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•HIHX HENRY SE \\A > . .... ANI > } Editors. * l. LLM'OIA VEAZEV, \ NEW SEMIS. VOL I. rmnii. iistie. v rrßusma) *sVEUV SATCfiDAY, EXCEPT TWO, IX THE YEAU, BY JOHN IT. HKAIjS. tek.ws : in advance; or $2,00 at the end of the year. HATES or Ain'RRTISrXO. 1 square (twelve lines or !e.-) first insertion,. .$1 00 Each continuance, 50 Professional or Business Cards, not exceeding six lines, per year, 5 00 Announcing Candidates for Office, 8 00 STANDI NO AI >VEUTISEIIENTS. t square, three months, 3 00 1 square, six months, . 7 00 1 square, twelvemonths, 12 00 2 squares, “ “ 18 00 3 squares, “ “ , 21 00 4 squares, “ “ 25 00 j Advertisements not marked with the number ; of insertions, will be continued until forbid, and I charged accordingly. HTHercl lants, Druggists, and others, may con* i tract for advertising by the year, on reasonable terms, j LEGAL ADYERTTSEiIENTri. Sale of Land or Negroes, by Administrators, Executors, and Guardians, per square,— f) 00 | Sale of Personal Property, by Administrators, Executors, and Guardians, per square, —3 25 Notice to Debtors and Creditors, 3 25 j Notice for Leave to Sell, t 00 ; Citation for Letters of Administration, 2 75 ■ Citation for Letters of Dismission from Adin’n. 5 00 i Citation for Letters of Dismission from Guardi anship, 0 25 1 LEGAL REQUIREMENTS. Sales of Land and Negroes, by Administrators, j Executors, or Guardians, are required by law to be \ held on the first Tuesday in the month, between the j hours of ten in the forenoon and three in the after- i noon, at the Court House in the County in which the f property is situate. Notices of these sales must be j given in a public gazette forty day previous to the j day of sale. j Notices for the sale of Personal Property must be given at least ten days previous to the day of sale. Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate must; bo published,/orfy days. j Notice that application will be made to the Court I of Ordinary for leave to sell Land or Negroes, must j be published weekly for tiro months. r ‘ ■ Citations for Letters of Administration must be published thirty days —for Dismission from Admin istration, monthly, six month *—for Dismission from G nard inn si iip,, forty days. Rules for Foreclosure of Mortgage must be pub-1 fished monthly for four months —for compelling titles j from Executors or Administrators, where a bond has been given by the deceased, the fill spare of three ] mouths. will always be continued accord ing to these, the legal requirements, unless otherwise ordered. Tho Law of Newspapers. 1. Subscribers who do not give express notice to the contrary, are considered as wishing: to continue their subscription, 2. If subscribers order the discontinuance of their newspapers, the publisher may continue to send them until all arrearages are paid. 0. If subscribers neglect or refuse to take their newspaper's from the offices to which they arc di rected, they are held responsible until they have set tled the bills and ordered thorn discontinued. 4, If subscribers remove to other places without informing the publishers, and the newspapers are *ent 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 -prUm faele evidence of inten tional fraud. A. The United State? Courts have also repeatedly decided, that a Postmaster who neglects to perform his duty of giving reasonable notice, as required by the Post Office Department, of tho noglect of a per son to take from the office newspapers addressed to him, renders the Postmaster liable to the publisher for the subscription price. JOB PRINTING. of e very description, done with neatness and dispatch, at this office, and at reasonable prices for cash. All orders, in this department, must be addressed to J. T. PLAIN. PROSPECIVN OF TflF. wnm CRUSADER. |qionda] j TEMPERANCE BANNER. ,4 <JT FATED by a conscientious desire to further ; / \ the cause of Temperance, and experiencing j great disadvantage in being too narrowly Iftnitcd in j space, by f: .-mallnees of our paper, for the publica- \ tion of iteii ni Arguments and Passionate Appeals, \ wo have determined to enlarge it to a more convc- j nient and acceptable size. And being conscious of j the fact that there are existing in the minds of a j larec portion of the present readers of the Banner j and its former patrons, prejudices and difficulties \ which can never be removed so long as it retains tin j name wc venture also to make a change in that par- j ticu'ar It will henceforth be called, “THE TEM- j PERANCE CRUSADER.” Tiiis old pioneer of the Temperance cause is des tined vet to chronicle .tho tr umph of its principles, i It has”stood the test —passed through the “fiery fur- : naeo u;u j, like the “Hebrew children,” re-appeared unscorched. It ha-, survived the newspaper famine j which has caused, and is still causing many excel-j lent journals and periodicals to sink, like “bright ex halations in the evening,” to rise no more, and it has even heralded the “death struggles of many contem poraries, laboring for the same great end with itself. Tt “still fives,” and “waxing bolder as it grows older,” is now waging an eternal “Crusade” against the “In fernal Liquor Traffic,” standing like the “High Priest” G s t j ie Israelites, who stood between the people and the plague that threatened destruction. We entreat the friends of the Temperance Cause to rive us their inlluence in extending the usefulness of 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, wc shall endeavor to keep its readers posted on all the current events throughout the country. r&TPr'ce. as heretofore, §l, strictly in advance. w John ii. Seals, Editor and Proprietor. Pettfield, €h, Bee. 8, 1855. Banns to Cmpcnmct. Pn% I’iteratorr. (Stnmil Ititclligcittt, Ettas, fa. I FANNY’S “TWENTY DOLLARS.” nY MRS. \r. i. RICHARDSON. | “Now lor that splendid collar at Upton’s,” ‘ soliloquized Mrs. Hapgood, as site drew on 1 her delicate hands a dose fitting pair of ; white kid gloves ; and stepping to the mir i ror, she re-adjusted her exquisite bonnet.— “What a beauty,” she continued, “I cannot see how Charles could say that twenty dol lars was too much for such a trifle. Trifle, indeed! I wonder if the Jenkinses will think it a trifle, when I wear it at Mrs. Le | Claire’s soiree to-night. Oh! to eclipse them j once, only once in embroidery.” The reader must not set Fanny Hapgood down as wholly a vain and fashionable wo rn ai. The only daughter of a rich man, she | ; had been ilatfered from childhood up. At j ! sixteen she had married a prosperous mer-! 1 chant, who had made her, for two years, j his darling. What wonder then if Fanny j had yet to learn some sad heart-lessons from \ , the outer world ! Fanny was so eager to reach Upton’s,! ■ that she did not observe, on opening the ■ | front door, that a little child stood in her j way. A fall, and cry, and something roll- 1 ed down the costly steps, and lay motionless j I on the p ivement. “Oh ! what have l done ? What have I ’done?” she cried, affrighted, trembling all over, as she recognized a little boy, clad in rags, but beautiful even in his tatters, as the object she had run against, and who lay now apparently dead. Instantly the coveted collar was forgot- • ten. Shrieking aloud for assistance, and j careless of her snowy gloves and spotless j dress, she stooped down, and picked up the i little sufferer, 110 moaned, as she lifted > him, but did not open his eyes: and his face j was covered with blood. “I have killed him,” cried Fanny, and with j her costly handkerchief, she wiped the blood j away. “God help me !” And she burst in- i to tears. The servants came rushing to the door, 1 in answer to her frenzied ring: the child! was carried up to a spare chamber; and j Fanny, forgetting all about the soiree and . the Jenkinses, sat down fco nurse the suffer-. or, first sending for the doctor. The physician pronounced the child seri- j ously injured. A high, fever, attended by • delirium, set in. Four, five, six o’clock j came. Fanny, her tears falling fast, would: permit no one to adm.nister the medicines, j or watch by the bed-side but herself. When ; the clock struck seven, and Fanny knew j that her husband would now .- .on be ‘home, 1 i she went stealthily t- , me -door, and put her . finger to her lips, as :u came bounding up . i stairs, two steps at. ; time. “Hush!” she ‘ said, “come inhere.’ And leading him to, > the bed, she whispered what had happened.; She had scarcely finished, when the little ; sufferer awoke, free from delirium. At first’ he looked frightened, and was about to cry; ] but Fanny soothed him on her bosom; and he smiled up at her ; and was soon able to ■ tell his tale. He could, as yet, only speak I indistinctly, however, on account of his ex- : treme childhood. But his eager listeners! gathered, from his broken language, that he ; had been sent out to beg, early that morn- j ing; that he had eaten nothing all the pi e- \ ceding day; that his bare feet had been! threading the icy streets for hours unsuc-1 cessfuliy ; and that he was about to knock j at the door to ask alms, when the hasty exit i of Fanny had caused the accident. “Father in heaven, can this be possible?” ‘ said Fanny, when the lisping, feeble accents i ceased. i “Not only possible, but probable,” replied her husband. “ Ah! dearest, there are scores, in this great city, just as destitute.” “I know now why you said twenty dollars was too much for such a trifle as anew col lar, when l have enough already,” said Fan ny, with bitter sell-reproach, bursting into ! tears. “What good could I not do, among j those poor, with twenty dollars.” It was impossible to know, from the de- 1 scription of the child, where his widowed | mother lived. It was somewhere in a cel- j lar, and she was ill abed ; that much the lis j teners learned ; as also that his sister, who ; was but a little older dmn himself, had sent | him out to beg, s c having to stay and watch j by her mother. ; “I “'ill but get a cup of tea,” said Mr. j Hapgood, “and then go out and hunt for ] I them. Think how alarmed they will be i about him.” j Hours passed, yet. her husband did not re- i I turn ; and meantime Fanny sat, holding the 1 j weary head of the sufferer, soothing him to * sleep, or watching beside him. At last, near j j midnight, Mr. Hapgood returned. “I have found them at last,” he said, taking off his wet overcoat, for it was sleeting vio” lently without. “The mother has seen bet ter days. She was almost distracted, when I entered the low, damp cellar, where there was not a bit of fire. Oh ! Fanny, we don’t know whatsuffering there is, till it is brought to our very doors in this way.” Fanny drew him to the fire, and away from the bed, for the child had now fallen into a sweet sleep, which was undisturbed Iby dreams. “He breathes naturally now,” j she said. “The doctor was here at ten o’- ; clock, and said that he was out of danger.— Tell me all about them.” They shared their tears, Fanny and her husband, as the latter told a story of widow- PEKFIELU GA.. SAToil GAY. APRIL Aif 185A hood,’ sorrow, and deft or <n, such, alas! a is furnished only too often by our great cit ies. When the narrative was done, Fanny was a changed being. For the first time : in her life she had been brought face to face i with real suffering: and -he made a result, i tion, which she has since faithfully kepu ■ The next day, the twenty dollars, which j Fanny had designed for the collar was lad [out for the benefit of Mrs. Water®, ihe mo i ther of the injured child. A neat, warmly ’ furnished room was procured; a stove put I up; and the sick lady moved into it. Gro- I oeries were placed in the cupboard; coal in j tiie cellar: winter clothing purchased for the daughter; and the family physician of the Hapgoods dispatched to prescribe fertile invalid. Nor did the benevolence of Fanny stop here. When the mother had recovered, I which she soon did, now that she had med ical attendance and a warm apartment, a little store was stocked for her, so that she i might earn her living. By this time, the in jured child was well, and had gone home; i and a merry household it was on Christmas Eve, when Mrs. Waters opened her shop and ate her first supper in, what seemed to her little ones, a palace. Our readers would be surprised to know how little money it took to do all tins Fan ny had often wasted as much, in one season, I on unnecessary articles of dress: and there are in my who will peruse this tale, who have done the same. Nor is it the last of; her charities. Systematically, since then, j has she labored to deserve the divine words, j “Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least j of these, ye did it unto me ” Great and glorious is thy mission, Fanny! j The world is calling with her thousand j voices, “Come !” But the desolate and the j stricken, the widowed, and the fatherless, j cry to thee also ; and verily ! thou hast cho- j sen the better part. Would to God, that, j in this broad, hard world, more hearts might receive, like thee, the baptism that shall make them whole. From the Northwestern H me Journal. CORN AND DISTILLERIES, Honest meu never fear to look at tacts, I and persons who seek to blind he eyes <-t; the people to accomplish wicked or s- Isis objects, ought to be exposed. Some men ! seem to think that falsehood, if t will sc cure the object desired, is just as good as truth. Like Barn urn, they suppose “the j people love to be hum bugged.” These re-! marks will apply to certain individual-j | who try to make farmers believe that the ! distilleries furnish the principal market fori their corn, and that; if the distilleries war ■! [ closed, it would reduce the price of corn; 25, or * ’V*. 50 per cent. | But wh Proportion of the corn raised: i m liiiim . a ust'd by the distilleries ? Th truth on to s sueject can do no hurt, am inav do goo.*. We fill by the census tables of 1850, taken by tu proper nuthtfritic-s. that. m. I corn raised in Illinois tb . vow previ viz, 1840, amounted r, u Iml- more than ! : fifty-seven and a half nrlb . (0f,81T,’,.- 5-1;; | oushels. During tin* sam - y*-a<’ the quo ; tity distilled was 703,0 r one onsii \ uut of every eighty two rmsed in the Stub i These are the facts ur >ho year 1840. h ! .s plain that if every distillery in the bt I had been closed during that year, and not single bushel of corn used for distillio | the most that the farmer could possi >i | have lost, inconsequence of it, wouid b \ I been one bushel in eighty two. ; But there has been a wonderful incr j in the quantity of corn raised in this St... i since 1849. It is stated by the Editor® . the Chicago Democratic Press, in a Pam) h j let recently issued, that the amount of corn j raised in the State in 1855, was not less j than one hundred and eighty millions of bushels, and we are confident that any one j who will carefully examine the data from j which they came to this result will bo sat- j isfied that the estimate is not too large. But while the corn crop has thus increas- j ed it may well be doubted whether ther ; is a larger amount distilled now than ther was five years ago. It is believed there are not so many distilleries in operation as there were then. True, some new oneshav. been erected during this period, but a large number have been discontinued, so that . we think there were as many bushels ot; corn used for distilling purposes then as at | present. But some of the existing estab j lisbments, have enlarged their business, | and it is possible, though we do not believe it, there is one third more distilled now than there was in 1841); or in round num bers, instead of seven hundred and three thousand, there may possibly now beusen one million of bushels by the distilleries. There is a liberal estimate, and it it be essentially correct, then only one busln 1 out of every one hundred and eighty, was used by the distilleries in 1855. Thus the farmers may see just how much they are indebted to distillers for a market j for their corn. If every bushel distilled i were a dead loss, or allowed to rot in the j field, it would not be felt —it would be on !ly as one bushel ont of one hundred and eighty—not so much, in many places, a is annually destroyed by the birds. We are not aware that any considerable portion of our fellow citizens, desire to i close the distilleries of our Legis j lative enactments. The prohibitory law, ■ passed last year, did not do it; it allowed | the manufacture of alcohol and high wines. !bu if u .ever should bo Gas n ?y !t3 P>\ 1 4 joe Si. ;i* S;i‘ and r< sulvq- t** follow tii. •mnee given >v tru- first Continental Ctm ” V aboliMJi e humum of distil -lOi t'ii) , in eonsequenori of the gmit evds • His to reiiu/t f am its *t h • farmers, as w h ‘ seen, woui r-tit,r sutr esßcmi ; dlv in . tp.Jt-nce of it. Li a funir h inn her. we shall sliovv imw. ii v ri-us w.vs, ‘ iiey would save mum >:■ tiie operation.of sucli a law. it. s. c ’ —... From the N. (’. Christian Advocate. DRUNKENNESS, j If makes rue sick to see a drunken man. Ls there is a sight under heaven that |is more sickening than a drunken man, 1. know not what it is. Look at ins I house; its roof is rotten; its postsand ‘ rafters sprung and gone to rack; its under pinning decayed, and lying fiat on the j ground; and the whole fabric horribh I weather beaten and covered with moss, I This, with the thought, that a mimjrer of j small children thinly clad, with a mother dmost worn out with trouble, live there, : ‘S eiipugh to make a man §ick at heart. But this is merely the beginning. Look at ; toe man; lie is going home from tine village; ! very side of the road is his, and part of ne woods; he has lost his hat and sc rate h : 0.1 his face in the briers. But on he goes ; down he comes in the mud, turns over and i mses ins shoe, scrapes and looks fur it, but | can’t get to it; he again proceeds—takes a chew of tobacco to keep his month in mo tion—the ambiar soon begins to ooze .-out. at each corner of his mouth, and runs down his neck, into his bosom. Hear him ,as lie goes, cursing and swearing enough to shame the devil, who looks” at him at a ostance; but he arrives at home; can’t find the gate; falls over the fence; his wife and children come and drag him in the house; and here, almost ejecting up in's entrails, we turn from the “scene” sick in d’ Od. This is why it makes me sick to see •* drunken man. it is said that a dog will !; bt bite a man when he is drunk; no doubt the sight turns his stomach; ir is no wonder, then, that it. should make a man sick. w. o. WARMED MEN’S REPORT UPON WO - MEN’S RIGHTS. A petition for Women’s Rights, address and to the N. Y. Legislature, was referred in that body to the Judiciary Committee, which has lately made a report. Accor cling to flic N. Y Daily News lire Commit t o say th it they arc enable to state that ladies always have the best piece and choi cest tit-bit at table. They have the best seat in the cars, carriages, and sleighs; the wannest place in winter and the coolest dace in summer. They have their choice on which side of the bed they will lie, front or back. A lady’s dress costs rbree times as much as that of agentle nau, and at the present time, with tin* to vailing fashion, due- lady occupies three imesuis much space in the world us a gen tleman. “It has thus appeared to the married entlemen of your Committee, being a m.-t ----‘idiy, (the bachelors being silent for the r asoft mentioned, and alsrq probably, for t further ivason that they are still suitors so the favors of the gender sex,) that if t ■re is any inequality or oppression in wise, tlie g. nth-men are the sufferers. They, However, have presented no pet? i -n f w i\ b'ess, having doubtless made up li if min is -to an inevitable destiny. “On lie wiiole, the Committee his mu lu jf<i to recommend n<> measuresx j •pt that, as they have observed, sever.e ! instances in which husband and wife hnv *orh signe<i the same petition. In sueii ease thev would recommend the pa tie- t<>’ apply fora law authorizing titem tochunog dresses so that the husband may wear the petticoats and the wife the breeches, • and thus indicate to their neighbors and I the public the true relation in which they stand with each other.” MORE TRUTH*THAN POETRY. Whether a man leads a sober life or not,: depends altogether on the temper ofhis wife. 1 : No man will listen all night, to a scold, who | knows where a “good warm sling may be j | nought for a sixpence.” At Cocktails the j j other night we found no less than thirteen j j married men who spent six evenings a week ! jin squirting tobacco juice on a coal stove. — | | ‘Vie thought we would find out who they i | were. On inquiring, we learned that elev- ; enol them are blessed with wives who ‘jaw'; from Monday morning till Saturday night, ; while the other two wedded a couple of she j missionaries, ladies so constantly engaged j in the “welfare of Central Africa” that they have no time to keep their husbands shirts whole. MANNERS. What a rare gift, says the author of Pel i hatn, is that of manners ! llow difficult to i define—how much more difficult to impart. } Better for a man to possess them than wealth, beauty, or talent—they will more than supply all. No attention is too min ute, p<el a bur to<> exaggerated, which tends to perfect therm He who enjoys their ad vantages in the highest degree, namely, he who can please, penetrate, persuade, as the object may require possesses the subject secret of the diplomatist and the states man, and wants nothing but the opportu nity to become great. EARLY LOVE, A lew years sines I was travelling in the western part of the State. In passing : through a wood one day, I came across a lad who was standing hv a small know I, freshly thrown up. He was about ten years ! old. of a serious aspect and apparently in • telligent. The circumstance made me in | qui Itive; so pointing to the little know!. I 1 .ic osted him : j “Well, my little man. what does that ; menu ?” j “That's a g'-nve, sir ” ; : “Who is buried there?” ; “Minna.” ! “Who is Minna ‘!” ; “Mr. S wager’s little girl.” 1 he boy’s honest face and frank manner i ! interested me. i “Did you use to know the girl ?” “Yes sir ! I used 4o come to the r ottaire ! oiten. Mot herd let me come almost every ‘ ! day.” “What made them bury tier here in the) ’ woods V’ “I don’t know, sir.” They didn’t have a funeral, only a lew.” “How old was she ?” -I told her 1 was ten : and she said she was almost as old as 1 : but I guess she was older, for she was bigger towards the last than I was.” “Do you know why they did’nthavea funeral ?” “No sir ! A stranger was by. Mother called him the stranger.” “Did any body about here know the stranger ?” “No sir ! only Mrs. Swager. He was a big man ; larger than Mrs. Swager. He i was almost black, and had a black beard, and a fur hat on, and handsome clothes, and ■ all black, and he looked cross, though I j guess he wasn’t so very cross. He didn’t | hardly talk any.” “Have you heard his name V ■ j “Our schoolmaster called him the'Black i Knight; sometimes he called him Ourrday j Lion.” “Where is the stranger now ?” “He went away right, off when Minna was buried.” “Was Minna sick long !” “Yes sir ? She wanted to he round.-in the woods, and to our house, but they ■ wouldn’t let her. She was white in her | face, and her eyes was large and handsome. ►She couldn’t walk fast; she’d get tired right away : and then she’d ask me to help her along. 1 helped her all I could. Some times I’d carry her over the wet places. When fall came, she stayed in the house nearly all the while. By-and-hy she could'nt be up any more. Then they laid her on a little rack.” “When did she die ?” “’Twas but a little while, then she died. But I told ‘em she’d get well, it they’d let her be up and around as she wanted. Her cheeks was as red again as ever, and her eye just as handsome, and handsomer.” ••How long did the stranger stay ?” “He was there three or four times last summer, and the last time lie staid a fort-; night. Then Minna died. Then he went. 1 away, and staid tway. Mrs. Swage r has) also gone. They are all gone now.” He turned his face from me ; a tear had j started. I rode on, and left him standing j alone, bv the grave of his mute associate j —Cayuga Chief. SWEARING-. The absurdity aud utter folly of swear-j ug is admirably set forth in the following j .t.itiudote of Beizebui) and his imps. Tiu- • i.itier went out in the morning, each to ! . ► sin uand his set of men — one the murder- j eiv, auot t:r the ii.ws, and another the ] swearers, fee. At evening they stopped at the mout hos a cave. The question a rose among them who commanded the; meanest set of men. The subject was do- j dated at length without coming to a deci- j sion. Fin .lly, his Satanic majesty was j called upon to decide the matter in dispute. j Whereupon, he said: “The murderer got j something for killing, the thief for steal-i ing, and the liar for lying, but the swear-, er was the meanest of all, he served with- ‘ out pay.” They were his majesty’s best ■ Subjects; tor while they were costless their j name was legion, and presented the !ar- 1 go's? division in his (Satan’s) employ. TurT~ The Sierra Citizen, edited in a spirited | manner, among the mountains of California, | has the following little chapter on fun : “We like fun. ‘lt is a great institution.’ If it was to come to that, we should vote for it with a big ballot. Fun ! It is what keeps most of us from getting sour—it adjusts the equipoise of life—it mellows the flesh, oils the bones, rosilies the brain—sets one right when his tendency is another way. Bless ings on the man, woman, or who or what else, invented fun. How much has it done for you, reader,ourself, Smith, Brown, Jenk ins, and the rest of the folks ! What a mon ster—what a “brute.” Dark, sour, gloomy, sepulchral, cold. Bah! Everybody avoids him. And then women who recoil from or repulse fun ! Conscience and the Crimea, what beings ! Her countenance is an ap palling cloud—her voice as oi the tomb-- her disposition a cross between the lost ship of lemons and a demijohn of sulphuric acid. Ugh ! Turn your feet, your eye, your hand from her. She’s either spoiled in making, growing, or keeping. Fun ! What would TERMS: 01.00 IN ADVANCE. JAMES T. BLAfN. PRINTER. vol. xxii.m aia:i! ie. ; the world do without it !. Momus and Joe i Miller forever! What sunshine and roses ; are to nature, so is fun to man and woman!” | COMBINED EVILS OF INTEMPERANCE. Its march of ruin is ever onward ! It i reaches abroad to others—invades the fam j ily and social ci cles, and spreads woe and I sorrow on all around It civs down youth in its vigor, manhood in its strength, and j age in its weakness. It breaks the father’s i heart—bereaves tlie doting mother-. *xtin | gushes natural affection—erases conjugal j love—blots out filial attachment—blights parental hope, and brings down mourning j age “in sorrow to the grave.” It produces ; weakness, not strength—sickness, not health : —death, not life. It makes wives, widows ‘ —children, orphans—fathers, fiends—and ! all of them paupers and beggars. It hails ! lever—feeds rheumatism—nurses gout— welcomes epidemics—invites cholera—im parts pestilence, and embraces consumption. It. covers the land witii idleness, poverty, disease and crime. It fills your jails, sup plies vour alms-houses—and demands your as 3 buns, it engenders controversies—fos ters quarrels—and cherishes riots. It con temns laws, spurns order and loves mobs. It crowds your penitentiaries, and furnishes : the victims for your scaffolds. It is the life i blood oi tiie gambler—the .aliment of the ; counterfeiter—the prop of the highwayman, | and the support of the midnight incendiary. , It countenances the liar, respects the thief, ! and esteems the blasphemer. It violates ob : ligation, reverences fraud, and honors infa j my. It defames benevolence, hates love, scorns virtue, and slanders innocence. It j incites the father to butcher his offspring— helps the husband to massacre his wife— ! and aids the child to grind the parricidal ; axe. It burns up man—consumes woman, • detests life—curses God, and despises hea ven. It suborns witnesses—nurses perjury —defiles the jury box—and stains the judi cial ermine. It bribes votes—disqualifies voters—corrupts elections—pollutes our in stitutions, and endangers our government. It degrades the citizen, debases the legisla tor—dishonors the statesman, and disarms the patriot. It brings shame, not honor— terror, not safety—despair, not hope—mis ery, not happiness. And now, as,with the. malevolence of a fiend, it calmly surveys its frightful devastations, and insatiate with havoc, it. poisons felicity, kills peace, ruins ; morals, slays reputation, blights confidence, and wipes out national honor—then curse? the world, and laughs at. its ruin.” —True Witness. ■ ■—■• QUACKERY, i Quackery is an exhaustless fountain of all-healing nostrums. Someone more po tent and effective than all its predecessors, is every day making its advent, testified to by any number of veracious witnesses who have been cured by a “few bottles.” j We have the extract of roses, of sweetbri • er, and the “balm of a thousand flowers,” , qual in rennovat-ing power, to-the “harp | of a thousand strings” in melody. Sextons and undertakers will soon find their “oc j cupations gone,” and graveyards grown : up to worm-wood and tansy. Surely a good | time is coming! While oxen multiply, we | can eat “Pepsin” and gormandize. While 1 “expectorants” are sold by the quart aud ! warranted an “infallible remedy,” con i -umption may be defied. While “pain killers” are round, we need not be afraid i <f bruises or broken bones. In the midst of these improvements, why : can we not have an extract of summer f It would go like “hot-cakes” and bring a for tune to the inventor. It would drive out the blues in wintery-time, and one snuff at a quart bottle, fill the soul with beauty and melody. There would come tho fra grance of a thousand flowers, tho low mur mur of the winds, the trilling of the streams, the rustling of the leaves, and the wild wood minstrelsy of the birds. We could feel the gentle breath from the meadow, and drink in its odor of new-mown hay. Give us the extract of summer, then. “Can” it up as we do peaches, to be opened in the winter months when a choice company of friends are circling the blazing# hearth. It would keep the heart aglow until the sea son brought anew supply. For invalids, it would be invaluable. The wasting cheek would color as the weary spirit caught the scent of the summer’s bloom. —Cayvga Chirr ’. —• —n o i m —— THAT “MEAN LOW VICE.” It is well known that General Wash ington had an utter abborence of what he called “the foolish and icicle ed practice of profane cursing and swearing.” and did his utmost to suppress it among both officers and soldiers. In the conclusion of one of his reproofs, after spooking of its Hmpietif* he adds: “It is a vice so mean and low. without any temptation, that every man of sense and character, detestst and despi ses it.” Would that the same views of it were taken by all other men in high posi tion and power !—Southern Presbyterian . gJapTWith a true wife the husband’s faults should be secret. “A woman forgets what is due to herself, when she condescends to. that refuge of weakness, a female confidant. A wife’s bosom should be .the tomb df her husband’s failings, and his character far j more valuable, in her estimation, than j life.