Newspaper Page Text
JOHN HENRY SEALS, )
, AND > Editors.
L. LINCOLN VEAZEY,)
HEW SERIES, YOL. I.
TEMPERANCE MIR.
PCBLISHKD
EVERT SATURDAY, EXCEPT TWO, 15 THE YEAR,
BY JOHN H. SEALS.
TERMS I
SI,OO, in advance; or $2,00 at the end of the year.
RATES OF ADVERTISING.
1 square (twelve lines or le. s) first insertion^4|^)o
Each continuance,
Professional or Business Cards, not exceedin^^
six lines, per year, 3 00
Announcing Candidates for Office,.. 3 00
STANDING ADVERTISKMKNTS.
1 square, three months, 5 0^
1 square, six months, 7
1 square, twelvemonths, i|
2 squares, “ “
3 squares, 4 21 00
A squares, “ “ 25 00
Advertisements not marked with the number
.of insertions, will be continued until forbid, and
. charged accordingly.
Jgp’Merchants, Druggists, and others, may con
tract for advertising by the year, on reasonable terms.
LEGAL ADVKRTISEMKNTS.
Tbrtle nl Itsind or Negroes, by Administrators,
sEgec.fciors, and Guardians, per square,— 500
Sale of Personal Property, by Administrators,
Executors., and Guardians, per square,— 3 25
Notice to Debtors and Creditors, 3 25
Notice for Leave to Sell, 4= 00
Citation for Letters of Administration, 2 75
Citation for Letters of Dismission from Adm’n. 5 00
Citation for Letters of Dismission from Guardi
anship, 3 25
LEGAL REQUIREMENTS.
Sales of Land and Negroes, by Administrators,
Executors, or Guardians, are required by law to be
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 be
given at least ten days previous to the day of sale.
Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate must
be publishcd/orty days.
•'Notice that application will be made to the Court
of Ordinary for leave to sell Land or Negroes, must
be published weekly for two months.
‘Stations for Letters of Administration must be
L ‘'<d thirty days —for Dismission from Admin
publisu n tMu , six months— for Dismission from
.Stratton, , $
Guard.anship,. of Mo „ glge must be pub .
Rules lorYore. mo nths —for compelling titles
lished monthly for jo ‘inistrators, where a bond has
from Executors or Adm thg full 0 f three
been given by the deceaseu,
months. .. , ,
_™, n ... ~ ... . , * continued accord-
will always be ~Q IeRS otherwise
ing to these, the legal requirements, u
ordered.
The Law of Newspapers.
1. Subscribers who do not give express notice ,
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.
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 are held responsi
5. The Courts have decided that refusing to take
newspapers from the office, or removing and leaving
them uncalled for, is prima facie evidence of inten
tional fraud.
G. The United States 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 the neglect 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 every 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. BLAIN.
PROSPECTFS
. OF THE
TEMPERANCE CRUSADER.
[quondam]’
TEMPERANCE BANNER.
A CTUATED by a desire to further
J\_ the cause of Temperance, and experiencing
great disadvantage in being too narrowly limited in
space, by the smallness of our paper, for the publica
tion of Reform Arguments and Passionate Appeals,
we have determined to enlarge it to a more conve
nient and acceptable size. And being conscious of
the fact that there are existing in the minds of a
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, “TIIE TEM
PERANCE CRUSADER.'’
This old pioneer of the Temperance cause is des
tined yet to chronicle the triumph of its principles.
It has stood the test —passed through the “fiery fur
nace,” and, like the “Hebrew children,” re-appeared
unscorched. It has survived the 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
even heralded the “death struggles of many contem
poraries, laboring for the same great end with itself.
It “still lives,” and “waxing bolder as it grows older,”
is 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
the plague that threatened destruction.
We entreat the friends of the Temperance Cause
to give us their influence in extending the usefulness
of the paper. We intend presenting to the public a
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 all the current
events throughout the country.
Ko”Price, as heretofore, sl, strictly in advance.
JOHN H. SEALS,
Editor and Proprietor.
Pen field, Ga., Dec. 8, 1855.
gefartdr to Cempmutce, Ukraltfg, JTtotore, (tarsi Intelligence, |ta, At.
Selectivity
THE FALL OF JE USALLmT
One of the most splendid sketches it has
ever been our fortune to peruse, is that by
Cioly, who, in his worksyflMfctescribes the
fall of Jerusalem :
The fall of our illustrious hpppy city
was supernatural. The the
■ onquered tnWfirst
of
of
fers lamented dis-
undone. But bMWecree
was a mightier throne. Du
ring days of the seige, a hostility,
to which that of man was a grain of sand to
the tempest that drive it on, overpowed our
(strength and senses. Fearful shapes and
voices in the air; visions startling us from
bur short and sleep; lunacy in
its hideous forms; sudden death in the midst
of vigor, the fury of the elements let loose
on our unsheltered heads—we had every
terror and evil that could beset.human na
ture, pestilence, the most probable of in
a city crowded with the famishing,’
eased, th^,wounded and the .dead.’
though dBRp-eets were covered ‘with urnM
ried bodies, though every well and trentSl
was teeming with them; though six hun
dred thousand corpses lay flung over the
S part.and naked to the sun—pestilence
•rfot, for, if it had come, the ene nv
Jm have been scared away. But “the
mination of desolation,” the pagan stand
ard was fixed where it was to remain until
the plough had passed over the ruins of Je
rusalem. On this fatal night, no man laid
his head on his pillow. Heaven and earth
were in conflict. Meteors burned above
us; the ground shook under our feet, the
volcano blazed ; the wind burst forth in ir
resistable blasts, and swept the living and
The dead, in whirlwinds, far into the desert.
We heard the bellowing of the distant Med
iterranean, as if its waters were at our side,
swelled by the deluge. The lakes and rivers
•roared, and inundated the land. The fiery
sword shot out ten fold fire. Thunder peal
ed from eveo ? quarter of the heavens.—
sheets, of an intensity
turned the darkness into
more than day, withering an eye apd soul,
burned from the zenith to the ground, and
marked his track by forests of flame, and
shattered the summits of the hills.
Defense was unthought of, for the mortal
enemy had passed froir) the mind. Our
hearts quaked for fear; but it was to see the
povvers of heaven shaken. All cast away
the shield and spear, and crouched before
the descending judgment. We were con
science smitten. Our cares of remorse, an
-1 ffpish, and horror, were heard through the
<- of the storm. We howled to the
U P‘ .^ s * o hide us; we plunged into the se
caye.r* . A ‘scape the wrath that consumed
pulchies - ”ouid have buried ourselves
the living, we **
“'tknew Ihe uns P e ? kable ;
a Knew ( - , . urot crime was at
and knew that thu' 1 IlfK mnished to see
hand. A few f'ig>* lves - . Ao the low
one man among them sunK mftto
est of feebleness of fear, (.'’•ante aroun ,
lead them to safety, if such vvere now k
found on earth. I openly c ounselled thei.
to die in the hallowed ground the temple.
They followed, and i led through’ streets en
cumbered with every shape of hu. vn T an su f*
sering, to the foot of Mount Moriah*.* But
beyond that we found advance impossible.
Piles of clouds whose darkness was palpa
ble, even in the midnight in which we stoodU
obscured by the holy hill. Impatient, and
not to be daunted by anything that man
could overcome, I cheered my disheartened
band, and attempted to lead the way up the
ascent. But I had scarcely entered the
cloud, when I was swept down by a gust
that tore the rocks in a flinty shower around
me. And now came the last and most won
derful sign, that marked the fate of rejected
Israel.
While I lav helpless, 1 heard the whirl
wind roar through the cloudy hill, and the
vapors began to revolve. A pale light, like
that of the rising moon, quivered on the
edges, and the clouds rose rapidly, shaping
themselves into forms ot battlements and
towers. The sound of voices was heard
within, low and distinct,yest strangely sweet.
Still the lustre brightened, and as the airy
building rose, tower on tcxwer, and battle
ment on battlement; we knelt and gazed
on this more than mortal architecture, that
continued rising up and spreading, and
glowing with a serener light,” still soft and
silvery, yet to which the broadest moon
beam was dim. At last it stood forth from
earth to heaven, the colossal image of the
first temple; of the building raised by the
wisest of men, consecrated to the visible
glory.
All Jerusalem saw the image, and the
shout that, in the midst of their despair, as
cended from it thousands and tens of thou
sands, told what proud remembcrances that
wore. But a hymn was heard, that
have hushed the world beside. .Never fell
on my ear, never on human sense, a sound
so majestic, yet so subduing, so full of mel
ancholy yet of grandeur and oomimand. —
This vast portal opened, and from it march
ed a host such as man had never flieen be
fore, such as man shall never see bu t once
again; the guardian angels of the City of
David ! They came forth gloriously', but
with woe in ail their steps; the stars upon
their helmets dim; their robes stained; tears
flowing down their cheeks of celestial beau-
PENEIELD, (!A„ SATURDAY, MAT 31, 1856.
ty. “Let. us go hence” swelled upon the
bight, to the uttermost limits ot the land.—
The procession lingered lqng upon the sum
mit of the hill. The thunders pealed; and
they rose at the command, diffusing waves
of light over the expanse of heaven. The
chorus was still heard, magnificent and mel
ancholy, until their splendor was diminished
to the brightness of a star. Then the thun
der roared again. The cloudy temple was
scattered on the wind, and darkness, the
omen of the grave, settled upon Jerusalem.
From the Philadelphia Sun.
TO THE MEMBERS OF THE PHILADEL
PHIA LIQUOR LEAGUE.
Dummies—l hope you will not feel that
I have neglected you, in not offering you a
word of comfort in this, the time of your sore
trouble. That you are objects of deep com
misseration there can be no doubt, especial
ly when we remember that there is not a
man of any respectability in our city who
does not know that you are combined, for
the purpose of perpetuating poverty and
gfhime in the midst of us. All intelligent
know too —that by new
Ifcense law—yourJjactfffj.es for breaking up
•families, jjyfmg the brightest hopes of pa
rents, destroying for time and eternity men,
women and children, filling Alms houses
and prisons, and multiplying taxation will
be greatly curtailed. Now, Mr. Rummies,
are you not to be pitied ? How .can you
survive this shock to your nervous system?
And under all these circumstances have we
not been remiss in failing to send you a let
ter of condolence? We have been kinder
to your servants in Harrisburg.
Rummies, I have a proposition to make
to you—listen to it.
Doubtless you wish the new License Law
repealed. It is well known that as a class
of men, you have a great aversion to law,
both divine and human. My proposition is
this. As you wish the new License Law
repealed, and as you are anxious to give the
strongest and most convincing proofs of
your honorable business, without delay se
lect a few samples of your best workman
ship—say fifteen or twenty first-class cases
of delirium tremens ; a handsome lot of first
class swelled heads; a dozen or more of
your best quality wife-whippers; an hun
dred or t\yo of the poor broken-hearted
w T ives you have made; an equal number of
the widows whom you have reduced to
wretchedness and want, by brutalizing their
sons. I would advise also two or three
hundred of those poor little suffering chil
dren, whom you have reduced to a condi
tion, worse than orphanage. Then start di
rect for Harrisburg, have a big tent pitched
on Capitol Hill, there place your samples—
each man standing by his own workman
ship. Then invite the members of the Le
gislature to view the show, and see if they
do not say, “well, if these are fair speci
mens of the Rummies’ work—that most
useful and respectable class of men—we
must repeal this law. Why in the name of
our common humanity interfere with such
a Christianising and humanising business ?
What an outrage upon humanity and the
rights of man, to curtail a business which
produces such bloated, squalid, ragged re
sults.” Look! see the redoubtable mem-
, >-s from the city (I mean the rum mem
.e ‘ v of Philadelphia, jumping round from
’ s Troup of your mjti samples, calling
S‘ ou £ to of the members from the rural
the {mention workmanship of the city
districts to the i t j iat j ace> ” sa y s JVIr.
rummies. “Behold a trace of di vine
Speaker, “there is no. What> stop such a
workmanship left m it. > as t | ie rum
lighting, withering business ’,-nan WO uld
traufle ? Who but a fool or a macu a y S an _
wish to see if. stopped ?” “Look,” s>. *
other, “at those children—if children . /
be. Did you ever see such rags and clout
ed shoes?” “See there,” says a third city
member, “since you were born, did you ever
behold such a conglomeration of humanity?”
After such an exhibition, Rummies, who
will have the temerity to vole against re
peal ?
Wishing an eternal overthrow to your
burningly disgraceful business, l am your
well wisher. John Chambers.
PHYSICAL RECREATION.
An Italian gentleman, who recently
made the tour of the United States, said,
on his return, that he would not live there
t be owner of them, adding —“What an
unhappy people, if their faces express their
feelings ! I never saw a man in tho street
that did’nt see uneasy, and walk as if
driven; nor scarcely a woman in the house
without a care-worn and fidgety air.”
A little exaggeration is one of the privi
leges accorded to travellers from time im
memorial; but there is, nevertheless, more
of truth in the above description of the
Americans, as a people, than we are at all
times willing to admit. Perpetually ab
sorbed in business, with our mental facul
ties constantly on the stretch ; with notes
to meet; moneys to collect, and projects to
carry out, we exhaust the powers of life by
overstraining them, and only think of re
laxation when it becomes too late to reap
much benefit from the change.
The freest nation in the world, we are
yet the most fettered. Bending all our en
gies to the one object of making money,
we reject salutary recreation as interfering
with more important duties, and toil on,
tortured by anxieties of our own creating.
Though too frequently troubled with dys-
pepsia in someone or other of its protean
forms, and otherwise nervous, excitable,
and restless, we never seek that repose
and relaxation which nature demands, un
til the out worn physical structure is inca
pable of renovation, and premature old age
admonishes us of the folly we have com
mitted in thoughtlessly disregarding those
natural laws, the observance of which is
absolutely essential to health and longevi
ty- ti^;
A DRUNKARD’S SPEECH.
The London Empire states that a drunk
ard found his way a shore time since into
a temperance meeting. One of the spea
kers was defending the principle of moral
suasion, and was also, expatiating upon
the effects upon the drunkard. The ine
briate interrupted the speaker, and broke
forth in the following language:
“Moral suasion to drunkards? it’s no
use, and it’s worse than no use. I know
it. I tell you lam one of ’em. I am, I
know it.”
The whole room was startled into per
fect silence. In the pause, the very fire
seemed to hold its breath.
“I’ve been a drunkard these ten years.
Y’ou know it. You’ve seen me loafing a
bout your streets ten years, and you’ve had
a chance to try your moral suasion. And
I ain’t the only chance, God knows. Y’es,
and you’ve tried it too. You know I used
to want to knock off. You havn’t failed
to say kind words, and try your suasion.
You all try it. The very man that sells
me nfm, says, when he pours me out a
glass, ‘Come, come, Jerry, you’d better
not drink any more.”
His profanity was terrible, but the equal
ly terrible earnestness of his speech suffer
ed not even the chairman to reprove it.
“You think a drunkard needs persuad
ing. There’s not a drunkard in the coun
try that’s worth saving, who doesn’t wish,
two hours out of three, every day of his life
that he could knock off. They’ve got mor
al suasion. What they want is help, force,
force to back it up. YYm’ve seen me —yon
see me every day sitting around —loafing.
You’ve thought I’ve been asleep, think
ing of nothing. Outside I’ve been dead as
a heap of ashes, inside I’ve been a fire.
“When a man’s agoing to sell himself
to the devil cool and easy —money down—
and wants to drive a sharp bargain, like
your rnmsellers, it may do to talk of moral
suasion to him. But when the devil’s
caught a careless fellow—and’s got him
tight in his clutches —as he holds us, and
we writhing and squirming—then when
you come along and think we need moral
suasion to get us away, you’re fools. And
with some of you, it’s worse than that.
Some of you know better, and when you
say so and quote scripture to it, you’re
fools. And I believe the Lord’s sharper
sighted than I am. If he pays attention
to what goes on in a temperance meeting,
lie’ll settle your arguments one of these
days.”
YOUTHFUL DISSIPATION.
“There is nothing more true than the
the twig is bent the tree in
clines. Hence it behooves every commu
nity, and especially all corporate bodies
having any power over the subject, to
guard most sedulously, the morals of the
rising generation. Contemplating this sub
ject with the deepest anxiety, I am well
convinced that one of the most prolific
sources of dissipation, profanity and crime,
must admit, have of late years
increased with fearful rapidity, is the es
tablishment of numerous oyster cellars in
all parts of the city, and the facility, and
even temptation they afford for sensual in
dulgence, as it may be said in darkness and
in secresy.
“Is it not astonishing that parents and
uardians do not, with one indignant voice,
fe’ and the suppression of these dens of
q on j f or h ere it is that th efounda-
’ f or the ruin and disgrace of
tion is laid 1 thousands of the youth of
hundreds ana Beginning after night
onr large cities. e boon companions,
fall, with two or thre. a t first with on
behiud the drawn curta*. - glass of some
ly a plate of oysters and ;th despatch
inebriating drink, furnished w* %l indul
and enjoyed in privacy, occasion ‘ r hat at
gen ce soon becomes habitual. Vv. ‘on,
first was sought as an innocent recreatu
the weakness of nature soon demands as
a luxurious and necessary excitement.
Moderate enjoyment quickly runs into ex
cess, and in a few months from his first per
haps accidental, entrance into one of these
traps for the destruction of his health, and
his morals, many a noble spirited young
man, the hope and the pride of his parents,
turned out an incurable sensualist and
drunkard 1 From these stews of gluttony
and drinking, they are easily drawn by the
more wary and designing of their com
panions, to the gaming house, and the
brothel; and he may look back to his first
nocturnal visits to an oyster cellar as the
first step in the road to ruin, leading ra
pidly down from moderate indulgence to
confirmed drunkenness, loss of self-respect,
deafness to parental authority, gambling,
exhaustion of all •means, theft or forgery to
recruit them; wearing and using in mo
ment of excitement from drink, and on the
slightest provocation, the dirk, the bowie
knife, and ending at last, and even in ear
ly’life, With th % penitentiary or th q pistol.
The great curse of the day in which we
live, is the facility and secresy held out to
dissipation. If popularity-hunting dema
gogues, too often entrusted with the great,
I might say awful power of legislation,
have not the courage or the virtue to pro
hibit, by condign punishment, the retail of
intoxicating liquors, let them at least com
pel these poisoners of the public morals,
more baleful and destructive of the happi
ness of society in the tendency of their occu
pation, than the midnight incendiary or
assassin to administer their poison, in open
day light! Many a fine youth who has yet
the virtue to blush if he were seen tippling
at the bar room in open day, will descend
under the shades of night into the oyster
cellar, for a gratification which lie flatters
himself is innocent, and will only be occa
sional, but which, let me’ warn him, as a
true friend, rarely, very rarely, fails to
grow, and lias not stopping place short of
disgrace and ruin.
If .it be thought by the conscientious
politician, to lie too great ;n abridge
ment of personal right, to prohibit the sale
and distribution of intoxicating liquors, in
quantities most convenient to produce in
toxication, let him at least require that, it
be done above ground before dark! At
all events, for one, I invoke the public in
dignation to stamp with eternal disgrace
the law giver, wherever he may be, who re
fuses his aid in shuttingup after night-fall,
and if once re-opened, putting the seal of
infamyforever after, on the doors of these
subterranean schools of vice, where so many
apprentices and young men, with every
quality to honor their parents and benefit
society, learn insensibly the first rudiments
of dissipation and crime: and then losing
their modesty with their virtue, be
come in a short time, confirmed and shame
less sots! Surely a community so besot
ted as to look calmly and see so many set
before their eyes to lure and destroy the ri
sing generation, ought to expect—l sav it
with due reverence and reflection—to be
visited by some awful judgment of God.”
—John S. Skinner.
THE INEBRIATE-A SKETCH.
He stood leaning upon a broken gate in
front of his miserable dwelling. His tat
tered hat was in his hand, and the cool
breeze lifted the matted locks which cov
ered his once noble brow. His counte
nance was bloated and disfigured; but in
his eve there was an unwonted look—a
mingled expression of sadness and regret.
Perhaps he was listening to the low, mel
ancholy voice of his patient wife, as 6he
soothed the sick babe on her bosom, or
perchance he was gazing upon the sweet
face of his eldest daughter, as at the open
window she plied her needle to obtain for
her mother and the poor children a scanty
sustenance. Poor Mary! for herself she
cared not: young as she was, her spirit
was already crushed by poverty, unkind
ness, and neglect. As the inebriate thus
stood, his eyes wandered over the misera
ble habitation before him. The windows
were broken, and the doors hingeless;
scarce a vestige of comfort remained; yet
memory bore him back to the days of his
youth, when it was the abode of peace and
happiness. In fancy he saw again the
old arm-chair where sat his father, with
the Bible upon his knee; and he seemed
to hear again the sweet tones of his moth
er, as she laid herbaria upon the head of
her darling boy and prayed that God
would bless him and preserve him from
evil. Long years had passed away, yet
tears came into the eyes of the drunkard
at the recollection of his mother’s love.
“Poor mother!” he muttered, “ifc is well
that thou art sleeping in th v grave ; it
would break thy heart to know that thy
son is a wretched and degraded being—
miserable outcast from society.”
He turned slowly away. Deep within
an adjoining forest was a dell where the
sun scarce ever penetrated. Tall tiees
grew on either side, whose branches, meet
ing above, formed a canopy of leaves
where the birds built their nests, and pou
red forth their happy songs. Thither the
drunkard bent his steps. It had been bis
favorite haunt in the days of his childhood,
and as he threw himself upon the sofr
green sward, the recollection of past
scenes came crowding over his mind. He
covered his face with his hands, and the
prayer of the prodigal burst from bis lips
—“O, God, receive a returning wanderer!”
a soft arm was thrown round his
\ and a sweet voice murmured, “He
neca, -give you, father. 5 ’ Starting to his
vvill ‘mbriate saw standing before him
feet, the lu daughter, a child of six years,
his youngest g here, Anna?” he ‘ said,
“Why are yov innocent child should
ashamed that the *ef.
have witnessed his gr* lillies which grow
“I came to gather thb • >d; “see I have
upon the banks,” she replk. T ani o-obia> to
got my basket full, and now a
sell them.” *oney?”
“And what do yon do with the m o 8 to
asked the father, as he turned his ey v
the basket, where among their broa
green leaves the sweet lilies of the valley
were peeping forth.
The child hesitated; she thought she had
said too much; perhaps her father would
demand the money and spend it in the way
in •which all his earnings went.
“You are afraid to tell me, Anna,” said
Imbi* father, kindly. “Well I don’t blame
won; I have no right to my children’s eou
ndence.”
■ ‘ The gentleness of hie tone touched the
( TERMS: &I.QOJN ADVANCE.
) JAMES T. BLIW,
V ranvi'iiu.
VOL. XIH.--NUMBEE 21.
heart of the affectionate child. She threw
her arms around his neck, exclaiming.
“Tes, father, I will tell you. Mother
buys medicines for poor little Willie. We
have no oilier way to get if. Mother and
Mary work all trie time they can get to
buy bread.
A pang shot through the inebriate’s
heart. “I have robbed them of the com
forts of life,” be exclaimed; “from this mo
ment the liquid fire passes my lips up
more,” „ W
Anne stood gazing at him in astonish
ment. She could scarcely comprehend
her lather’s words; but she saw that some
change had taken place. She threw back
her golden ringlets, and raised her large
blue eyes, with an earnest look, to his face.
“Will you never drink any more rum V
she whispered timidly.
‘"Never! Anue,” her father replied
solemnly.
Joy danced in her eyes. ‘Then we will
all be so happy,” she cried, “an 1 mother
won’t weep any more; oh father, what a
happy home ours will be !” Years passed
away. The words of little Anne, the drunk
ard’s daughter, had proved true. —The
home of the reformed man, her father, was
indeed a happy one. Plenty crowned his
board; and health and joy beamed from
the face of his wife and children—where
once squalid misery alone could be traced.
The pledge bad raised him from his deg
radation, and restored him once more to
peace and happiness.— Norwich Spec.
FRESH FRUIT IN HERMETICALLY SEA
LED CANS.
Public attention was very generally
called to this subject last year by Arthur,
Burnham & Cos., of Philadelphia, manu
facturers of “Arthur’s Patent Self-Sealing
Cans and Jars,” and large numbers of fam
ilies all over the country were induced to
try experiments, not only with Arthur’s
Cans, but with a variety of other cans of
fered to their notice. Arthur’s Can which
is the simplest in construction and the ea
siest to use, is moreover the only one that
we have ever seen with a single exception,
that, is constructed on right scientific prin
ciples. In the exception referred to, the
can itself is in all respects less desirable,
and few would have any hesitation in choo
sing between them. Arthur's can, is eo
tirely open at the top, with a channel a
round the mouth, filled with cement. It
is sealed by heating the lid and pressing
it into this cement, which is done in a mo
ment. The cement is in the channel when
the can is sold. The cans sustain no inju
ry in opening, and may be used year after
year. They are made of tin; and also of
fire-proof earthern ware.
We have thus particularly referred to
this can, that our readers may know how
to distinguish it from all others. It is,
without doubt, the best yet offered to the
public, and in an article of this kind, only
the best should be taken. We have used
them ourselves, and know their quality.
So have scores of our friends. Mr. Go-ley,
of the Lady’s Book, good authority, as ev
ery one knows, thus speaks on the sub
ject :
“There were a variety of Self Sealing
Cans offered to the public last year, and
there will, in all probability, be a greater
number during the coming season. Not
one that we have seen Nears any compari
son, in our estimation, with ‘Arthur’s;’ and
our advice to all is, to try no-other can or
jar next year. This one will certainly keep
fruit precisely in the condition in which it
is sealed up, is simple in construction, and
easy of use, and cannot, we believe, be
equalled, far less excelled, by any vessel
got up for the purpose of keeping fruit in a
fresh condition by hennetical"sealing.”
Fruits put up in hermetically sealed ves
sels are, as all who have used them know,
in every respect superior to those put up
in the old-fashioned way. The process is,
moreover, easier and cheaper. . No house
keeper who has ouee tried the new meth
od, will ever go back to the old.
We have presented this matter a little
prominently, because it is one in which
almost every body has an interest. In
calling attention to so admirable an inven
tion, we but serve the common good.—
Ph il iddphai Merchant
i . __—
LAUGH ON.
faugh on, and never mind the censure of
cynics. Joy is one of the greatest panaceas
of life. It braces the nerves, mokes the
heart dance to pleasant music, and the very
soul ring again with harmonious sounds.—
It is the delight ot the good, makes sunshine
when there-would be all shadow and gloom,
promotes domestic happiness, drives away
sorrow, and prepares the mind for the exi
gencies of the future; so laugh on, but laugh
discreetly, and in due season. Exuberant
mirth does not become any one.
Professional Anecdote. —ln a neighbor
ing city, a young member of the bar
th ni^lt wou ld adopt a motto for him
iv and after much reflection wrote in
tters and pasted on the walfthe
, a !f e . ‘ “Snum cuique,” Which may be
toUomng, every one hjfve l.is n.”
translated, - , co J„„ jn „ preMe j I.iin-
A country elicn the ’ lnaxinl bnt
a.ltmucl l nitridit.” “Indood;
added, “yon don t ng visi .
then how ougbt A to y „
ter replied? “SuA +&* T