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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-