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JOHN’ HENRY SEALS, )
A >’ u ‘• Editors.
L. LINCOLN VBAZEV, S
NEW SERIES. VOL. L
WiPEKiIK CRUSADER.
PUB LIS “TO
CER\ ‘SiTgfiDAY, EXCEPT TWO, Ilf THE YEAR,
BY JOHN H. SE ALS.
Tl£R*W :
it; trance; or s*2,o*> ar the end of the year.
*k.\TKB OF APVKRTISING.
1 sqL-m* (twe.We lines or !•• iir-t iriHertinn,. -$1 00
’ Each coiitimmnfe,. *- • - 50
Professional or Business (ku’ds, r.at'exceeding
.six lines, Tgryear, ,
tomoiuicing Canuidates for Office, 8 00
*rN< i AI^TKETTShMFNTS.
1 square, three months, ft 00
,<! square, six months, 7 00
1 square, twelve months,. 12 00
? squares. iV “ .18 Os?
8 squares, “ “ “1 00
•1 q iar°s, “ “ 2o 00
■jNlP*’ Ajvectiserner.Us not marked with the number
of insertions, will bo continued until forbid, and
charged’ ftccordingly.
!>r;ijrsrV'ts, and others, may con- [
tract for advertising by the year, on reasonable terms, j
LF.n AX .VO VFUTIS'EMFNTB.
Sale of Land, or Negroes, by Administrators,
Executors, and Guardians. per square,... 500
Sale of Personal Property, by Administrators,
Executors, and Guardians, per square,— ‘A 25
Notice to Debtors and Creditors, 8 25
‘Notice for Leave to Sell, 4 00
Citation for Letters of Administration, 2 7o
■Citation for Letters of Dismission from Adrn’n. 5 00 i
Citation for Letters of Dismission from Guardi
anship, 8 25
LEGAL KKQF tEEMKNTS.
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
?4>nrs of ten in the forenoon and three in the after-
noon, at. the Court House in he County in which the j
property is situate. Notices of these sales most be I
given in a public gazette forty days previous to the j
day of sale.
Notices for the sale of Personal Property must be i
given at least ten days previous to the day of sale, j
Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate must j
he published forty days.
Notice that application will be made to (he Court J
of Ordinary for leave to sell Laud or Negroes, most i
‘be published weekly for %* month*.
(Stations for Letters ot Administration must be J
. published thirty days —for Dismission from Admin-1
itratioo, monthly , six months—io r Dismission from i
Gu irdianship, forty days.
Rules for Foreclosure of Mortgage must be pub- j
lished monthly for four month * —for compelling titles j
from Es’ tutors or Administrate vs, where a bond has
been given Ly the deceased, the full space of three j
im-nths.
. *
will always be continued accord- !
ing to these, the legal l equheii'euts, unless otherwise
” ordered.
The Law of Newspapers.
1. Subscribers who do not give express notice to
the contrary, arc considered as wishing to continue
their subscription.
2. If subscribers order the discontinuance of their i
newspapers, the publisher may continue to ssud them
until all arrearages are paid.
8. If subscribers neglect or refuse to take their
newspapers from the offices to which they arc di
rected, they are held responsible until they have set
tled the bills and ordered them discontinued.
i, Ls subscribers remove to other places without
informing the publishers, and the newspapers are
sent to the former direction, they arc held responsi
ble.
5 The Coims* have decided that refusing to take
newspapers fr m the- office, or removing and leaving
them uncalled for, is print* facie endorsee of inten
tional fraud.
0. The United States Courts have also repeatedly >
deekUd, that a Postmaster who neglects to perform i
his duty of giving reasonable hot be, as required by
the Post Office Department, of the neglect cf a per
son to take from the office newspapers addressed to
him, renders the Postmaster liable to the publisher j
for the subscription price.
A JOB PHI X TIN Or,
of e very description, done with neatness and dispatch,
mt this offi -e, and at re;v-on;;b1e prices lor cash. All
orders, iu this department, must be addressed to
J. T. BLAIN.
~ m >lW ni i 1 i MHiiHniTiiTWTrwwrmmranTni — iFMQdtrs&xxzzxnmxmcvta ■nrub-r^-*^?*. -if.
PHOsyi: € t r s
S OF THK
TffIRMOE ■ CRUSADER.
[pc .ivr, vjfJ
•TSMKBRANCK BANNER:
■ CTI T ATEI> l>T a conscientious desire to further
yj, the cause of Tempi ranee, and experiencing
--roi'C disadvantage in being too narrowly limited in
*n#ce, by the smallness of mr paper, for the publica
tion of Reform Arguments and Passionate Appeals,
determined t > enlarge it to a more conve
nient and acceptable si'A-. And being conscious of
ihe fact that there are existing in the minds of a
Dortion of the present readers of the banner
uii-i its former patrons, prejudices and difficulties
winch can never-be removed so long as it retains the
n we venture also to make a change ip that; nr
o>r,iar. It will henceforth be called, “THE TEM
PERANCE CRUSADER.”
This old pioneer of the Temper tnce cause is des
-r ed vet>o‘chronicle the trmwnh of its principles. |
{this stood the test—passed through the “Heiy f<ir- ,
-nrc ” and, like the “Hebrew children,” re appeared |
luscorched. It Isas Survived the nempaper jamim
which has caused; ‘and is still causing many excel*•
’.eiit i aj-aais and periodicals to sink, like “bright ex
haHtious in the evenin to rise no more, and it has
Pveu heralded the “death struggles of manv contern*
•-.or."tries, .laboring fhr the same great end with itself,
li “stHi lives,’’ and “waxing bolder as it grows older,
i now waging an eternal ‘ Crusade against the ln
-4 nai Liiiuor Traffic,” standing like the “High Pnest
;, f t }, e Israelites, who stood between the people and
■be nl-igue that, threatened destruction.
Vcenbeat the frtends of the Temperance Cause
n( ,1,1 paper. We intend presenting to the public a
silted worthv of ait attention and a liberal patronage;
c, )C w hile it is strictly a Temperance Journal, we shall
endeavor to keep its retukwposted on all the current
orents throughout the couutry. ‘ .
as heretofore, sl, stnet-y m advance.
** ’ JOHN. H. SEALS,
Editor and Proprietor.
Penfieid, tii.. Dec. 8,1885.
iItWA to feitperante, Pnralilj, steofatt, (Sraera! Jnttllipte, Httos, fe.
£sl if eeCEcttteo xxM- Setedh&n $
For the Temperance Drusadet.
The Power cf Consoience.
BT n. C. aJASSEXOALE.
’f'vas in tire height of wi;.tor’s night,
An even ns drear ar.d daik.
And howling w hirlwinds rent the skies,
And s.yell’d *he w tteh-dog's bar k—
j To era were bursts of snow and sleet, and hail,
And icy men slid’ and stark.
A way in a rough and lonely spot,
Uy tno broad Savannah’s side,
Away where tin* (all trees’ branches,wave
And the*, woods sin tch *ar ar.d wide, “
To ft Wretched cot, thrift tl n wild storm's rage,
A dark awn onward hied.
■And a vroma. fiyrii, infii tr>, and worn,
By tune’s and care’s impress,
By fee lib? flalwe on the -worth she sat
Ini’ r widowed loneliness —
No “chick nor chi.o” on < a? th had she,
Ilet- withering years to bKss.
She sat, and ‘he howling storm raged on.
And sir breathed her Maker’s name;
Yet the cold winds £. . ypt with maniac Lo-.vl
And chided her tottering frame ;
The door was r<*nt wish a fearfil crash,
And the datk intruder cum’e.
lie came like a demon wild with lust-:
lie came with a bloody hand—
And long, deep draughts from the mad’nin? cup
The frantic iiarne had fanned,
It seem’d a the imps of'hell wye by
When the cursed deed was planned.
-
The'storin went by, the sun rose bright,
The lonely cot was there;
But spite of the dreamy glory flung
Athwart the fresty air,
There were some that wept—for the lonely cot
Had been murder's horrible lair 1
Long years had passed, and rumor’s blast
1 L'd hushed its visioned song;
That night’s dark deed had ceased to iiit
The bosom’s thoughts along;
The mind no longer dwelt upon
That night of blood” and wrong.
But the dark man wandered up and down
Away in far oh - lands—
And the gay world’s smile and the reckless laugh
Os rude and law less hands,
They could not chase the guilt from his soul.
Nor the blood from lijs trembling hands.
Ir the dream of night, in the blaze of day.
That woman, frail ar.d old—
He heard I he shriek of her broken voice.
And sa v her shivering cold,
And her wild and glazed eyebaUpstart
At his fierce and murderous hold!
I # .
I The power w* bin, with the daring sin.
Still grappled h ird and strong,
| And his guilty soul with visions wiki,
And quaking thoughts would throng :
“My heart will break a.id my brain will rave
To bear this burthen long!”
The dark man turn’d to the world again.
Aid the goblet high would id’;
“1 will taste of ii-e’s bright pleasures yet!—
Shai! I wreak out my own ill?
i I tray Laugh at the bonds that haunt my brain
If my coward tongue is still! ’
But the thought .-.till burned his burthened soul
Like maniac tknd- <>l uelt.
1 The bright joy that lie sough tyvft§ pain
Fo:* there Would the black Mends dwell;
I And they whispered to him of the bloo ly deed,
Suit urging bun to tell.
•Ncrdaj nor night, nor dark nor light,
Under evening’s crimson’d sky.
When the balmy breeze perfumed the air,
Or the storm was hurrying by,
Could he chase that paL cold form away,
Or liUaii tiiat dying cry.
“I must tell my guilt!—come well; come ill,
TI c iaL I must unfold!-,
-81 k sou ns on m • from the lone hearth-side,
And the night is bleak and e- id ;
8:e iOit rs üb. ut and her breath Comes hard —-
She is poor, and pail, and old.
i Is e the mark on her wrinkled hock
\\ here my duk hand did assa l,
! Hoi- gray hails stream and hei 1 p i-? blue,
Ami Uer cueek i.vi'ollovv ami pale!”
1 The bl ick lieo.ds gruined, leering, said,
“You iiiusr t-li ihat horrid rale ” *
’Tv s a pure and sunny day n spring,
And m-ntfel bands were there,
limners and > him -s were w vin-g high,
Ami sti e in iug bright an-.i iiii?-, —
| Arid he bark in.m marched to thogallows tree
To a dull and sol> ran air.
; Wright-.bori), Oct. 10.
. i——
Noah and Brevity.
, Many cento He* asr\ tlie Euihwas cov
ered with it gr.at H.ro i, by which the wl-olt
of ibe bntnau race, with tin.* oxcejrtiu.ti ol
one Lunily were destroyed. It appeaivs ui
so that tu.qa tlu-m:.* a great- alteration... wa.-
made in the longevity of maiikfl'd, who.
; Irons a r mgy of* r.,*ven or eight lnjn<ired
yeidte which lhev enjoyed before the flood, j
were confinCS to .heir present -peri* and of 70
or SO yenrs. This o;.',<jh in the history oi
un.n gave birth to ‘be two fold division of
the aufe-dehr inn end post-deluviuh gfylv
of writing, ibeTittfor of which uaturalh
[ contracte-f itself into tlfose intcMior limits
j which were better ‘aec*>iurnodfted by Hie
abridged duration of human life and iifera
ry labor. Now, to forget this ‘event —to
vvrite without the leap of the deluge before
rheir eyes, and to handle a iib jecl as if
mankind could -lounge over a pamphlet for
ten ve -ird, ms before their snhinetsion, is
to be guilty of the must grievous error in
to which a writer could {.-ossii.l v fall. The
author of a book tdrotlld call in the aid of
some i riiiiant pencil, and cause the dis
treSs ing scones **i the deluge to be portray
ed in the moot lively colons for his use. —
tie should gaze at Noah and be brief. The
ark should constantly remind him of the
httle time there is left for reading ; and he
.should learn, aa they did in the ark, to
crowd a great deal of matter inio a . very
little compass. —/Sidney /Smith*
P@FIELD, GA, SATURDAY, OCTOBER % 1856.
M¥ WIFE’S ECONOMY.
BY SMITH JONES, JR.
Mrs, Jones is a jewel of a woman. The
dear creature came home, lately, from a
shopping excursion, in the most extravagant
spirits.
“I have made such bargain* to-day,” she
said. “Only to think. I bought a lawn-dress
i beautiful tiling, for but six dollars. It has
he style, however, of the highest-priced
elks, so ( g rid to myself, even if I get Mad
one Flourish to make it up, it will be eco
nomical.”
Anw Madame Flourish was a French
nOtHste who had lately come over from Fa
ns. nuu really had tasie, but. was most ex
travagant in.her charge-; and l never heard
her name without a -hudder. A few months
before, she had made up a brocade for Mrs
Jones, which everybody said fit beautifully;
ii looks as if you were born in it,” enthusi
’St cally declared a friend, “and had grown
with you:” but my pleasure in contempla
ting this master-piece, i must confess, was
somewhat diminished when the bill came in.
to the tune of twenty-five dollars, for mak
ng and trimming it. However “it wasn’t
-?o astr nishing alter all,” as my wife reason
ed, “that a dre.vs pattern, which was worth
seventy-five dollars, should cost twenty-five
to make it up,” ami with this reflection I
consoled myself. So, when I heard the pro
posal to take this other dress to Madame, I
argued, that, if she charged in the same pro
portion, her bill would be only two dollars,
which struck me as not excessive; and ac
cordingly I made no objection to the sug
gestion, but lighting a cigar, sat thinking of
Mary Ann’s many virtues, and especially
her knack for economy.
In about a fortnight the dress came home.
It was a pretty, blue affair, with palms set
in stripes, and Mrs. Jones really looked like
a summer cloud in it, as she floated about
the room, displaying it in every aspect, and
expatiating upon its merits. The sleeves,
which were short, were neatly trimmed
with a sort of narrow lace ; and the cape,
for it was cut low on the shoulders—and
dear Mary Ann always wears capes over
such dresses—was embellished with a wider
lace of similar pattern. I thought to myself
it was the chnpest dress, at eight dollars,
making and all, I had ever seen; and as I
smoked my cigar, said mentally, “Ah!
Jones, what a happy dog you are to have a
wife with such a-knack for economy.”
Two.days after, the bill came in. My
wife opened it first, and I saw her face fall.
But she rallied immediately, and handed the
missive to me.
“Whew I said, “fifteen dollars for mak
ing a dress ihat cost only six ! Surely, Ma
ry Ann, there must be some mistake here?”
“Oh ! no. my dear,” she said, briskly.—
“My brocade, you know, cost twenty-five
to make and trim ; and this is ten dollars
cheaper.”
“But this dress pattern cost only six dol
lars.”
“The cost of the dress pattern, mv dear,”
she replied, smiling benevolently at my ig
norance, “has very little to do with the cost
of making and trimming it ”
“The dickens it hasn’t,” I began.
“llish i” she answered, playfully putting
her hand over my rn> uth. “Smithy, dear,
you mustn’t swear.” And taking the bill,
she commenced going over it, item by item.
“Here.” she said, “is the charge for mak
ing lhe dress, that is for fitting and sewing
;t toge he? - , four dollars. Now I’m sure,”
she continued, appealingly, “that’s reasons
b'e. Four dollars is he>* price always. Ii
take 4? just as long, you know, to fit and sew
together a cheap dress as a costly one; it’*
the lime that has to be paid for. Don’t you
see ?”
I was forced to nod assent to the fair lo
i gician. though it was with an internal groan
“Then there’s the linings, buttons, and
other small items, two dollars, which is low.
very low. Consider how these matters
count up. Besides,it takes time to go about
among the stoies, matching the buttons to
the dress.”
1 could not gainsay lifts either, but I said
to-myself that there were nine dollars still
unaccounted for, and that it would “puzzle
a Philadelphia lawyer” to reconcile this sum
to any rational being’s notion of economy.
“There’s nine dollars left,” resumed Mrs.
Janes, which is for the Valenciennes-——'”
“The wlml ?”
“The Valenciennes, with which the cape
and sleeves are trimmed *
“Oh ! that common-looking lace ”
“Common-looking 1” cried Mary Ann, her
eyes .sparkling. Then she laughed comical
ly. “That shows what you men know about
laces. Why, Smithy, dear, its real Valen
ciennes, and very cheap; and what’s more,
1 can use it, on something else, after the
dress is worn out.”
“But why put real Valenciennes, as you
call it, on so cheap a dress'?” I asked in a tone
of vexation.
“It's that very Valenciennes that gives
the dress such a stylish look. Everybody
know tis a cheap material; its the trimming
that redeems it; I only want a Valenciennes
collar, to match it. and 1 shall be complete.”
1 could not speak for amazement. I was
dumb, not merely at this strange notion of
art economical dress, but at the utter uncon
sciousness my wife had that there was any
th ng extravagant about it. She availed
herself of my silence to expatiate on the
beauty of Valenciennes laces in general, and
on that which trimmed her dress in pa rile-!
ular; .and warming with her subject, made j
it finally to appear that we were under inti- i
nite obligations to Madumje Flourish for the
opportunity o’ oaying this hill and buying a
collar to match her Valenciennes. Mrs
Jones was so earnest and sincere, that I
thought it would be a pity to break her
charming delusion. 1 resolved, therefore,
to smoke second-rate cigars for ibe next six
months, and indulge she dear creature in
her wishes; and she looks so l<ve?v, and
seems so happy, in her new dre*s and eoi
;ar, that, to confess the truth, i don’t regret
what I have done.
Nevertheless, as an abstract proposition
1 still hold to the secret opinion, that [lay
ing fifteen dollars for making ;mu :rimming
a dress that cost only fftx, doesn’t exactly
show n knack for economy.
Where is the Sunnier?
It is no longer ago than yesterday we :
heard a friend say. “I am going in the conn- j
tiy to spend the summer?” Is it more than j
a few brief hours since the last strawberry, j
dressed in cream color and scarlet, melted !
upon our lips? .Surely we smeli the June;
roses—and the blossoms of the apple frees. !
Is it more than a little week since the air
was redolent of firecrackers and the Fourth !
of July? What have we been about that
we have not caught the skirts oft he passing
summer and held a sober talk with her?—
How sly she was to keep our eyes on the
good things in her hand; and then as a mo
ther vanishes while the babe is grasping his
toys, so she passed like a vision.
What is it growing down there in the
garden so close by the strawberry bed?—
As sure as you live, a pumpkin with a
thanksgiving sermon tucked under its shell.
And what glistens on the road-side, right in
the path of last June buds? Huge tons oi
coal, “black, but comely,” oh i ye aalighter s
of New England. And why these pots in
seemly row’s —these rivers of molasses —
these bushels of unripe fruit with a flavor
like mingled vinegar and a persimmon puck
er? Speaking of pucker, did you ever see
a persimmon bitten by the unitiuted ?--
Wouldn’t a painter make his fortue if he
could transfer that picture to convass? We
remember a scene of the kind.
“Jack,” said a roguish traveler, “that’s a
nice fruit, just taste of it”—and Jack tasted.
“Whistle, Jack, whistle,” cried his tor
mentor.
And Jack, whose mouth resembled a
parched pea, perforated, gazed at the other
with a most woe-begone aspect, as he re
plied, “Oi couldn’t wussle t’ zave my moi
lithe.” Oil! it was too ludicrous —it was
side splitting, and Jack never forgot the
time he couldn’t “wussle.”
But, really these jars of pickle tell the sto
ry : they’re not so green but what they can
do that. They tell us that, fall is corning;
that it is right upon us clad in its robegi ol
russet. That noble wood-pile has some
thing to say about it, too; it murmurs be
tween its (the saws) teeth, of blazing fires
and frosty, kettles thawing out good humor
edly and warming towards their flames,
though they are sure to he always in hot
waiter, such busy bodies they are. it tel is
of cosy hearthstones, and snug little sitting
rooms, with someone to sing “sweet home”
at the piano—of a kitten purring upon the
rug—of a rocking chair with an old lady m
it, and a cradle with a baby in it——oh ! such
stories as that wood-pile teils !
Yes, friends, yea and verily the summer
has shaken hands and said good Live at la it.
Fail is here, respectable fall, a middle-aged
matron with ruddy cheeks, and cap and
spectacles, knitting stockings for old win
ter’s toes. The forest will ere long put on
the beautiful garments of decay, and then
lookout for snow bails and-sleigh rides
Olive Branch.
—— *—
Work, Work.
I have seen and heard of people who ,
thought it beneath them to work—to cm \
ploy themselves industriously at some use- !
tul labor. Beneath (hem to work . VV by. j
work is the great motio ; and he who ac- j
CO mpiis he s the most by his industry, is the
most truly great man. Aye. and is the
most distinguished man among his fellows.
too. And the man who so forgets his dutv
to himself, his fellow creatures and his God
—who so far forgets the great blessings o;
life, so as to allow his energies to stagnate ;
in inactivity and uselessness, had better die: j
tor says Holy Writ, “He that will work not. j
neither shall’he eat.” An idler is a camber- j
er of the ground; a Weanne-s curse to ban- j
self, as well as those around hun.
Beneath human beings to work! Why.
what but the continued ‘-industry that brings .
forth the improvement that never allows
man to he contented with any attainment
he may have made, of any work he may
have effected—What but this rises man
above the brute creation, and, under Prov
idence, surrounds him with comforts, luxu
ries, refinements, physical, moral and intel
lectual blessings? The great orator, the
great poet, and the great scholars, are great
working men. The vocation is infinitely
more laborious than that of any handjcralt
ism—and the student’s life has more anxie
ty than that of any other mail. And with
out the perseverance, the attention ot real
industry, he can never succeed. Hence,
the number of mere pretenders to scholar-
J ship, of those who have not the strength
J and industry to be real scholars, but slop
hall-wav, aiid are mere smutters—a shame
to the •profession.
Beneath human be mgs to work ! Look
m the artist s Studio, the poet’s garret, where
ihe genius of immortality stands ready t<> :
seai ids works with her uneffaeeahle signet,
and then you will only see industry stand
ing by her side.
Beneath human beings to work ! Why
1 had rather a child of mine should labor j
‘ egulai I\, at the lowest and meanest em- j
ployment. than !o waste its lime, its bodv. j
m.nri and soul, in folly, idleness and useless- j
ness. Better to wear out in a year than
rust out in a century.
Beneath human beings to work! Whai
! >;U wo; k has tided our fields, clothed our
od es. built our houses, raised our church
es. pruned our hooks, cultivated our minds
and souls? “Work out vour own salva
tion,” says the inspired Apostles to ihe Cl en
tiles.
Pocket Deep.
Yes—say dt.es vour religion go pockc*
lev]). Were you converted only in the up
per story— the oil in up only scalped — n
■vrsis he kill <1 dead ? Does your religion
r*.w.h only about that “unruly” member, t
so thud, cut your head off, and. sou! atm i
body would both bedswnn.d ; or, wm..yoi I
converted, right flown through, from hen* j
to foot, u soui, body and spirit,” pocket,
pocket-book and ad ; Not merely the cop
pers, three cent pieces, 'smooth lbiirp* n
ees, but those dollars, and eagles, and V\
ind XV? Say, Irienft, when God convert
ad you. did ho convert house, barn, cellar,
orn cribs, potum bins, meal bags and all?
Yon have, been praying for a “deeper, work i
of grace.” lioAv deep will you .have it—
pocketdeepj You ha-cdesired to “feel
mure deeply.” How deep ?—pocket deep \
or do you want to leel only akin defcp
You don’t fee! as you want to : Well, per
haps von never will till you feel in yom
pocket more.
J list think of these matters, will you ?
You feel for .your brother ; well, just fee :
in your .pocket. Yd u feel for the poor* we!
ft el in your pocket. You feel for “tin
cause;” well, feel in your pocket. You
feel for poor preachers: well, feel in yom
pocket. And if you fed there, von vvd!
ffiake others feel, and feel very thankful
too, that God has come servants whose re- i
iigion is pocket deep.
“O, I don't believe in talking so much j
about pecuniary matters.” ‘You don’t eh? |
Ah, wol 1 ; I guess j our religion is- not j
pocket deep yet. Try again, v . get c j
little nearer him who “was rich” and “be |
came poor” for you. You feel rather plea* j
■ai when God’s blessings come rolling bit.
your purse and dwelling. That's all right;
’but the Lord Jesus said, “iris more bless
ed to give than to receive.” Now don't
-hrug your shoulders so; I'm not- going to
beg a sixpence from you; don’t be alarm
ed. I wouldn’t ask you to give me u dollai
ftm ail the money you have in the world.
Duuit fret; all I want to know is wheduei
your religion is pocket deep or not. Just
think of it a little. I don’t a3k whether
v u would scatter everything to the foir
winds if you the Lord was coming, .so that
you couldn’t.-use it; hut whether yon art
ready to pen the bag now, when it can b.
of use, as at some other tune, when it will
he scattered in baste and tear, cud do m
one any good, and perhaps will do lurch
hurt, as lias often been the ease in Dim
post.
In a ward, is your tad fob >n pocket d>.ep
or is ii only skin deep;—Cross and Crown.
Extraordinary Longevity.
Divio Koife, a negro, died a! Corinth, I
Mi-3.,’ on the 2d nit., at the age of 111!
years. The Corinthian Pillar says of'him.,
“fie had r*- inai feu hie powers ot endu <
ranee, was a tine Carpenter, ami built v j
iarge frame.dwelling fr Mr. Mo?s, at tin i
! uiv.-meed ngt oS 314- years, in audition t< I
! . . , , ” ~ . > I
■ oe’.og ft goon wo? km u, no was a tine- jung \
j*f wi>ik, and frequently amused himself :t |
j -‘nth.-ising the order of Architecture being j
j.ivaivd in Corinth. lie supported hiinseb j
| .-xc'u-dvGy by his own exertions, and not
I withstanding his master would have cheer
fully supplied him with all the necessaries
•ft life, ins independence of spirit re.bukec
the idea of being an object of charity, so
long as im could raise un arm tor his sup
po, t. lie has during the present summer
,;.rawn between 3 ami 400 shingles a day. j
and. Inis frequently’ walked f* Corinth a dis
tunee of 2 miles after a hard day’s work, to
>np}dv himself with sugar and coffee so
| the month, lie was never sick in bis iife,
! cor did lie ever t;,ke a dose of medicine.— i
! But death the relentless pursuer finally |
! overtook him, and he, now sleeps his lust !
sleep.”
“Jim Watson’s
On the plantation of James Watson, near
Port Gibson, Mississippi, may be wiine-sed
an exhibition of memory that is truly re
markable. An African girl about fourteen
years oi age, answers to the name which
heads this article. Ii is the custom of Wat
s<n to give rewards for over-work, and du
ring the cotton picking season the amount
each hand picks is weighed twice per day
—noon and night. This girl stands by the
overseer and listens to the number of pounds
announced lo each hand, and at night the re
sult is reported with the utmost accuracy,
iler correctness is repeatedly put to the test
TERMS: ffil.OfTTN ADVANCE.
) JAMES TANARUS, BLAH,
V. i'rjstck.
VOL. XXILHVtfMB® 42.
by \\ at sop and others, who keep inemiiran
(!as during the w eiuhinsr.; tirl n and vor t vo
afterwards she *s catechised, and her mem
“rv {bmid perfect. Mr. Watson woks
from sx*v to seventy hands. What sy tern
of assoc ation tins girl ho* to remember ab
stract numbers die is unhMe to tell.
About Bugs.
Inuiviuufilly insig>ii!kv..n% some iuseefs
become, when assembled in their congre-
Jf.iteo hosts, a most formidable scourge to
m-n, or one ut his f bthfui and profit able
’objects. The locust, moving with his
nighty host across the leafy forest and the
gr* en fields, lays waste the verdure of
vholc countries, converting them into wild
•no barren deserts, while the honey-bee
-mi silk- worm are m ide the almost <! ines
iicHted allv of our race, f"r their use*. —
\ et, there are some Which, as individuals
o’e so niueli ot‘ annoyance. often call
u rtn the angry question. “What arc such
•refttuivs macli} for.” All things have their
uses, and in the great economy of na’U ’e,
•Touting is brought into being without some
nd or use. The cm 1 tnnsquitothat ‘*sii gs
M 1 sings,'’ arid slabs you while 1 e singe,
uni tiie !;1 >oc?-thirsty bug that, asaussin-
I be. seals upon von in your .-dumbers w th
mu deroue intent, lid up, each of them, no
l >ubl, an important place in the great
whole. A singular ami curious tradition
uj said to exist among sect of Kurd*, ro
'iding at the foot of Mount Siudsbar, of
he origin oi insect vermin. It runs as {bl
ows :
“When Noah’s ark sprang aleak by stri
king against a rock, and N*ab despt r‘d
[together of safety, theses pent promised
ro help him out, oj’ the mishap if he would
mgage to feed him upon human flesh after
•the deluge had suo ided. Noah pledged
dmself to do so, ant) the serpent, coiling
tin,self up, drove his body into the frae
ture and stopped tiie leak. When the flood
aid passed away, and all were making
way their wav out of the ark, the serpent
resisted upon the fu ifdhnefit of the pledge,
ml Noah, by GabrbTs advice, comuiiittd
(he serpent to the llamas, and scattering
oie ashes in the air, there arose ant of .them
dies, fleas, lice, bugs, arid all such sorts
■ .•f vermin a? prey upon human blood.”
Whatever may be ihe truth or falsity of
this tradition, one thing is true, tb..t all
sorts of flesh are the prey of some insect
which, like the tkol-a vampire, sucks their
vital blood. Tiie word bug, as it is now
i applied to a species of insect, has a enri
| ops origin. la. the Ceb : e, if signifies ghost
i -r t/ohlin, and it is-only in recent times
I that “thatß;x b.ggcd ‘not* i\* which ef> ep
j nth by night, has been sO'appeiiated.” And
| n proof <f tiiis, tiie author of * li s c; Ms
| -ellanies” stale:-, “that in Matthew's Bi
'• de. the ssh verse of the Ist Psajms is
thus rendered : Tm*u sh It not tmed be a
iraid of any bugs by night !” From ill's
comes, also, our word “bug-bear.—liar
per for October.
lO 3 The London ‘limes relates nn in
stance of womanly presence of mind and
unmanly parsimony wb oil occurred at
‘Southend iaiely. A gentleman engaged a
bathing machine, and had swu p out .about
a hundred feet from the machine, when a
•ry was heard of “save .me ! save me!” lie
was attacked with.cramp; Ins arms were
upright and fmge s extended. A young
mut swam oui to him, and coni I have
br>u 2i it him n -Ik,we, had no:, the drowning
mm clasped tunra* pond, and prevented fur
ther action; they both sank iw ce together,
At tins moment a delicate-looking young
woman, about five fy years of age. rushed
j into tiie sea, auu swam out u> them w.th-ill
I her cothes on, and succeeded m holding
j b-n.h tip. fill a b= *nt ar.r-.ved and rescued them,
j ii'tLe drowning man vv is taken asljme <n
{ sensible; and the usual remedies were appli
! ed wnl* sucae s; but what was the leward
■ ofle.ed to this young woman, who had risk
j tti her own hie.dor a st angers Just one
j khdl iig ! for that was the .amount he ten
j din ed the young lady; and Iras same added
i ingratbude.Jo meanues.-, by suiting that tie
j vvas not it) sn -h danger us was supposed.
Faith a> and Hogue —A little child about
i fired veers old, while passing through $
nnrul on one of out principal railroads,
. finding herself in total < arktiess, relieved
but occasionally >y a gleam of light shoot
ng down from openings in the arch above,
mb hearing only the rumhiingof the train
is it grop <i *?ts way, In came somewhat < x
citt*d in her feelings, ami, without speak
nga word} clang, as"a child wbl always
h>, to her parent, upon whose lap she was
-itlipg. Ijpbn emerging from the tunnel,
she looked up, her sprightly’ couiterranoe
ic&himg with joy, and said, k ‘Pa, 1 m go
ing to sing—
‘There is 9 happy land.’”
and assent being given, in her own artless
way she sung of that happy “happy land,
far, far away.” •* , -
John and Julia. —*• J >hn,” quoth tho
gentle Julia, to her sleepy lord one vr.rm
morning nt a h\te hour, “l wish y ou’d take
pattern'by the fhermdmeter.”
“As howt** murmured her worse r half,
sleepily opening lys optics.
Why— by rising.”
‘TFur, I wish you’d imitate the other fizv
magig that ha igs up by it-r-the barometer.’
“ Wuy fco V’ ’
“*C .use then you’d let me know When a
storm’s coming.