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•JOHN HENRY SEALS, )
and > Editors..
L. LINCOLN VEAZEY,)
new series, vol. i.
TEMPERANCE CRIMPER.
PUBLISHED
EVERY SATURDAY, EXCEPT TWO, IN 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 less) first insertion,. .$1 00
Each continuance, 50
Professional or Business Cards, not exceeding
six lines, per year, 5 00
Announcing Candidates for Office, 3 00
STANDING ADVERTISEMENTS.
1 square, three months, 5 00
1 square, six months, 7 00
1 square, twelvemonths, 12 00
2 squares, “ “ 10 00
3 squares, “ “ 21 00
4 squares, “ “ 25 00
Advertisements not marked with the number
of insertions, will be continued until forbid, and
charged according!}'.
Druggists, and others, may con
tract for advertising by the year, on reasonable terms.
LEGAL ADVERTISEMENTS.
Sale of Land or Negroes, by Administrators,
Executors, and Guardians, per square,
Sale of Personal Property, by Administrators,
Executors, and Guardians, per square,— 325
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 e first Tuesday in the month, between the
hours c nin the forenoon and three in the after
noon, 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 published forty 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.
Citations for Letters of Administration must be
published thirty days —for Dismission from Admin
istration, monthly , six months —for Dismission from
G uUrdianship, forty days.
Rules for Foreclosure of Mortgage must be pub
lished monthly for four months —for compelling titles
from Executors or Administrators, where a bond has
been given by the deceased, the full space of three
months.
will always be continued accord
-4 ing to these, the legal requirements, unless otherwise
ordered.
The Law of Newspapers.
L Subscribers who do not give express notice to
the contrary, are considered as wishing to continue
their subscription.
2. If subscribers order the discontinuance of their
newspapers, the publisher may continue to send them
until all arrearages are paid.
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
ble. ‘ i
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.
6. The United States Courts have also repeatedly
decided, that a Postmaster who neglects to perform
his duty of giving reasonable notice, as required by 1
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.
PKOSPECTIIS
OP TIIE
TEMPERANCE CRUSADER.
[quondam]
TEMPERANCE BANNER.
ACTUATED by a conscientious desire to further
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, “THE TEM
PERANCE CRUSADER.”
This old pioneer of the Temperance cause is des
tined yet to chronicle the tr'umph 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 ,r ves,” and “waxing bolder as it grows older,”
is now iging an eternal “Crusade” against the “In
fernal juor 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. Wc 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.
iK3®”Prce. as heretofore, sl, strictly m advance.
’ . JOHN 11. SEALS,
5 Editor and Proprietor.
Penfield, Ga„ P ec. 8, 156.
Jletoltl) it Cemperantt, Uforalilg, J’iteirtnrt, (fettral lirftlligtacc, Jta, fe.
HOW WHISKEY TASTES.
The Editor of the Boston Olive Branch
says, that at a recent session of one of the
western conferences of the Methodist Epis
copal Church, South, the venerable Bishop
Soule, in making some observations on the
subject of Temperance, is represented as
having said—Though I have passed the se
venty-fifth year of my age, I have not yet
learned how whisky tastes /” True to the
letter. We were present on the occasion,
and heard, as the old people used to say,
“with our own ears,” the statement as it fell
from the lips of that eminent minister of the
cross of Christ.
And here it should be known and well un
derstood by all concerned, that as the legit
imate result of this rigid adherence to the
one great principle of Temperance, in the
total disuse of ardent spirits, the Bishop,
though now verging towards the eightieth
year of his age, is possessed of a much larger
share of physical energy and muscular
strenglh than usually falls to the lot of men
in the prime of life; nor can his most inti
mate and intelligent friends and acquaintan
ces perceive the slightest abatement in the
herculean force and vigor of his mental fac
ulties. He stands as uprightly, walks as
briskly, eats as heartily, sleeps as soundly,
talks as fluently, preaches as powerfully,
prays as fervently, and feels as deeply and
intensely for the interest and prosperity of
the church as he did forty years ago.
In addition to his incessant and arduous
labors, within the limits of the several States
and territories of this great confederacy, for
the last half century, he has twice crossed
the Atlantic, performed the tour of Europe,
and preached the glad tidings of salvation,
to admiring thousands in nearly all the prin
cipal towns.and cities of the British Empire.
Besides this, within the last twenty-four
months he has twice visited California, su
perintended both sessions of the Pacific Con
ference, and traveled extensively through
many portions of that far-distant land, pro
claiming “Jesus and him crucified,” as the
only hope of a wrecked and ruined world,
to the vast crowds that everywhere flocked
to hear him, in the wide wastes, as in the
cities full. But not having yet filled up the
measure of his obligations to the church and
the world, he is even now holding himself
in readiness to pay California a third visit,
should no one of the younger members of
the Episcopal College find it convenient to
enter upon the performance of this impor
tant mission.
Such, in brief, is a rough outline sketch
of the physical, intellectual, moral power
and efficiency of the man—and the only
man, perhaps, now living on this continent
—who can in truth say. at the advanced
age of seventy-five years, “I have not yet
learned how whisky tastes!”
WHAT OF IT ?
“There shall be wars and rumors of wars
in the latter days.” Verily, it is fulfilled,
that which is written in the Scriptures !
and are these, then, the latter days?
Who does not remember Miller, the
prophet, or Millerism ? Starting out from
an obscure farming district in the town of
Hampton, on the eastern border of this State,
he proclaimed to the world that the righte
ous and wicked were about to be called to
judgment, and that the heavens would be
rolled together like a scroll and the earth
set on fire. Pitiable as were the exhibitions
of human folly resulting from the predictions
of this man, he nevertheless left a world
wide impression among some of the best liv
ing minds, that he was a false prophet only
to the extent of a few years. Mr. Miller
left the world in disgust, shortly after the
date when he supposed that it would leave
him, to return to it no more for ever.
Probably the majority of those who have
thought much upon the subject are inclined
to the opinion that at the end of two thou
sand years the present races of mankind will
be gathered as a harvest, and the face of the
earth swept over and refitted for anew
lease. The past historv of the world, so far
as we have it, and its physical structure,
would seem to indicate that such had been
the law ol ages; and, moreover, it does not
seem likely, at the rate conflicting elements
are accumulating, that the present period
can hold out much longer, lor man is prone
to do evil, as the sparks are to fly upward.
VVhat with Christian fighting against
Christian, and both praying to God for vic
tory—-the invasion and subjugation of a for
eign State by a band of despei*adoes, and
the readiness with which their damnable
deeds are accredited as acts of heroism—
the kindling flames that are bursting forth
in a distant territory, fed by fuel that has
been many years accumulating, and as com
bustible as human passions can be, worked
up to their highest pitch ; and more than all
this, look back a few months, and witness
again the spectacle of a ruffian borne to his
grave, observed by hundreds of thousands
gathered together in one of the most en
lightened cities in Christendom, and then tell
us what is the prospect of that good-time
coming, of which we have heard so much.
Were we not so infidel as to disregard
even messengers from the dead, we should
be obliged to believe that* heaven and earth
were already being rolled together—and
hell, too, as for that matteiy upon the same
authority—and Abe imagination would not
require a great deal of stretching, to con-
PENFIELD, GA., SATURDAY, JULY 5, 1856.
ceive this to be an approach to the final
breaking up of all things here below.
Let the prosperous cry out however much
they may, “Peace, plenty, and good will
among men,” yet we are a little inclined to
think there is some truth in the irreverent
jest of the man who, on being informed by
the serious-visaged Millerite that the world
would soon come to an end, cried out,
“Good ! good ! I am glad of it, for I think
the cussed thing has been a failure from
the beginning.” * ,
MAJOR GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM.
Among the brave men who fought the
early battles of our country, none were bra
ver than Putnam. He was of a kind and
peaceful nature, never creating or causing
a broil; but when roused by insult or injus
tice, his lion heart leaped to his hand, and
his blows on the heads of wrong-doers fell
“fast and furious.” When a mere boy, be
ing insulted by another and much larger and
older boy, on account of his rustic appear
ance, he challenged and whipped the offen
der, greatly to the delight of a crowd of
lookers-on. And what schoolboy has not
read the thrilling story of“OJd Put” and the
wolf?
Reserved in the old French and Indian
war, in which his whole career teemed with
acts of romantic chivalry. We cannot re
late ‘■'! his hardships, hair-breadth escapes,
an „ wonderful feats. The following must
Sn.
: <57, while Putnam bore the rank of
majoi was ordered, in company with
the intrep ! Major Rogers, with a detach
ment ol o veral hundred men, to watch the
movements of the enemy, who were en
camped near Ticonderoga. Being discov
ered, he was compelled, with his command,
to retreat through the forest on Fort Ed
ward. He had not gone far when he fell
upon an ambush of about five hundred
French and Indians. Taken by surprise,
Putnam halted his troops, and returned the
fire of his enemy. lie had just crossed a
creek, and knew 7 that he could not retreat
with safety. Encouraging his men, they
held their ground, and the battle became
general, and waxed hot. In the early part
of the fray, Putnam had become separated
from the body, and found himself compelled
to defend himself against several savages at
once. Thrice had he slain his antagonist,
and his fusee was pressed against the breast
of another stalwart savage, who was rush
ing on him, when it missed fire. The Indi
an, with an exulting yell, leaped on his vic
tim, with uplifted tomahawk, when Putnam
surrendered at discretion. Ilis master im
mediately bound him to a tree, and joined in
the melee once more. While thus bound, a
brutal Frenchmail discovered him, and,
pressing his musket to his side, attempted to
discharge it; but it missed fire. After beat
ing him cruelly in the face with the butt of
lis musket, he left him. Just at that instant
a solitary young Indian discovered his de
enceless position, and amused himself by
lurling his tomahawk into the tree close to
lis head on either side.
In the course of the fight, the combatants
so changed their ground that Major Putnam
was exactly between them for some time,
the balls from both sides striking the tree,
and riddling his clothes. At the close ol the
fight, he was unbound by his master and led
into captivity. Here his sufferings com
menced. He was obliged to travel bare
foot, and loaded much beyond his strength.
Each night he was bound and guarded be
yond the possibility of escape. He was
treated with great cruelty, and nearly starv
ed, the savages taking special delight in tor
turing him in every conceivable way. At
ength a council of war was held, and it w r as
determined to burn him alive. He was
lound to a sapling, and dry fagots and pitch
w 7 ood were piled high around him, and set
on fire. He was so bound that he could
move round the tre'e ; the savages, with
lellish delight, exulting fti his vain endeavors
to escape the flames, which were beginning
to scorch his flesh. Poor Putnam now gave
up all hope, and made up his mind to die
ike a hero, when a sudden shower of rain
dampened the flames. J ust at this moment,
his master, who had been separated from his
party for a few days, made his appearance,
and claiming his prize, scattered the burning
brands, and unbound his prisoner, thus sav
ing him from the most excruciating death.
His master, who, Indian as he was, had
some sparks of humanity in his savage
breast, dressed bis wounds, fed him, put some
moccasins on his feet, and a blanket over his
shoulders, and protected him from the in
sults and cruelties of his enemies during the
remainder of the march. At night lie was
stretched upon his back, on the ground, his
hr.n,. nd feet bound to four saplings as far
r ;n/)er as his limbs could be stretched. —
A , W.cn long poles were laid, on each
en u “ which several Indians stretched
themsc. .s. before they went to sleep. In
this pai' l ill situation he did not lose his for
titude, and often, as he afterwards said,
amused himself with the ludicrousness of his
situation, and could not forbear smiling as
he imagined himself and his tawny masters
a rich subject ior the pencil ol a Hogarth.
But he survived all his trials and expo
sures, and was at length exchanged, with
others, and lived to fight other battles for
his country,'and, at the close ot the war, to
retire to hisYarm, and live to a good old age,
to die in peace and Christian hope.
General Putnam was born in Salem, Mas
sachusetts, January -7, 1718, and died at
Brooklyn. Connecticut, May 29, 1790, aged
seventy-two years.
AFRAID OF THE WAGES.
“I want your boy in my shop,” said a gen
tleman to a poor widow. “I have had a
great deal ot trouble with clerks, and now
I want your Seth, because I know he is hon
est.”
The widow was glad, for it was time for
Seth to be earning something, and she
j thought it would be quite a lift in the world
to have him go in with Mr. Train; and she
knew Seth would suit Mr. Train, for he did
well everywhere.
When Seth came home from school, he
was almost as much pleased with his good
fortune as his mother was. Neither moth
er nor son knew anything about Mr. Train’s
store; it was in the lower part of the town;
but his family lived near the widow’s, in
fine style. Seth was to go the next Monday
morning; and Monday morning he was
punctual at his new post.
The week passed away. When he came
home to dinner or supper, his mother used
to ask how he liked his situation. At first
he said, “pretty well,” and then, “he didn’t
exactly know;” then, “not very well;” and
Saturday, he told his mother plum ply, that
“he did not like it at all, and wasn’t going to
stay.”
“Why, Seth!” exclaimed his mother,
grieved and mortified at the change, “are
you so difficult to suit as all this comes to ?
Do you know how important it is to stick
to your business? What will Mr. Train
say?”
“Mother,” answered the boy, “the shop
is a grogshop, and I cannot stay there.”
The mother’s mouth was stopped ; in
deed, after that she had no wish to have him
remain; but she was very sorry that the
case was so.
When Mr. Train paid the boy Saturday
night, Seth told him that he could not stay.
The shopkeeper was surprised. “ How’s
this?” said he, “havn’t I done well by you
this week ?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the boy; “I never ex
pect to find a kinder master.”
‘‘Do you find fault with the pay ?”
“No, sir,” answered Seth, “it is good
pay.”
“Well, what’s the difficulty, then ? ’
The poor boy hesitated to give his rea
son. Perhaps the man guessed what it was
for he said;
“Come, come, Seth, you won’t leave me,
I know; I will raise your wages.”
“Oh, sir,” answered the brave boy re
spectfully, “you are very good to me, very
good, sir: but I can’t be a dramseller. I
am afraid of the wages, for I cannot forget
that the Bible says, “The wages of sin is
death.”
Seth left. The man afterwards said it
was the greatest sermon he ever heard
preached against it; and set him seriously
to thinking about giving up the business;
but he did not; and his own family bore
awful witness to the Bible declaration. A
few years afterwards, he died the miserable
death of the drunkard, and within six months
in a fit of intoxication, his son fell into the
river and was drowned. Is it not dange
rous to tamper with the wages of sin on any
terms. — Child’s Paper.
A CURIOUS ADVERTISEMENT.
The following advertisement, which is
found in Howe’s Every Day Book, is more
than a curiosity. We hear it in the sigh
and groan of tens of thousands of despairing
victims of the Liquor Traffic, to be “deliv
ered from temptation
“Whereas, the -subscriber, through the
pernicious habit of drinking, has greatly hurt
himself in purse and person, and rendered
himself odious to all his acquaintances, and
finding there is no-possibility of breaking off
from the said practice but through the im
possibility to find the liquor, he therefore
begs and prays that no person will sell him,
for money or on credit, any sort of spiritu
ous liquors, as he will not in future pay it,
but will prosecule any one for an action of
damage against the temporal and eternal in
terests of the public’s humble, serious, and
sober servant, James Chalmers. Witness,
Wm. Andrews. Nassau, June 28th, 1795.”
PRAYER UNANSWERED.
The Rev. Mr. Kilpin passed a very pro
fane man. and having failed to rebuke him,
he awaited him in the morning at the same
place. When he approached, Mr. Kilpin
said. “Good morning my friend ; you are
the person I have been waiting for.” “Oh,
sir,” said the man, “you are mistaken, I
think.” “I do not know you; but l saw you
last night when you were going home from
work, and 1 have been waiting some time to
see you.” “Oh, sir, you are mistaken, it
could not be me; I never saw you in my lile
that I know of.” “Well, my friend,’ said
Mr.Kilpin, “I heard you pray last night.”
“Sir,now I know that you are mistaken ; I
never prayed in all my life.” “Oh,” said
Mr. Kilpin, “If God had answered your
prayer last night, you had not been seen
here this morning. I heard you pray that
God would blast your eyes and damn your
soul.” The man turned pale and trembling
said, “Oh, sir, do you call that prayer?” “I
did, I did. Well, then, my errand this
morning is to request you to pray as fer
vently for your salvation as you have done
for damnation; and may God in mercy hear
your prayer.” The man from that time be
came an attendant on Mr. Kilpin’s ministry.
A SHREWD NEGRO.
Near the mouth of the Gabun River lives
the shrewdest negro in all Guinea—a bright
eyed, gray-headed, humpbacked old fellow,
named Cringy. His village is perched up
on a bluff, whence, spy-glass in band, lie is
sure to get the first glimpse of every vessel
that approaches. It matters little of what
nation it may be, for Cringy speaks English,
French, Portugese, besides half-a-dozen na
tive dialects. He has a whole library of
“books”—as the Africans call any written
document—certify ing to his perfect honesty;
and now and then, when he wants a fresh
certificate, he will conduct himself with such
propriety that the captain can recommend
him as a model agent and factotum. But
woe to tiie next customer after Cringy has
been whitewashed. He has been put. in irons
half-a-dozen times by the captains whom
he has cheated. But somehow nobody can
find it in his heart to be severe with such a
good-natured, gray-headed, humpbacked
old fellow; and he always gets oft’ with a
brief confinement. The captain of a French
man-of-war once, acting upon African rath
er than European ideas of justice, compelled
the whole population of the Gabun to pay
certain debts that Cringy had contracted.
They, of course, owe him no love, but have
no wav to help themselves.
The old fellow is a perfect Q,uilip in do
mestic life, and rules his household with a
rough hand. It happened a few years ago
that one of his wives, taking offense at his
way of showing fondness, left his bed and
board, and went back to her father, King
George, the sovereign of a town thirty miles
up the river. All Cringy’s attempts to re
claim his fugitive spouse were unavailing.
Just about this time the commander of a
French squadron on the coast desired to en
ter into a treaty with King George, and
Cringy was summoned to act as interpreter.
He saw that he would be at all events well
paid for his trouble, and his subtle brain de
vised a scheme lor getting back his wife in
to the bargain; thus killing two birds with
one stone. The vessel sailed up the river, .
and Cringy marshaled Monsieur le Capi
taine and his royal suite into the royal p're
sence.
“Tell King George,” said the Frenchman
to Cringy, “that King Louis is his friend,
and wants him to sign a book that he will
be a friend to the French.”
The interpreter put on a grave air, and
says :
“King George, the Commodore says he
is astonished that you won’t give my wife
back to me. He says if you don’t do it at
once, he will fire on your town with his
great guns.”
King George received this improvised
communication in a manner not exactly in
accordance with Cringy’s expectations.
“Go out quietly and load your guns,” said
he to his own people, “and if the French
men shed a drop of blood, don’t let one of
these fellows get back to their vessels; and
be sure to shoot Cringy the first of all.”
The cunning old humpback saw that his
coup had failed, and at cnce set about ap
peasing his irate father-in-law. He was
sorry that he had taken a mode of getting
back his wife that displeased King George.
The best of men did wrong sometimes ; and
this was the most grievous error of his whole
life. But he would see that no harm came
of it. One word from him to the Commo
dore would be sufficient to prevent him from
firing upon the town; and as for his wife,
why he would talk the matter over in a
friendly way.
By this time the Frenchman, began to
grow uneasy. He could not understand a
word that had been said; but he saw that
something had gone amiss, and did not like
the sudden departure of King George’s men.
“What does he say, Cringy?” he asked.
“Will he signet he paper? And why did his
men go out ?”
“They have gone, Monsieur le Captaine,
to kill a sheep for your dinner; and when
Monsieur le Captaine is ready to go, King
George will sign the paper.”
Time was thus gained, and Cringy played
his cards so well that King George agreed
not only to sign the treaty but to restore
the fair runaway. The high contracting
parties parted on the best of terms. Cringy
carried back his wife in triumph, was well
paid for his services in negotiating the trea
ty, and a month passed before either party
discovered how the cunning diplomat had
played his own game, while acting as ne
gotiator between them. If Cringy had been
an Austrian, he would surely have been
sent to Paris ns mediator between Russia
and the Allies, and it would have been
strange if he had not outwitted both.
THE LOVED AND LOST.
Maggie, the loved, sickened, faded and
died. It was a clear cold bright day when
we followed her to her grave, but we
brought back to the broken home darkness
and darkness only. The home, of which
she was the little sun, became dark and
cheerless as some hidden cavern, and dark
and cheerless it yet remains. While she
shone and shed her blessed light, it seemed
like a little heaven, but now the brightness
is gloom, and clouds, rising up from the
grave, have hid the twinkling stars —one by
one. AH feel the sad change, even the pet
dove that sat in the cedar bush cooing for
Maggie has fallen with an arrow in her
heart. Ever since, when night comes, it
brings with it more and more of lonely sor
row. As sleep begins to steal over the
C TERMS: ADVANCE.
) JAMES T. BLAIN,
f PRINTER.
VOL. XXIL-NCMBEK 26.
senses we hear the music of her voice—her
tiny foot falls—and feel her gentle touch !
It seems that she was again with us. But
we know she is not, and the truth breaks
upon us as we awake afid we sink deeper in
the bitter waters.
* Beneath the cold web of snow she sleeps
quietly in a little coffin. We shudder to
think how cold her frozen grave must be.
The bluebells and rosebuds that rested on
her brow ot alabaster must be withered
now; but Maggie blooms in a better land.—
We think it almost cruel to leave her in the
cold grave, and yet we must; but the soul
is comforted in the faith that she is on the
thither shore where ever blooming flowers
are not consumed by the winds that pierceth.
— Spirit o f the Age.
SINGULAR DISCOVERY OF A SKELE
TON.
A Kansas correspondent of one of the
St. Louis papers in recounting a wolf hunt
in which himself and a number of his
friends participated, relates the singular
discovery of the skeleton of a young wo
man hid in the cavity of a which at
some period, she had evidently taken ref
uge and perish®]. The wolf, a large black
one, was forced by his pursuers to take
refuge in the hollow of a cotton wood tree,
which, after many futile attempts to drive
him out, they concluded to fell by cutting
a narrow gash ‘around it. “At length,”
says the writer, “the tree came down a lit
tie sooner than was expected. Frank Ma
han had the axe lifted for another stroke,
as it went over with a crash, the wolf with
bristled back, and glaring eyes, and glit
tering teeth, leaped at his throat with ter
rible ferocity. The descending axe met
half way, cleaving its skull and laying it
dead at his feet. We had no time to ex
press our wonder and congratulations at
his narrow and singular escape, before our
attention was called to that which filled
us with amazement, if not dread. It was
a human skeleton, of medium size, and of
■a female, hidden in the cavity of a tree.
Its posture was erect, and the bones were
held together by a kind of clear integu
ment, that seemed to cover, like a trans
parent skin, the entire frame. The jar of
the felled tree severed several of the joints,
and we drew them all out and placed them
again in form. The proportions were per
fect and the limbs straight, indicating a
contour, when in flesh, of perfect symme
try. Who could it have been that thus
perished years ago in this wild forest? and
how came her death in this strange place ?
were queries that were immediately- sug
gested. Could it have been some maiden,
who like the bride in the ‘Mistletoe Bough’
had concealed herself from her lover in the
heart of this old tree, and become fastened
there and died?”
too
OCT 3 How much a word or a passing sen
tence sometimes reveals. One day last
week, a lady, past middle age, came into
the office to buy a paper. As we handed it
to her, she spoke with tremulous earnest
ness —“O, it makes my heart ache to see the
rurn-h.oles sprining up. It is worse than
highway robbery to sell a man rum—that
only takes his money, and leaves his rea
son.” Aye—how true. The highwayman
takes money, but lie does not debase, de
grade, and rob of reason. No home is bro
ken up—no wife heart-broken—-no children
pauperized. The victim is robbed of so
many dollars and cents, but the wealth of
manhood is left. Strong in his integrity, he
can meet the w’orld face to face. His hon
or is unsullied. No black shadow rests by
his hearthside. The loss of mere money
brings no scathing blight there. The wife
and children feel not the utter desolation
which fall upon a home where the rum traf
fic slimes.
Piracy on the high seas is more honorable
than rumselling. The pirate’s black flag
rolls out an open proclamation of the calling
of those on board. They rob and murder ;
but they do their work up at once. They do
not rob tlieir victim of manliness, decency—
sink him into the lowest depths of shame
and degradation —desolate his home and
beggar his children —and then slowly and
surely drain his life-blood. No—with all
their cruelty, pirates are more compassion
ate than rumsellers. Far better to die by
their hands, and lie in the great cemetery
with the ever-beating requiem of the wild
waves sweeping past, than to die the linger
ing death of a drunkard, and fill that loath
some spot—a drunkard’s grave.
The woman’s heart ached in view of the
rumshops in this Christian city. No wonder.
On either side they rear their hydra-heads.
The foul stench of drunkenness comes up,
and like the malaria, withers and blasts the
brightest influence. There was no mista
king why she felt the wrong so keenly. The
very tones of her voice revealed the bitter
ness and anguish which encompassed her.
And for that bitterness there is no relief.
Unscrupulous and corrupt Judges swept
away the barriers which protected her.
Like every other home in this great State,
hers is now free lor the black waves to surge
in with their damning freight of drunken
ness, poverty, and misery.
God pity the sorrowing woman. While
the hands were busy with stick and rule,*
that afternoon, the thoughts were of her
and the foul traffic which blasts and des
troys. That traffic—how we hate and
loathe it! and so long as we live, we will
war against it. —Cayuga Chief.
... ; “ ly- . .. J •