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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!”