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’ : —•- ■ - - L * 9m ll 1” 111 I P****?— a ”
H. SEALS, )
*-'t> !• Editors.
L L. VEAZEY, )
NEW SERIES. VOL. 11.
imiwjtmiii.
EVERY THURSDAY, EXCEPT TWO, liV THE YEAR,
BY JOHN H. SKATES.
TERMS :
fl,oo, in advance; or $2,00 at the* end of the year.
RATES OF AOVERTTSINO.
1 square (twelve lines or less) first insertion,. .-§1 00
Each continuance, 50
Professional or Business Cards, not exceeding
six lines, per year, 5 00
Announcing Candidates for Office,. 8 00
STANDI NT! A DVERTISEMENTB.
1 square, three months, -* 5 CO
1 square, six months, 7 CO
1 square, twelve months* 12 00
2 squares, “ “ 18 00
8 squares, “ “ 21 00
4 squares, “ “ 25 00
Advertisements not marked with the number
of insertions, will be continued until forbid, and
charged accordingly.
.Merchants, Druggists, and others, may con
tract for advertising by the year, on reasonable terms.
LKOAL ADVERTISEMENTS.
Sale of Land or Negroes, by Administrators,
Executors, and Guardians, per square,... 500
Sale of Personal Property, by Administrators,
Executors, sJhd Guardians, per square,— 8 25
Notice to Debtors and Creditors, 8 25
Notice for Leave to Sell, 4 00
Citation for Letters of Administration, 2 75
Citation for Letters of Dismission from Adm’n. 5 00
Citation for Letters of Dismission from Guardi
anship, 8 25
LEGAL REQUIREMENTS.
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
hurs of ten in the forenoon and three in the after
noon, at the Court House in the County in which the
property is situate. Notices of those sales must be
given in a public gazette forty days previous to the
day of sale.
Notices for the sale of Personal Property must be
given at least ten days previous to the day of sale.
Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate must
be published forty days.
Notice that application will be made to the Court
of Ordinary for leave to sell Land or Negroes, must
be published weekly for tico months.
Citations for Letters of Administration must be
{fcihlished thirty days —for Dismission from Admin
istration, monthly , six mouths —for Dismission from
G uardianshi p, forty days.
Rules for Foreclosure of Mortgage must be pub
lished monthly for four months —for compelling titles
from Executors or Administrators, where a bond has
been given by the deceased, the full space of three
mon the.
ff-W" Publications will always be continued accord
ing to these, the legal requirements, unless otherwise
ordered.
Prom the National Era.
Our Earthly Friends in Heaven.
The following lines were found in the coat pock
et belonging to a young man, soon after his death,
which was occasioned by consumption.
Is it wrong to wish to see them,
Who were dear to us on earth,
Who have gone to heavenly mansions,
Who surround ft brighter hearth V
Is it wrong to mourn their absence
From the parted household band V
Should we check the sigh of sadness,
Though they’re in a better land ?
Is it wrong, to hope to meet them
Yet upon the blessed shore.
And with songs of joy to greet them,
When this toil of life is o’er?
Is it, wrong to think them dearer
Than the many of the blest,
Who to us on eait'n wore strangi-rs?
Must we love them like the rest?
I’ve a mother up in heaven,
And, oh! toil me if ye will.
Will that mother know her children?
Will she recollect them still?
Can she look Awn from those windows,
To this dark and distant shore?
Will she know when I am coming?
Will she meet roe at the door.
Will she clasp me to her bosom ?
In her eo.stacy of joy.?
Wiil she.ever be mv mother?
Shall I ever he tier boy ?
And thou, loved one, who didst leave us,
In the morning of thy bloom—
Dearest sister, shall i meet tiiee
When I go beyond the tomb ?
Shall 1 see ihy lovely features?
Shall I hear thy pleasant words,
Sounding n’er my spirit’s heart strings.
Like the melody of birds?
And 1 think me of soother—•
Os a darling iillle one—
Who went up among the angels
Ere tr.s life had scarce begun.
Oh ! 1 long once more to see him,
And to fold him in my arms!
As I did when he was with us.
With his thousand budding charms.
Ah 1 ’lis true the soul must suffer,
And be bound with anguish down,
Ere ’ is fitted for its dwelling,
Ere ’tis read} 7 for its crown.
But, O Jesus! Wessed Jesus!
Thou art loved without allow.
Thou will guide us:, thou wilt bless us,
Thou wilt give us perfect joy.
Homeward Bound.
)?V MHS. MOUNT.
Os all the ships that sail the sea,
Circling the earth around,
There tire - none that sail so merrily
As those that art* bqmeward bound,
Then pour the wine, and pour it five
As the tide on the* thirsty ground.
And by wave and wind the toast shall be—
A home to the homeward bound!
Fill high the wine, while the seas flow fast.
With a welcome to these who come,
Though the stars be guided some ut last
To shipwreck instead of home.
But till, for we’ll hail them cheriily,
Be life or death around,
And o’er wave and wine the spell ahalEbe—
A home for the homeward bound !
COMMUNICATION.
For Uit Crti'&dcr.
Gnirene.
liV SMWIE EMEU A 1.0.
~ ~ CHAPTER Ts.
‘-ftp iHort $ ehA9t ic*>, bn port* ti* t?cov, tlvoo not &Q£tpe
calumny.”
It was asp loi-.nis and sumptuous npaftment,
soft bright carpels lav on the floor like beds of liv
ing flowers, beautiful pictures hung on the frescoed
walls, rich curtains heavy with golden fringe swept
over the windows, while scattered around in gor
geous confusion, were statues of purest marble,
stands and tables inlaid with pearls and jewels,
and sumptuous furniture can ed with rare skill
and bright rich gilding. Two persons were there,
the fair young girl whom we saw drooping like a
broken flower beneath that twilight summer sky,
and a gentleman in the prime of life, richly attired
and of a proud and haughty bearing. ‘‘Say,
lady, sweet lady, will you be mine”, and Jim dark
face glowed wiih unwonted emotion as he knelt
gracefully before the lady. “My lord” answered
die maiden “I have told yon that T loved you not,
save as 1 love all true friends.”
Miss Y’ernon, Oeirene, exclaimed the noble pmis
woriby, “l know that you do not love me now,
but consent to bo my wife, and then if loving arts,
if unwavering, unchanging devotion can win the
love of woman, yours shall he mice.”
. “BeMeve it not Lord St. Mere” she replied slink
ing her head with a sad smile, “such may win wo
man’s gratitude, hut love comes fiot at human
bidding.”
“Let me put it to the teat sweet lady,” still pur
sued the earl, grasping as he spoke the small
white hand which had l*cen laid upon his shoul
der to stay his passionate words. The lady’s fair
brow grew troubled and sad, for it grieved her
woman’s nature to pain the heart of one that
ved her so fondly, sin-* turned her head to Lido
ihe tears that were sparkling on her long lashes,
and remained silent. The lover seemed to gather
fresh hope from this, his handsome face lighted
up, and clasping her hand more tightly, he inur
■nured eagerly. “Answer dearest,” the maiden
withdrew tier hand, and replied firmly, but still
wry gently. “I have answered my lord.”
The pround noble arose from his humble posi
•ion and stood before Onirene, the iove light had
iaded from his eyes and his brow was stern and
dark, bending forward he laid his hand heavily
upon her shoulder and hissed rather than spoke
through his closed teeth. This then is vour frail
answer Onirene Vernon,” the lady shrank hack
ai.d her cheek slightly paled, hut she answered as
before.
’ \ ou,” he exclaimed quivering with passion,
“you reject me, you u nameles, penniless thing re
iu-e an alliance with the earl of St Mere.” Onirene 1 *
cheek si untied and her eye flashed with resentment
at these rude words. “My lord,” she said haught
ily, arising and pointing to the door, “this inter
view has been too long already.”
“Ay ! I know the secret of this refusal” contin
ued the earl passing rapidly up and down the
and unheeding her speech, “you love anoth
er. you love.”—
“Enough Sir,” inferupted the indignaut girl
hastily, and with a flushing check and down cast
eve she would have left the apartment, but St.
Mere sprang toward and rudely arresting her steps,
led her back to the seat she had left, and again
stood before her. It was difficult to recognize in
that stern harsh man, the supplicant lovpr who
had knelt but a few brief moments before breath
ing low words of love and devotion to that fair
• feature, hut alas! the love of man when disap
pointed. 100 often turns to hatred and bitter per
secution of the very being whom ho would have,
taken to Ida bosom and cherished with tender
care.
“Listen to me, 1 uttered lord St. Mere i?i a voice
hoarse with rage. ‘T mean by the God of yon
high Heaven, you .-hall never be the wife of
another, uever, 1 lie shouted so fiercely that even
Oii’.rene's brave heart quailed. “What mean
you ?” she asked half fearfully.
Ha, ha!’ laughed he mockingly, “you may
well tremble my dainty maided,” bowing his head
ill his raven kcks swept her fair brow, he sank
his voice to a hoarse whisper. “I will tell such
tales to your dishonor that the bare mention of
your name shall bring the blush of shame to a
lady’s cheek. I will make Onirene Vernon a by
word and reproach, a thing of scorn and shame.”
The young gill was no longer trembling or
fearful, now she stood erect, proudly erect with
and quivering lips. “Villian, base
viilian” she exclaimed, standing-before him like
some beautiful incarnation of scorn and indigna
rion. “you dare not.’*
“And why not sweet one,” said he tauntingly,
“think you the earl of St. Mere fears aught, or
that there are any who wiil gainsay what he hath
spoken.”
Yes, there is one,” she answered definitely, “one
who will dare punish even a titled knave.”
“Ha”exelaimd the noble turning quickly, hi*
. PENFIELD, (lA., THURSDAY, APRIL 23, 1857. UNIVERSITY 0F GEORGIA LIBRABr
face purple with passion, “you mean your plufoisn
countryman, that low churl, that—”
The maiden started as though an arrow bed
peirced her bosom, the warm blu’ and d\>d her brow
ao<i burnt with a crimson glow on her cheek, while
her datk eyes g'earned and scinteliated. “Be si
lent, sir.” she said addressing him mV* voice of
such imperious command, that* the angry words
were staved on his lips in spite of himself, “Be
silent, I will not listen to such language, know
lord St. Mere that the humblest citizen that treads
America’s soil, if he be true and honorable, is the
equal of England’s proudest peer. Ay! of her
monarch himself.” And with proud dignhy she
turned away and left the apartroet unbiterupted
by the abashed nobleman.
When the earl of Bt. Mere uttered that wicked
oath, he knew well that goodness ond virtue could
avail naught against malice and falsehood, that
woman’s reputation was but a fragile thing, a
crystal mirror that a breath might tarnish or a
word shiver to atoms and ruin, that might be
blemished and broken even when most surely
guarded, even when in reality as pure and unsni
lied as the pearl in its ocean bed. lie knew that
woman’s fame was even as a flower, that may
have no taint on it purity, no spot on its beauty
and yet on which the blighting frost may fall and
in a moment wither and crush it in all its pride
and loveliness to the very earth. With this
knowledge lie made the dark threat which ho ful
filled*—al*s, too well.
Oil A ITER 111.
“Each word swam in rny brain
With ft diin, dilating pain.
Till it hurst.
I fell—flooded with a Dark,
In the silence of p. swoon,
When I arose still cold and dark,
There was night.
E. B. Brown iso.
The bright morning sun came softly in through
the rose tinted curtains of Onirene’s boudoir, foil
ing upon the brow of the young girl, as she re
clined on a damask couch near the open window.
But even that gleam of golden, mellow light could
not dispel the shadow that rested on that fair
white brow, it had not come there suddenly, but
gradually, deepening day by day as tlie looks
and tones, not only of the world, but of her home
circle, grew more strange and cold. Even the
proud haughty f-ice of lady Grey had seemed
sterner of late- What could it be ? What lmfl
wrought this change ■ v he asked herself this
again and again and brooded over it until the in
ward trouble had marked its impress upon her
pailing cheek, and drooping form. She sat with
one hand supporting her head while the other
toyed with the leaves of an open book that lay
on her kuee, but she was not reading, she seemed
lost in a painful reverie, from which she was
presently awakened by the opening of the door,
aDd the entrance of her aunt’s house-keeper bear
ing a sen led letter in her hand. “From her lady
ship” said the woman presenting it to Onirene.—
“From my aunt,” repeated the young girl in sur
prise, “strange that she should write to mo.” “My
lady left town early this morning,” said the house
keeper apologetically, and there seemed to be
something of pity in her eyes, as she gazed mi the
young creature. Onirene hastily unfolded the
perfumed and tinted paper arid glanced over its
contents, it wus very brief —that cruel heartless
letter, merely saying that dishonor had attached
to her name, and she would leave Grey House,
and seek another home where, however, lady
Grey’s bounty would still l>e extended to her if she
chose to receive it.
The young girl's arm dropped aside, and the
paper was crushed in her hand as though it were
some reptile that had stung her. her face grew
rigid and white, and her eyes diluted as with in
tense pain, her pallid lips moved and she essayed
to speak, but the words came forth in a hoarse
gasping whisper. “It is his work,” she said “he
has kept his vow,” and with a low di9paiiing cry
she fell heavily to the floor. The old woman who
from the first seemed to have been aware that she
was the bearer of evil tidirjgs, now hastily lifted
the lifeless form of the poor girl and laid her on
the eoticb, with womanly kindness she bathed her
pale brow, and shaped her hands, but the swoon
was very deep, and for some time Onirene lay* so
still and pale in her white robes, so like a eorj/se,
that she feard the blow which had fallen so heavi
ly upon her, had indeed, crushed out her young
life.
Oh! Angel of death thou who rtaudest so
often by the fair bride at the altar. Whose dark
wing hoverest so often over a fond mother’s joy,
who so often smitest down the loving wife’s
earthly stay, why, ob why, dost thou not pass
these by, and in mercy still only the stricken
heart, close only the eyes to who earth is darken
ed. But life seems to cling with strange tenacity
to such, death deserts the sorrowing as if even bis
dread quiver held no arrow that could inflict deeper
pangs than they endure, and so Onirene did not
die then. Those brief moments ot blessed insen
sibility passed away, and she returned to life and
suffering. She arose to a sitting posture and put
ting back the heavy curls that valed her si^ht,
gazed wildly around the'room, when her glance
rented on the ho*-keper, her brew contrasted
as wiih sudden pain, bending ft.ward she gr taped
the vuHu.ih’s hand, £lO, he, whore is he,” sh<
spake in tones so unlike her oti sweet voice that
die i uiier started and gftZeri doubtingl? in her fact*.
“Who my poor young My r” she asked deeply
trucked by 4ie young gift’s anguish.
“JUnrd Bt, Mere,” she uttered, ** though the
name burnt her 1W
“Mercy on us,"’ excluimed the old houee-kceper
lifting up her hands in astonishment, “the carl
went to France three weeks ago, ho won’t be t*a<k
ui a hurry either, not for two years or more I be
lievo they s iy.”
“Then God help me” broke from the wretched
creatures lips, and she sank back on the couch,
/rasping the cushions convulsively to her bosom,
tier vhole being shaken with terrible agony.—
Presently she grew quiet, and lay very still. The
old woman in her simplicity thought the maiden
s’ept, she could have seen but very little of hu
man suffering, or she would have known that
nature’s sweet restorer” seldom visits the eyes of
die dispiriting. As it was, she stole softly about
lie room, drawing the satin curtains over the win
lows that the sunshine might not euler, airanging
the books and drawing materials snat were seat
R-red in disorder over the table, and then with a
nst look to assure herself of the young girl’s un
listurfoal repose, hurried away to have a eop of
tea prepared against her awakening, for that bev
e age. in good Mrs. Brown’s opinion was a uni
virsfil panacea. On her ratusn she found Onirene
ratting up, her face was pah* and deathlike in its
hue, yet strangely calm. She lifted her eyes as
ihe old woman entered, and perceiving the ten
rnv shook her head with a sad smile, “I do not
wish for anything my kind friend,” she said, and
hen eotinud in a calmer voice, for her tones had
been slightly tremulous as she thanked the house
keep for her unbought kindness, which in that
moment of desolation came to h*r heart like dew
to the parched flower. “I would thank you to
pack up a few of my clothes Mrs. Brown, I am
’hint and weak and unequal to the task.”
“Pack up your clothes*,” exclaimed .Mrs. Drown
starting Iwk with a precipitancy that dashed ha f
the contents of the china cup she held over the
rich carpet,
‘‘Yes, I must leave this house immediately, lady
Grev hath hid me do so,” replied the young girl
with the same unnatural composure.
“Lady Grey—Oh no! she would not have been
so cruel us that,” urged the house keeper warmly
“for she knows that you are a stranger here and
have no friends.” Yeti must go” said Onirene
arising. “N T o, no,” plead Mrs. Drown, “lady Grey
will repent, she will take hack what she hath
said, ?he will not send you forth. ‘ The maiden
answered not, but her face showed plainly that
her resolution was unchanged.
“When will you go lady,” again spoke the wo
man, sitting down the tray and wiping her eyes
with the ctruer of her apron. At the question
the poor girl started, her cheek grew a shade
paler if possible, and sire sank down covering her
face with her hands, the thought had not struck
her before, that she had no destination, that she
was in a land of strangers without home or friends,
and without means, for lady Grey’s offer of assist
ance, her proud spirit forbid her to accept. Then
you will stay dearest lady” continued the house
keeper eagerly, encouraged by the gay girl’s si
lence, at lease till my lady returns and then—”
“Never” exclaimed Onirene, starling • up and
pushing the woman from her almost fiercely, “this
!no place for me, rather would I that the skies
above should cover me, ay” she continued “Udden
ly turning towards the open window and pointing
to the-Tbtones which was visible front it, “Ay
rather would I that the dark waves of yonder
river should roll over me, than remain one hour
longer beneath the roof of those that doubt my
honor.”
“Oh S Lady,” cried the woman turning pale
and clasping her hands as a frightful thought
crossed her mind,” lady you wil] not drown your
self. Oh ! for sweet heaven’s sake tell mo you
will not do that.
“No ‘ answered the maiden smiling bitterly,
“I wil! not do that good Drown, I have a task to
perform, ere I may hope to find rest even in death”
and as she spoke a look of stem resolution crept
over her face, banishing all feminine softness from
thos ■ beautiful features.
“Lady” at length said the house-keeper break
ing the silence that followed these words” I haven
sister, the same you gave me money to Hssist
when she was sorely in need, she hath a borne, an
humble one it is true, yet even that is better than
none dear lady—but do you hear me lady,” she
said, gently shaking the young girl’* arm lo at
tract her attention, for Onirene stood there, with
that s!r,.nge new expression still on her face, her
bosom hr-Hxiig with some deep inward feelingand
her dark eves Hashing wildly. “What is it, what
were you saving,” she said arousing herself and
pressing her hand to her brow. “That my sister
had a home and I offered its shelter to yon dear
lady if you will accept it,” answered the woman
ad though she herself were asking a favor, instead
of being about to bestow one oh tbe young girl,
who’s gvutb* HiHitiH-rs and kind font so, i thus
nub -mi her even to her aunt’s menial.
A* uitiiln r time Ooiteno wou-d have di<* f*-
!v touched by this proof irue and dismUd-esM
•‘ff-eriou. but now she did not h-tuu so h-.-ed it, no
dok of gratitude sotMjirod her face or trembled u>
the toms ut her voice.
“I will yr> ;nywbr*” In* answer e/1, her eyes
bent on the floor, and her fingers working in tin
‘iiken folds of her <]ri*>s. “Anywhere, so it is
away from iu.ru, nwav from the world mid its
mocking eyes are] hateful pity—can you hide ou
from lh<-se!’ she asked abruptly, raising her ercs
to the woman’s foce.
dear lady we can, and will, t.otte shall
km •w whither you have gone.,’
Ere the sun went, down on that day Oniren*
Vernon had left the mansion of the Greys and
soon the name of the blight beautiful stranger who
had “blazed the comet of n season” and who’s
star, alaaj had gone down quenched in darkness
and gloom, was forgotten.
[to Ris CONTINUED.]
CHOICE MISCELLANY.
Eloquent Tribute to I)r. Kune. — During a dis
course preached on Sunday evening, by Rev. Ohas
Wadsworth, from the text, “Jesus wept.” John
xi. 35, the preacher paid the following beautiful
tribute to the memory of the illustrious Arctic
explorer :
“Yes, Death is an evil and a hitter ihiug!—
Who does not know it? who has mot felt it 1 and
to night, perhaps more keenly than is our want,
we know it and feel it. W> are, this holy hour,
city of mourners. Before another Sabbath comes
with its blessed light, we shall have gone forth to
pay funeral honors to one whom we all loved ha a
umn ( and honored as a citizen; —in whose living
deeds we all gloried, and whose early dsatb we de
plore with in mentations and tears 1 am not
diiuking here to utter his eulogy ; the occasion
dot-s not permit it ; the man does not need il ; hut
; t were a forgetfulness of God’s great voice in his
Providence not to re dvr here and now brief and
humble, tribute to the honored dead.
Dr. Iy a lie’s career wa* a matter of national
pride, and his death is a rnHUer of national latneo
lalion. II a was a character singularly grand in
its separate elements, and matchlessly beautiful in
the harmony of their combination*. The powers
of a uaturuliy keen n<i comprehensive mind had
been strengthened by earnest culture, and develop
ed in the widest range of practical and scientific at*
urnment* —ami these ia all their fulness conaecrat*
ed to the loftiest aims of beneficent usefulness.
Ilia mU flrct was at on e strong and beautiful —
keuly analytical with the severest philosophy—
and equisiiively iioaginafive with she loftiest poet
ry. Ihe ciinbinatioos of nis moral character were
still more remark blo r*nd wonderful. - To the tru
est arid tenderest sensibility were added the most
iron will and the most indomitable decision ; and
with h dauntless bravt-rv that, equ dfod the glorious
chivalry of the old ideal and fabulous heroism, was
blended a calm, practical judgment—a Kumoll
ous and majnsMc patience—a bssutiful simplicity
and modesty ; ail rifely equalled in human biog
raphy. Meanwhile suffusing all that ••hara6t*r as
wiih a heavenly light, and blending all its rare
qualities as with a Divine solvent, into one exquisite
amalgam there was a living and controlling pu
rity which made the whole man a living sacrifice
to hi< fellows, nod laid down all the spoils
and trophies of his triumphs at his Master’s feet.
Qualities seldom combined, and indeed seemingly
antagonistical, were found in his heart and life,
each in fulles* power, and all in loveliest harmony,
He thought like n philosopher—he wrote like a
poet —he actci) like a hero—he felt bkn a child—
he lived like ft man —he prayed like a Christian.
lie was ut once the giant oak that battles with
the storm, and the gentle vine that beautifies iff*
gnarled trunk with its green leaves and purp!*-
durietv, And makes sweet alike zephyr and storm
with its exquisite aroin*.
And us such be has died in she early prime
and promise of manhood—in the morning twilight
of his brightening fame—just as his powers were
reposing for loftier toils, and his betjevoience kind
ling for broader enterprises—just as we were be
ginning fondly to appreciate the wonders of tbe
past, and exultingly to prophecy the splendors of
his future—-just then he died ; and we mourn for
him—-we weep for him—anti why should we not ?
Dangerous Curiosity. —An accident, which though
comic enough, might, easily have bud ft tragical
ending, occurod the other .lav Madame TussaudV
Exhibition. A medical student, examining the
guillotine in the Chamber of Horrors, took it into:
his head that the sort of yoke which fits down on
the shoulders of the crimnal, to hold him in his
place, would not l*o sufficient to confine a person
who struggled. His curiosity on this point led him i
to watch till the place whs empty, and actually put j
i himse.f in, letting down the yoke. He soon found j
that he was quite unable to lift if-, aud it at once ,
flashed into his mind that tne sharp axe which
was suspended over the neck could not bo firmly
fixed, or it would not fall (as it does) with a touch.
He was afraid to struggle, last the shaking should
bring it down, and at once deposit bis head in the
basket of sawdust below him, into which his eye*
were of necessity steadily looking. Having stayed
sometime in this p’ight, he was ovejoyed to hear
u.c approach of a visitor, whom he imploted lo re
lease liiu.
“Pro thinking,” said the gentleu>D (a Scotch
visitor of the metropolis) to hi* wife, “Dm thinking
he must be hired to show how the thing acts, and I
think we’d better not interfere.” So the luckless
student was left till MadameTussaud oaine in, and
made fast the axe before releasing him. The axe
has been removed and laid bv the Bide, to prevent
future neeideHU.— -Londm VPetkhj Reyitltr.
C TERMS:
’ $1 iu advance} nr, ii at U* ani *? &§ v*ar,
< ,jQ
> JOHN H. SEALS,
V. ‘ ,*UOS'££XE/'Oli.
VOL. XXIMUMBEII 17.
Life in a Gin F&Uoe.
Wheti I was fifteen years of age, I was enga^ou
by a drapper little man, with a dixir faoe, iauk
Si©ek hair, trod a pug-o? sc, (not to ■i*-s)rio?j * v*ry
peculiar squint in his left eye. which was gre-ao,
while its yellow was a bright blue,) to help in tie
waiting department iu a handsome gin p dace iu the
oily of Dublin. At first all seemed to me v.-j-y
pleasaot ; aDd although I had never almost tasted
spirituous liquor before. I soon learned to s-.p lit
tle and a little, and by degrees became amazingly
fond of the drug, or drugs, for l soon coui.i sip ail
kinds. This went on for about eighteen months,
when in an evening Sunday stroll, I listlessly wcut
into a chape! of some denomination of Methodists,
near the south side of the city, where I heard a
short pithy sermon from the text —“No drunkard
shall inherit the kingdom of heaven ” Never shall
t be able to tell the fearful impression that this
short sermon made ou my comparatively young
mind. The preacher was a tall, rather fair, ia
tensly earnest, affectionate spoken man, of about
forty years of age. In evety sentence he seemed
to ay tht he bad been watching what was going
on in the gin palace, he seemed to single me out
as the fell fiend of the establishment, by teliing
me all the personal and family ruiu to which I
was hourly contributing ; at U*t, the souls I had
Helped to ruin seemed tcry out from the pit for
tengenee on the infernal traffic, wbeh ev*. made
ft woe-region of this fair earth, which blooms J,
beauteous to those who temperately enjoy its rich
blessing*.
From this awakening, terrifying, indelible .ser
mon I returned lo my home, with a mind ill tt
ease, and I fully determined to abandon ray pres
ent occupation as soon as feasible. Dm thou L-g
ashamed to say so, on conversing with rnv master
on the reason for ray intended step. I was persua
ded by him that the preacher was a fool, and that
rny unlearned brains had been bewiideied by his
fine pictures. liras lulled, [ continued to bold
rny situation, —not without tearful misgivings at
times, aod often with bitter remorse, till last month,
on reading some of the Scottish Temperance
League, I really did give it up. One advantage
at least, which I derived from my continuation id
this sad demoralizing traffic was, that ever after
that sermon I never tasted even the weakest beer,
nor did I ever ask a friend to taste ; nod more
over, i carefully noted the course and eod of
numerous frequenters of the establishment. A
few of these, let me request you to uote, as beaoous
to warn tbe thoughtful from venturing to trust
his frail craft among such breakers.
Oueyoung man, whom I had obseved as a week
ly visitor tor his cigar and glass of grog, struck me
ns one of the handsomest mot) I had ever sci'D.—-
Be was six feet oaa inch in height, with broad
sbouiders, high head, fair complexion', and hair
inclined to curl. His voice w;is soft, sonorous,
deep, and jxireuaeive ;u its tones,such us fascinates
women in ail circles of life. His look was benign
—oue iu which yon could gaze with perfect ad
miration, and recur to as almost divine. Os course
it wdl not lx* wondered at, that such a man, even
among tbe hundreds that came and went in the
daily routine of such a frequented shop in the heart
o* a large, light-hearted city, should attract ray
notice, elicit my admiration, and deeply engage
my sympathy. Such a contrast was bis to the
ueu’ll bloated, boiled-fish eyes that ever presented
themselves; no wonder if I watched his entrance,
and noted his coining an.l going. ‘-Alas ! these
became progressively more frequent, until, at last,
hi* absences were as bis initiatory visits, only at
Song interval*. By this time his drinking and
smoking habits bad so mastered him that the ci
gar ana glass seemed to contend for tbe occupation
of his hand ; and a sandwich was the ouly food
that the billiard-board allowed him leisure for.—
lhe course was not long. About two years and
six months after his entrance as a daily vistor to
the billiard-room, his funeral was anounced after
two days’ absence, in delirium tremeus. Then I
began to learn these brief but sad facta of his con
nexions, means and seduction.
Ha was the only son of a wealthy citizen, who
stood high as n civic functionary about a quarter
of a century ago. lie had been early indulged
by a too fond mother with cash to spend as seemed
to bim beet, in the indulgence of tastes which had
been pampered from infancy by that mad, fond
ness which mins more ehiidren than almost any
other medical vice. He had displayed brilliant
talents at school; had entered col leg, and gained
the highest honors in science and classics; and
was then, at his own request, destined to the Bar,
as possessing those gifs which, if properly cultiva
ted and matured, must some day place him ou the
bonch. Bneli was tne laudable ambition, but the
baseless vision of his over-indulgent parents, whose
hearts were permanently bowed in sorrow, soon
; vanished, from which they never recovered till the
| the silent tomb closed over them. Then, too, was
jit whispered, that the dark, sinster lookiug little
| man that was always so rapid ou some political
! point, and shore to be in the middle of a knotty
; and keenly contested argument when the glasses
required replenishment, was the reducer of the sub
ject of these notes. Then, lot), whs it told bow
many bitter days bm poor distracted paaents spent
in mourning over the ruin of their son, and in
fimtlessiy trying to reclaim bim from his dowuward
curse. But in vain. The taste for strong drink
once formed, it is almost impossible to get free
from it. Thus were all the fond legitimate hopes
and domestic comforts of a respectable family bias
ed by the snare of strong drink, and that drink—
dreadful thought!—doled out by this band !
How the thought seems to distil molten tiro into
my faithful conscience. llow vividly does the
vision the apparition of this noble youth present
itself in ghasil) form before ray imagination, and
with piercing glance say—Thou gavest me the
deadly, maddening, fiery draught, the autepast
of that which never Uail be quenched I— Eng.
Poptr.
If a man dies from the ttiects of the rum traffic,
people arejiardly startled. If murdered any other
way, the whole community is excited. Is the lin
gering torturing rum-murder more merciful than
the qafek blow.