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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 •