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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. ! Any per .-on sending n.<* fir? now Subscriber.--, ac -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-