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JOHN HENRY SEALS, i
i ani> > Editors.
L. LINCOLN YEAZEY, >
SEW SERIES, VOL. I.
TIMPIRIIE MM.
* . rrsusnßD
EVERY SATURDAY, KXCKFF TWO, TV THE YEAR,
BY JOHN IT. HEAIjS.
TTRJL- I
#I,OO, in advance; or #3,00 at the eml of the year.
U i iTd OF ADVERTISING.
1 square (twelve lines or less) first insertion,. .#1 00
Each continuance, ;• - SO
Professional or Business Cords, not exceeding
six lines, per year, - *> 00
Announcing Candidates for Office, R 00
ST AXDI VO .AIiNTJBTItf EMKXTP.
1 square, three months, 0 00 |
l square, six months,. * 00 J
1 square, twelve'months. ..13 00,
2 squares, “ “ 18 00 |
3 squares, “ 4 ‘ 31 00;
t squares, “ “ .2."5 00
J3g?~Advertisements not marked with the number ;
of insertions, will be continued until forbid, and ;
charged accordingly. ■ \
Druggists, and others, may con
tract for advertising by the year, on reasonable terms.
LEG YL ADVERTISEMENT*.
Sale of Land or Negroes, by Administrators,
Executors, and Guardians, per square,... u 00
Sale of Personal Property, by Administrators,
Executors, and Guardians, per square,— 8 25 j
Notice to Debtors and Creditors, 8 35 j
Notice for Leave to Sell, 4 00 |
Citation for Letters of Administration, 2 75 i
Citation for Letters of Dismission from Adm'n. 5 00 j
Citation for Letters of Dismission from Guardi
anship 8 25)
L lit+A L R BQriREMENTfI.
Sales of Land and Negroes, by Administrators, |
Executors, or Guardians, are required by law to bo I
held on the first Tuesday in the month, between the
hours of ten in the forenoon and three in the after
noon, at the Court House in the County in which the
property is situate. Notices of these -sales must be
given in a public gazette forty days previous to the
day of sale.
Notices for the sale of Personal Property must bo
given at least ten day*, previous t o the day of sale.
Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate must i
be published f.rty day*. j
Notice that application will bo made to the Court ;
of Ordinary for leave to sell Land or Negroes, must {
bf'published weekly for two month-*. i
Citations for Letters of Administration must be j
published thirty day*- -for Dismission from Admin- j
iatration, monthly. month#— for Dismission- from j
(I uardiunshi p, forty day*. j
for Foreclosure of Mortgage must lx- pub-1
lished monthly for four month*—4 or compelling titles ]
from Executors or Administrators, where a bond has |
been given by the deceased, ike full tpoee of throe |
months.
üblications will always ho continued accord-1
ing to lhetH\ the legal requirements unices otherwise
ordered.
The Law of Newspapers,
1. SuWribers who do not give express notice to 1
the contrary, are considered os wishing to continue j
their subscription.
2. If subscribers order the discontinuance of their !
newspapers, the publisher may continue to semi 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. If subscribers remove to other places without
informing the publishers, and the newspapers are
sent to the former direction, they art* held responsi
ve.
5. The Courts have decided that refusing to take
newspapers from the office, or removing and leaving
them uncalled for, is prima fetch- evidence of inten
tional fraud.
6. The United States Courts have also repeatedly \
decided, that u Postmaster who neglects to perform i
his duty of giving reasonable notice, as required by |
the Post Office Department, of the neglect of a per- j
son to take from the office newspa{xni addressed to
him, renders the Postmaster liable to the publisher j
for the subscription price. 1
JOB PRINTING-,
of even.’ description, done with neatness and dispatch,
at ibis office, and at reasonable prices for cash. All
orders, in this department must be addressed to
J. T. BLAIN. |
PROSPECT rs |
or THC j
TEMPER® CRUSADER. 1
[qioNO.ut] |
TEMPERANCE BANNER.
4 CTU ‘TED by a conscientious desire to further
1 \ the cause of Temperance, and experiencing
groat disadvantage in being too narrowly limited in
t-pace, 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 aro existing in the minds of a j
large portion of the present readers of the Banner
and its former patrons, prejudices and difficulties
which can never be removed so long as it retains the
name, we venture also to make a change in that par
ticular. It will henceforth be- called, “THE TEM
PERANCE CRUSADER.”
This old pioneer of the Temperance cause is des- j
lined yofc to chronicle the triumph of its principles, j
It has"stood the test—passed through the “fiery fur- j
nacc,” and. liko the “Hebrew children,” re-appeared j
unscorched. It has survived tho newspaper famine
which has caused, and Is still causing many excel
lent journals and periodicals to sink, like “bright ex
halations in the evening,* to rise no more, and it has
ever, heralded the “death struggles of many contem
poraries, laboring for tho same great end with itself,
it, “still lives,” and “waxing bolder as it grows older,”
in now waging an eternal “Crusade” against the “In
fernal Liquor Traffic,” standing like the “High Priest”
of the Israelites, who stood between the people and
tho plague that threatened destruction.
We entreat the friends of the .Temperance Cause
to give us their influence in extending the usefulness
0 f the paper. We intend presenting to the public a
sheet worthy of all attention and a liberal patronage;
for while it is strictly a Temperance Journal, we shall
endeavor to keep its readers posted on ail the current
events throughout the country.
igsr-price, as heretofore, #l, strictly in advance.
JOHN H. SEALS,
Editor aind Proprietor.
PeaSeM, ©fo, Dtt. 8, 1I6&
jjpttottii to fmpmtnrr. ffloralitj, ptmiturr, dntcral intelligence. Betas, &t.
DEATH IN THE CAR.
j With my hand close pressed by a friend,
i I bade him good-bye and sprang upon the
j platform as tho train wound out of the de
jpot. The cars were crowded. Every seat
1 was full; and at the first stopping-place a
! large number of new passengers got on,
standing up or loaning against the seats in
the passage-way. Every window was clos
ed, and the stove glowing red with heat. —
The air \fas close, oppressive,almost suffo
eating. Tho strong and nauseating stench
of rum and tobacco ‘fusion 5 seemed to
gather like a vapory miasma between a
and the dimly-burning lamps. Wo had
been dazing, out awoke with a choking sen
sation. The window we left raised had
been closed by someone afraid of God’s
pure air. Not wishing to commit the im
propriety of letting fresh air in too sudden
ly upon the fragrant embodiment of per
sonal filth, which had lodged upon the oth
er half of our seat, we climbed out over
two dirty bundles, and three young ones
more so, and staggered out upon the plat
form. When wo returned to our seat, wt
found that an Irishman and two stripping
boys had been practicing ‘squatter sover
! eignty 5 upon our robe and seat, and exelud
led us from the territory.
| Near the middle of the car was an in
i valid—a consumptive, from tho land of
I gold—going home to die. With a grasp
| ing movement ho attempted to raise the
j window, bnt had not sufficient, strength to
do so. Promptly putting our hand upon
the catch, we lifted the sash us high as it
would go. Like a child thirsting for wa
ter, he raised iris hat and leaped forward
to catch a breath of the cool air which
rushed in upon his faded cheek.
‘Thank yon, sir, 5 he said feebly, and
turned bis languid eve gratefully upon us.
‘That is so blessed—i was nearly fainting.’
‘Wecan’t have that window up! 5 growl
ed a burly old passenger, who looked as
though ho had vitality enough to with
stand any storm. ‘Put it down, sir !’
The invalid hesitated, and tried to look
the boor in tho face. The latter, with an
oath, sprang up and closed the window.—
The consumptive drooped, and again we
raised the window. The old passenger
closed it. Taking our seat bv it, we rais
ed it a third time, and placed our shoulder
i under the sash. The old passenger st-orm
ied and finally went to the conductor with
\ his complaints. The passengers, imagin
• ing themselves freezing to death, all sided
I with the well tnan. He closed the win
| dow and peremtorily forbade ns to raise it
‘again, brutally remarked that ‘one sick
; man’s whims should not freeze a whole
: train to death. 5
Still the wood was crammed into the
stove, and the hot', putrid air, freighted
! with poison, was inhaled by the foolish
passengers. In the meantime the invalid
had leaned heavily upon our shoulder, fee
bly remarking, as he did so, that he ‘had
not far to go.’
‘I only wish to live to see my mother,
who will bo waiting for me at the depot.’
The care stopped at the station.—
‘Twenty minutes for refreshments,’ said
the eating-hotise runner. Still the invalid
stirred not. We thought him asleep and
did not attempt to wake him.
Close upon the heels of the runner, a
fine-looking old lady followed, and passed
through tho car. She returned and slow
ly passed where we sat, looking closely and
anxiously as she did so. She was evident
ly disappointed in the object of bor search,
and stood hesitatingly in the car door.
‘Were you looking for someone V we
ventured to inquire.
‘O, yes, sir, tor my son, whom wo ox
rictod on this train from California. But
fear be is sick.’
‘Here is a gentleman asleep on my arm,’
\,o replied; ‘he is a stranger, and may pos
sibly be the one you are looking for.’
She quickly came forward and poejxd j
into the face of the sick man. She started as
though a corpse had met her gaze. A |
strange, peculiar feeling, thrilled over us
as we watched her countenance. She lift
ed the hat gently from the sleeper’s brow, j
‘No, 5 she murmured, ‘it cannot be.’
The sleeper’s arm laid over the end of!
the seat, and upon one of the bony fingers j
a heavy diamond ring glittered in the light
of her lamp. She saw the gem, and al
most convulsively snatched the hand. As
she pressed the ring it opened, and she
saw her own miniature—her girt to her I
i boy when he went from home,
i ‘lt’s him ! it’s him ! Wake up, Howard!
| Ton are home again, God be praised!—
| The carriage waits. 5
But the boy did not wake, even at the
sound of a mother’s voice. As she lifted
his bead tenderly from unr shoulder, he
fell forward heavily into our arms. The
half closed leader, eye, told the tale —hr
was dead l
The shriek of the mother as she was
made a ware of the terrible truth—so full
ot heart-broken agony—will not be forgot
ten for many a day. She swooned and
fell heavily upon the floor.
We carried but tho wasted form of the
sleejKtr, and then the insensible mother.—
Fast and hotly our tears fell, as we straiten
ed out the attenuated limbs of the consump
tive, for we thought of the mother’s hitter
waking.
j The sick one, wandering back over land
PEN FIELD, GA, SATURDAY, APRIL 12, 1856.
and sea, to die at home, did not ha * e to go
far. Hia mother was in waiting, but not
to see him alive. He was taken to his
home in the hearse instead of the family
carriage.
Wo thought then, and still think, th;> ,
with sufficient pure air, the boy might havt
j lived to look upon his mother again, an
returned her holy kiss, and died with hi
weary head pillowed in her arms.
He was poisoned in that foul and heated
pen.— [fife Illustrated.
Translated from the Coturier des Eta is Unis.
DEATH WARRANT OF CHRIST.
Chance has just put into our hands th=
most imposing and interesting judicial doc
ument to all Christians, that has ever been
recorded in human annals: that is the iden
tical death-warrant of our Lord Jesus Christ.
We transcribe the document as it has
been handed to us:
Sentence rendered by Pontius Pilate , ac
ting (rovernor of Power Galilee , stat
ing that Jesus of Nazareth shall suftc,
death 071 the cross.
‘ln the year seventeen of the emperm
Tiberius Ca>sar, and the 25th dayofMurch.
in the city of the holy Jerusalem. Anna
and Caiophas being priests sacrificators of
the people of God, Pontius Pilate, Govern
or of Lower Galilee, sitting on the presi
dential chair of the Pra?tory, condemn Jes
us of Nazareth to die on the cross between
two thieves—the great and notorious evi
dence of the people saying :
1. Jesus is a seducer.
2. He is seditious.
3. He is an enemy of the law.
-1. He calls himself falsely the Son of
God.
5. He ealls himself falsely the King of
Israel.
fi. He entered into the temple, follow
ed by a multitude bearing palm branches
in their hands.”
Order the first centurion, Quillns Cor
nelius, to lead him to the place of execu
tion.
Forbi i to any person whatsoever, either
poor or rich, to oppose the death of Jes-
Uvi.
The witnesses who signed the condem
nation of Jesus are viz: 1. Daniel Robu
ni, jv Pharisee; 2. Joannas Ilorobable; 3.
Raphael liobani; 4. Capet, a citizen.
Jesus shall go out of the city of Jerusa
lem by the gate of Struenus.’
The above sentence is engraved on a
copper plate; on one side are written
these words : ‘A similiar plate is sent to
each tribe.’ It was found in an antique
vase of white marble, while excavating in
the ancient city of Aquilla, in the king
dom of Naples, in the year 1820, and was
discovered by the commissaries of Arts at
tached to the French armies. At the ex
pedition of Naples, it was found enclosed
in a box of ebon y,vs-in the sacristy of the
Chartrem. The vase in the chapel of Cas
erto. The French translation was made i
by the members of the Commission of Arts.
The original is in the Hebrew language.—
The Chartrem requested earnestly that the j
plate should not be taken away from them
The request was granted as a reward for
the army. M. Ilennon, one of the savans.
caused a plate to be made ot the same
model, on which he had engraved the
above sentence. At the sale of his collec
tion of antiquities, Arc., it was bought In
Lord Howard for 2,890 francs.
THE GIRL THAT NEVER TOLD A LIE.
A little girl once came into the
and told her mother something which was
very improbable. Those who were sitting
in the room with her mother did not be
lieve her, for they did not know the char
acter of the little girl. But the mother re
plied at once : “I have no doubt that it
is true, for I never knew my little daughter
to tell a lie.” Is there not something no
ble in having such a character as this?—
Must not the little girl have felt happy in
the consciousness of possessing her moth
er’s entire confidence ? Oh, how differ
ent must have been her feelings from those
whose word cannot bo believed, and who L
regarded by every one with suspicion !
Shame, shame on the child who has not
magnanimity enough to tell the truth.
THE DRUNKARD’S DAUGHTER.
That night I was out lute. I returned
by Lee’s cabin about 11 o’clock. As I ap
proached, I saw a strange looking object
cowering under the low eaves. A cold
rain was falling. It was late in autumn.
I drew near, and there was Millie wet to
the skin. Her father had driven her out
for some hours before; she had laid down
to listen for the heavy snoring of his
drunken slumbers, so that she might creep
back to her bed. Bnt before she heard it,
nature seemed exhausted, and she fell into
a troubled sleep,with the raindrops spat-
I tering upon her. I tried to take her homo
I with me; but no, true as a martyr to his
• faith, she struggled from my arms, and
returned to the now* dark and silent cabin.
Things went on so for weeks and months.
Bnt at length Lee grew less violent, even
in his drunken fits, to iris self-denying
child; and one day when he awoke from a
heavy slumber after a debauch, and found
her prepaaing breakfast for him, and sing
ing a childish song, he turned to her, and
with a touc almost tender, said:
“Millie, what makes you stay with me?”
“nrranso y<m arc mv father, and I low
MI, ‘
‘•You love me!” repeated the wretched
HMin; *•/'gw me! ’ lie looked at hia blunt
ed limb*, bis soiled and ragged clothes;
‘dove me,” he still murmured— ‘‘Millie,
what m Acs you luve me ? I am a pour
drunkard; everybody else despises me.—
Wb v don’t you ?”
“Dear father,” said the girl, with swim
uring eyes, “mother taught trie to Wc
: you, and every night she comes from heav
en and stands by toy little bed and savs.
“Millie don’t leave your father; Millie, love
your father. He will get away from that
rum fiend one ot these days, and then how
happy you will be.”
MAKING A NEEDLE.
I wonder if any little girl who may read
his, ever thought how many people are all
the time at work in making the things which
they every day use. What can be more
common, and, yet you may think, more
simple than a needle ? Yet, if you do not
know it, I can tell you, that it takes a great
many persons to make a needle; and takes
a great deal of time too. Let us take a peep
into a needle factory. In going over the
premises we must pass hither and thither,
and walk into the next street and back a
gain, and take a drive to a mill, in order to
see the whole process. We find one cham
ber of the shop is hung around with coils'of
bright wire, ot all thicknesses, from the stout
kinds used for codfish hooks to that for the
finest cambric needles. In a room below,
bits of wire the length of two needles, are
cut by a vast pair of shears fixed in the wall
A bundle ha> been cut off, the bits needs
straightening, for they come off from coils.
the bundle is then thrown into a red hot
furnace, then taken out, and rolled back
ward and forward on a table until the wires
are straight. This process is called “rubbing
strait.” We now see a mill for grinding
needles. We go down into the basement
and find a needle pointer seated on his
bench. He takes up two dozen or so of
wires, and rolls them between his thumb
and fingers, with their ends on the grind
stone, first one end and then the other. We
have now the wires straight and pointed
on both ends. Next is a machine that flat
tens and gutters the heads of ten thousand
needles an hour. t)bserve the little gutters
at the head of your needle. Next comes
the punching of tho eyes, and the boy
that does it punches eight thousand in
an hour, and he does it so fast that your
eyes can hardly keep pace with him. “The
splitting follows, which it. running a fine
wire through a dozen, perhaps, of those twin
needles.
A woman, with a little anvil before her,
files between the heads and separates them
They arenow completed needles, but rough
and rusty, and what is worse, they easily
bend. A poor needle, you would say. But
the hardening comes next. They are heated
in batches in a furnace, and when red hot,
are thrown into a pan of cold water. Next
they must he tempered; and this is done by
rolling ibe.rn backward and forward on a
hot metal plate. The polishing still remains
to be done. On a very coarse cloth nee
dies are spread to the number of forty or
fifty thousand. Emery dust is strewed
over th m,oil is sprinkled, an 1 soft soap
daubed by spoonfuls over the cl >th ; th
cloth is then rolled hard up. and, with ev
er a 1 others of the same kind thrown into n
sort of wash pot, to roll to and fro for 12
hours or mo'-e. They come out dirty en
ough; but after a rinsing n clean hot water,
and tos mg in 3 i w dust, they look as brigh
as can be, and are ready to be assorted and
put up for sale. But the assorting and do
ing up in papers, you may imagine, is quite
a work by itself.
A SISTER OF CHARITY.
An immense sensation has been created
n Paris, by the death of a sister of charity,
uamed Socur Rosalie, whose existence has
been, for the last fifty years, one of toil,
courage and mercy. Truly, our age has,
perhaps, all in all, seen no human be
ing so remarkable as Sceur Rosalie. To
the valor of a man she added the tenderness
of a woman and the simplicity of a child.
She was, practically, one of the most pro
found political economists, and one of the
most wonderful administrators that any
country ever possessed. Her humble
dwelling in the Rue de-l’Epee de Bois, was
as much the centre of every charitable en
terprise, as could be the archbishopric of
Paris. Princes, bishops, statesmen —all i
the great of the land—were to be found, at |
times, round her door; and I have seen, in
1848 and 1849, those very ministers waiting
for an audience of this extraordinary wo
man, who an hour before, would have kept
every one else waiting in their own ante
rooms.
The Emperor and Empress were often
among her visitors; and, aa President, Lou
is Napoleon decorated Sceur Rosalie willi
the Legion d’Honneur in 1848, for her he
roic conduct in the revolution of June.
Wherever there was danger, there was
Samr Rosalie. Did the cholera scare the
town, Sceur Rosalie was in every most in
fected spot, sucking in the very breath of
the plague-stricken, and opposing the cegis
of her strong faith to the plague. Did in
surrection appal the population, Sceur Rosa
lie was ever there where the strife was
wildest, helping the dying, exhorting the
living to milder courses, but confronting
| death with the calm strength of a C r stian
j soldier. The barri -ades .ff Ju e were t-er
home during that awful rime, ann to the
combatant of bodi sides she on y seemed
as an antelbeaven had sent. Poor, woman !
she had but one mortal tie —her mo he ; an
aged woman of pas*- ninety, who was ab
sent fr>>m Paris. Th • Sceur herself had
reache I th age of seven y. A few wee s
hack, a lady who went to see her vva
speaking to her offer mo eofltf-, its c.ue*
and compensations : “Ah!” said the admi
rable woman, “God has d>am everything to
make me happy; His name be bjesse i 1 He
has as yet warded oft from me the only
grief I feel i should be too weak to bear—
my mother’s death. I know it is wrong;
but I Cannot yet for an instant reflect upon
the possibility ot losing her.’’ The Almighty
did indeed befriend her to the last; lor,
strange to say, a few hours after her death,
(last week,) a letter came announcing he;
mother’s demise. The mother and daugh
ter had left this earth within two days one of
the other.
THE DRUNKARD IN TEARS.
Last week, while absent from home, we
were detained for an hour or two, by the
rain, at a hotel in one ot the villages of our
State. While sitting by the tire in the bar
room, our attention was attracted to an in
dividual who came in, and walking up to
the bar,asked for something to drink.
“Have you any money?” he was asked.
“No,” he replied.
“Then you can have nothing here.”
The poor fellow turned from the bar and
walked to the door. There was something
about him that won our sympathy, and we
arose from our seat and followed him. We
found him sitting upon the porch, bathed
in tears.
“Friend,” said we, “you seem to be great
ly distressed that you cannot obtain liquor ;
surely you are better without it.”
“It is not that, sir,—it is not that that
grieves me; it is the rememberauee of other
days.”
Then pointing to a fmo farm that lay a
cross the road, he said :
“Do you see that farm ? It was once
mine—it now belongs to the keeper of this
house; —I have lost, and he has gained it,
by my intemperance. But that is not all. I
had a wife who loved rne dearer than her
own life. My intemperance has killed her.
She lies in yonder graveyard; and some
times, when 1 feel as I do now, I go there
and weep. But, what avails my tears?
They will not bring her back;—she is gone
forever. And now, sir, as you have just
seen, when lam almost dying for a dram,
this man, who has robbed me of my lands
and assisted me to kill my wife, refuses to
let mo have it because i hav'nt got the
money.”
Here is a lesson that we wish all to con
sider, ami more especially the young, it is
truly deplorable to see so many ofjthe youth
of our country rushing madly o* to destruc
tion in this broad and fearful path of intern
perance. Every day are instances similar
to that we have related transpiring; and
yet, strange to say men will become t-o> de
praved, as to allow themselves to be cheat
ed <*ut of their property, their families t
suffer an i \v;,nt, and every prospect that :s
cheering and that may in pire hope an jq
in life, to he blasted, that tie oofl'e.s of tht
ungodly, soul and body-killing rumsclle
may be filled, and that he may, whe he has
robbed them of their la t cent, sneer at the
c ntemptuously and say, “Then you cm.
havenothing here.” No immediate benefit
a’-e der ved fro n.an intemperate comae u
life, an i nothing but misery and woe can be
its final reward.— Exchange.
ORNAMENTAL EVERGREENS.
Among all the beautiful evergreens,
whether native or exotic, there is nothing
in our judgment to compare with what*is
commonly calleo the wild olive. It is a
compact, vigorous grower, with deep shi
n*ng green foliage, and when in flower, is
as ornamental as the gayeet. flowering tree,
and when in fruit, equally as ornamental.
For trees lining walks and avenues, it can
not be surpassed ia beauty, grace and har
mony, and as an ornamental hedge plant, it
is unrivalled. It is easily propagated by its
seeds. The seed should be planted as soon
as>the berry is ripe; cover the berry .quite
shallow, and the second year the plats may
be transplanted to the hedge row, and the
fourth year to the avenue. What a pity it
is not everywhere planted in the place of
the china tree !—Soil of the South.
BAYARD TAYLOR.
lew men have traveled over the world
so tar and wide as Bayard Taylor, and yet
he is nothing but a young man. One is aston
ished, on locking over a globe, to 3ee how r
many parts of the world have been crossed
by his footsteps. Since his first appearance
in Europe with a knapsack, he has appeared
at rapid intervals in nearly ali the great
points occupied by the human race. It is
not as a great traveler, merely, by which
Mr. Taylor is known, so much as the use
that he make* of hia journeyings. When
ever ho goes, his nimble pen follows closely
on his footsteps, tracing out with utmost de
tail, descriptive pictures of men and things
which come under his observation—con
verting the prose of travel into poetry, with
numerous illustrations.
In all his writings he seldom wanders
(j TERMS: #I.OO IN ADVANC
) JAMES TANARUS, BLAIN,
V. PH INTER.
VOL. XXII,-NUMBER U
I oin the useful and instructive. The indiß
v du lity ofh s characters s trough’ mark-H
ed under all *i. cum tances Whether peel-1
ing and e.ving a fresh banana wh le lopp nofl
down in the b<>t otn of i canoe m 5 he h i
ges river—r.ding a mu] through he mi
nng and stricts of GalJbru a ere ’> iig or *
he timed tombs of eyrn rc as r tin
b mks and the <le—d ugm tv pd toe ‘
hi Ea tern king 1 se; ch ug r•be it :s
and c.stoms of the Japanese le sever the
same Bayard Taylor.
Were he a dealer in fiction we should
expect soon to hear from him. in ale ter to
the Tribune, written Iron the decayed c ib.n
of Robinson Crusoe, or the Valley of Dia
monds, where poor Skibad the Sailor was
castaway. The palace of Aladdin ol the
‘Wonderful Lamp” is almost,realiz din his
description of the Taj Mahal at Agra in 1\ s
recent work, from which vve take the fol
lowing account of the Japanese Bi-lles :
The young women, with their e aborate
arrangements of hair, though rather ungain
ly in gait, owing to the use of clogs, and
wearing about the hips an awkward com
pressing scarf, are quite good-looking, and,
with lighter complexions, have also much
better shaped eyes than the Chinese. On
1 marrying, they shave off their eye brows,
and blacken their teeth with some iron rusj
and acid, as a badge of the marital state —
from which they become most repulsive.
m
PUBLIC’ OPINION.
Id there be any power more absolute and
irresistible than any other—beneath the
power of the Creator—it is t lie power’ of
public opinion. It changes blaclrto white
and vice versa ;it makes right wrong and
wrong right; it sanctions Vi an.n.dms
rum-selling, man-stealing, harlotry, and
every species of wrong against all legal !
force or moral suasion. It is a very Gob
m its omnipotence, and few can resist its
sway. It is changeable also, as the cna
melion, tolerating and lauding one custom
to-day, to-morrow denouncing and annihi
lating it. It sways the pen of the editor, it
modifies the holy voice of the pulpit, it turns
from his stern purposes of rectitude the
legislator, it moves the judge on his bench,
and restrains the juryman in his box, and too
often it binds or warps the conscience of the
professed Christian, and suffers him to
do what he knows to be wrong. Its pow
er is happily illustrated by the remark of an
“ugly customer’ introduced to us by Fred
Douglass in “My Bondage and Freedom, w
who describes him as “an exceedingly plain
man, cross-eyed, and awkwardly flung to
gether in other respects.” “1 shall be a
handsome man,” said he, “when public opin
ion shall be changed.”
Public opinion enlightened and unenlight
ened exerted equally its tremendous force.
Let it be made correct, and the peccadilloes
and crimes that now meet us at every turn,
together with their perpetrators, would
slink away from the open day, nor dare to
meet the public scrutiny. How changed
would become the lace of society, were
public opinion based on the true principles
of the Gospel. And what reason, kind
reader, is there that we should strive to do
what we can, thus to elevate th.s siern
Judge which ruleth, as with a rod of iron
tile nations of the earth, to she tine pos.tion
<f dignity and justice; bv sett ng our race
is a 11.nt, against all tonus ol ihi.- h.gh offi
cial, which offend true ta te, in. Mate sga.nst
the health of me body, or deg ade r effemi
nate the immortal maid t’ oples \>rg<m
FLOWERS.
“Apr,l showers makes May floweis.” and
u w is the time to plant the h ndreds of
■eantiful little annuals, one the less beau
.ful because cheap ;nd common. Annual
flower seeds should be sowed quite sh.dhnv,
and if the weather prove dry. water them
until the seeds have sprouted; as soon as
they have become large enough to work,
thin them out judiciously; they cannot
bloom well if crowded together. The bloom
ing of annuals may be hastened by frequent
ly watering the plants with guano water;
a gill ol guano to one gallon of water. The
same application may be applied to rose
bushes, after the bud has formed, taking care
to loosen the ground around the bus with
a fork, that the liquid may soak in about the
roots. It will give also an immense bloom
to the peony, if applied after the flower
buds have formed. Flowers, to bloom well,
should be frequently worked, and the
ground kept clear of weeds and grass. If
any plant is worth cultivating, it is worth
cultivating well.— Soil of the South.
——
A SERIOUS AFFAIR,
“Everything is arranged for your wed
ding with Susan Tompkins,” said a lather to
his only son, the other day ; “I hope you
will behave yoursellT ke a man, Thomas.”
The individual thus addressed was a
young man, seated in a chair, despatching
pieces of bread covered with molasses. His
only answer was a sigh, accompanied with
a flood of tears.
The parent started, and in an angry vo : ce
demanded, “What objection can you have?
Susan is handsome and wealthy, and mar
ried you must be some time or other. Your
mother and I were married, and it is my
command that you prepare for your nup
tials.”
“Yes,” finally sobbed Thomas, “that is a
different case; you married mother, but I’m
sent out to marry a strange gal!”