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For the Temperance Crusader.
THE FOURTH IN AUGU STA.
Messrs! Editors —According to request,
1 hereby furnish you with an account af'our
proceedings on the ever-memorable Fourth.
Met, according to announcement, at our Di
vision Room, at 4 1-2 o’clock, P. M.; formed
nto procession, Bro. W. L. Sherman Mar
shal of the day, and proceeded to the large
and airy Freight Depot of the Ga. Railroad
Com pan} 7 ,, kindly tendered us by th§ Super
ntendent, Mr. Geo. Yonge. Ihe rnannei
Ti which it was fitted up tor the occasion,
reflected great credit upon the taste ot the
Committee of Arrangements. Notwith
standing the children of the Houghton
Inst dire had a celebration at the same time,
iud the Fire Department had given a Bar
oacue to their guests, the “Oglethorpe Fire
Company” of Savannah, at the same time
ilso, yet we had a respectable auditory ot
morn than one thousand persons. The La
dies (God bless them) turned out in strong
array of beauty and talent, which circum
stance, gives us great pleasure to chronicle.
May every oue that was theie be blessed
vvi ii a good, sober husband. We turned
out with quite a respectable number ol mem
bers, though from the conflicting celebra
.ions, the number was less than it otherwise
..would have been, as a good many or our
members- belong.to other Societies. Bro.
Rverson commenced speaking at 5 o clock,
and for one hour euchained the vast throng
with one of his best, sublime, eloquent, imag
inative. pathetic, poetical, humorous, argu
mentative, graceful and forcible speeches.
My pen would fail to give you a leebie anal
ysis ot it. His theme was “the absurdity ot
the present Licence System; and well did
he portray it. He said that as the Law now j
stood it contravened itselt It a man went
crazy from loss of property, etc., and com
mitted a crime while thus insane, when ar
raigned before the judge, ire could plead that
he was a lunatic, and as such the Law could
not recognize him as a criminal. But let
tiie man plead that he was drunk at the time
he committed crime, and was unconscious
of it, the judge would tell him that that w as
no extenuation of his guilt, that drunkenness
itself was a crime. Thus declaring it un
lawful to get drunk according to law. He
described the License System, as slaying fit
ly thousand people annually in the United
States for the sake of obtaining a revenue,
which he graphically compared to filling a
vessel through a five inch pipe, and drawing
from it through a goose-quill. He further
slate;!, that one serious obstacle to our pro
gress was the apathy of the people—that we
could not get any one to discuss these ques
tions v ith us—making no forcible opposi
tion to us.
But it is impossible for me to describe his
effort—it i- beyond the power of mortal.—
Suffice it to say that ail was well pleased
v.'l"h it. Time passed so pleasantly that we
s creeiy deemed it more than half an hour,
and could have listened for another hour
with great pleasure.
The good work is progressing amongst
us, a;i-u an interest is beginning to be awa
ke: ad in our city. We know not. as yet,
what, sort of a harvest we shall reap from
the seeds sown by Bro. R verson, i have no
a- ulk but that it will have a good effect. —
\ ’e hove “unfurled our banner to the breeze”
and. are determined to stand by it to the last.
I shall advise you of our progress from time
to time, as circumstances mav admit.
WM. G. WHIDBY.
For the Temperance Crusader,
’Atlanta, 2d July, 1850.
Mr. Editor : —Allow me through your
\ qa-r to remind our friends, that the time
appointed for the State Temperance Con
vention to sit in this place, will soon be
he; e, viz: on 4th W echwsday of this month,
J uly.
Ir i important that they who are friends
t the rep; al of the law which licenses the
i !of liquor, should attend or be repre
s .r< and a.t this Convention. Though our
f•. in; oat our last elections, may cause some
t voi discouraged, yet,-there was nothing
i: Jto justify despair. All reforms in
i o’.', religion or politics, are generally,
i: not always slow, requiring the peiseve
r; 1 and continuing efforts of faithful
r i. who breast the storm and do the
work. Though they who are actively en
g >d in tills great uiojfal enterprize are
i ham majority, still, they are highly
r joeFdde for their mem hors, as well as
fa da* ir cdligence and moral character.
1 i<-.ib of being discouraged by onr fail
r t- re was much in the effort made and
it coi;: eqir nees, to stimulate to u contin
v re ci onr labors. Little as may be the
b ■s> ra?;i c attached by unthinking men,
t< tbo Me thousand two hundred and sixty
one votes given Overby ; ye:., there is no
3 - iff man, when about to become a can
d b : . for Ooveatuu’, would think lightly ot
h in:. shi-P) two hundred and sixty one
uoirs given against him on mom! princi
|>;>. in addition lb all .those, which would
be given against him on other grounds.
Had it not been for the extraordinary
am! worse than foolish excitement sprung
up bv the leaders of the political parties
in their contest for the offices, we think we
cmdd by the strength of the Temperance
infiu nee alone, have given Overby some
foffy ■ r more thousand votes, which, by
baling aided to them all that would have
been for him/on other grounds, would, we
think, have insured his -success. Until the
1; -i ‘election, office seekers and their under
demagogues, seemed to. take it for granted
that the Temperance people, would always
think it honor and religion emmgh to help
t) in obtain tire offices !
li'onr Government should stand two
y ars longer, as it now is, we do not now
v v Jiow political’ men ae to get up their
oulildeal ‘“crisisf at our next cdecHons.
I t. usands who fought under their politic
c i captain® with great ardor in the last
oh;e ions,, can now see that all they effec
ted -by it, was to secure the offices for their
It miers, and to secure to’ the liquor-shop
imsineee a safe ebntinnance for two years
!, i-. \y . i;en th'eeejnen shall reflect that
At U 1 their excitement and labor, they
a , effected .nothing Iwy.ond the benefit
oiYhe-ir leaf lei’s and the <logge'f keepers ;
ami that for themselves or their country,
enough has uot been gained to pay. for the
darning of a hole in the toe of their stock
ing, may we not hope that tbey will at
another election be more, considerate i
Be all those things’ as they may, the
Temperance reform is a good work : it is
therefore our duty to support it, no matter
who may oppose it. Though we may not he
able to effect all we wish, yet, if we do out
duty we will do, as we have already done-,
much to mitigate the evils complained of.
If we are to resist no vice, hilt such as we
mav be able to drive from the world, we
know of none upon which we might consis
tently make war. Our bnine>t in this
world is to work for virtu re and the 7 sup
pression of vice aft long as we bv- . i hen
come to the Gon ventdon, ami let us consult
and encourage efii-b other.
LEWIS RE XL A U.
For tho Temperance Crusader.
A SKETCH,
BV “SETH SfNCIOIR.” S
No sweet hymn ascended, no ranrmui of prayer,
Yet f felt that the spirit of worship was there.
Amelia
A lovelier morn never dawned upon the
earth. Not a single speck could be seen
floating in the azure skies. No sound could !
be heard, save the murmuring sigh of some j
gentle wind, as it passed slowly on in its ■
smooth career, or of some murmuring rivu- j
let, as it glided swiftly on to its ocean home, i
1 stood beside the graves ot father and mo- j
ther—it was my first visit since manhood, j
The little tree had now grown to he a mighty |
oak. which seemed to shelter the two graves, |
with its oolosal form, from the Simoon winds
and the piercing blasts of Time. The green
moss had spread itself over the marble slab
i hat reared its alban form high amid the
blue domes of the arching sky. The deso
lation of the spot plainly told that the fingers
of Time had been at work. Oh what hal
lowed recollections flitted across rny mind.
Yonder was the little-brook, beneath whose
placid waters I had so often plunged to cool
my burning temples. Yonaer was the
grassy knoll, benea h the giant oak. where I
had so often sat and listened to a mother's
voice, as she pressed my boyish form to her
gentle bosom. Yonder was the spot, where
l had often heard, the resolute mandate of
a kind father, but alas! alas ! the tender form
>f that gentle mother, and the towering stat
ute of that kind father, were lying-beneath
the mouldering mound, sleeping their last
sleep, with the cold and yellow turf for their
only companion. As thus I gazed, the dim
vista, of the past was opened and my mind
wandered back to those scenes of mv child
hood. which seemed as a green spot on the
island of the past. How well did 1 remem
ber those days of my childhood, when a mo
ther’s hand smoothed my golden locks, and
when a father’s kiss was imprinted upon my
childish brow. Then again I saw the som
bre waving plumes of the hearse, as it bore
a mother to her grave; again, 1 heard the
funeral dirge and the dull reverberations of
the coffin—then, the mournful whine of my
favorite dog, who seemed to moan a requi
em tor the peaceful dead. Then l was
transplanted into the fields of orphanage s
then to manhood. A gloom settled over
my heart, and I tried to dispel it, but no. I
could not, as well might the Ethiopian try
and shake off the ebon tint, which shades his
brow, as for me to have tried to shake off’
that bitter feeling of despair, that, clasped
me with an iron grasp. No longer did 1
seek to disenthrall myself from its anacon
da-folds, but with a tranquil smile,bid them
welcome to the si nine of my heart. But I
could not withstand it—l sank beneath the
weight of my afflictions and fell senseless
upon a parental tomb. When I awoke from
my unconsciousness the golden clouds had !
just been brushed away, and the glittering
stars were beginning, one by one, to twinkle
upon the dewy earth. 1 was in a chamber,
where, through the damask curtains, I plain
ly discerned the beautiful features of a love- j
ly maiden. Her brow seemed to be knit. 1
with anxious care. As soon as she perceiv-!
ed that. I had awoke, she approached me,!
and asked me if l knew her. Yes. 1 knew i
her. It was my first love, my own dear
——; but hallowed be her name. The dark |
clouds of despair rolled away like the morn-,
ing mist, before the rising sun. and the glit- *
tering beams of Hope penetrated the gloom i
of my heart, and wrapt it in the golden folds j
of love.
Often, while lying upon my bed of sick
ness, meditating, would music,
“Soft as the murmuring winds,”
break upon my ears, and bear rny soul, on
the wings ol inspired fancy, into the celestial
climes of bright futurity. It was not music,
such as spring from the fabied iyra of an Or
pheus, but the music of a beauteous Sappho
—the voice of lovely woman. Oh, ho w it,
cheered me. Woman, name ever dear to
naan, though it is not in thy sphere, to go
and march beneath the fluttering folds of a
“Star Spangled Banner,” or rush to the bat
i tie field of gore, still it is thine to soothe the
restless spirit of wayward man, as the frail
bark of his life dashes madly on, in a wild
career, through life’s tempestuous* seas.—
Gently did the breeze of love first rise in my
breast, bift as the placid stream may swell
into a delugie and the gentle zephyr into a
tempest, as did that breeze of love swell into
one mighty gust, that overleaped the oppos
ing barriers and swept along, in its thunder
ing course, all, save the sweet remembrance
of her whom I loved.
At length I recovered. Whit must i do?
Here was one who had watched over me
with a mothers kindness, in my sickness,
and poured consolation into my sorrowing
ears ; one, whose very namfi stirred up the
de. pest emotions in my heart j one* around
whom, memory loved to linger: one, whom
I loved gs 1 did my God. 1 could return to
her the homage of a grateful heart, bqt
would that suffice. No, I loved her and I
resolved to tpll her the feelings of my heart.
It was a fieautiful eve. The sun bad just
gone down majestically behind the “Paci
fic’s placid waves.” The atmosphere hung
like a purple veil over the lofty oaks, and
the smiling landscape, IVot even the war
ble of a bird, or the murmur of a single
voice, disturbed the quiescent peacefulness
that wrapt all Nature in it* folds. As J was
wandering along the banks of a Jittle stream
1 beheld the figure of a female, seated upon,
a ledge of rock. I approached hes, but so
wrapt was she in deep thought, she was
unaware pf my presence, until I gently
touched her upon her shoulder—as I did
j this she turned her eyes and gazed upon me.
I sat down by her side, and placed her ala
baster hand in mine. 1 I loved her,
truly, devotedly and affectionately—that it
was noi the mere fantasy of a youthful
mind, I asked her to reciprocate it, and I
was happy. She hid the crimson blush of
maiden love in her dark ringlets, as she re
plied “she would.” With that word I seem
ed to he transported into the celestial skies
of extatic bliss. I was no longer an unhap- j
py orphan youth, hut a happy man. I gave
ner a ring as a pledge of my love, and she, I
in return, gave me, to seal our vow of mu-!
lual love, a kiss, sweeter far than Hybla’s j
i scented fields. The (lav was set for our j
i marriage. It was but a few weeks distant,)
iyet ii seemed to me almost an age. But at !
j iength the day arrived, the hour came, and j
: we were married,
i Days, weeks and months passed a was !
and I still was happy. But alas! the smooth i
current of our life was to- he interspersed j
with the shoals and quicksands of adversity.
Our home was to be changed by the hand
of an Evil one, from an Eden to a Tartarus.
1 1 was to be beguiled by a serpent more poi- \
j sonous than the “Upas’ deadly draught.”—
i No longer would I listen to the siren voice 1
I of a lovely wife, as she prayed for me to de-
{ aist from drink; hut. 1 rushed madly on,
! heedless of her prayers, so the very brink of
I destruction. The once elegant mansion had
| now been changed for an humble cottage,
i The grandeur and splendor of former days
had passed away, “like the baseless fabric of
a vision.” and Poverty now knocked for ad
mittance at. our door. The rose tint of
health upon a lovely wife’s brow had faded,
and in its stead was the pallid hue of anxious
care. 1 well knew she could not bear up
under such misfortunes long. But to rny
story.
It was a cold, autumnal night. The rain
descended in torrents, and darkness, black
as “Stigia’s midnight waves.” reigned su
preme. I had been absent from my home
one long week. I was sitting in a bar room,
at a gaming table, when I received a note,
informing me of my lovely wife’s death. I
was t hunderstruck. I rushed out into the
storm and run quickly home, but it was too
late. Her spirit had taken its heavenward
flight, and nothing now remained save the
stiffened corpse of a once beauteous Hebe.
1 clasped her lifeless body in my arms, and
wept “tears of fire” upon her cheeks. That
night sealed my future destiny. I resolved
to shake loose myself from the iron grasp of
Intemperance; but alas for me, I had al
ready drank too freely of the waters of’ex
perience. 1 had come triumphantly over
the trials and tribulations of an orphan child,
yet fell a victim to Intemperance.
ft ft ft ft ft ft ft
The hoary frost of many a winter has
passed over my brow since then. Once
more plenty is at my door, but happiness, it
is not there. The ghost of a murdered wife
appears to me, in all my walks of life, and
whispers words that almost “freeze my
soul.” Let others beware to shun the mon
ster Intemperance, for it makes wives wid
ows, and children, orphans.
Emory College, July 4th. 1856.
j GvH iu -
MOTHERS AND CHILDREN
1 A writer in the Southern Literary Mes
j senger is apprehensive that the “progress
j f the ago” rVill abolish mothers ; but we
! f give the complaint for itself :
I pother! the world can utter no swiefcer,
j purer, word than this What visions did
jit mice conjure up, of boundless devo
-1! tion, of self-sacrificing love, of lessons.
- j that falling musically from i lips,
I taught obedience, truth, and self-restraint,
j Once, mother guided the child, with
! Arm, but loving hand, through rhe flowery
| ma zes ot childhuoc• i n i •• > thc b:*<>ad field tff
| maturity. She prepared tlm youthful trav-j
1 eler foi the world's encounter; she .Hcip-l
: tiffed the ardent passions, and regulated’
j tlie hasty biniper. Bhc encompassed ihe j
j child with a wholesome qp-rU iriflueuce, j
‘ and dared gay “,•• when ifg welfare de-1
; mamlo i it. She ruled, not with u iron j
| rod, but firmly, gen fly. and ihe child loved j
j her none the less because she caught h the j
i word obedience. We have mothers fust ns I
j loving, just as self-sacrificing as of yore ;j
‘ but we mi.% that wholesome moral train
ing that distinguished the rule of the moth- j
e?s of the past.
| It is vain to close our eyes to the pier, it j
i .stares ns boldly in the face, the most mou
| strous deformity of the nineteenth centu- j
vy ; this is the reign of children: at home j
; and at school. The parent is ruled, and !
! the teacher striving in vain to assert his
! authority, isovorcomo in the battle, waving
i over his defenceless head the- banner of
j “moral suasion.” Alas ! for the teacher of i
; this age. He makes rules, his pupils break
! them as easily as they do the panes of glass;
| he appeals for redress to the parent; the
; mother, for the father rarely appears in j
j these matters, toil® him “J have no control i
! over rny children, they do as they please,” ;
j and she heaves a sigh over her son’s con
j tempt of lawful authority, and her damffi
j ter s headstrong wilfulness. She forgets
or perhaps never knew, that she. herself, is
the ‘ head and front of the offending.” l)ifl i
she teach obedience at home, would resis i
tance at school be the consequence ? Did
she role with gentle restraint, would im
patience of all law ensue ? Did she teach
her child to “order herself lowly and rev
erently to all her betters.” would wo have
such scenes of riot and insubordination as
so frequently disgrace our colleges and
schools? Where did these youthful con
tenders for equality receive their first lea- ;
eons in successful rebellion ? At home,
where the infantile hand pivyed stronger
than the maternal arm; where the child’s
“I won’t” o'ermastered the mother’s “you
mqst;” where the weak will of the parent
succumbed before the more resolute will of
her offspring.
What sort of citizens dp these young vic
tofrxma.ke? Turbulent resistors of law upd
j order, their .names flourish in police re
| ports, ae the header* of mobs; they are
Hound among the perpetriff.or of crime, the
[ miaerable culprits qi the bar,
—•- —‘
In the church . bey hvu nut ;>f Inn.-' 0 who •
“receive tlm wn -.-t h\ unvkness,” and con
form unhesi raving!v in alt her Jxdv rites.!
Bin They mv toned among the"censorious j
ctftivs of tu; the op poser* of time-i
honored eordnoMieH a-no prccePt. The ‘C* fs j
of disobedience, sown ho success fully in the j
nursery. shoot up the deadfv T"Yds bran *b- I
e? nntd they sweep against the a err arch i
ol fiuuvvn; man is resisted -<:• earM*. un!;
G>i defied on bis a wfu! throne : n the skies.
There i*-. run- a ruler but knows Lh ; - ro’-e j
true; not. a ‘pits!or but. sees this influence it ’■
work among hie dock; and wot- :i teacher j
contending with “discipline and bread.? 1
but lament* this depbvYfio and wag 1v ;
spreading evil. Ye-, we van- a race •!’’
mothers —mothers in the true, die 1 ;girl- ■
: mate •sons-.- of the word—-mothers with a ‘
sbijsf ot ipatern::’ responsibility—mothers j
who wilt realize that Uyay nr. educating
heirs for mi mortal life and, tharthe waves •
of Time, rapidly driving them <*r, will k• ri
set-them face to face in Eternity with,
those children they have* educated for end- ;
less Mis 3 , or unending woe. O, we- k. j
yielding, iriv-soinre mother, think f the-e-l
things I \
We do not ask you :* oppress with ry-l
i ran fey the young einhi that !o ’ks ,'•> wm !'>'•!
; protect:on; we do not. wish even to hint at j
! the lengthening of your fan handle- 1 , with l
I which to roach vutlr retrace-rv dangh'-ers ;
! across the room.-:-p did the (mother's el |
! Queen Mary’s day; we won Ii ni have!
| you repress trie joyotw sa'iies oi the child,
| or dim with unsym pathv the brighruosg of
J its young affect in is; we would not wish
lone innocent amusem-mt withdrawn, or
1 one- flower that springs .In iN path cut
| down. So far from ii, we would have yon
| fill its little hands with the brightest of
j flowers; fold it fb your heart with the r.er
| derest love; listen with rim deepest sym
pathy to its-confidences; join in its sports ;
bear patiently with its pet silence; out
watch the stars by its restless conch ; and
encompass it with the most dovoted Nv-e
of a mother’s heart.” But. we would not
have you resign it to itself, to its eager
passions, its unrestrained j rowers—a raiser
able victim to parental weakness, a tender
plant, left to shoot up uncultivated, nn
pruned, whose luxuriance is of vb.-e. whose
blossoms trail in the dust.
We do not ask you to force the young
child to obedience, but win it by the power
of persuasion, and by constantly setting
before it the picture in its uto-y, attractive
lights. Teach it that it is honorable to obey,
that disobedience is criminal in the sight of
God. And, in inculcating ibis lesson you
need not be one iota less amiable than yon
noware; you need fear losing n*ne of your
attractive gentleness, or forfeiting <>ne
throb of love that, beats for you in the bo
som of your child. That borne is the very
threshold of heaven, where the pious, gen
tle mother, exercising her maternal rule in
the fear and love of God, teaches obedi
ence, virtue and self-restraint. Such a
mother is the able Bus lamer or he laws of
her country, the effectual co-laborer with
the pastor, and the valuable assistant or
the teacher. But alas! for her, who, with
out counting the fearful cost, has
the moral atmosphere of home by culpable
neglect, or weak indulgence, who submits
to the degradation of neing ruled by In i
own offspring, and who all owe the* -fill
Ismail voice of conscience to be hnslm! !>y
tlic noisy clamors of the child.
Oh, will not the mothers of our country
rouse tbemselv.es from this fearful apathy,
and realize their sacred respon si bi I-ty i
Will they not strive to become mothers in
deed, by exercising their rightful preroga-1
tives? Will they not haste to set bjbre
their children the most complete, the most
beautiful example of obedience on feuord,
that of him, who though ]'/>rd oftb.c uni
verse, was yet “subject unto hia parents.” 1
When the mothers of America rake up ;
the sceptre they have so cowardly laid ;
down, and children are again brought uu-1
der home discipline, then will magistrates .
rule with ease, pastors find the wnv pro ‘
pared before thorn, and the pro-seat rugged !
*path of the ieachor fve triad.* smooth. |
When mothers become mothers indeed,!
then will the world regain its proper p<>si- ‘
tion, and cease so present that most extra- \
ordinary spectacle-->a worfl turn .■d upoide |
down. 1 t
t ADY OR WIFE
| If make-** a man of refinement uneonsei
[ ously double ids fist, to he stopped just as
j he parted from a friend, hi* mother or sis
I ter perhaps, with, “Isay wh > is that, ie
| male? But there, is another vulgarism in
j common custom which quite as much needs
reformation—-that of styling a man’s wife
his “lady,"’ “Lady,” does not mean ‘wile.*
It may can a very different personage.
Nor fa every man’s wife ipso facto his “la
day.” AH are aware that the signification
of the word has materially changed. ’Fuat
from designating a woman of high educa
tion and refinement of manners, it has
come to signify any one thai wears a hat
and feathers, it is for that very reason
that we object to its being used synonv- ,
tnouslv with wife.
Our idea of the matter may perhaps he i
beat expressed by a story we remember to !
have ioen. The wife of a Dean of the j
Uiglish Church, called at a grocer’s some
distance irotn her residence and made a i
trifling purchase, requesting it might be i
Beat home. The grocer declined to Send it j
as rue time was worth mure than the imr
*J binlcing to ° ve,, pdwer him she
said, witlffan assumption and stately digni
rW b >l ! n tll ° & ean of- ’s lad v.”
I he sturdy shopman with a low bow repli
0<i ’. L ,y°n were his Reverence’s wife
ina am, 1 could’nt do it,” ’
LOW-NECKED DRESSES.
Bonaparte, desiring to change the sash
ipu of wearing low necked dresses, resor
ted to a successful expedient. A numer
ous assembly of both pexos- being congre
gated iu tiie drawing ivom <•(’ the Iy>ux
etolwirg, the First Consul entered, and
after paying hi* respects to the com
pany, uiulcrpd his servants to make a good
tire. He affected even to repeat his order
tarn or, three times, fill quo. of them took
the liberty io observe that thegratps \yoqld
hold no more. “Very well, very well,”
replied Bonaparte, in rather an elevated
r , - ——• *■ t: —; —--•’ y ’ i
tone t*r v^ici; ‘*i tan-xfoii* *<“• h.Hvr ;i
good lire, lor it in excessive]_r cold, and bf>-
sid-.u-. these ladie- arc nlm-*st
ft (Tcm|utancc (Tntsaber.
PENFIELD. G-EOIK'+TA.
—y *—
Saturday Ylominer, July lti. 18Jfi.
JW“Rv. Ola?bom Trussed], of Atlanta. ?? n duly
i authorized .Went lor tin Crusader.
Liberal Offer.
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-1 comjwmed with the “rhino,” shall he entitled co an
j extra copy of (be f’i usader for one rear. Orders for
j our Paper must, invariably he acoompaired the
j cash to receive attention.
Stop Papers.—Settle Arrearages.
Persons ordering their papers discontinued, must
2 invariably pay up nil their dues. W? shall not strike
! off any subscriber’s name ‘who is in arrears
TEMPERANCE CONVENTION.
j I'he *rimds ot TE WI’KB t,U F throughout
tlui State wilt hear iu mind the Animal t on*
i vention. a hir.li tattvsplaeeoti it* t'Ol RTH
1 WFMKSOAI. the 54Srd itist.. in vtiauta,
■ u*< prepare theniNelvei to attend, or appoint
j Jlelejratet* ro represent them. A larjre meel-
I ing- iu desired, and the Temperance men must
j lay aside other engagements and go. ac there
• is in it eti important matter to come before ihe
I Convention. The different oriraniziiiion.ari
: expected to be represented.
Exchange* in the State will confer
llile a favor by noticing the above.
Prof. H. H. Tucker.
; Wo were quite enraptured on last Sabbath in lis-
Itening to a chaste, beautiful, pointed urn eloquent
| discourse by onr new Processor, Rev. 11. H.
; Tucker. His theme, “There is a friend that stick
. eth closer than a brother.” hr handled in a truly
| happy and analytical manner, eliciting every point of
contrast between the true, genuine friendship of our
| Heavenly friend, and that of earihly friends. His
j ideas upon the hollowness of all earthly friendship
| were fully endorsed by every hearer; for who has
! not experienced the insincerity nf professed aid even
beloved friends? Often, doc? their friendship prove
to be like the “apples of .Sodom,” filled with rotten
ness, The Sermon was adorned with many rich and
eloquent figures of Rhetoric which almost stopped
circulation, making’ “cold chills” (thermometer 00
deg.; course the veins.
i Prof. Tucker, during his discourse, congratulated
j himself upon hn new “berth,” as being a “noble and
; splendid addition to Ids fortunes.” We welcome
| him with all possible cordiality to our midst, and con
i gratulate the community for the acquisition of soac
; complished a gentleman—the University so efficient
| an officer, and the church .> ,qh!p and eloquent - I>|-
| vine.
4tli of July,
I hrs season of annual glorification passed. In ns,
rather unpleasantly than otherwise. Owing to
univo’da le ej.- -umstancos, vve had scarcely the
; semblare-; of a celebration. The Declaration cf
Independence was very well read by Mr. James
|S. Hlain, after which an address was delivered
:by Mr, John T. (Rover. The speech, was & good
one, well written and well delivered, and was
received with due applause bv. (he audience. It of
course had tjb j common falling of ah 4th of July ora
tions. He ad uc* subject, and consequently no an
alytmil anangctuohv. i s-...ai: iuidior.ee, the want of
i music, and a i entire absence of preparation, render
ed the occasion dry and uninteresting. *
Aft Aoeeptable Treat
VVe return our thanks (•■• w fpllow-citizen, Mr.
VY. H. Dickinson, fora 4th of July feast in the form
l of a fine lot o. f Squashes, \V o a&surc him that we
did them ample justice; so muo'n . J .’ that we ca’ne
near having afi of our pat: lotto feollnsr.s witaake-J out
of us. Such treats are always wel ! received. We
have bad a rain ’ately, nod we hope- those splendid
vegetables, and l>utUr-mll\ -ill now flour
iso, and we may be induced f-> j- rolopgj our existence
a Hit?'.’ while nf least,
Poor Whiten m New York City.
The Legislative Tenant House tJoniniittee ard.-un
dry mernber? of t!e Board of Health, says tho New
iork Time? ox the li.th insi., look a turn yesterday
through some of the dirtier pari, - - of our dirty town.
First, they called in at the old rear Baptist Church
in Mulberry street, found 103 families, paying a
rent each of fib to $7 per month. Pho sewerage was
abominable. Croton bugs were thicker than three
in a bed. In onp room a bare footed, half-drunken
woman wag sitting up with an infant at her breast.,
wbiah was her own, and which was not yet a day
old.
i front of this, and connected to it by a corridor,
: they found three houses, in inferably ‘dirty eondi-
I tion, and swarming with- -tenants. The lower tionr
bad three rum-shops and a drugstore on it.
No ! 7 Baxter street—the old Sixth Ward Repub
lican Hall—a orach building in its day, was found
very lull of Italian organ grinder-'-, small dogs and
filth.. One young girl here aged 12 years, and nn
; married, confessed herself enritnis.’ Seventy-five
| persons constituting 12 families, pay from $3.25 to
$5.70 a month per family for the privilege.” of this
| dirty !>u re. The basement rents for SJ3 a month,
as a. dance room. To the nightly entertainments
admission is free tq all who assent to the rule of the
house—“after every dance take a drink and treat
your partner,” The best liquors cost only three
cenU a gla<®. The tenant keeps two fiddlers, pays
one sl, and the other $1.25, and clears $5.50 a night.
He has two narrow halls, adjoining the dance room,
fitted with shake downs, which lie lets for a shilling
a night. lor benches, when the beds are filled, he
charges just the same—-or turns Jack, exhausted and
boozy, into the street. The “respectable colored
man who is landlord of this establishment, was 20
3 ears a slave in Virginia, and after being freed was
live years in the family of (fen. Harrison. He said
he and rather he a again than a free nigger here ;
than a free nigger in such a business, wo can easilv
imagine.
. What heart, f alive to any feeling pf humanity, is
j not pained at this description? Ruin, Poverty’ and
Crime are here conjoined to form a scene at which
the soul shudders, and a fiend plight gloat over with
hellish delight, What pi or.* horrid form of misery
could be conceived? The most cruelly treated slave
on the Southern plantations lives in princely happi
ness when compared with the wretched inmates of
these hovels. Vet the “upper crust” who cover
this substratum of crime and degradation, talk large
ly of benevolence, and hold indignation meetings to
abuse the people of the iSouth. They can shed floods
of crocodile tears over the imaginary woes of the ne
gro, while they* wilfully ignore the very existence of
t-h'dr own suffering poor. They seek to detect moats
iu the eyes of their neighbors, while a great beam is
in their own. it would be far more consistent, and
certainlymore Christian-like, in Henry Ward Beech
er and his fanatical colleagues, to relieve the suffer
jngs of their New York paupers, instead of expend
ing their upon Southern negroes, or in
sending Sharped Rifles to Kapsa? +
The first Glass.
Drunkard, when did yon take your first gloss ?
Yon are a miserable, woe-begone wretch, a vagabond
upon the earth. Your face, pale, wan and haggard,
too plainly proclaims your character; while that foolish
leer cannot conceal the face that ir*nt is now pray
ing upon your very vita. I *. Were j*ou always thusV
No; voTt were once innocent prosperous and happy.
The warm blood of iiealth ccursed through no yew*,
more proudly than’ yours. But now, ala 3 , boa
changed \ R -rn hath wrought it. Ah, you review
ber when you took y our first glass. It war. w ilegAMrt
a youthful lad, and a crowd of you had motto ap+md
nn hour in social enjoyment. The lapglv, tbo yesi
and the. glass went round and merriment made sh-c
time her own. Your eyes glistened and your riiceh
glowed, and then you knew ho more until you awoke
with aching bart ar.d fevered brow from your tor
pid fsi urn ber, ar.d vowed no more to touch the ohftr®-
ed cup. Had you but felt the strength of those
which the serpent of appetite wa* casting
you. arid have railed upon h stronger ana to Ideal
the pqasp, you might have been saved. That first
glass might have been yc-uf Ust. You folt aJblf'iu
your strength to resist apn.rently inigoifidwt
enemy. Rut you knew not its power. You coolly
tampered with. It, arid it baa bitten yuu with tanps
more deadly than the asp. What- a life of ku&py
hrs that first gl*s~ brought upon yon, what a world
of wretchedness am? ruin he? it indicted upon ail
with whom von rave been connected. Vour wi*j,
that wife whom in your youth yon won with kind,
sweet words, now sirs a melancholy image of de*
pair. T hat heart which once beat so bouyanUy vritu
joy, aud hope, and love, is now broken, her high as
pirations forever checks i. Aim! you have done ik
Or perhaps she lies iu the cold embrace of the grave,
which -be gladly welcomed as a refuge from your
cruelty. Your poor children are clad in tat It re aad
reared in ignorance and pauperism. All this is vbc
work of that first glass. It appeared then but a
small insignificant thing, hut ii has wrought
mighty change in yonr condition and prooppis.
You have been reduced from the high dignity of a
man to a level with the brute. The rayless darkness
of a moral death is now around you, and your /hie
is irrevocably sealed. The iron bands of habit are
bound about you in indissoluble links, and though
your limbs may struggle, and your heart may
you can not escape, t>h that your warning voice might
fall upon the ears of every youth in our country
more loudly than seven thunders, Beware of, thy
first glass! *
“Wives of inebriates are, by law, in Wisoowda, al
lowed to transact business in thoir own names, bi&d
out their children, and dispose of thou 1 earnings ao
they think best.”
So they ought ercij where. Nothing eould h*
more inconsistent than the course of our legislate*-
upon this very point. They resolutely persist la
protecting the rumsellerin his traffic of misery and
death, while his victims are left without shield or
protection. It is hard enough that women nre left
without a safeguard from the spendthrift and gam
bier, that their wealth, their happiness, may be in
an hour destroyed by a wild love of speculation.—
: Bui harder, far harder is it still when they are left
alone, to tne unfeeling treatment of a drunken hus
band. If is a shame that our statute books new eorf
contain r.o enactment for the protection of this
ot sufferer-*. W e hope that a reformation in thiftro.
epeot may soon take place. If our legislators arc ey
wedded to the rum traffic th*t they acw*- gntp
it up, wo hope they will at k**t giw tLe aid at to*
to its viotime. *
The Power of Gel 4,
“The love of money k tbo root of all erii, M k the
strong emphatic declaration of Scripture, axni surely
no or.e who has closely observed human nature, will
be disposed to consider the expression an rxagaer
ted one, F-ven & cursory examination will convinoe
us ? that almost, every evil to which desh |g heir, w
caused indirectly, if not immediately by thg lsve
, gain- .The yital fluid of vegetable life must Sow up
through the trunk, the branches ar.d having
it richest essence accreted in the flower, ere the fruit
can bo produced. But the rc-ot is, on this aceount,
none the lcs the prime agency iu its prcductions.
Hn tltv love ol money may beget other principle* aihl
vices, which in their operations may irunaodiately it
flicl injury upon mankind ; hut in slmoet every io
stancc they can be traced to that one grand causa.
The ancients had their age? of gold, silver, brass
and iron, by which they .sought to distinguish Hh*
respective slates of happiness or prosperity, which
rnei: enjoyed. In all that concerns the incentives to
action, the present is eminently & golden age. Never
at any time in the world’s history, ha? gold peesew
ed such real, positive, energetic power. It Is the
great idol, before whom all men bow down, aol $.
w 11020 bidding they will attempt anything howeve?
difficult or dangerous, The promptiuga cf smbitie-e,
the love of power and love of fame are weak incen
tive when compared with the lust for gold. It no
drive men to encounter dangers and overcome ©N
stacks, while it yields not to the ho&rt one ovoment
of enjoyment; nay, while it withers from it every
sweet flower ot sympathy and leaves it a ceorehod
barren waste.
Toe power of gold to prompt men to energetic a*
lion may be noble., and is always great. Its agonay
in the work of progress acid improvement is worthy
of our highest admiration. There is not imj art o*
science, but has keen advanced in its course by tho
magic influence of this glittering charm. By it.
agency t ships are launched, warehouses erected, naii
roads constructed, and the rumbling car sent forth
upon its mission. It’s influence extends over both
motives and actions. The orator is stirred into all
the glowing fervor of high-wrought eloquence by Us
welcome click, ami his preemption* are quickened by
its bright gleam. The scales of justice are turned by
its all-pervading influence, and the law sos morals are
compelled to yfleld to its superior power. Few, very
few indeed there be, who have courage to resist fts
operations.
Rut its power ends not here. Over the
of society and the principles which govern it, gqld
exerts a control far greater than that of any other
agency. Here the reverence which men yield to tfcs*
idol is bestowed upon those who possess it The
simple possession of it is an ample apology for fbc
want of talents, scr.se op virtue, tike tho silvered
veil of Mokanna, it is a safe screen, behind wftich the
most hideous deformities ruay be bidden. True,
there is sometimes found a Fabricius, whose exalted
virtue will win him esteem despite of poverty, and
impart to indigence itself a moral sublimity. Wo
sometimes see men who have sank to sueh a depth
of turpitude that the greatest wealth cannot save
them from condemnation. Rut these are exceptions;
exceptions which are extremely’ rare. The general
rule is quite tq the inverse. We do nqt qnfrequejntr
ly see rich men follow practices with impunity
which would subject 5 poor n]an to universal con
demnation, if not to actual punishment The fast
young man, who is constantly reeking with the fe
tid odors pfs brothel where he spends two thirds of
his time in obscene revelry, is admitted, on the cmd-