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For the Temperance Crusader.
“MEN RULE THE WORLD AND WOMEN
THE MEN.”
There is so much truth in the above pro
verb, that I cannot refrain from saying a few
words to the fair Ladies of Georgia, m be
half of Temperance. We have looked to
moral suasion ; but its efficacy proved in
sufficient ; we have turned to the Legisla
ture, but “addled brains” were not compe
tent to the task; to the women ofthe Empire
State of the South we look for the final de
cision of the Temperance question. Need
I tell you that upon your sex it has inflicted
its mbst blasting, withering, blighting cur
ses To you it has come like the serpent ot
old’, and bid you take and give to your hus
band, and lo! your Eden has become a bar
xen waste. Ah! could the deep anguish ot
the drunkard’s wife be read, methinks, the
most callous heart would be moved and the
eye that never wept would sparkle with
tear-drops of sorrow. It was but yesterday
I saw the admired of all admirers, the beau
ideal of beauty, the gay belle of joyous sev
enteen. Pleasure was hers; for everything
around her moved as merrily as the butter
fly ’midst summer flowers —friends she had;
for she “flew around” on golden wings.
To-day she is the drunkard’s wife ; her pin
ions of gold are dipt, and no more she roves
’midst flowerets gay. My heart’s lyre is
unstrung, she cries, no more to be swept by
the hand of pleasure. Oh, bright eyed hope,
why dost thou thus mock me ? Thy “apples
of gold in pictures of silver,” have become
the apples of Hades in pictures of Hell.
Am I thus to be hedged by thorns of sorrow,
where no voice is heard save the wailings of
children and the harsh notes of an unkind
husband? Oh, blue-eyed Pity, shed me one
tear upon this parched tongue ; touch this
fevered brow with thy balmy fingers; and
these my children, the object of a mother’s
love, I commend to thee. Oh Death, in
mercy bid my heart the “muffled drum” to
beat the last mournful note of the onward
march of time to the tomb. My pen fails,
and to yon star, the vigil of the night, I
yield the task to write with its pencils of
light, upon the canopy above, the deep hid
den sufferings that “the eye hath not seen,
nor the ear heard, neither hath it entered
into the heart of man to conceive,”
CoulcTthe sister’s voice be heard as she
pours in sweet but mournful tones the fate
of a brother, who fills a drunkard’s grave,
and were the pure tears of a sister’s love,
tracing the deep caves of sorrow in her
beautiful face, brought to view the curses
of intemperance would be loathed still more.
Mothers, ye who have sons, is there so
much to be dreaded, as that, your sons may
be caught in the spider webs of Hell. In
all public places you see them and the spi
ders in them, inviting your sons to “look
upon the wine when it is red and when it
giveth its color in the cup.
See that cherub boy sleeping on the fair
white bosom of his mother : a picture of
heavenly innocence. Behold him again the
flaxen haired boy, his merry laugh ringing
on the air. his footsteps tingling with delight,
and his sweet voice enhancing the joy of
angels as with tiny hands clasped he prays;
“Our Father who art in Heaven.”
Joyous sixteen greet him; his face shines
with wisdom, his eyes sparkles with intelli
gence, his lips move with the learning of the
schools : a father’s pride, a mother’s joy !
And now the rose-bud of youth becomes
the full blown rose of manhood. There he
stands with form erect and manly brow
commanding his appearance, how dignifi
ed his bearing, what greatness that noble
brow portends! Hark! What do I hear ?
What means that doleful sound that falls like
a funeral knell upon the ear. It is the moth
er’s voice. Why has she become the weep
ing Rachel ? Why should the joyous moth
er of children ever heave a sigh? What
means those melting words of .tenderness;
“oh, God save my son. my darling son !”
See the returning prodigal, reeling to and
fro from the Devil’s cabin, and approaching
his once happy home. So bloated, his once
rosy cheeks, so quenched his fiery eyes, so
haggard his “face divine,” that the mother
can scarcely recognize her flaxen haired
boy. Can this be my son, she cries; a thou
sand times had he died when angels seemed
to hover around him, and Heaven listened
to his infant prayer, than thus to live to
break a mother’s heart, and blast the fondest
hopes of a father.
I have sketched no fancied picture. You
either have or may experience a similar fate.
As well may you expect that your sons can
row their pleasure boats in the jaws of Ni
agara, with impunity as to fly around these
spider webs of-Hell. Mothers, let not the
syren song,‘No Danger’ lull you to indiffer
ence. There is fearful danger so long dram
shops are in your midst. No saftety to frail
man when such temptations are thrown in
his wav. In all his purity he resisted not;
how much more fallible is he now. Have
ye fair daughters ; fear that they may be
torn from your bosom to become the com
panion of a drunkard. Have ye brave sons,
expect them to be decoyed to the Devil’s
cabin, “to die like dogs, and be damned
like furies.
It is with you, ye ladies fair, whether or not
your fathers, brothers, husbands, and sons,
shall any longer be thus exposed. Need I
remind you of your great influence for good
or evil. Mother Eve no sooner handed the
apple to her husband than he did eat; the
command of God to the contrary. With
this great triumph over the heart of man,
she has held the sway in all ages. The
nineteenth century can testify to her un
bounded influence ; the more civilized the
men, the more complete is her sway. So
that in America under the guise of obedi
ence “she rules with eternal sway, and they
with sweet delight obey.” Think you the
God of nature has given you such power
for naught. No, it was given you to wield
for good. Oh, woman; whose heart is the
emporium of virtue, the depository of truth,
the home of benevolence, shall the great
cause of Humanity ever lack your support?
Yours is to will, ours to obey. Believe me
you need but the indomitable will. Have
this, and sooner will the electric tread
cease to be heard when the lightning dan
ces in the dismal halls ol thunder, than your
efforts be unattended by the shouts of tri-
umph. - May that woman-farfeit the|>roud
name of‘Georgia’s Daughter’ whoddfigs not
delight to bear aloft the waving banner of
Temperance. I call upon you young
dies, who are the centre of a circle of br&ve
suitors ready to move at your will, to bid
th6m drink to your health water, pure and
clear, and withhold your smiles, much less
your hand, from him who is hot a hero in
the Temperance cause. I call upon you
sisters, who have sprung up with your
brothers, “like olive branches around the
same table,” that you will warn them a
gainst intemperance at evening’s stilly hour,
when you surround the family circle.
Mother’s, shall the voice from the tomb of
a drunken husband be as that of a Dives ?
shall your son’s blood cry to you in vain for
vengeance; will you be driven from the
endearments of home and feel not the fires
of independence kindling in your soul ? If
so, no longer claim to be an American La
dy. I would have you at least to imitate
the zeal of your Indiana Sisters. Instead
of going in person to the Groceries you can
accomplish the same object in a more con
genial way by pathetic curtain lectures;
yes, behind that curtain who can resist the
power of your eloquence. Have you tried
in vain, remember the unjust judge and the
importunate widow. My word for it, if
your eloquence fails your importunity will
not. We call upon you then to drill them
for war in behalf “of Temperance. Bid
them equip themselves with an “honest
vote,” the sword of freemen, and stand on
the great field of battle, the ballot-box. We
must have Temperance men -in the Legis
lature; and we call upon you to prevail on
your husbands to vote for none other. And
having done all, bring your sons before the
altar and swear them by thq holy vows of a
mother’s love, to wage eternal war against
King Alcohol. Then may you expect to
see the Winter of ages, with its dreary
waste, its howling tempest, giving way to
Spring, mantling the earth with verdure
gay, quelling the tempest, bidding the cap
tive waters to lead in the merry dance
through highly embroidered valleys ; while
the notes of birds swell to the wind of her
merrv horn.
For the Temperance Crusader.
CONFESSIONS from a BOARDING-HOUSE.
NUMBER V.
BY MRS. NETTLETON.
—— o-— “
Two dispositions may be safely set down
as characteristic of the citizens of this plea
sant village—namely : a prying curiosity
and a love of gossip, ever craving, never
satisfied. The first of these is common to
all, without exception; the two, in some in
stances, are found united in perfection. I
was made aware of this fact, before I had
been, two weeks, a citizen. It will be re
collected that several of the neighbors, de
siring to give me a cordial reception, called
to see me soon after my arrival. Among
them was one (her name need not be men
tioned) who rejoiced in possessing these dis
positions in an uncommon degree. She
opened our first conversation by enquiring
how long I had been a widow; how many
children I had, living and dead; the age of
my oldest daughter; whether she expected
soon to marry; what were my means of
support; how long I had remained at my
last place of residence? and much more
that may not be repeated.
When she had become acquainted with
my private affairs, I thought she certainly
would stop. But no, she forthwith began
to give me a history of the families of the
village, taking them in regular order, and
never desisting until everything that was
known about any one of them had been told
She did it smilingly and blandly, and benig
nantly, looking, all the time as if she thought
it a meritorious action. What possible in
terest I could have in the antecedents of
families which were, for the most part, en
tire strangers to me, I have never been able
to imagine! but she seemed to take it for
granted that anything of the nature of gos
sip would be agreeable. It has required
several years of intercourse to unlearn many
erroneous impressions concerning my new
neighbors, which I received on that even
ing. Some of those erroneous impressions
will probably cling to me through life. But
even this is not all. A week had not elapsed
before everything that my (friend ?) neigh
bor had learned about my family, was
known in every parlor, sitting room, and
kitchen in the place. How gossip can be
communicated so rapidly from one family
to another, has always been, to me, a mys
tery.
It is my deliberate opinion that nothing
can remain a secret in this community.—
Somehow, every event, real or prospective,
is discussed, despite the precautions to the
contrary, in every sitting room, at every
table. People seem to divine, by intuition,
what is going to happen, long before it does
happen. If a gentleman addresses a young
lady, when she goes to church on the
Sabbath following, an acquaintance ques
tions her about it during the sermon. Should
the gentleman’s suit be successful and the
wedding day be designated, before twenty
four hours have passed, she learns that the
arrangement is known throughout the town.
Nothing else is talked of for a few days:
alter that, the wedding, which is to take
place months ahead, is quietly dropped into
the past, and something new is sought, to
satisfy the morbid appetite of the public for
gossip. -It sometimes happens, however,
that the practiced newsmongers over-reach
themselves—-they are wrong in their con
jectures. But if this is the case, nowand
then, they are oftener correct than other
wise.
Knowing all these things, I was scarcely
surprised when Sarah indignantly told me,
one day, of the current report that she and
Mr. N were to be married, when the
gentleman was graduated. Where had she
heard all that? Oliviana Frisk, she said,
first mentioned the rumor, and alterwards*
this one and that one had teased her about
it, and had assured her of its being on eve
rybody’s tongue. She didn’t know what
had been done to make people believe that
she would marry him ! No, indeed, she
would do no such thing—she wouldn’t mar
ry him if he was worth half of California.
People might report what they pleased, but
they would find but that they were not quite
as wise as they thought themselves.
A few days later, it was rumored that
Mr. R had addressed her and had been
rejected. I made no special enquiry of her
as to the truth of the latter rumor, for I sus
pected that it might be well founded. Both
gentlemen ceased to come to the second ta
ble; both ceased to love music and jlong con
versations ! both ceased to go frequently
into the parlor. Mr. R looked sad and
dejected, sighed often, said little and ate lit
tle. Mr. N ,on the contrary, talked
louder, walked larger, and imparted a more
elaborate finish than ever to his apparel.—
His vanity seemed to have been wounded;
he seemed to be struggling with doubts as to
whether any girl could be so foolish, so in
considerate, so utterly deaf to the dictates
of common-sense as to reject his proffered
heart! The idea was monstrous —was in
conceivable. Mr. N evidently had rrot
brought himself to believe it.
Such were my reflections as 1 noticed
the altered behavior ofthe two young gen
tlemen. Whether they were correct or not,
I leave the reader to infer from the follow
ing remark, made at the supper-table by
Fnoch Fleshing. Speaking of Messrs.
R and N , he said :
“I say, George, what makes you and Tom
look so strange, these days ? I believe Miss
Sallie has kicked j’ou both, and—he ! he !
—you are looking like sour krout about that.
Come, George, old fel, don’t look so savage;
you were just a little mistaken this time ;
you oint quite as popular with the women
as you thought you were.”
N turned scarlet and then white, hut
raised his head and stared fiercely around.
11 blushed and dropped his eyes on his
plate ; Enoch returned to his eating, and a
roar of laughter went around the table
which came near bringing the meal to an
end.
A SICK MAN’S DREfM.
This beautiful piece of poetry was writ
ten by the late Judge Robert Raymond
Reed, of Georgia, afterward Governor of
Florida. It has never appeared in print be
fore, and the lady for whom it was penned
—now a resident of this city—has kindly
permitted us to give it to the public through
our columns. It is one of those choice yet
unobtrusive gems, struck out from a rich
mine of thought that has only to see the
light to have its beauties appreciated.—
Montgomery (Ala.) Journal.
Metlionght that in a sacred wood,
I slumbered on a bank of flowers,
Soothed by a streamlet’s wandering flood,
That gurgled through the whispering bowers;
And dreams did visit me—so bright,
An Elysium only could beget them;
They brought me such intense delight,
I never, never can forget them.
It seemed that thou wert present there,
Thine eyes with living lustre beaming;
The star of morning decked thy hair,
And all around its radiance streaming,
Imparted to thy lip —thy cheek—
The brightness of immortal glory;
O ! we can ne’er such visions seek,
But in some old romantic story !
And near thee hung a lyre of gold,
Beneath a bow of shadowing roses —
those that lore enfold,
When from his toils the god reposes;
And when thy fingers touched the strings,
They yielded numbers rich and swelling,
As when some spirit sweetly sings
At evening, from her viewless dwelling.
Yet changeful was that music's strain,
It told of hope, and youth, and gladness;
Os pleasure’s wreath, of true love’s chain,
And then of blighted joys and sadness.
At last an answering voice there came,
From a bright cloud that then descended,
And while it spake, a quivering flame
Was with the fleecy whiteness blended.
I may not tell the words so kind,
By that same plaintive voice then spoken;
For the dark night-sform’s rudest wind
Came o’er my dream, and it was broken.
But lady, tranquil be thy hours,
And smooth the path of life before thee,
Fur surely, from celestial bowers,
Some happy spirit watches over thee!
From the Constitutionals!.
THE WIFE.
Woman's love, like the rose blossoming in
the arid desert, spreads its rays over the
barren plain of the human heart, and while
all around it is black and desolate, it rises
more strengthened from the absence of ev
ery other charm. In no situation does the
love of woman appear more beautifuff han
that of wife: parents, brethren and friends
have claims upon the affections; but the love
of a wife is of a distinct and different nature.
A daughter may yield|her life to the preser
vation of a paient, a sister may devote her
self to a suffering brother, but feelings which
induce her to this conduct are not such as
those which lead a wife to follow the hus
band of her choice through every pain and
peri! that can befall him, to watch over'him
in danger, to cheer him in adversity, and
even remain unalterable at his side in the
depths of ignominy and shame. It is a he
roic devotion which a woman displays in
her adherence to the fortunes of a hopeless
husband. When we behold her in her do
mestic scenes, a mere passive creature of
enjoyment, an intellectual toy, brightening
the family circle with her endearments, and
prized for the extreme joy which that pres
ence and those endearments are calculated
to impart, we can scarcely credit that the
fragile being who seems to hold her exist
ence by a thread, is capable of supporting
the extreme of human sufferings; nay, when
the heart of man sinks beneath the weight o*f
agony, that she should maintain her pristine
powers of delight, and by her words ofcom
fort and of patience, lead the distracted mur
murer to peace and resignation. H.
WOMAN’S LOVE.
A young man formerly of this city, who
was arrested last Spring and condemned
for bigamy, was released one day this week,
having served out his time, and was met at
the depot by his first wife, who had not
seen him before for several years. The
meeting was of a very affectionate charac
ter. Ihe young wife forgave* his indiscre
tion, and took him to n clothing store, where
she purchased a nice suit of clothes for him.
which he donned, when she placed in hi*
hands a purse of S3OO, that she had earned
since he had left her bed and board. The
.
next morning the re-united and happy cou
ple took thse cars for New Hampshire, where,
among the pure air of Hills, we
trust their cup of connubial bliss may aK
ways remain full. For such an expression
of affection as this, the words of the poet
are altogether too tame. —Newburyjport
(Mass.) Herald.
SWEET THOUGHTS.
We often meet with selections of sublime
and beautiful thoughts from the works of
men of genius. But there are thoughts sug
gested by the Bible, infinitely more precious
than the choicest of genius.
How sweet the thought that Jesus sym
pathises with all our joys and sorrows! —
The great demand of human nature is the
demand for sympathy. Men must have it
or they cannot be happy, however extensive
their possessions or high their rank. But
how little sympathy is to be found among
men ! How precious the thought that our
Savior symathises with every joy and eve
ry sorrow ! ( hristian. do you sometimes
feel that you are alone, and that there are
none who care for yon? You are mista
ken. You forget that Jesus is ever by vour
side ; that he approves every innocent smile
and notices every falling tear, and feels for
you a love and sympathy that no finite mind
can measure.
How sweet the thought that God reigns!
The nations are perplexed and troubled, the
the foundations of the earth are out of
course, the wisdom of the wise seems to be
of no avail, and the strong man is as a child:
still we can look upon the troubled scene
without fear, for God reigns. Amid all the
confusion and uproar his counsel shall stand,
and he shall do all his pleasure. Not only
is he the Governor of the nations, but he
governs and directs in all matters pertain
ing to our individual interest. Not a hair
of our head falls to the ground without his
notice, and the resources of Omnipotence
are pledged to cause all things to work to
gether for our good.
How sweet the thought that death is go- ,
ing home ! He who has been an exile in a
strange land, who Has dwell; among people
of a strange tongue ; rejoices aTlhe sight of
the vessel which is to bear him tcHiis native
shores, where he shall enter again the pa
ternal mansion, and receive the welcome of
loved ones there. Death rightly viewed, is
the messeger who is to conduct us to our
home in heaven, where our brethren who
have gone before us are waiting to welcome
us—where Jesus, who has gone to prepare
a mansion for us, is waiting to receive i .
How sweet the thought, in a few ve
more, perhaps in a few days, we shall Lu
in heaven !
Surely, with thoughts like these, for con
stant themes of meditation, the Christian
may well obey the command of the apostle,
“Rejoice evermore and again I say rejoice.”
THE MOTHER’S CARES.
“When I consider the anxieties of moth
ers, I wonder how many of them can be sus
tained without religion. So many watch
ful hours, so many periods of suspense, so
many days of anguish, when their offsprings
are ill, or in danger. Surely grace is dou
bly sweet to one in such circumstances. —
How unwise, eternity apart, to remain with
out so great a solace !
“it is true that religion brings anxieties all
its own to the mother’s heart. Having
learned to be concerned about her own soul,
she becomes concerned for the soul of her
child. Many a petition ascends over the
couch of infancy. Only in eternity can we
learn the value of such nursery devotions.
A mother was once heard to say, ‘Never
did I take one of my numerous children to
my bosom for nourishment, that I did not, at
the same time, lift up my heart to God in
prayer, that he would bestow on it his sal
vation.’ The case of Monica, the mother
of Augustine, is well known. Her son was
yet unconverted, profligate, and addicted to
the heresy of the Manichees. She went
with her cares to a pious minister of Christ,
who af’tei witnessing her anguish and her
devotion, dismissed her with these words:
“It is impossible that the son of such pray
ers and tears can be lost.”
“What powerful inducements are here of
fered for mothers true Christians.
An unchristian, a peerless pother ! Let
the very phrase carry horror to the sMil,
and drive the convinced sinner to God.”
THE FLOWER GIRL OF FLORENCE.
Italy is still the land of flowers, according
to the Florence correspondent of the New
ark Advertiser, who thus gracefully de
scribes the Flower Girl:
Whenever be the festa in Italy, flowers
it. No where are these “smiles of
God” so prized, so cultivated, so lavished;
and there must be redeeming virtue in the
heart of a nation thus fond of flowers. All
the year round some kinds represent the
“City of Flowers.” The Fiovagia, or Flow
er girl, is a necessary part of every Floren
tine picture. She is herself a picture, with
the front of her broad brim Tustan hat turn
ed coquettishly back, and the blooming bas
ket on her arm—smiling like May to every
passer-by, and scattering sweet- tokens as
lavishly as if she were Flora’s self, and could
produce them from her own bosom. For
never does the genuine flower girl ask you
to buy her favors, and she waives as sunny
an addio to him who takes her gift in ear
nest, as to him who understands its solid
meaning. And her buon giorno is too gra
cious ever to be unreturned. One would
say that she fed on flowers, such sweetness
drops from her lips; and it, in every case,
she be less blooming than her flowery repu
tation makes her, she is never less pleasing;
even when pressing her blossoms on you,
her very importunity is irresistible; and it
all her gentleness be in appearance only,
who would spoil an agreeable allusion by
suspecting it ?
OCpDobbs says that beauties geiK
die old maids. They set such a
themselves they don’t find a purchaser tu
the market is closed. Out of a dozen
ties who have come out in the last few
years, eleven, he says, still occupy single
beds. They spend their days working green
dogs on yellow wool —while their evenings
are devoted to low spirits and Tupper’s Phi
losophy.
C|e Cmprana (faster.
| PENFIELD, GEORGIA.
Saturday Morning', May 81, 1856.
Claiborn Trussell, of Atlanta, is a duly
authorized Agent for the Crusader.
Liberal Offer.
Any person sending us five new Subscribers, ac
companied with the “rhino,” shall be entitled to an
extra copy of the Crusader for one year. Orders for
our Paper must invariably be accompanied with the
cash to receive attention.
Stop Papers.—Settle Arrearages.
Persons ordering their papers discontinued, must
invariably pay up all their dues. We shall not strike
off any subscriber’s name who is in arrears.
13?“ We return our thanks to tho Hon. Robert
Toombs, Hon. Howell Cobb, Hon. A. G. Brown, and
Hon. J. A. Quitman, for various public Documents.
§3P“ We our exchange list, anew
namesake, published at Cincin
nati, and edited Gen. S. F. Cary. From his
wU kncu|m abilifav as a public Temperance Lecturer,
we txpecWt to belPJournal merit
Graves, the of
the lias
inent to {fegacn before the
Society, affihe approaching of Mer
cer University. afer
§3F“ We would call the special attention of every
one of our readers, to the remarks of Rev. Joseph
Grisham, which, will be found in another column.
We wish our people to keep Convention in At
lanta continually in their minds, to determine on
going, and make their arrangements accordingly.
They should let no circumstance of a trifling nature
keep them away. The interests at stake are mo
mentous, and each friend of the cause should be
thm^ to do his duty. Action is what we need;
decisive action. too much
oiWhargy and inertness in every State.
With such spirits, we never can succeed.
Anniversaries.
On Thursday, the 22d inst, was celebrat^^^fl
Anniversary of the Phi Delta Society*M|H
M. N. Dyer, a regular member, delivered,
good audience, on that occasion, an oration which
was creditable both to himself and to the Society he
represented. His subject, “What is expected of the
young men of America,” was happily divided into
•ree general heads; the divisions, as nearly as we
ollect, being, “Parentage,” “Educational Advan
”and “Resources of National Wealth.” Aftej
ing each of these heads in an appropriate
ma ier, he drew from the whole the conclusions he
u oireu to present, concerning the probable or pos
sible future of the possessors of this vast inheritance.
At night, a similar address was delivered in the
old Chapel, by Mr. W. H. Patterson, before the Tau
Delta Society. The subject presented was, “The
results flowing from the discovery of America”—
Not having the speech before us, to
give an analysis. The delivery
was good, and his address better than is often heard
on such an occasion.
We feel under many obligations to the Musicians
for the fine music with which, both in the morning
and at night, they regaled the audience. Those who
have never heard good music on such occasions can
not know how much ones pleasure is enhanced by
its presence. *
Celebration in Sparta.
Having reached our “Sanctum” after a return
from the celebration in Sparta, we dip our pen into
the inkstand to give a condensed sketch of the gala
daj\ It would be doing injustice to our feelings to
say that we had a pleasant time—the phrase is too
feeble to express our enjoyment, and the gratitude
we owe to the citizens of Sparta for their hospitality.
There is no inland Town in the whole Southern
country whose citizens are more deserving of enco
miums for intellect, refined manners, and the natu
ral outflow of undissembled feelings of generosity,
than Sparta. It is ever a source of pleasure and
heartfelt gratification to us to meet and mingle with
the citizens of Hancock, and at leaving them we ex
perience a lingering, and painful regret, and
“As travelers oft look back at eve,
To gaze upon that light they leave,
So we turn to catch one fading ray
Os joy that’s left behind us.”
Avery large and intellectual audience assembled
at the Female Academy, to unite in the festivities of
the Anniversary. We were honored with the posi
tion of Orator of the evening, and it affords us plea
sure to say that we received the strictest attention
throughout our discourse. The interest manifested
by the audience in a Temperance Address was cer
tainly a source of great encouragement. The Spar
ta Lodge of Knights stands at the head of the
Lodges in the State; its members number a hundred
or more, and accessions are being made to their
number constantly. There is anew interest spring
ing into life upon this subject throughout our whole
State. Temperance Societies of various kinds are
being organized in different portions of the country,
and old organizations are celebrating their Anniver
saries, and swearing anew, upon the home altar,
their wrath against the iniquity that has scourged
humanity for ages. We say to our friends through
out the country, to weary not in well doing, for the
principles of our faith are yet to be the ruling ele
ments in the great moral framework of our govern
ment.
After the Address, the two sexes composing the
audience, ‘underwent’ a thorough ‘mixing up,’ and
there was a “flow of soul” and conviviality of spirits
calculated to arouse the most sluggish temperament.
Every one seemed to endorse the sentiment,
“Though dark are our sorrows, to-night we’ll forget
them,
And smile through our tears like a sunbeam in
showers.”
That there was beauty, exquisite loveliness, and
superior specimens of female excellence present, we
have only to say that the Sparta ladies turned out
en manse in all their glory. After a few moments of
social confab, we were invited to partake of a feast
more substantial, tasty and digestible , than many
nushy, lovesick panaceas which doubtless were of
-ed to the ladies in unbroken doses. The table
neatly arranged and well supplied; we gave it
rited attention and resumed our chit-chat—
TANARUS joys of tfie evening were continued to a late
Lour, and during the whole time each eye spoke the
language of Moore,
“Oh the joy that we taste like the light of the hales,
Is a flash amid darkness too brilliant to stay.”
We could but regret that suoh happy evenings
have an end. We were not prepared to realize the
fact, that *
“Pleasure’s best dower
Is nought but a flower;
A vanishing dew-drop—a gem of tho moon.”
The evening passed off pleasantly, and at its close
we could but repeat to ourself the beautiful senti
ment of Nixon :
“Like a harp is pleasure,
Leaving to the heart a sigh,
In some plaintive measure.”
Sparta Lyceum.
Quite a number of the citizens of Sparta have
formed a Lyceum for literary improvement At its
first meeting, Mr. Thos. Little was elected President,
Dr. E. M. Pendleton Vice-President, and T. C.
das, Esq., Secretary and Treasurer.
Moral, Intellectual and Scientific themes will be
discussed at all their meetings, and once a month,
(first Tuesday night in each) a public Lecture wijl
be delivered by someone chosen for the occasion.
Col. D. W. Lewis delivers the Introductory Lecture
on Tuesday evening next, the Brd inst., and the Ist
Tuesday evening in July, Bishop Pierce will deliver
a Lecture. We wish the Lyceum abundant success,
and trust it may result in benefit to all, and become
as popular as that of Aristotle, near the river Illissus.
The citizens of Sparta are behind in no enterprise,
whether it be of a religious, moral, or scientific na
ture ; as an instance of their moral and pious tone,
Bishop Pierce, after a sermon in the Methodist
church, on Sunday, the 24th inst, went through the
congregation and got subscriptions to the amount of
dollars, for missionary purposes.
* Pen, Ink and Paper.
“Words are things ; and a small drop of ink,
Falling like dew upon a thought, produces
That which will make thousands, perhaps millions,
Think.” *
We sit in our old Sanctum, around which a flick
fcufl&gcandle sheds a “dim religious light” Wc
our seat, which has few of the attributes
of an “easy chair,” for the purpose of writing some
thing readable. A sheet of paper lies before us,
the virgin purity of which is unmarked, save by the
lines of cerulean hue, traced across its surface. The
Inkstand is prepared to yield its contents, and a pen
lies at hand. But what thoughts are to impress
their symbols on that unwritten page, are equally
unknown to ourselves and to the world. Our brow
has been contracted by frowns, our head rubbed un
til each hair stands on its own particular end ; but
no ideas have presented themselves to relieve our
embarresßment. The paper retains its unblemishod
whiteness ; the pen and ink with the most provo
king indifference remain unmoved. How incapa
ble are they of producing a thought or aiding its
production, yet what potent instruments have they
been in shaping and directing the destinies of th
world. There is no department of human life o.
action in which their influence is not exerted. One
drop of that dark fluid, with a few strokes of this
small pen might decide the fate of an individual or
the destiny of a nation. Suppose some fond mother
now lent over this fair sheet, with a heart filled
’ with solicitude for a cherished and absent son. She:
writes to his preceptor, imploring of him kindness,
and leniency in behalf of the boy. She deprecates his
rigid discipline, his strict surveillance of her son’s
morals and deportment He complies with her re
quest, and that letter is the death warrant of her
son. Freed from all restraint, he is allowed to follow
the suggestions of his own evil nature, plunges into
the polluted waves of dissipation, and is eternally
lost And then again some ardent lover might make
these his agents in delivering his sentimental dis
tresses to the fair one ofhis choice. After many a
long-drawn sigh, and much deep study, he at length
indites a neat little epistle, full of beautfully
rounded periods, and closed by a poetical stanza in
which “dove” and “love” and “dart” and “heart,”
makes rhymes of the softest euphony. It is finish
ed, sealed, directed and mailed, and the youthful
lover awaits in a fever of anxiety, until a similar
missil shall insure his happiness or confirm his mise
ry. In due time it arrives, and a thrillingly elo
quent and heart-cheering “yes” greets his eyes. He
is filled with joy, and in his enthusiastic delight*
fondly imagines his happiness for life, and for eter
nity secure.
And then this sheet might lie before the ss&n, in.
whose bosom passion reigned. This pen might be;
grasped by his nervous trembling fingers. The.
words dictated by impatient anger are marked upon:
its blank surface, and they are of terrible import. It
is a challenge: and upon it hangs the destinies of an.
immortal being. Those few rapidly inscribed char
acters may send one unprepared spirit to the pre
sence of its God, and condemn another to a lifelong
confinement in a prison house of woe.
But all these things are trivial in importance.
Notes of maternal solicitude, the lover’s billet-doux.,
the challenge are all matters which concern and af
fect only individuals. This pen, ink and paper are,,
however, capable of attaining a much higher destiny,
and of wielding an influence in the world on a far
broader scale. They are upon the Secretary’s desk.
Questions of a momentous nature are agitating the
country, and peace or war hang on the decision of
an hour. It is decided. This page is covered witb
the fatal characters, is sent forth through the lar <j
and instantly grim visaged war springs up in u ’
horrid ghastliness. The drums rattle . 8
peal, the cannon roar, the shrieks of the wounded
and dying are heard, and death and delation fol
low in its wake. Amid th uproar „f „* Uon th J
marching of serried hosts, the, Asking shocks of
embattled armies, the crackling fl. mes o f burni „„
citios,. dispatch arriroa; [>rocll>ira ,
soon every note of nr isVmhod. The hill and
vales which lately rang with the clamor of hostile
arm,os, now roposomtho calm quietude of silence.
Agam, they might be on the merchants counter
the rich merchant whoso name is written on exton
sivo warehouses, and immense fleets A few i
tmeed with , short, rapid flourish may lift thevas
ship from dock and send it to walk the ocean like
a thing of h fc, to be wafted by the spicy breeaes of
Indian or to encounter the crashing ice berg’s
of the North. The products of Nature and Art arc
set in motion, and by man’s industry , re dissemina
ted over the world. Or they might be before one cloth
ed in the authority of the law, upon whose decision
hangs the life or death of a fellow-man. Confined In,
the gloomy walls of a dungeon, the poor gnilUtrick
on wretch awaits his doom with fear and trembling
A mother bowed with grief, ,„d weeping sisters
stand around; a word, a name will decide his fat-
It is written. It is a pardon, and he is saved. T 1
sweet words of forgiveness fall upon his ear, “go and
sin no more.”
But even these afford but slight indications of pow
er, These implements lie on the Historian’s table. BEei
has delved long and steadily into* vast pile of nun*
ty records, and dust-encumbered manuscripts) pas
tiently striving to sift truth from error, and. now he*
grasps the pen, to indite the results of his.
Fact after tact rapidly shape themselves into myste
rious scrawls under his hand. Wars, battles,
camps, councils, debates, treaties, conspiracies, in-