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MH* HENRY SEALS.)
■ c ANn ) Editor*.
L. LINCOLN VEAZEY, >
NEW SERIES. VOL. I.
IIPEEICI ORUSWR.
• ‘ pu&M&Jixn
EVERY HATIRIIAY, EXCEPT TWO. IN THE YEAR,
-BY JOHN H. SKAT,B.
THRMF :
♦l.o*'. in eOvanre; or s2,ou at the end of the year.
‘ RATE* OF ADVERTISING,
i square (twelve lines or lo^k> first insertion,, .&1 00
Each continuance, 50
JVofessionai or;Business Cards, not exceeding
six lines, per year, * 5 00
Announcing Candidates for OflEc, :: 00
ST A MPTNU A-OVtatTKEMKNTS.
I square, three months, 5 00
l square, six months, 7 00
1 square, twelve months, 12 00
•2 squares, “ “
8 squares, 41 “ *-1 UO
t squares, “ 44 —* 25 00
EF* Advertisements not marked with the number j
of insertions, will he continued unti 1 forbid, and
charged accordingly.
Druggist*, and others, may con
tract for advertising by the year, oe reasonable te* uis.
1 HOAL A I>V'i'RTT*EMENTS.
Sale ofLan 1 or Negroes, by Administrators, j
Executors, and Guardians, p-r square,... £OO j
Sale of Persona 1 Property, by Administrators, j
Executors, and iiua v 3. per square,... .3 25
Notice to Debtors and Creditors, o 25
Notice, for Leave to Sell, -
Citation for l etters of Administration, 2 75
Citation for Letters of Dismission from Adm’n. 5 00
Citation for T etters of Dismission from Guardi
anship, 3 25
LEGAL requirement*.
Sales of Land and Negroes, by Administrators,
Executors, or Guardians, are required by law to be
held on the first Tuesday in the month, between the
hours of ten in the forenoon and three in the after
noon, at the Court House in the County in which the
property is situate. Notices of these sales must be
given in a public gazette forty days previous to the
day of sale.
Notices for the sale of Personal Property must be
given at least trn days previous to the day of sale.
Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate must
Ive published/or£y days.
Notice that application will be made to the Court
of Ordinary for leave to soil 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
Guardianship, 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 bv the deceased, the fvJl spore of three
months.
will always be continued accord
ing to these, the legal requirements, unles® otherwise
ordered. *
The Law of Newspapers,
X. 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 smd them
until all arrearages arc 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 placos without
informing the publishers, and the newspapers are
sent to (lie former direction, thev arc hold responsi
ble.
5. Tho Courts have decided that refusing to take
newspapers ‘from the office, or removing and leaving
them uncalled for. is primafarir. evidence of inten
tional fraud.
0. The United Stales Courts have also repeatedly
decided, that a Postmaster who neglects to perform
his duty of giving reasonable notice, as required by
the Post Office Department, of the neglect of a per
son to take from, the office newspapers addressed to
him, renders the Postmaster liable to the publisher
ior the subscription price.
JOB PRINTIN'G.
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.
PROSPECTIS
OF THE
TiMPMOE CRUSAIR,
[quondam]
TEMPERANCE BANNER.
A CTUATED by a conscientious desire to further j
y\ the cause of Temperaoce, and experiencing j
erreat disadvantage in being too narrowly limited in
space, by the smallness of out paper, for the publica- i
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, wo venture also to nia! j a change in that par
ticular. It will henceforth be c-le 1, “THE T r \t-
PERANCE CRUSADER.”
This old pioneer of the Temperance cause is des- 1
tined yet to chronicle the tr.nmph of its principles. !
P has stood the test- passed through the “fiery fur- i
nace ” and, like the “Hebrew children,” re .ppeured j
m.scorched. It has surwert the farnne •
which has caused, and is s : ” causing many excel- ]
lent journals and periodicals to sink like “bright ex
halations in the evening,” to rise no more, and it has
even heralded the “death struggles of many contem
poraries, laboring for the same great end with itself.
It “still lives,” and “waxing bolder as it gl ows older,
Is now waging an eternal “Crusade against the “In
fernal Liquor Traffic,” standing like the “High Priest ’
of the Israelites, who stood between the people and
the plague that threatened destruction.
We entreat the friends of the Temperance Cause
to give us their influence in extending the usefulness
of the paper. We intend presenting to the public a
sheet worthy of all attention and a liberal patronage;
for while it is strictly a Temperance Journal, we shall
endeavor to keep its readers posted on all the current
events throughout the country.
MST*Pnce, as heretofore, sl, strictly m advance.
** JOHN 11. SEALS,
Editor and Proprietor.
Penfleld, Gft* Dec. 8,1865.
Ittarta to Cetnpenntcf. |§ont% jfitmtturf, (general Intelligence,. Betas, fa.
THE PAST AND PRESENT CONDITION
OF THE NEGRO.
! The New York Observer, in the course
|of an article on slavery, says: When the
| ancestors of those negroes were torn from
| their homes in Africa by the slave-traders
! of Old England and New England, and pla
; ced under the influence of Christianity at the
! South, they were among the most degraded
i and miserable of the human species, slaves
j of cruel masters, the victims of bloody su
! perstitions, believers in witchcraft and vvor-
I shippers of the devil.
And what now is the condition of their i
descendants? Several years ago more than
300.000 of them were members of Protes
tant Evangelical churches in the slavehold
ing States! About 10,000 American ne
groes, trained chiefly at the South, trans
planted to Liberia, now rule nearly 200,000
natives of Africa, and through their schools
and churches are spreading the light and
love of the gospel in that land of darkness
and heathenism.
It is true that more than nine-tenths of the
negroes at die South are still nlaves; but is
slavery under chrLtian masters in America
the same evil with slavery under heathen ty
rants in Africa? Degraded as these slaves
may still be, compared with the sons of the
pilgrims in New England, or even with the j
mass of laborers in some of the enlightened j
countries in Europe, can 3.000,000 or 1,000,-
000 negroes, bond or free, be found in any !
part of the world, who can compare for good j
condition, physical, intellectual and moral,
with the 3,000 000 slaves at the South? Has
Christianity, aided by all the wealth of Brit
ish Christians, done as much during the last
twenty years for the elevation of the 800,
000 emancipated negroes in the West In
d.es, British philanthropists themselves be
ing the judges of what it has effected there,
as it Ims done during the same period for
the elevation of our 3,000,000 American
slaves? . -
EDUCATION OF SOUTHERN YOUTH.
i Not, long since the editor of the N. Y.
I Tribune—the mouth piece of a great party
| and the organ of a prevailing sentiment in
I the North—spoke of Southern students in
; Northern colleges as nuisances, whom it
was not desirable to have, and expressed
with scarcely an attempt at disguise, the
hope that they would soon cease to cross
Mason and Dixon’s line. Jt was an inso
lent taunt, and probably expressed more
; than was really felt. Tho disposition to
‘insult and proscribe is doubtless rapid
! enough, but there are advantages to the
I North in the presence among them of so
’ many Southern youths as are annually
sent there to obtain their education, which
are likely to overbalance in the minds of a
thrifty and calculating people, many con
sideration* of sentiment or animosity.
The large sums which are expended among
themselves by Southern parents, make an
important item in the account of profits,
and arc, therefore, not to be overlooked.
There is, besides, another w.tisideration,
which will have weight with zealats ha
ter* of Southern institut ion* second on y
to the contemplation of gain in the hand
ling of slaveholder’.* money. The irnpor
tance of gaining an early influence over
the minds of the rising generation of the
South, and the. opportunity of shaping their
habits of thought, and giving them that in- i
sensible bias, which springs from the first
impression* aud the first lessons, are ad
vantages in the race for political ascendency
between the theories of the North and
those of the South, which will count ofeven
more value than the money price received
for undertaking the task. Such crazy pol
iticians as Greely, blunder when they cross
the policy of the more astute of their
Northern brethren, and seek tc#drive off
Southern students by this style of ribald
insult.
But the iessoti which such denunciations
should impress upon Southern minds is not
the less valuable that it is bad policy for
the North. The raising up of i- stitutions
upon Southern ground for the instruction
of Southern youth is not the less essential
for protection and self-defence, because the
jeers ot our open enemies are rebuked, in
their own laud, as a rash and foolish in
terference with the interests of the North
ern section. On the contrary, the motives
assigned for moderation in the expression
of these sentiments, and the grounds tacit
ly assumed, of advantage to the principles
as weli as the interests of the North in the j
; preservation of this privilege of educating *
j Southern youth, should urge the parents
of the South more decidedly to aid iu the
j reaving and support ng Southern Schools
| and colleges, escaping tueroby from con
[tiuual in lit, and g.-iining the more i.ssen j
| rial advantage of applying their means iu
! such a way a c to improve the material re- j
; sources and elevate the character and ;
strengthen the defences of their own
hoems;— N. 0. Picayune.
DANGER OF BURYING TOO SOON.
Tiie danger of too rapid interment was
exemplified in a very extraordinary manner
recently according to one of our exchanges.
A young man who had been suffering from
a malignant fever, to all appearance died.
To avoid the danger of infection which
might arise from a corpse remaining in
the house all night, a coffin was immedi
ately commenced, the certificate of death
PEMELD, GA, SATURDAY, JULY 12. 1850, ‘
isent for, and urgent application was made
to the incumbent of a church to allow the
corpse to be interred the- same evening.
This, however, he declined, considering
the proceeding too hasty, but consented to
the interment taking place the following
morning. The result proved the proprie
ty of the delay. The grave, was dug and
the coffin was ready ; but the dead man, in
the course of the night, made signs of re
turning animation: and at the hour fixed
-tor the burial was in the comfortable cn
joy me rit of a cup of coffee which he had re
quested, with every prospect of recovery.
WILL YOU TAkSTa GLASS 7
BY AUNT JULIA.
O, yes, I know you will. You have grown
up to be almost a man. What will you take?
Will you sip a sherry-cohler or sit down to
a glass of lager beer? Or have you learned
lo toss off a glass ofMadeira in genteel style?
But what is the matter? You do not like
my glass. I assure you it is genuine—a
tried article. Many a man has drank long
and deep of this very cup, and then asked
for more. This is too much for you, eh?—
I’d like to know whnt you have been in the
habit of taking? Egg-nog, and toddy, and
wine lemonade? Exactly. Well, even the
spoonful in the bottom ol the toddy-glass,
and the wine-dressing of your pudding
| sauce, and the brandy in the mince-pies that
your own mother made for you, came out
!of this very cup. Only the creatures were
I small then, and you could not see them so
j plainly. I his is a glass for a full-grown
j man, and I offered it to you because I
thought that you were what you pretended
to be, and here you are making up a face at
it like a baby? Come, come! take it and
drain it off boldly.
Do you think it strange for me, your
friend, to advise you thus ? It is not I. No
true friend would do so. It is the demon of
intemperance. Do you not see his skeleton
fingers holding this dreadful cup? You
need not say that wine and toddy do not
look like what is in this cup. 1 assure you
that they are a great deal worse. If you
could drink down a tumbler of living snakes
that would gnaw your heart out of your
body, it would not be so bad as if you should
drink intoxicating liquors. The snakes
would only kill the body, but the liquors
would drown the very soul; for they would
fill it so full of wicked thoughts and desires
that it could not go to heaven.
Nor will it answer to take “just a little.”
I once heard of a young man who stooped
down to drink at a brook, and accidentally
swallowed a little snake. It was very small,
and at first did not hurt him in the least.—
The man lived many years, but the snake
was in his stomach. It grew every day.
and finally it became so large that it ate ev
erything which the man swallowed, so that
he became poorer and poorer till he starved
to death !
But. what do those names mean that are
written on the snakes—Blasphemy, Murder,
Death, &c. ? They mean that blasphemy,
murder, madness,and death will follow those
who indulge in the poison cup.
Now, my young friend, what do you think
of it ? Will you take a glass? Will you
destroy your happiness for this world?—
Will you peril your soul? I beg of you to
say, once for all, “No ! no ! no ! I’ll never
take a drop !”
.
GREAT LOVE.
Some years ago, a Russian nobleman was
traveling on special business in the interior
of Russia. It was the beginning of winter,
but the frost had set in early. His carriage
rolled up to an inn, and he demanded a re
lay of horses to carry him on to the next
station, where he intended to spend the
night. The innkeeper entreated him not to
proceed ; for he said there was danger in
traveling so late, the wolves were out. But
the nobleman thought that the mail merely
wanted to keep him as a guest; he said it
was too early for the wolves, and ordered ;
the horses to be put to. He then drove off,
with his wife and his only daughter inside
the carriage with him.
On the box of the carriage was a serf,
who had been born on the nobleman’s estate,
and to whom he was much attached, and
who loved his master as he loved his own
life. They rolled over the hardened snow,
and there seemed no signs of danger. The
moon shed her pale light, and brought out
into burnished silver the road on which they
were going. At length the little girl said to
her father, “What is that strange howling
sound thnt I jus heard ?” *Oh nothing but
the wind sighing through the forest trees,”
replied the father. The child shut, her eyes,
and was quiet. But she said again, “Listen
father, it is not like the wind. I think.” The
father listened ; and far, far away, in the
| distance behind him, through the clear, cold
j frosty air. he heard a noise which he too
! well knew the meaning of.
He then put down the window, ad spoke
to his servant: “The wolves 1 fear are after
us; make haste. Tell the man to drive fas
ter, and get your pistols ready.” The pos
lillion drove faster. But the same mourn
ful sound approached nearer and nearer.—
It was quite clear that n. pack of wolves had
scented them out. The nobleman tried to
calm the anxious tears of his wife and child.
At last the baying pack was distinctly
heard. So he said to his servant, “ When
they come up with us, do you single out one
and fire, and I will single out another; and
while the rest are devouring them, we shall
get on. As soon as he put down the win
dow he saw the pack in full erv behind the
large dog wolf at their head. ‘ Two shots
were fired, and two wolves fell. The oth
ers instantly set. upon them and devoured
them ; and meanwhile the enrrintfe sained
ground.
But the taste of blood only made them
more furious, and they were soon up with
the carriage again. Again two shots were
i fired;, and two more fell, and were devour
| the carriage was speedily overt, a
j l <en ; an d the post house was yet far distant.
! The nobleman then ordered the postillion
j to loose one of his leaders, that they .might
! gain a little time. This was done, and tire
j poor horse plunged franticly into the forest,
the wolves after him, and wras soon torn to
pieces. Then another horse was sent off
and shared the same fate. The carriage la
bored on as fast as it could with the two re
maining horses; but the post house was still
distant.
At length the servant said to his master.
“I have served you ever since I was a child.
I love you as Ido my own self. Nothing
now can save you but one thing. Lei me
save you, and I ask you only to look after
my wife and little ones.” The nobleman re
monstrated, but in vain. When the wolves
next came up, the faithful servant threw
himself amongst them. The two panting
horses galloped with the carriage, and the
gates of the post-house just closed in upon
it as the fearful pack were 41 on the point of
making the. last and fatal attack. But the
travelers were safe.
The next morning they went out and saw
the place where the faithful servant had been
pulled down by the wolves. Elis bones on
ly werli there. And on that spot the noble
man ere.-ted a wooden pillar, on which is
written, “Greater love had no man than this,
that a man lay down his life for his friends.”
But God commended his love towards us
in that w ? hile we were yet sinners, Christ
died for us.”
LOSING A WIFE.
A stalwart smith was recently married
to a blooming bride. The day passed joy
ously away, and evening found them at
their lodgings, making merry with their
friends.
About seven o’clock the bridegroom went
out with some of his companions for a
walk, promising his fair young wife to be
soon back, a promise which might have
seemed to be superfluous.
But the wanderers called at a public
house, one glass of toddy followed another,
the cup went round so often that the bride
groom was drunk. In this condition he
rose to go home.
‘‘There’s many a slip ’twixt cup and lip.”
Midway between the intoxicating cup and
the lips of his wedded wife, he slipp dto
the earth, and fell asleep in an archway.
The poor girl so early deserted, sat alone
in her bridal chamber, and burst into tears,
when the midnight hour rung out and she
still desolate.
At this critical moment, as Dame For
tune would have it, a good-looking sailor,
an old sweetheart of hers, stole softly into
the house, and renewed bis vows. >Six
years before ho bad ‘‘gone foreign,” and in
his absence a report arose that lie had been
lost at eea;‘ the bride, therefore, regarded
him as one risen from the dead. He told
her he had circumnavigated the. globe, and
among other countries he had visited Aus
tralia..
He bad brought home for her a gold
watch and an hundred sovereigns, irreiis
tible fellow ! and entreated her to accept
him and his wealth. On went her bonnet
and cloak, off went the bride, while her sot
of a husband was snoozing under the arch.
He rose at an early morn, covered with
mud, and sneaked home to his lodgings,
where lie found an empty nest; nor has he
been able to hear a single syllable of the
forsaken fugitive.
PROGRESSION.
.We live in an age at once important,
eventful, and progressive; one which con
stitutes A great epoch in the cycle which
time is now advancing. It casts its bright
ening glories before, and most significantly
reveals to the ken of thinking man, the ex
alted destiny which will be his. It is the
soil in which is planted the millennial tree,
whose roots arc striking deep, and whose
branches are rising and expanding to shel
ter universal man.
There is one great principle which char
acterizes our times more decidedly than
any period of the past Mind io advancing
in all that can promise glory and happiness
It is soaring high into the realms of the
material universe, and unfolding its Gou
announcing wonders; it is piercing deep
into the dark recesses of our little woild,
and reading power, and wisdom, and good
uGs in the handwriting traced by the find
er of God upon the tablets of his own work
.naoskip; it is disevering matter, and
displaying the magical properties ot its
component parts; it is subduing the long-es
a ! dished tyranny of the old elements, and
C 1 impelling them to yield then power sub*
servient to the good ot man , mind is, in
short, obtaining a glimpse of the true God
through the media of His Word and His
Works, and unravelling the mysteries <*
the nature of man, developing the transcen
dent powers with which he is endowed,
unfolding the laws to which he is subject,
physically, and spiritually; and, more than
j all, if* anything can be more, is abandoning
J error —ay, breaking tho thraldom, of sin,
: and becoming free to take a high stand in
the mural grades of the universe. Thus
progress is onward. Heaven says, “pome
up higher. ’’ and man would obey.—
tnpnof}.
TO YOUNG*MEN.
That uever’ll do, young man ! No use to
stand on the sidewalk and whine about hard
luck, and say that everything goes against
you. \ou are not of half the consequence
that your talk wouid lead us to believe.—
Ihe world hasn’t declared war against you
—no such thing. It does not think of you.
iou are like all the rest of us—a mere speck
upon earth’s surface. Were you this mo
ment to go down in the living tide, but a
bubble would linger for a moment upon the
yui face, and even that would vanish unno
ticed. Ihe heart is tall of hope and ambi
tion, but it is not missed when it ceases to
beat. One such as you would not. leave a
ripple.
You are a coward—a coward in the bai
lie. There’s no iigh* in you. You have
surrendered without a struggle, and now
whine because you are beaten! You are
not yet worthy of a triumph, for you have
not earned it. In garret, hut, and dripping
cellar, are ten thousand heroes who would
put you to shame. They must toil or starve.
The strife is a desperate one with them, for
they wrestle with want, while ragged and
despairing ones watch at the lone hearth the
fearful contest Strong men look death in
the eye when the sinews are strung by the
wail of hungry childhood. Shame on you.
In the full vigor of health and manhood, no
mouth but your own to fill, and no back but
your own to cover, and yet crouching under
the first scorchmgs of adverse fortune.—
lou know nothing of the storm, for you
have seen but the summer. One cloud has
frightened you, and you think you are hard
ly dealt by. You will be lucky if you find
no darker shadows cross your path.
Stand up, young sir, pull your hands from
your pocket, throw off your coat and take
fortune by the throat. You may be thrown
again and again, but hang on. Put away
the nonsense that the world is all against
you. ’ Taint so. Your destiny is in your
own strong arm. Wield it like a man !
With an unbending will, and honor and
truth for a guide, the day is your own.
No capital, eh ? You have capital. God
has given you perfect health. That is an
immense capital to start on. You have youth
and strength—all invaluable. Add a will
to do, put your sinews in motion and you
win. A man in full health and strength,
should never whine or despair, because for
tune does not. pour a stream of gold eagles
into his pockets. If you have no money,
work and get it. Industry, economy and
integrity, will do wonders. From such be
ginnings, fortunes have been reared. They
can be again. Will you try ? Or, will you
wait for the stream to run by, so that you
can walk dry shod into the El Dorado of
wealth ? Or, will you meet the waves de
fiantly, and be the architect of your own
fortune?
Try —it is glorious to conquer in the strife.
Cayuga Chief.
RIGHT KIND OF PREACHING.
It was a beautiful criticism made by
Longiuns upon the effect of the speaking of
Cicero and Demosthenes. lie says the
people would go from one of Cicero’s ora
tions, exclaiming, “What a beautiful spea
ker? What a rich, fine voice! What an el
oquent man Cicero is !” They talk of Cic
ero; but when they left Demosthenes, they
said, “Let us fight Phillip!” Losing sight
of the speaker they were all absorbed in
the subject; they thought not of Demosth
enes, but of their country. So my brethren
let ns endeavor to send awaj T from our min
istrations the Christian, with his mouth
full of the praise—not of “our preacher,”
but of God; and the sinner, not discanting
upon the beautiful figures and well turned
periods of the discourse, but inquiring
with the brokenness of a penitent, “What
shall Idoto be saved ?” So shall wo be
blessed in our work; and when called to
leave the watch-towers of our spiritual Je
rusalem, through the vast serene, like the
deep melody of an angel’s song, Heaven’s
approving voice shall be heard:—
“Servant of God, well done!
Thy glorious warfare’s past;
The battle’s fought, the victory’:: von,
And thou art crowned at last.”
GOOD AND BAD DANCING.
The following article we copy from the
Bardstown, Kv., Gazette :
We seldom dance, although we have n >
objection to attending dancing parties; and
one reason we do not dance is that we can
not dance Well, and never could. We took
lessons from Joe Bean, years ago, ant| Joe
lid his duty, no doubt, but somehow* our
legs wouldn’t go off.
We were laughed at on acco nt of our
danci.ig in our younger days, andaresome
times laulied at, on the same account, now;
but we have one consolation, which is this
—great men are seldom good dancers.
We read that Napoleon was a very awk
ward dancer. On one occasion he danced
with a very beautiful countess, who conld
not conceal her blushes at his ridiculous pos
tures. On leadirg her to a seat he remark
ed: ‘Tne fact is, madam, my forte lies not
so much in dancing myself, as making oth
ers dance.’
C TERMSSI.OO ADVANCE
) JAMES T. BLAIN.
v. PRINTER.
VOL. Xm-NOMBER 27.
This reminds ns of an anecdote of Dan
iel Webster, who being present at a ball in
Washington during iiis incumbency as
Secretary of State, was asked by an effem
inate, foppish sort of a chap, who thought
a good deal oi his own dancing, ‘don’t you
I dance, Mr. Webster { I never see you dan
| cing.’ ‘.No,’ said Mr. Webster, as he only
| could say and look such things, T never
> had the capacity, sir.’
A BROKEN HEAET.
“Did he strike you?” asked a judge in
Cincinnati, of a witness who had testified
that her husband abused her.
“No, sir,” replied the modest and deli
cate looking woman, “he has never struck
me, though he has often threatened to do
it. He abuses me, and I am obliged to
flee from his presence.”
‘•Did he break any of the furniture ?”
asked the Court.
“No, sir,” responded the witness, as a
tear dropped from her eye, and she placed
her hand on her bosom. “No sir he did
mt break the furniture, but he has fre
quently .threatened to break my heart, and
he is doing it, sir.”
Poor woman ? she evidently spoke the
truth. This bloated monster who stood
bes’de her, though he had once solemnly
promised to love and protect her, is now
her most bitter persecutor, her sorest trou
ble. No doubt he once did love her. No
doubt but that one time he would rather
have died than cause a bitter tear to start
from her soft blue eyes, but intemperance
has unmanned, brutalized him, and he is
now breaking her heart. Heaven help the
drunkard’s wife!
THE GOOD FELLOW.
Proverbs have been called ‘-the current
coin of wisdom’mong mankind;” and one of
these sayings, which has been coined in the
mint of modern every-day society, runs as
follows: “A good fellow means good for
nothing.” Who is the good fellow ? By
observing a number of the individuals who
have received this label in their daily inter
course, we have concluded that he may be
characterized as follows : He is very dem
ocratic in his tastes and habits. He never
refuses to make an acquaintance, however
unworthy the proposed acquaintance may
be. He is hand and glove—joke and laugh
—with loafer and knave, equally with those
persons of position who will condescend to
accept him in spite of his associations. He
will spend his last cent with a pot compan
ion of the meanest stamp, while his family
may lack some ordinary comforts at home.
The idea of allowing a group of his associ
ates to want for anything while he can com
mand a sixpence, would be preposterous.—
But to deny his children some little tiflefoi
their amusement is simply a matter of econ
omy. He can’t afford it. He world be a
mean fellow to leave his associates before
two and three o’clock in the morning—a
straight land, sober sided home sick ninn;
But to keep a wife waiting up till those
hours—to rob her of her natural rest, is an
affair to joke over when the next bottle is
uncorked. To squander hundreds in dissi
pation among the low and vileisiiberal and
generous. To cheat the baker, the tailor
and the shoemaker out of their hard earn
ings is simply smart—a standing joke with
the good fellow. In short, the good fellow
is rendered a nuisance to society by being
always generous before he is just—always
liberal in dissipation and miserly where
money is really wanted—always attentive
to pot companions to the neglect ot his fam
ily ; and finally, because his career general
ly ends by his going to the almshouse to be
supported at the public expense.
RETRIBUTION.
Franklin B. Hunt, of Franklin county, in
this State, says the Vicksburg Whig! not
long since got into a row with his brother,
while drunk, and attempted to kill him. The
father of the young men interfered to pre
vent bloodshed, when Franklin turned on
the old man, and with a knife inflicted a se
vere and dangerous wound upon him. He
was immediately arrested and placed in
Jail A few days alter wards the wretched
young man committed suicide in prison, by
hanging himself. He left the following let
ter, which was doubtless written a short
tme before he took the dreadful leap into
eternity:
Gentlemen and Good Friends of Meadville ,
I now make my confession; I stabbed my
father, but not with intent to 1 did it in
a drunken spree—l am sorry for it, and
hope the good friends of Meudville will for
give me. I feel that 1 hast ly did wrong in
a great many things. I have had no trial
before a court, but tried myself, and think it
a hanging matter, on account of its be ng
my father. He has been kind to me. The
gallows is at this time hanging over me. I
suppose my trial will come off in town to
morrow, but 1 cannot stay to hear it, and to
be sentenced to the penitentiary—l cannot
bear it. My weak mind will not allow it;
I have been unfortunate and have few
friends. I hope to go to a better world,
where l can be happy.
1 am fatigued trom fixing the gallows, and
cannot write, though my mind is not much
confused. You all appear like good friends
to me, though you think me in error. I wish
this piece published for example to others.
Farewell, my dear friends.
Franklin B. Hunt,
May 35th, 1856.