girls are not pleased at their return; are uninterested with their occasion al calls, (oil, my.) and that turkeys and chick ens hold a more prominent place in our af fections than poetry, romances and the agreeable chit-chat of our visitors. That, in church, our modesty is shocked by a few short, and sometimes meaning glances of a dozen pair of brilliant eyes, and that we are embarrassed by the crowd assembled around the doors. She must think we are mighty modest. If Lola really does dislike these thipgs, (1 ij*o’t believe she does —we don’t) I venture to .assthat she has not had a new bonnet or flashy dress in twelve months. That’s the cause. Now, how would it look, after having adorned our selves with the studied preparations of a long and monotonous vacation, for us to ap pear at church with, as for instance, anew bonnet, nicely and tastefully trimmed with the flowing honors of gay ribbons, and then not be noticed ? Oh ! its too horrid ! Oftentimes has the equilibrium of maiden enjoyment been destroyed by the whims of superannuated girls. Their star of hope having long since set in the western horizon of old maiddom. they, actuated by a natural spirit of misanthropy and contrariness, be hold with mortification the mid-day lustre of every ascending luminary. Now, Lola is an old maid, and I shall adduce reasons to prove it, leaving to the public to judge of j their soundness. Ist. Because of an indignation meeting held by “us girls,” the prime object of which was to consider the best mode of counter acting the probable result of Lola’s article. The argument is this— girls never conspire against another girl. It was thought by us S that principles of Woman’s Rights were in- ; volved, so I, having heard a woman lecture j on this subject last Fall, was chosen to re- 1 ply. 2d. It is a known fact that old maids care more for their turkeys and hen-roosts, than they do for the gentlemen. Witness L.’s solicitude concerning her poultry. 3d. Would any one, but an old maid, ever notice that turkeys walk in a different man ner during vacation from wiiat they do any other time ? 4th. From the article, we see that she re mained in the village all vacation, while we girls, last Fall, and always have, left as soon as College Exercises were suspended. sth. Old maids are universally fond of pets. In the country, they are noted for having a black cat —in a town or city, a poo dle. That L. resides in this village, we know. That she has a pet dog, vve also know, from her signature, “Lola Lapdog.” We think it has been established beyond the shadow of a lingering doubt, that Miss Lola is an antiquated girl. Shame upon hei4 for using the expression “us girls.” She can’t and must not dictate for us. i Mr. Seals, it is Leap Year, but if sou think that, in this piece 1 am rather bold, and have over-leaped the bounds of maiden mod esty, do call on me and tell me. If you don’t think so, come and bring your banjo. Carrie. ; Penfield, Feb. 9th, 1856. r rn ifmw ■ n—i iwiiinr i w —wi i—ii—i m ■ —HBilHiiim j LET ME, -0-—■ I 1 ne’er on that lip far a moment have gazed, But a thousand temptations beset me; j And Vve thought that the rubies which raised. How delightful ’twould be if you’d—let me. ] Then be not so angry for what 1 have done, [ Nor say that you've sworn to forget rne; ] They were buds of temptation too pouting to slum, And I thought that you could not but—let ine. i When your lip with a whisper came close to my cheek, i 0, think how bewitching it net me; I And plain, if the eye of a Venus could speak, i Your eye seemed to say you would—let me. ; Then forgive the transgression, and bid mo remttiu I For, in truth, if I go, you’ll regret me; j Then, oh, let me try the transgression again, And I’ll do all you wish, if you—let rne. A BEAUTIFUL EXTRACT, When the summer of youth is slowly ] wasting away into the nightfall of age, and j the shadow of past years grow deeper, as j life wears on to its close, it is pleasant to look through the vista of time upon the sor rows and felicities of utir earlier years, it we have u home to shelter and hearts to rejoice us, and friends have been gathered together around our firesides, then the rough places of our wayfaring will have been worn 1 and smoothed away. In the twilight ot j life, while the sunny spots we have passed j through will grow brighter and brighter j and more beautiful. Happy indeed are i those whose intercourse with the world lias | not changed the tone of their holier feeling ! or broken those musical cords of the heart, J whose vibrations are so melodious, so ten i der and touching in the evening of age! l SUPERABUNDANCE OF SKIRTS. ! I’rot’. Lalforde, of the South Carolina College, in his recent work on Physiology, says: “I know not whether it is a matter for congratulation, that corsets, with their ac companiments, within. the last few veais have declined in favor, for they have been followed by a substitute, which probably is not less injurious. This substitute is the common multiplication of petticoats, or skirts. These, in number must, reach from six or eight to a dozen, and some of the higher models of fashion extend the list to fourteen or fifteen. There seems to be a sort of notion, that the good taste of the. lady is to be measured by the number; and. accordingly, many a poor, sickly, woman is to be seen, 4 dragging her slow lengt h along,’ under the weight of a good dozen. The reader will bear in mind that there are no shouideistraps as in the days of our grandmothers, when honest women thank ed Heaven if they could get a single petti coat. The uninitiated may inquire, how is all this weight of skirts fastened and sup ported? It is tied tightly round the waist and spine, thereby heating R and creating a dangerous pressure upon the abdomen. In all this, less wisdom is exhibited than by the brute. Do they employ, says Buch an, any artificial means to mould the limbs or to’*bring them to a proper shape?— Though many of these are extremely deli cate when they came into the world, yet. we never find them grow weak, or crooked, for want of swaddling bands. We take the business out of nature’s hands, and are justly punished for our arrogance and te merity. Fathers should attend more to the physical education of their children, and especially of their daughters. Sure I am, that no mother would think none the worse of them for it. Let them, like the father of Charlotte Elizabeth, exercise their au thority in all matters affecting their health. Plutarch tells that when Cato governed Rome with so much glory, he would quit his business to be present when the nurse washed and dressed his children. “A's the women have concluded to dis pense with shoulder straps, some men, es pecially in the city, have thought they would prove pantaloons can be worn with out suspenders. The men now strut the streets with their pantaloons tightly but toned, side by side with the women, whose skirts or petticoats are firmly bound around their persons. Upon a fair view, the evil is the same in both cases; pressure upon the vital organs, impairment of their pro per action, want of development, deformi ty, disease and premature death. The New York Phrenological Journal says:— As we walk the streets of our city, we see scores of boys from twelve to sixteen years old, with their pants buckled very tightly around their disconnected bodies, prevent ing growth at tills rapidjy growing age, and the result is a generation of dyspeptic, I pale-faced, puny apologoes for men.” (Tlk (Tcmjm'anfe (Lrusaber. j i PENFIELD, GEORGIA. Saturday Morning, February 16, 1856. j It is Time for Action, The lethargy into which the friends of Temperance have sank since the late Gubernatorial electron, has been in a high degree detrimental to the cause. The amount of interest manifested in it is far less than at any period during the last ten years. Dispirited by their failure, they have become indifferent, and allow ed to sink into insignificance an organization which gave them their power and efficiency. Such has : been the conduct of the friends of Temperance, but j its enemies have acted far differently. They have j been active and vigilant, continually on the alert, los-! ing no opportunity of advancing their interest, and of promoting their unhallowed ends. With untiring perseverance they have hung ou the outskirts of our ranks, and by their flattering seductions have led ; xway the feeble and undecided. While the friends j of Temperance have slept, the enemy has sown broad- : cast over the land, seeds of destruction and death.— j But a change must come over the spirit of this dream, j It is high time we should begin vigorously to bestir ourselves, if wo would not see torn from us every ad j vantage which long years of have given. The ene- I my.are preparing to storm the breaches which they j have nmde and we must arouse ourselves from our | slumbers to repel their attack ere the very citadel of j our strength be taken, and our banner thrown from ] its high pedestal to trail ingloriously in the dust. A j fcw convulsive efforts will never ensure us a victory, j We may, in this manner, save ourselves for the time j being from the perils of annihilation; but we wish j “to carry the war into Africa,” to capture and de j stroy the enemy’s strongholds and break up his em lpi re. Hut when, how, and by what instrumentalities ■ can this be accomplished \ It can never be aceom i {dished until our people lose their indifference, their i willingness tol t things move on as they may: until they cease to be alarmed by those dreadful trim ] which political demagogues are continually hatching. We have a crisis at the present time. A crisis much ! more fearful-in its nature, and important in the prin j ciples involved than any which our country has wit j nessed since “the days that tried men's souls.” It r is whether the Juggernaut Gar of intemperance. l dial) continue to move unfettered through the land, rnan i g?iug thousands of helpless victims in its destructive j course. Whether tho Ilumseller shall enjoy an irn j nmnity from punishment and justice while he daily ! commits crimes of the most horrid nature, and | spreads misery and destitution through the ranks of I society. In this crisis, action, unceasing, nnremitted I action is essential to success. We want not men i who will labor with energy for a few days, months, ;or a year, and then lose their zeal and intere A. We j want those who will devote themselves to ii as a bu- I si ness of their lives, and determine that no obstacle ; i-hal! check, no disappointment.shall discourage them jin their work of mercy anu love. We want these to • think, speak and act as one man. In union and or | ganization we can alone hope to acquire strength to \ carry out our designs. “United we stand, divided jwe fall.” It was by organization that tho friends of : Temperance advanced their cause until victory was j almost within their grasp. It is from want of it that j the cause is at its present low condition. We should ] then concert new plans, renew our organization and | form again our phalanx for a contest of victory or j ] death. Say not that the prospects are discouraging, ■ ; that the opposing obstacles are insuperable, that the ! | wiles of liquor sellers, with their active abettors, po- ; j lilical demagogues, circumvent .all our plans. Tho i prospects are indeed dark, but that should not dis- i | courage us. The time was when clouds of midnight j j hue had veiled the heavens, and discharged their j ! huge volume of waters on the trembling earth ; but ] j ere the drops had stayed their fall, the clouds broke, ! ! the sun shone out in fresh brilliance, and the rainbow ] spanned its glittering arch over the clouds, speaking ; hi man whole Volumes of hope and mercy, and re deeming Love. And so the dank vapors ris ng from the cess-pools of iniquity have obscured our sky and ; a Hood of Rum has deluged our country in its dark j tide. But over nli this blackness and gloom, the j j bow of hope still hangs out, proclaiming precious ! promises to the sorrowing and distressed. Catching j with hopeful eye tho auspicious omen, gird on your armor, ye friends of Temperance, for a hard fought, but decisive struggle. And if you fall in the conflict, as fall you may, let your epitaph be like that of Sparta’s hero, “Go, stranger, tell your countrymen we fell here defending our rights, our religion, and our homes. * - Queen Victoria and Governor Wells. In the Province of New Brunswick, where the peo ple have been so long groaning under the curses of intemperance, her Royal Majesty, Queen Victoria, lias sanctioned an Act for the tilling up of those well springs of infection, and for redeeming the people from their inhuman debaucheries, and thus all the power of the government is brought to bear upon the enforcing ot the Law. It has sent a thrill of joy throughout the entire kingdom. The people are looking forward with exulting hopes to the realiza tion of their inherent rights; the poor inebriates be gin to feel the great load which has been grinding them to the earth, grow lighter, and they breathe freer ami easier. It is regarded as the dawning of a j brighter epoch in the existence of the Province, and ! it will constitute the happiest reminiscence in her . annals, | But in the adjoining State, Maine, the scene is ! quite different. After having been for several years I in the full enjoyment of the healing influences of a ] Prohibitory Law, —glorified throughout the land as j the originator of this great movement,—and forming | thecope-stone to the pyramid of Prohibition States; I her newly elected Governor assumes the rein- of j government, ami forthwith recommends the repeal |of thy law. How absolutely ridiculous to hear such j from a man In whoso hands are placed the hopes and prospects of thousands of helpless beings I—from the man who sits at the head of the State to watch over its interests. How degrading, from a Governor, whose own son is reeling and staggering through the streets in beastly intoxication, and is lifted from the ditch and carried to the bosom of his family a degraded sot! Shame and disgrace upon the man, and tor mented be his soul, who, in view of his own son’s rapid progress to the drunkard’s grave and the home of the damned, recommends the raising of the flood gates of intemperance, to deluge the land with all its concomitant evils. It is enough of itself to drag him from his elevation and place him among the lowest menials. The orphan’s wrongs, widow’s tears, and the deep degradation of humanity will testify loudly j against him in the presence-chamber of his God, and j angels will suspend his guilty soul from Heaven into j hell, and fiends will snatch at it. Who accedes to the Proposition? I Our esteemed old friend, Lncle Dabney, who lives • Without an equal, is still urging h's propositions, i made in regard to procuring subscribers to the Cru | sader. He makes the inquiry again, Who will V j one of n hundred to get a hundred subscribers each, 1 j tut our paper S’ Tie make the same inquiry, and I would say, we are anxiously wailing to hear. We : i are making out a roll, and are happy to state that i i we have some few names who have promised to join | the list. TV e wish to procure a column of names, i so as to publish them in l>ig capitals in the most con j spicuous portion of the paper, to hold them up i to the world as true friends to the cause ofßeforma- I lion. Uncle Dabney, after sending more new sub j seribers, says: j “I am more than ever convinced, if Prohibitionists j in Georgia were to bestir themselves, it would be an j easy matter to swell your subscription list to twenty I thousand. And why not? We have but the one or ; pan. You know I rely much upon female influence iin all good causes. Tell the ladies in Georgia, Uncle j Dabney says, throw their influence in favor of the I Crusader. 1 have been in. port a long time, but hope j yet to cut loose from my anchorage-ground, and fight i ‘p a few more skirmishes preparatory to the final j battle. j “1 again say, who w;li (gentleman or lady) be one ! of a hundred to get one hundred subscribers each ! for the Crusadery Be in a hurry. I have ten al- I already,—but will I stop at that? Nay, verily.” ! Another friend from the same office, to whom we j return many thanks for his encouraging language, j writes as follows: | j “Gentlemen, —1 wish you pleasure and success in 1 j your labors, in so good a cause. Ten years ago, 1 ! when a mere hoy, influenced by a father’s rum and ! a mother’s tears, and buoyed by the impulses of a I poetic philanthropy, which the exuberance of vouth { ft feelings engender, I enlisted under the Tcinper j ance banner. Since that auspicious hour, I have j neither lost my shield, nor turned my back upon the I foe. Then, in the dimness of boyish vision, f look j ed upon it as a glorious campaign; now, in the stern I and bitter realities of manhood, I view it a necessary j and laborious crusade. Then, it was a fine prospect j for the boy; now, it is a noble field for the man.— j My single heart and brain cannot accomplish much, ; 1 know, yet. what I can I mil. Tam with you. I | suppose that our adversaries are aware that'we are j not dead, and I think they have found out that, if jwe do die, ice'll die game! They may rally their | numbers, till by their very weapons they obscure the i sun in our moral heavens; but, if they do, I think j we’d never yield, but, like Leonidas, at"Therraonylae, j we’ll fiyht under the shade! “Yon may count on my doing something for the Crusader, in the way of getting subscribers. The paper deserves to be supported. Sed jam satis. “Very respectfully, vourob’t serv’t. M. If. L.” Remember your Promises. Our hearts are filled with joy unspeakable when ; by each mail we receive assurances from our friends ’ that they intend assisting us in the circulation of our ’ paper - . TV e have not been deceived in the exalted opinions we had formed of the patriotism of Georgi ; ans. I hey are ever ready to encourage a trulv phi j lanthropic enterprise, and it is upon their love of vir tue and morality, that we rely lor success: are we ‘to bo disappointed in our bright prospects? We | think not; for numbers of our friends have said to j us > “press forward and depend upon their support, ■, j anil reri assured that their influence shall be exerted j lin our behalf.” Such promises .stimulate us with j ; new zeal in our noble calling, and we can onlv re- I j turn such friends our heartfelt thanks, and beg of them to remember their jfromises. TV e have* your : names and those promises recorded, and it affords us I j , leisure to look over the long list, and think these i | are they who will speak for us abroad. Will not all j ;of our patrons give us the same assurance? bet us j [ swell our list with your names, and we will then de- | j light in boasting of the high toned moral sentiment! j of Georgia’s sans. Knights of Jericho. j ft is with feelings of pride anti pleasure that wc j ! can say of our Lodge of Knights, that it is in a flour- ! Ii ailing state at this ft me. Ever since its organization, J it has been steadily gaining ground and advancing i ! in importance, until now it is the pride of our village..! Its members take a lively interest in the Lodge, and seetn to be wholly actuated by the hope of ameliora ting the condition of our race. We are proud of the j Lodge, and love to see it prospering. At the lust ! meeting, some six or seven petitions for membership M ere handed in ami received. On the same evening : j all the officers were regularly installed into their of- j | flees in the following order: iE. li. Compere, \V t . C. j ,}. W. Arnold, 11. i \V. J. Storks, P. W. C. | \V. Roberts, &. R. S. Boyd, V. C. jC. C. Morton, G. J. A. Wilson', R. M. Binion, Chap. T. H. Scott, M. | 11. J. Massey, Tr. Complimentary Serenade. On Saturday night last, a large body of Students ’ proceeded to the residence of Prof. Wise, for the pur- ! pose of giving an expression of their feelings upon j the formation of his connection with our University, j After Music, which was contributed by a band of; amateur musicians, the Professor made his appear ance, and in a brief, but very appropriate address, j thanked the young Gentlemen for this token of their ! respect, and expressed his determination to identify j himself and his labors in the welfare of the Institu- j tion. Mr. T. J. Pinson, of the Senior Class, responded i in a very happy strain, extending him, in behalf of his fellow-students, n warm welcome to the Univer sity. We would also welcome Prof. Wise among us ns a citizen of our village, giving him our best wish es for his success and happiness in his high and re sponsible position. Stop Papers.—Sottle Arrearages. Persons ordering their papers discontinued, must invariably pay up all their dues. We shall not strike off any subscriber’s name who is in arrears. Liberal Offer. j Any person sending us five new Subscribers, ac- j ! companied with the ‘‘rhino,” shall be entitled to an i I extra copy of the Crusader for one year. Orders for i ! our Paper must invariably be accompanied with the i | cash to receive attention. Receipting Payments. It will be observed that in making out our receipts, those who have payed up to the same date are ar ranged together, which date is placed to the last name. Preparatory School. Mr. T. S. Zuber, of Oglethorpe county, has taken charge of the Preparatory Department for the present session. We would be happy to see this department of the University prosper under his charge. *>€*> New Store in Penfiold. We invite special attention to the Advertisement in this Paper of A. B. Phelps and TV. B. Seals. Valuable Carpenter. In our advertising columns it will be seen that a valuable Carpenter is offered for sale by his owner, in this county. <M ll Judge Cone on A. J. Miller. Many eloquent and touching speeches have been delivered in both branches of the Legislature,upon the death of the Hon. Andrew J. Miller. Senator Pope, from Wilkes, made an eloquent and becoming ad- < dress upon the sad calamity which had befallen Georgia in the death of one of her brightest orna ments, after which our honorable Senator, Judge Cone, arose and paid the following beautiful tribute to the memory of the deceased: “How fleeting and uncertain is man’s life. Noth ing connected with existence in this world can resist -the stroke of the fell destroyer. It tells us that all must walk through the ‘valley of the shadow of death.’ It cuts us off from all enjoyments, all pleasure, all things pertaining to this world, the endearments of social life, the blessings of home, friends and rela tives, and presents a dark unknown, no mortal eye can pierce, no mortal vision discern. And it is a useful lesson that the struggle of life must.soon cease, | and we must account to our Ureator for our conduct, i in discharging our duties. “But a week since, our departed friend, full of | health and life, was connected with us in our daily | duties. He stood among us a peer in intellectual might, most experienced, able, shining with truth, j integrity and patriotism. He left us to see his Tami i ly, to recreate in the enjoyments of home. He was | with them but a short time, ere Death marked him i lor his own, and Destiny numbered his days, lie is | gone, and the cry of the afflicted and bereaved rises l to the throne of the Deity. “1 have known him for twenty years, in profes sional and social relations. No language can express his devotion, his gentleness, his amiability, in all the relations of life. Asa loving confiding husband ; an affectionate, tender father; a kind, indulgent master; an able, learned lawyer; he was the soul of honor, and the embodiment of everything noble. Never de parting from the path of integrity, unfaltering in truth, the young men of the rising generation should look to his example as the personation of all that is industrious, honorable arid truthful. •■‘The whole State bears testimony to his wisdom as a statesman. Yet with all his greatness, all his honor, he was a Christian—the soul of morality and piety. I love to dwell upon his character, so pro portionate, so symmetrical in its beauty. It is de i lightful, indeed, to contemplate it. Yet, if wc regret, j his death so much, what must be the case with his sorrow stricken family. Sir, none but a widow, can j know a widow’s sorrow —none but an orphan, can j know an orphan’s distress. Let them seek consola j tionin the mysterious decrees of a Divine providence, j Sir, this loss brings sad and melancholy reflections to jmy mind. How many are there of my own age, who j must soon depart, vrliffehould be admonished by the I deaths of the lamented Charlton, Colquitt, Morri | wether, Berrien, Miller, thatli e is short, that death iis nigh. Where are they now? Let us then dis charge our duties in such a manner, that whcti “fte drop ofl into the silent tomb, the same eulogv •an be deservedly pronounced upon our character—that the ! light of Heaven shall burst upon our countenances, j and we shall go regenerated and freed from original ! sin.” Be Patient. There is wisdom in being patient. .Nature enjoins jit in all her silent but impressive teachings. The ! hours hasten not, nor slack their speed at the voice l of impatience. Man may work himself into a furi- I ous tempest of excitement, but can produce no change Ito sympathize with his feelings; lie cannot for a mo . ment retard or accelerate the earth in its orbit. The j t'de preserves it ebb and flow at its stated times; the | wind blows when and where it listeth. and the sun | stops not in his rolling flight at man’s behests. The stai.-s hold on in their courses, the moon changes, hides herself and reappears at her regular periods, and every element of nature abides her law* uncon trolled by human will. Hi* anxiety can not hasten or his dread defer the execution of her purposes.— Ry the.steadiness with which she pursues her aims and fulfills her designs, she bids man resign his anx iou> cares and submit with resignation to her de crees. It is wise to be patient. Great results cannot h accomplished in a moment of time, or at a single of t;,rt. It is by persevering and long continued toil that the industrious ant lays up his stores for the coming winter. The bee labors with untiring pa th nco to glean the neetared sw.cts from every flow er which adorns the fields. And so it is with man. It is only by repeated and unceasing efforts that can hope to accomplish any great object. It washy such labor that those vast monuments of antiquity were raised, which in their strength and majesty have withstood alt the ravages of Time; and‘thus must be raised the more durable monuments of in dividual reputation. Distinction, honor and glory are the rewards of patience and industry; it is bV * labor only that they can be bought. It is best to be patient. This fact is abundantly j l ,, ' ovon ! >y lhe unerring declarations of History. Ar mies have been wasted, kings dethroned and nations ruined by the want of patience. Darius, urged on t }, V a mad impatience to meet a ibe with whom he was unacquainted, led his splendcdarmy into moun ; tnsu I' HSSCK “ here they could not act, to be annihila ; ted by the invincible phalanx of Macedonia. An im : patient desire for power drove Demetrius from land ! to land, visited him alternately with prosperity and ! adversity in every possible form, and justly entitled; : him to be called the “Tennis hall of Fortune.” It was the infatuated impatience of unhallowed love, ! which sunk the hopes of Anthony amid the shatter | od wrecks of Actiutn, and lost him the empire of half I the world. The impatience of his foe gave the victo ry of Poictiors to the Black Prince, and added the vain-glorious title of “King of France” to the Brit ish crown. It was a mad, wild, impatient ambition, which placed the greatest genius the world has ever seen, an exile on the rock of St. Helena. It is far best to be patient. Nothing can so fully destroy the poignancy of grief, or more completely rob sorrow of its sting. What better defence for a traveller, whose way is thick set with dangers, and who is continually exposed to the shafts of Misfor tune, than to be possessed of a spirit resigned to ev e,.v kite. Meet disappointment with resignation }ou Strip it o( its power to harm. Oppose to adver\ sitv patience, and losing its power as a curse, it will V be changed to a blessing. The heart may be wrung ly\ ti isolation; it may break, and “brokenly live on;” it may be plunged in the darkest waves of affliction; biu to the .>oul clad in the habiliments of patience, these are merely purifying elements from which it will emerge in the unalloyed beauty of thrice refined gold. ‘ *