Newspaper Page Text
~ I I ” I I I I I I I J^J
JOHN HENRY SEALS, )
,* t } ND } Editors.
L. LINCOLN VEAZEY, S
NEW SERIES, VOL 1.
TEMPERANCE dIIBIR.
> *'•*“*
PrBLISHKD
EVERY SATt'RMY, EXCEPT TWO, IST THE YEAR,
BY JOHX IT. SEALS.
TER NTH :
ia advance; or $2,00 at the end of the year.
RATIOS- OF ADVERTISING.
1 square (twelve lines or le-s) first insertion,. .$1 00
finch continuance, 50
Professional or Business Cards, not exceeding
six lines, per year, 5 00
Announcing Candidates for Office, 8 00
STANDING AI) V KRTIB EXTENTS.
1 square, three months, 5 00
1 square, six months, 7 00
1 square, twelvemonths, 12 00
2 squares, “ “ „ 18 00
squares, “ “ * .21 00
4 squares, “ “ 23 00
Advertisements not marked with the number
of insertions, will be continued until forbid, and
charged accordingly.
Merchants, Druggists, and others, may con
tract for advertising by the year, on reasonable terms.
LEGAL ADVERTISEMENTS.
Sale of Land or Negroes, by Administrators,
Executors, and Guardians, per square, 5 00
Sale of Personal Property, by Administrators,
Executors, and Guardians, per square,... 325
Notice to Debtors and Creditors, 3 25
Notice for Leave to Sell, 4 00
Citation for Letters of Administration, 2 75
Citation for Letters of Dismission from Adrn’n. 5 00
Citation fur Letters of Dismission from Guardi
anship, 3 25
LEGAL REQUIREMENTS.
Sales of Land and Negroes, bv Administrators,
Executors, or Guardians, arc required by taw to bo
held on the first Tuesday in the month, between the
hours often in the foremoon and three in the after
noon, at the Court House in the County in which the
property is situate. Nuticos of these sales must be
given in a public gazette forty day* previous to the
day of sale.
Notices for the sale of Personal Property must be
given at least ten day* previous to the day of sale.
Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate must
be published forty days.
Notice that application will be made to the Court ;
of Ordinary for leave to sell Land or Negroes, must
IkTpublished weekly for two months. <
Citations fur Letters of Administration must be <
published thirty day * —for Dismission from Admin
istration, monthly , sit months —for Dismission from
Guardianship, forty days.
Rules for Foreclosure of Mortgage must be pub- 1
lishod monthlyforfour months —for compelling titles
from Executors or Administrators, where a bond has ‘
been given by the deceased, the full space of three ,
month*.
will always be continued accord
ing to these, the legal requirements, unless otherwise
ordered.
The Law of Newspapers.
1. Subscribers who do not give express notice to
the contrary, are considered as wishing to continue
their subscription.
3. If subscribers order the discontinuance of their
newspapers, the publisher may continue to send them
until all arrearages are paid.
3. If subscribers neglect or refuse to take their
newspapers from the offices to which they are di
rected, they are held responsible until they have set
tled the bills and ordered them discontinued.
4. Ts subscribers remove to other places without
informing the publishers, and” the newspapers arc
sent to the former direction, they are held responsi
ble.
5. The Courts have decided that refusing to take
newspapers from the office, or removing and leaving
them uncalled for, is prime facie evidence of inten
tional fraud. - j
G. Tne Unitod States Courts have also repeatedly j
decided, that s Postmaster who neglects to perforin j
his duty of giving reasonable notice, as required by j
the Post Office Pejisrtment, of tho neglect of a per- j
son to take from the office newspapers addressed to i
him, renders tho Postmaster liable to the publisher j
for the subscription price. j
JOB PRINTING,
of every description, done with neatness and dispatch, j
at this otfb-o, hnd at reasonable prices for cash; All
orders, in this department, must be addressed to
J. T. BLAIN.
| | j
PHOSPECTTS
OF TUT
TllPltlffi CRUSADER. !■
i
(quondam] ,
TEMPERANCE BANNER.
4 CTUATEQ by a conscientious dosiro to further
/w the cause of Temperance, and experiencing ‘
great disadvantage in being too narrowly limited in
space, by the smallness of our paper, for the publica
tion of Reform Arguments and Passionate Appeals,
we have determined to enlarge it to a more conve
nient and acceptable size. And being conscious of
the'fact that there arc existing in the minds of a
large poitioa of the present readers of the Banner)
and. As former patrons, prejudices and difficulties j
which can never be removed so long as it retains the i
name, we venture also to make a change in that par- j
ticular. It will henceforth be called, “THE TE.M- )
PE RAN C E C IUTSADER.”
This old pioneer of the Temperance cause is dc-s*
lined vet to chronicle the tr tunph of its principles.
It has stood the test —passed through the “fiery fur
nace,” apd, like the “Hebrew children,” re-appeared
unscorched. It has survived tho nem/mper famine
which lias caused, and is still causing many excel- j
lent journals and periodicals to sink, like “bright ex- \
halations in the evenin'-,” to rise no more, and it has
even heralded th “death struggles of many contem
poraries, laboring for tho same great end with itself,
ft “still lives,” and “waxing bolder as it grows older,”
is now waging an eternal “Oriisaile” against the “In-1
fernal Liquor Traffic,” standing like tho “High Priest” j
of the Israelites, who stood between tlie pooplo and
the plague that threatened destruction.
We entreat the friends of the Temperance Cause
to give us their influence in extending the usefulness
of the paper. We intend presenting to the public a
slioet worthy of all attention and n liberal patronage;
for while it is strictly u Temperance Journal , wc shall j
endeavor to keep its readers posted on all the current |
events throughout the country.
KSgT’Prce, as heretofore, sl, strictly in advance, i
JOHN H. SEALS, !
Editor and Proprietor.
Penfleld, Dec. 8, 1855. m 4
flttOiA to ftmpcrantt. fforalitg, Jjtrriitart, (total Jitfdlipct, flttos. fa.
! JScIc-cutmioA
[AN APPEAL FOR TEE DRUNKARDS
FAMILY.
—o—
•2V AX INVALID.
O —
! Gentle reader*, have you ever, as you
i Were seated in your comfortable dwelling,
in the midst of a kind ;<nd affectionate fam
ily, before the blazing hearth and surround
ed by nil the. com torts and many of the lux
uries of life, have you ever suffered your
fancy to go out among the “highways and
hedges'’ of society, and contemplate the
scenes of misery and sufferings, of infamy
and vice, which are hourly and daily he
mg enacted around void Have yon not
again and again pictured to your mental
visions the abject want and extreme desti
tution of some poor and degraded family
in the sphere of your acquaintance, whom
you once knew as occupying a position of
influence and respectability 7 , but who have
been reduced to rids miserable condition of
squalid poverty and deep .suffering by th.
ravages of that blood-thirsty and insatiate
monster, Intemperance? And us you have
traced their gradual progress downward
and still downward, to the very depths of!
degradation and crime, have yon not utter- j
ed an inward denunciation dee]), though !
silent, of the cruel and inhuman authors of
so much wretchedness and woe; and men
tally resolved never to relax your energies
till this withering curse has been banished
from our otherwise peaceful and happy
Republic?
Kind Mother —you whoso bosom yearns
with tenderness and affection for your “lit
tle ones,” whose highest ambition it is to
promote their welfare and secure their hap
piness—you who knoweth not the gnaw
ings of hunger or the keenness of cold ami
beating winds—have you ever thought ot
that more than widowed wife and orphan
children, who are entirely bereft of the sim
plest of those comforts with which you are
so abundantly blessed? And as your ami- i
ling and happy little il->ck has gathere |
around the evening board, loaded with j
smoking and delicious viands; or as you j
have .stowed them snugly away in their j
comfortable beds and tu -kud the warm i
coverlets around their chias to exclude the
piercing cold, have you not inwardly de
termined not to forget in tho morning, out
of your great abundance, to administer to
tho many pressing wants of the suffering
poor?
Dear little boys and gods—you who are
blessed, with kind parents to provi ie for
your wants —who lack not for warm and
comfortable clothing and substantial food,
as your young hearts''have been gladdened
by the rich profusion of toys and ‘goodies’
from tho generous hand of good Santa
Claus, and feasted almost to surfeiting up
on the good things of the season, during
the festivities just past, have you for a nn>
menfc thought of the thrill of intense de
light that a mere cake, a stick of candy, a
wooden horse, a sot of m- rid; s or a pictured
primmer would have conferred upon the)
poor drunkard’s naked and hungry off j
spring; -and were you willing to relinquish !
one of your many presents to contribute to !
their happiness, and remind them of the i
return of merry Christina-'? And as you
have knelt by your little trundle-bed to
say vonr evening prayers, have you not
thanked your Father in llea-ven tor the
many blessings so mercifully bestowed up
on you, and prayed Him to remove from
the fair face of society tiff, hated vice, the
prolific source of so much human woe and j
suffering?
And you, Oh, Rsmseiler!—you whose j
daily vocation it is to vend the accursed j
poison,, as the bloated and tottering inebri-i
ate, -with livid eye and swollen visage, has
presented himself to your fascinating bai\
and proffered his last dime in exchange for
the beverage of hell, have you. reflected up
on the wretched condition of his sick-strick
en family, to which you are incessantly
contributing by your debasing and unman
ly traffic? And when thy labors of the
day were oyer and you were seated in your
comfortable chamber in your cushioned
arm-chair, with a lovel y companion.by your
side, and prattling .cherubs clambering up
on your knee, have Vuti ever acknowledged
to yourself that all these comforts were
purchased with the “price of blood and the
wages of iniquity,’’ and at the sacrifice of
the peace arm happiness of your follow nvu--
I tabs? And whilst lying upon your downv
j conch, you have reviewed die scenes of the
i p ;l8 t day, and the pair, you have played in
the great drama of life,'have not the images
of wan and emaciated women and weep mg
mid naked children" , ri*t?n up like accusing
spirits to smite your conscience with keen
I compunctions of guilt and crime? And a
! you ha ve been forced to ponder upon your
“latter end,” the close. of mortal life, have
you not, oh wretched! oh guilty man!
trembled with remorse ami:fear at the fenr
i fill thought of the uncertainty of a final ro
| trituition, of avenging justice, and of titer
nub nmijing punishment?. Ponder well
these questions, on Ritu.isv.-1. lor! and answer
as if at tiie nar of God. —r Spirit of the Age
s VANITYvTdESPAIH.
I D.. Franklin did not acquiesce in the’
i very general deprecation, of vanity. He
i was accustomed to say ’ that when ho saw
j dm man} things in tho intercourse between
| men, which grew entirely out of vainly,
l and without which the world would be
PENFIELI), GA.. SATURDAY. MARCH 15. 1850.
worse, lie was tempted to think that we
should thank God for our vanity us much
a 8 for any other gift. Perhaps one phase
of this is not, distinct from the thought of
Burke,! hat.vice loses half its harm by los
ing ad ? t$ gfosVm-ss. Be this as it may.
‘the following characteristic story seems to
illustrate it in another phase:
A Frenchman resolved to kill himself.—
In order to make his departure for the oth
’ r World the inor lu roic, he wrote the tffff
lowing on hh ruble: “I follow the teaching
ot a great rooster, for Molicre has said
“When all is lost and hope no tno;e is nigh,
Life is a sham —our duty is to die.”
The knife was already applied, when a
Midden thought stopped him : “Ah ! was it
really Mol ere that said this, now? I must
be very sure of that, for otherwise I shall
took exceedingly ridiculous.” Heat once
>et about resolving ibis point, and read
r hrotiga two or three ot Moliere’s comedies,
which, restoring bis good humor, saved his
life.
BEAUTIFUL SENTIMENT.
God lias sent some angels into the world
whose office. Is to rcflc-di the sorrow of the
poor, and to enlighten the eyes of the des
i (date. And what greater pleasure cun we
| have, than that we should bring joy to our
j brother; that the tongue should be turned
from heavy accents, and make the weary
soul listen for light and ease; and when
we perceive that there is such a thing in
th * World, and in the order of things, as
comfort and joy, to begin to break out from
the prison of his ‘sorrows at the .door of
S'ghs and tears, and by little begin to melt
into showers and refreshments; this iVglo
ry to thy voice, and employment for the
brightest angel.
So I have seen the sun kiss the frozen
■arth which was bound up with tin* images
of death. Ami'the colder breath of the
north - ; and then the Waters break from their
enclosures and invlt with jov and run in
useful channels, and the flies do rise again
f ‘>m their little graves in the walls, awhile
w be air to tell that joy is within, and
that the great mother of creatures will open
her store of now refreshments, become use
ful to mankind, and sing praises to her Re
deemer; so is tin? heart of a sorrowful man
under the discourse of wise counsel; he
.breaks from the despair of the grave, and
the fetters and chains of sorrow—he bless
es God and lie blesses thee, and he feels
his life be turning; for to be miserable is
death; but nothing is life but the comfort
er. Goa is please*! with no music below
-m much as tin** thanksgiving song of ro
ll wed widows ond supported
‘njoicing, comforted and. thankful persons.
—Si shop i\ti/lor.
d"A^ r;, 'Ts t- YT.r*T?
V-. ‘nj ,*u U vaL.
Henry Ward Beecher, in a recent lec
ture,’says : —“1 m.y here, as well as any
where, impnriylhe secret of what is.called
good luck an t bad luck. There arc men
who, suppo.riug Providence to have an im
pl. cable spite against them, bemoan in
poverty and a wretched old age the mis
fortunes of their lives. Luck forever ran
against them and. for others. .One, with a
good prof, -cion, lost his luck in the river,
where he .idled away Ids lime a fishing,
when lie should have been in the office.—
Anoth- . wirh a good trade, perpetually
burnt up bis kick by ids hot temper, which
pivv l ke-i i-1 1 Ids- employers to leave him. 1
A the •, wii h lyerat e business* lost his
nek by amazing diligence at everything
*<l- ids bu-iuo-o. Another, who steadily
: ■hoY.- yi Ids trad.e, as stea ddy followed bis
)**;•'Afff'th r, w!;o v..a.s honest and eon
au-t at Ids wo:k, erred! by perpetual mis
mi ‘dgmeuts; !m lacked discretion. Ilun
r di • i>tlmir luck by eudossing; by san
guine -y• cul •a’ a;s ; !>v trusting f adulent
meiff aed by dishbpest gains. A man ne
ver has good luck that has a had wife. I
never knew . n early rising, hard working,
prudent man, careful of his earnings, and
strictly honest, who complained of bad
lack. A good character, good habits, and
iron industry, arc impregnable to the as
saults of all the ill luck that tools ever
dreamed of. But when I see a tutterde
nmlion, creeping’ out’of a grocery late in
the formoun, with his hands stuck into his
pockets! ‘the rim of his hat*turned up, and
tluv crown knockoff in, I know lie has'bad
luck -fwti -. -v -*r -1 of all- luck is to ‘be a
shiggar a knhv>'*. .or a tippler.'’
■ ,sJ>* -
fffVO BOORS. .
“Don’t look -o cross, fv.hvnrd, when \
cdl ymi back t'V'shul tlih loor; grand moth
er te ds tho chid, wintry wind ;’ and besides,
von have g’b to spend yotir life shutting
doors, an I might c.s well Iv-gin-now.”
** I) > forgive.’ grandmother, f ought to he
.shamed to Co-- y*u. But what do you
neao? j. aH ‘goimr to-cvdlege, ami then I
i*m going to be a lawyer. “”
“ *V 11-, ad mi ’ ‘ting all that; j imagine
■dq* ii r’ jf! wa in 1 I w ill hav e- a goo* 1
many do;.* -s to siiuf', if ever he makes lunch
4'a man-.”-
“VVlvb't kind"fdooH-? Do toll me, grkiul
ymu her.”
“Sit •lo.wn mrntite, mvl t-will van
a list.”
“In t lie first qiliice.,* the deWir <>f your ears
nnst be cb>se<! ngumst- bad btuguage and
evil counsel of ihe boys and young men
you wiii meet. wsi.h ur-yicbool and college.
Os you will be'undomjy Let them once get
possession of that door, and I would not
give much for Edward O.’s future prospects.
“The door of your eyes, too, must be
shut against bad books, idle novels, and
low wicked newspapers, or your studies
will be neglected, and you will grow up a
useless, ignorant man ; you will have to
close them eoumtim.ee against the fine
things exposed for sale in the shop win
ando WB, or you will never learn to save your
money, or have any left to .give away.
“The d<Mr of your lips will need especial
care, for they guard an unruly member,
which makes great use of the bad company
let in at the doors of the eves and ears. —
Tlmt door is very apt to Mow open,’ and if
not constantly watched, will let out angry,
trifling, or vulgar words. It. will backbite,
sometimes worse than the winter’s wind, if
it is left open too long. I would advise
you to keep it shut much of the time til!
you have laid up a store of knowledge, or
at least till you have something valuable
to sa v.
“The inner door of your heart must
be well shut against temptation, for con
science, the door-keeper, grows very indif
ferent if you disregard bis call ; and some
times drops asleep at his post, and when
you may think you are doing very well,
you are fast going down to ruin.
“If you carefully guard the outside doors
of the eyes, ears, and lips, you will keep
“at many cold blasts of sin, which get in.
before you think.
‘’This Shutting doors.’ yon see, Eddy,
will be a serious business; one on which
your well-doing, in this life and the next,
depends.’’ - ...... y..-
AUNT HANNAH’S COURTSHIP.
BY CLARA AUGUSTA.
0 pee, I was born and brought up in
FattleviUe, and yer uncle, he lived over to
Pumpkin City. * They allers called it so, he
eanse the lolks o\ r er there had a good deal
to do with pumpkins. They used to say
that Pumpkin City folks eat bread and pies
made of pumpkin, used the leaves for pie
kivers, the seeds for ten, the stalks for
clothes-pins, and the shells—only think of it,
child! they hadn’t a bowl over there that
warnt made out of pumpkin shells! -But
there, you know, if folks couldn’t talk they
couldn t say nothin’, and I do happen to
know that all that ar’ stuff warnt true.
“ W all, one time Deacon Trisingle took it
into his head to have a big husking- party.
I was acquainted with Jerusha Trisingle,
the deacon’s oldest daughter. The deacon,
he was a widower, and jerusha had the heft
of the work to do, so the day afore the hus
kin’ she sent over arter me to come over
and help her get ready. I went, and put on
mv new calico gownd—there, Imw well do
i remember that gownd ! it was a red and
valler st ripe, with a sprig of green roses ev
ery now and then on it. It was made with
short sleeves, so I put on my long sleeved
spencer; that was a lore these basket waists
cum in fashion; we didn’t have no sicli
shaller names in them good old times.
“Al ter i was fixed, I went over to the
deacon’s. Laws-a-mnssy-sake ! sicli a look
ing place asthat ar’kitchen was, i never did
see! They had been a-churniti’, and there
sot the churn <n the middle ot the floor half
lull ot buttermilk ; and the dinner-dishes
warnt washed, and the cat was acliliy up in
the sink smelling of the butter-ladle. * Wall,
I went to work, and the way things had to
stun’ round warnt slow, i made all the
Feds, and washed the dishes, and set things
to rights, and then i done the cooking.—
Nakesalive! it did take the master sight of
spice and sugar, but Jerusha was determin
ed to have things nice, ‘for,’ sez she. ‘pa has
gin some of Pumpkin City fellers an invite,
and I want them to know that there’s some
body in the world besides the city folks!’
“By sunset everything was ready ; the
biggest pewter platter was scoured and put
in the. best room; for in them days, alter
live corn was husked and supper exposed of,
it was the custom to rejourn to the fore room
and spend an hour or two in *p!av sand
•rolling the plate’ was one of the best plays
we had,
“l sot all the pies on the great meal chist
in the rough room to cool, and a smashing
lot there was of um. too. • It would hev
done your soul good to hev seen um.
‘•By the time we’d got all fixed, the dea
con and his hired men come in to lunchon.
Deacon Trisingle complimented me on my
red cheeks; sard they looked like a big
Baldwin apple ! he was a very poetical man,
the deacon was.
•‘Arter I’d helped Jerusha clear up.and
milk. 1 went home to take off’ my spencer
and give my hair an extra twist. About
seven o'clock I went back agin, and there”
was a sight of girls t here, iho men folks
had all gone 10 the barn, but the girls want
ed to smooth their hairs,so they hadn’t went.
There was Debby Bean, and Becky Der
bon, and Sally Hedgewoivd, and Polly Dix
on, and Kitty Blake: and as the ’pothecaries’
sav about their patent medicines,‘others too
humorous to mention.’
“We all went in a heap to the great barn,
and there, sot the boys a-huskin’ away like
all possessed. Boom was.made for we gals
pretty soon, and we was as bizzy as the diz
ziest/ Everybody (that is all the boys) was
trying to find a red-ear of corn, and the fun
about it went round lively.
“i kinder cast “sheep’s eyes’ around, and
seed a good many strange faces that 1 knew
cum from Pumpkin City. Jest between
you and I, I took a terrible shine to one fel
ler that sot almost opposite to me, lie looked
so spry and peart Byme-bye up he jump
ed and hollered. ‘l’ve got a red-ear ; now,
gals, look out !’ And I tell you, he did flur
ish round there among thfc gals to an awful
rate. I (Jo believe he kissed Poll Dixon full
a dozen times ! (For my part, I never could
see what there was so detracting about that
ga!,*but all the boys was a trailing artei her )
I felt quite jell us of her, but my jellusy was
precipitated when he cum tome. ‘Laws-a
massy ]’ sez I, ‘1 never can let you i go away.
I ain’t in favor ot s:c!i doing 1’ But he never
paid a bit of attention to that, and kissed me
bd! as many times as he did Poll Dixon.—
(How jellus she was.) I felt my face in a
blaze—l was actiliy ashamed. But he sot
down beside me, and broke ofTthe liard cobs
for me in sich a perlite way, that we soon
talked away like old relations. Arter awhile
the barn floors was cleared, and the yellow
corn lay in big, shiny .heaps by the hay
mows. Then all hands of us started for the
house. The men, they stopped at the pump
to scour up their hands and faces, and we
gals got supper ready.
“Arter supper was over, we ali went into
the fore room and sot down. The old pew
ter platter was soon found out, and all hands
went to playin’. I don’t know how many
times Micajah (the teller that I liked) kicked
that platter over on purpose to have me
judged; but 1 didn’t, cat e for that, as I most
allers had to ki-s Micajah or make a ‘bob
sled with Micajah, ora flien-coop’with Mi
cajah.
“There was a great heap of fire-coals in
ine fire-place, for’twas a cool evening, and
as Micajah went to kickover the platter as
usual, his loot slipped, and that nr’ platter
went rite into the middle of them fire-coals !
ilow he did jump. But ’twarnt no use, for
afore anybody could ketch it one half of it
was melted rite off! M icajah he felt awful
ly about it, but Jerusha told him not to lay
it to heart so. and we went on with our plays.
“Somebody said ‘play Copenhagin.’ I
called Jerusha out in the .entry, and sez I.
‘What'll you do for a rope?’ ‘Oh,’ sez she.
’well oncord a bedstead so upstairs we
went and tumbled oft beds and bedding,and
got tiie bed-cord; and sich a time as they
did have with it ! Micajah kept strikin’at
my hand all the time.
“ vY hen we got ready to go home, the boys
all went out doors and stood ready to ketch
their lavorite gals as they come out, and
don t you think, the minnit I stepped my foot
on the doorstep, up cum Micajnh and stuck
up his ai mto me. Jest to spite Poll Dixon
I took it.
“That was the way our ’quaintanceship
begun, and afore we'd got to my home, Mi
cajah asked trie to ‘keep company* with him.
1 d.dn’t know what to tell him, at first, but
I thought of Poll Dixon, and told him I
should be happy to see him at our house anv
time.
“YV all, he didn’t need no second invite, for
every Sunday evening over he’d come, drest
up ui h s go-to-meeting-ahles, anu there he’d
stay till the roosters crowd in the mornin’.
Byrne-bye, one evening, or morning rather,
jest afore he was a-gwine to start to go
home, he give his new hat a twirl or two,
buttoned up ins coat, unbuttoned it agin, and
sez he, with a dreadful cough that made me
shudder, it sounded so much like the coun-h
that allers goes with the measels,‘Hannah,
I’ve been keeping company with you con
siderable of a spell—ahem 1 and fve been
thinking of changing my siterwation, and—
altem ! in fact. 1 want to marry you !’
“ VVall,)l needn’t tell ye what I said , for
you know I had him whether I said yes or
no. Poor, dear man i how tickled he was!
“You ought to have seen him when our
darter Hepzibah Abigail got so’s to go-alone,
a tickleder critter you never seed ! Speak
ing of her. makes me think, did I ever tell
you how Hepzibah Abigail come to be call
ed so? Wail, ye see—but there, as true ns
I’m alive, there’s that ‘rizin’ to set ”
A LIFE-LIKE SKETCH
Tell me where the Bible is a household
book, and where it is not, and I will write
a moral geography of the world. I will
show what, in all particulars, is the physical
condition of that people. One glance oi
your eye-will inform you where the Bible is,
and where it is not. Go to Italy—-decay, de
gradation and suffering meet you on every
side. Commerce droops, agriculture sick
ens, the useful arts languish. There is a
heaviness in the air; you feel compressed
by some invisible power? the people dare
not. speak aloud; they walk slowly; an arm
ed soldier -is around titeir dwellings , the
armed police take from the stranger his Bi
ble before he enters the territory. Ask for
the Bible in the bookstore —it is not there;
or in a form so large and expensive as to be
beyond the retich of common people. The
preacher takes no text.from the B.bie. You
enter the Vatican and inquiie for the Bible,
and you will he pointed to some case, where
it. reposes among some prohibited books,
side-by-side with the works of Diderot and
Voltaire. But pass over the Alps to Switz
erland and -down the Rhine into Holland,
then over the channel to England and Scot
land, and over to their descendants —the
people of the United States, and what an
amazing contrast meets the eye ! Men look
and act with an air of independence; there
is industry, neatness, instruction for children.
YY r h >• is this difference ? There is no bright
er sky—there are no fairer scenes of nature
—but they have the Bible ; and happy are
the people who enjoy such a privilege, for
it is righteousness thatexalteth a nation* and
sin is a reproach to any people*
TERMS: SI.OO IN ADVANCE,
JAMES T. BLAIN.
I’KIXTEH.
VOL. XXII.-NUMBER 10.
THE CANARY-BIRD.
A good and wise father entered the room
where his daughter Rose was seated on a
stpoi before a piano. By her side stood a
table, on which was a cage covered with a
large cloth. It contained a beautiful canary
with a bright yellow body, dark wings, and
a black spot on the top of his head. It had
been presented to the little girl sometime
previous.
1 he child was earnestly engaged in piav
ing a little air of a home melody, and bend
ing eagerly forward to catch the slightest
answering sound from the occupant of the
cage. Soon the little feathered warbler,
hidden from view, whistled a few short
notes, then burst forth into a flood of song,
and at length sung in answer to the child
the air that she had played.
“There,” she exclaimed, laughing and
gently clapping her hands, “listen, father; 1
have at last taught Cherry one of mv own
songs.”
She now rose, lifted the covering from
the cage, anti advancing towards the open
window, hung it on ana 1 near by. The fa
ther smiled,and placed his hand affectionate
ly upon his daughter’s head, saying, “You
have at last, my child, by confining the lit
tle bird in a dark cage, taught it to sing so
sweetly ; and now that you have taught this
little creature its lesson, it will in return
teach you a still better and more instructive
one.
“As with the canary in the darkened
cage,” he said, “so is it with man in sorrow.
You have made the cage dark till the bird
has caught the air you played to it, and its
notes are sweeter, because trained in dark
ness. So, if Providence sees that it is got.d
to darken the life of man with clouds of ad
versity, it is for some kind purpose. Trials,
if rightly received, bring forth some noble
traits in the character, that under a bright,
uncloudy sky never have appeared ; and
when called out, they shed their kind influ
ence upon all around.”
The father’s words sunk deep into the
heart ot his child. At night when she laid
her head upon her pillow, she prayed that
whatsoever affliction God might see fit to
send upon her, it might work for her good
in this world and the next, that she might
have strength to bear all and humbly to say,
“Hedoethall things well.”— Child's Paper.
THE LATEST STYLE OF PUFFING.
The faHiion of puffing ministers is now so
common that it is not regarded as any evi
dence of merit. Yet there are some who
are still pleased with it. and they pull their
wires bo as to he always in the papers. We
have sometimes thought that it would be less
trouble to editors, and perhaps answer ju-t
as good a purpose, to have a standing puff,
a kind ot regular patent medicine advertise
ment, oftbeir talents.learningand eloquence.
But the latest style of puffing is the fashion
which some of our exchanges seems to be
adopting of puffing themselves They do
not appear to write these articles them
selves, but we see little difference, so far as
the modesty of the thing is concerned.—
They’ publish them, calling, in a blushing
editorial, special attention to them. Now a
religious editor stands in a similar position
to his subscribers, that a minister does to his
congregation. What would we think of a
minister who would, every Sabbath before
preaching, read to his congregation all the
complimentary or extravagant remarks that
his members had made about him during the
week ? Why not a minister do this as well
as an editor ? The editor may say that he
does it to’ increase his subscription, and so
might the minister say that he wanted to in
crease his congregation. Just think of a
minister reading to his congregation the fol
lowing from a brother, stating that it had
not been solicited by him, yet he felt it to be
a brotherly courtesy to read it: “my ac
quaintance with your sermons enables me
to speak of your merits, and I cordially re
commend'you to your congregation as the
ablest minister in the country/’ If a minis
ter cannot read such a notice of himself, how
can an editor publish it 7 “We cannot see
the difference.
A JUDGE In’a’tlGHT PLACE.
Incidents connected with the use of intox
icating drinks as a beverage, which a few
years ago would have passed unnoticed,
now attract especial attention.
Dr. 8., who, by the way, is rather a
staunch triend ofthe temperance cause, hap
pened not long since at the house of his
friend Judge ——; who, although a church
member, is sadly behind the times as to the
temperance reform. Seated at the dinner
table, as was very proper, the Judge invok
ed the divine blessing upon their repast. —
This done, arose from the table, and taking
from the side-board a bottle of brandy, and
filling some glasses, tendered one to the Doc
tor, who declined drinking but looked so
quizical as to excite the Judge’s curiosity*
who asked him what was the matter. The
Doctor said, “1 was wondering. Judge, why
you didn’t say grace over the bottle. If it
is one of the good things of God to be re
ceived with thanksgiving, why not ask a
blessing on it ? I was wondering whether
you thought it was good enough without a
blessing; or whether you really ielt ashamed
to ask God to bless it.” It is thought it was
the most difficult question the Judge “was ,
ever called upon to decide. Query—are I
there not other church members who would j
find it difficult to answer the question?—J
Tmp* Wrtaik, I