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- JOBS’ If. SEALS,
EDITOR & PROPRIETOR.
.NEW SERIES, VOL. 11.
TEMPIRIM CRUSADER.
PUBLIBIIKD
EVERY THURSDAY. EXCEPT TWO. IS THE YEAR,
BY JOHN H. SEALS.
TERMS:
SI,OO, in advance; or $2.00 at the end of the year.
RATES OF ADVERTISING.
1 square (twelve lines or less) first insertion,. .$1 00
• Knell continuance, -- - 5°
Professional or Business Cards, not exceeding
gix lines, per year, 5 00
Announcing Candidates for Office, 3 00
STANnr . ADVERTISEMENTS.
I square, thro norths, ®
1 square, six months, 7 00
1 square, twelve months, ....12 00
2 squares, “ “ ?rl
8 squares, “ “ ‘- J \
4 squares, “ “ 00
not marked with the number
of insertions, will be continued until forbid, and
charged accordingly.
g3?*“Merchants, Druggists, and others, may con
tract for advertising by the year, on reasonable terms.
LEGAL ADVERTISEMENTS.
Sale of Land or Negroes, by Administrators,
Executors, and Guardians, per square,
Sale of Personal Property, by Administrators,
Executors, and Guardians, per square, —3 25
Notice to Debtors and Creditors, 3 25
Notice for Leave to Sell, 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, 3 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
hours of ten in the forenoon and three in the after
noon, at the Court House in the County in which the
property is situate. Notices of these sales must be
given in a public gazette forty days previous to the
day of sale.
Notices for the sale of Personal Property must be
given at least 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
es Ordinary for leave to sell Land or Negroes, must
be published weekly for two months.
Citations for Letters of Administration must be
published thirty days —for Dismission from. Admin
istration, monthly , six months —for Dismission from
Guardianship, forty days.
Rules for Foreclosure of Mortgage must be pub
lished monthly for four months —for compelling titles
* from Executors or Administrators, where a bond has
been given by the deceased, the full spate of three
months.
will always be continued accord
ing to these, the legal requirements, unless otherwise
ordered.
For the Crusader.
The Fisherman’s Bride.
BY M A It Y K. BRYAN.
(concluded.)
111.
Sunset flushed the tranquil waters; sunset flush
ed the smiling sky,
And the zephyrs bent to kiss the wave, that rippiod
softly by
And the sea-birds skimmed the billow, or with fold
ed wings at rest.
Floated like half opened lotus buds, that deck the
Nile’s blue breast.
A crown of sun-set glory, rested on the grey cliff’s
brow,
And silence brooded, like a spell on ali above, below.
(E’en Ocean slumbered like a babe, with softly heav
ing breast
All save the ever moaning Pine, that never is at rest.
On the lone shore wandered Mabel, with loosly
floating hair
With restless step, and roving eye, and brow of
anxious care,
Hark Mabei! ’tis the vesper bell from yonder chapel
gray,
The waxen lights are burning there, why dost thou
longer stay ?
Go, twine the myrtle round thy brow; it is thy bri
dal eve.
Why dost thou wander sad and lone? why Mabel
dost thou grieve?
It is but mockery to ask ; no boat lias touched the
strand,
No'bold, bright ryes looked into hers, no clasp has
held her baud.
And still she wandered aimlessly, while each chime
of the beil •
Fell heavily upon her heart, like a funeral knell—
The Twilight sprinkled quiet earth, with gems of
glittering dew,
And the young moon, up from the wave, her gold
en anchor drew.
“Ere the new moon, a crescent pale, shall look upon
the sea,
Thou’it mark my swiftly speeding sail return to love
and thee.”
Twas thus, that fated Bertram spoke. Ah! then
all hope is oer!
And wildly, frantic Mabel flew, along the dreary
shore
What sees she, scattered ’mid the foam, among the
rushes low.
Is it the tangled sea-weed, left upon the storm lash
ed shore?
Nearer she drew, and there, Oh God! amid the
rushes green,
Lay the same pale and ghastly face, that Margery
had seen.
When on that direful night of storm, a spirit oc-r
her stood
And gave her mortal vision power, alike to that of
God—
That fearful shriek from Mabel’s lips, startling the
still air,
gay, was it echo gave it back, so wild, so shrill and
■ clear? M --■
Ob! was it not that voice once heard, above the
raging storm?
And in the distance, floating dim, yon white and
shadowy form,
Is it the stately Pelican, slow .gliding oer the Bay?
Ah 1 Mabel little heeded it, on the cold turf She lay,
The long bright tresses of her hair, soft falling like
a cloud,
And for the Fisher’s pallid corpse, forming a golden
shroud.
IV.
Morn softly stole along the shore peering from
misty veil,
A faint flush on her cheek, one star upon her fore
head pale,
And smiling light, and zephyrs bland in her attend
ant train
She found the sleepers, one she woke to conscious
ne-s again;
And Reason came, but like a bird, with torn and
bleeding wing,
That home returneth, never more in melody to sing.
It came a wreck, as tempests drive the shattered
bark to shore,
To ride the Ocean’s tossing tide in triumph—never
more.
Still fair the lovely temple seemed, but vacant was
the shrine,
Where intellect should sit enthroned, and fancy’s
garlands twine
Sorrow alone looked hopelessly, from her soft eyes
of blue;
Ah! mortal power may never build, that ruin up
anew.
You meet her by the seashore now, she keeps her
vigil there
Wandering with softly murmured chant, and slow
and absent air.
Gathering white shells, and sea-side flowers, to deck
one lonely grave,
Or resting where the sighing Pine, its dark plumes
o’er her wave,
Weaving a crown of rushes green, to grace her
locks of gold,
Or smiling sadly at the flowers, that her thin fing
ers hold.
And never from her gentle brow, the shadow will
and. part;
Roam where she will, the moaning sea sounds ever
in her heart.
All greet her kindly, pityingly, that pale and fair
lmired girl,
But never, as in happier years, they call her “Ocean
Pearl.”
And ne’er again will the bright rose, and myrtle
sweet and fair,
Be placed, by Love’s impassioned hand, in Mabel’s
braided hair.
Thomasville, Ga.
For tJie Crusader.
Thoughts at Midnight.
W Y .1 K N X Y WOODBINE.
’Tis midnight-hour—a calm is over all
The ebon green holds undisputed sway—
No star is seen, but darkness like a pall
Hangs over earth, nor tells of coming day.
No sound is heard—even the sweet night-bird hushes,
His wild sad song upon the midnight air
And melody all resistless o’er me rushes.
I dream of the loved one—but thou ai t —where ?
Like sonic poor song-bird caged, my weary soul
Frets in its chains a mournful, pining thing,
And fancies which admit of no control
Brighten awhile, then fly on swiftest wing.
And through the dim lanes of the past is memory
ranging
To mark each scene w here I have been with thee—
Is time from me thy once fond heart estranging?
Yet say not so —too great a pang twould be.
When first we met no laurels wreathed thy brow,
The world had not began to sing thy name,
But one heart loved thee then as well as now
Although unknown to fortune and to fame.
’Twas not when others thy sweet notes were praising
I bent my gazes on thy forehead fair,
Like Devotee upon his idol gazing—
Wanderer it was not then—now thou art—where?
“The world has won thee”—its deceitful voice
Upon thy charmed ear falls like fairy spell—
Thou hast forgot thy spirit’s early choice,
And my deep misery no words may tell.
Night flees apace ; and morning’s hours golden
Streak the read East—there’s music in the air—
The rose-buds now their petals are unfolding,
To meet the sun-beam’s kiss but thou art—where?
“Bellvue,” Ga.
For the Crusader.
To “Susie Snowball.”
BY JENNY WOODBINE.
Strike, strike the gentle lyre once more,
And let the low, sad strain
Os sweet, and heaven-born music, glad
My mournful heart again.
Oh ! tell me not sweet child of song
Thou’it touch the chords no more,
’Tis thine to glad earth’s millions—all,
Then sweep the harp strings o’er.
Thy gentle murmurs haunt me still
And still rich joy imparts;
. “'They cannot pass away—they have
Their dwelling in the heart.
Sweet song-bird 1 thy soft lyre too long
In silence cold hath lain;
Touch, touch the sleeping strings, and wake
Sweet melody again.
“Bellvue” Ga.,
PENFIELD, GA., THURSDAY, JUNE 11, 1857,
COMMUNICATIONS.
For the Crusader.
Ambition.
Man has in ever? age and state of the word
shown himself the dupe of Ambition and the vas
sal of fame. A feeling of emuUtion and a pre
dominating desire for trescendeney are the most
universal sentiments which pervade the human
breast. Nothing is more gratifying to our vanity
or in concordance with our sensual inclination than
this thirst for superiority. It is an emotion to
which the whole human race is subject. -without
regard to age or condition.
The lord and the peasant, the learned and. the
unlearned, the warrior and the peace-loving are
all alike animated by its influence. Within the
breast, too, of the mere boy it creates a flame
which, even amid the wild caprice and gambols
of the sunny days, awakens into activity tiie sensa
tions of pride and honor; and when the crudity
of youth has given place to the steadiness and aus
terity of maturity the effect of the same inspira
tion is perceptible though operating with increased
energy. It seems a provision in the very consti
tution of our nature.
And in this, as in all the other workings of our
Creator, is exhibited abundant evidence of infinite
wisdom and goodness. The advancement of civil
ization, the necessity of intellectual development,
and the desire for happiness all alike require that
there should be some stimulation to rn'se the
thoughts and expectations of mankind. Nothing
more strikingly di-plays the loftiness of his nature
and the broad distinction between his and the in
ferior animal creation by which he is surrounded.
The grand and elevating effect of is impulses, the
high and noble end it proposes, and buoyant hopes
it inspires uutited bespeak for it an existence indis
pensable to human interest. Tis this which gives
sound and emphasis to the note of distinction—thi
which awakens into activity the inherent powe s
of the mind —this, too, which incites man to the
performance of those noble purposes for which hi*
Cieator designed him. The fearful forebodings
of odium and disgrace, the inevitable consequence
of inglorious actions, has saved many an errant
spirit from the clutches of vice, while the pleasant
and soothing anticipations of the reward, present
and future which the exhibition of genius elects
lias kindled a vehevernent and universal solicitude
for progression in the career of Glory, and gave
birth to all those noble productions both scientific
and literary, which Lave so largely contributed
to the promotion and refinement of the world.—
Behold the illustrious Newton : with what avidity
he plunges into the mysteries of nature, with what
insatiable delight he reveals the secrets of her ope
rations and subjects her apparent irreconcilable
anomalies to uniformity and order. Mark the
superhuman efforts of Gallileo in the advancement
of astronomical science, and the patience of Kepler
as he surve} r s the starv hast. What are we to
consider as the object of such incessant toil and
perseverance? That a wreath of Fame might encir
cle their brow and their names be transmitted with
honor and renown to coming genera!ions. It was
this which aroused within the breast of Miiton the
fires of bis poetical genius. This which urged
“Avon’s immortal bard” to pour forth those won
drous strains upon which the world now look with
astonishment and admiration.
The shame of servitude and abhorrence and in
tolerance of oppression, too, impelled the “hither
of our country” to go forth in that eventful career
which terminated in the dissolution of the bonds
which linked us to the sway of despotism mid the
es ablishment upon linn and immutable principles,
the constitution and liberty of the United Colonies.
But hia reward is ample—for his memory, en
shrined within the bosom of every true Son of
America, will live forever, and the messengers of
his fame and reverberations of his praise has
spread throughout the entire limits of the ltarth,
and Washington may be numbered
“One of the few, the immortal names
That were not born to die.”
This, indeed, is the effect of a holy Ambition. —
But too often are its throbbings too powerful tor the
control of reason and ill gratification incompatible
with the dictator of true justice; for tho road
which leads to fortune and that which leads to vir
tue frequently lie in contrary directions. But
when the imagination pictures to itselt the pomp
and splendor of power, the absolute and un
limited prerogative of royalty, kings dethroned,
monarchies subverted, ami empires demolished the
deluded victim feol, a temptation too powerful for
his feob’e resistance. Barriers may obstruct his
path alike difficult and criminal to pass, yet the
vain expectation that the means of his elevation
will ba dimed and eclipse ! in brilliant and dazing
halo that will encircle his destined station, offers
sufficient consolation to his aspiring hopes. Thus
with a tempered conscience and a steel-clad heart
the candidate for Fortune prepares to passthrough
scenes of infamy and streams of blood to gratify
a passion at which every noble feeling of his na
ture revolts. The attempt seldom proves suecess
tu , and the crime usually meets with the disgrace
ful punishment it so justly merits; yet he may at
tain the envied position but only to realize with
sorrow the emp iness of all earthly power and the
vanity of earthly hopes. With what different
emotions he witnesses the result of years of toil
ahiLdftuffering ? Where now are tire anticipated
pleasures, with which fancy whispered, he would
behold the dawn of his success? Where the sheets
that would flow from a proud consciousness of
princely dignity and importance ? what to him are
the honors that w r ould signalize his existence and
perpetuate.his name. Alas! he only experiences
the verification of the fatal truth that unjust ac
quiritions are but so many sources of misery ap
probriutn. When he casts a lingering look down
the dark vista of the past, when lie reflects upon
the.scenes and incidents of his life, cabal and in
trigue, fraud and falsehood, murder and assassina
tion and the long catalogue of crimes to which he
is indebted for his lofty position, the conviction of
guilt haunts his mind and feels with horror the
grim-monster remorse seize upon his soul bereft
of a'l relish for pleasure, and without the power
even to mitigate the insufferable sting of its in
con!rovertble and everlasting persecution. Amid
the g y and rejoicing things of pleasure, amid the
ostentation and display of a voluptuous court, amid
gloomy scenes of revelry and dissipation he strives
vainly to suppress a rememberance which has ban
ished peace from his bosom and made ease and
quiet bis enenres. “In vain be invokes the dark
and dismal powers of forgetfulness.” The storv
of his crimes lives vivid in his ow T n memory and
that tells him in unmistakable terms that it is
know nto others. “Amid the gaudy pomp of a lis
ten rations greatness, amid the venal and the vile
aduiirion of the learned, amid the more foolish yet
mare innocent exclamations of the common people,
amid the pride of conquest and the triumph of
successful war, he is still per ued by the implaca
hie furies ofshaine and remor-eand when glory
seems to surround him on all sides, he sees in his
imagination the waters of infamy fast rolling
around him and ready at every moment to over
whelm him in their dark depths. Cromwell,
when elevated to the loft est pinaele of e; rthly
grandeur, when surrounded by the pomp of her
aldry and a rare profusion of all that wealth may
procure, when the nations of Europe bowel in
homage and respect before the altar of his vast
power, sighed unavailing for the ease and con
tentment that was depicted upon the brow of the
poorest peasant of the hv and. With the blood of
thousands resting upon his ignominious head*
petsued by the ghostly phantom of a murdered
king, staggering beneath an almost insupportable
burden of mental agony, the dreadful result of
long continued and monstrous criminality, tor
mented through continual fear of the provoked
and implacable hostility of his enemies, and with
his breast torn and lacerated with sorrow and af
fliction from the dying malediction of bis cherish
ed daughter, lie sunk into the grave, a prey to the
distracting castigation of an outraged conscience
arid a victim to despair. O. C.
For the Crusader.
Number 111.
A continuance of the explanation of the wrong
of the voters, complained of in the preceeding
numbers-.
Plea of Justification. —Before you form your
plea read the Apostle James 2: 13, where it is
said : “He shall have judgement without mercy
that hath shewed no mercy : and mercy rejoiceth
against judgement.” The votes complained of
were not only given without “mercy” but with a
cruel refusal of “mercy ;” for there were many un
fortunate men, and a great number of helpless
women and children in distress—sore and ruinous
distress, who needed help and relief—such help as
you had to give, or at least to assist others to af
ford—and this help could have been afforded with
out the cost of either trouble or money —and yet,
regardless of all these considerations you not only
refused to afford help but actually gave your votes
to those candidates who you knew had promised,
if elected, to resist all attempts to repeal the license
law, and consequently to continue all the evils
complained of—all this you did without any bene
fit to yourselves o.* any others, except the liquor
sellers and those who won the office.
Many, when they feel unable to justify the
wrongs they do to society set up the poor plea ?
that they are not “their brother’s keeper.” ‘This
wicked plea was first made by Cain whilst his
hands were dripping with his murdered brother’s
blood. And there would be as little propriety in
its use by you my brothers as there was in the
case of Cain. On the principle of this plea you
may argue that every man ought to take care of
himself, and that it is not your business to take
care of him.
However true it may be that men ought to
take care of themselves, it is equally as true that
you ought not to enable one set, of men to tempt,
entice, allure and ensnare others into practices that
work their ruin, and the ruin of all dependent upon
them. But suppose there was some excuse, (wbieh
there is not) for your upholding and protecting re
tail-liquor seders in tempting and alluring men
into ruin and death ; how can you urge your doc
trine of u let every one take care of himself”*—how
can you, we say, argue this in relation to helpless
women and children whose husbands and fathers
have been seduced and ruined by the retail liquor
sellers, whose business you so carefully preserve
and protect at the ballot -box ! •By the work
of your retailers, (I call them yours because you
refuse to vote for any one to makejaws who wishes
to free the country from the curse of their trade,)
we say, by their work there are numerous families
now in want and distress that once were happy
and would be yet so if it wore not for vour work
at the ballot-box. And now, after you have
licensed and empowered doggery-men to ruin them
according to law. You taught them in their mis
fortunes, and sneeringly say, “let every one take
care of himself’—or perhaps you say, “you are
not your brothers keeper,” and “that it is enough
for you to take care of yourself.” All this work
and these notions are at war with the religion of
the Bible.
However palpable the sin of a long continued
custom may be to those who carefully examine
into the right or wrong of all they do; yet we
know that many good men are very slow and
hard to see even a great enormity in a practice
to which they have been long accustomed. We
suppose there are very few of us, if any, who have
not done wrongs in electioneering and voting, for
which we. ought to repent. Long familliarity with
a practice makes it seem right, and disposes us to
think it really so. Being anxious that we all
should, for the time to come, do right at the bal
lot-box, we beg leave to present a supposed
case, in order to illustrate the wrong of voting for
the friends of the liquor shops:
Suppose a Black-Smith following the trade of
making large steel-traps, such as have been used
in new countries to catch wolves, and of such size
and power that if a man trod in one when seting
it would spring and crush off his leg at the knee;
and that there were men everywhere in the coun
try destitute of all mqml sensibility, who made a
business of buying and setting them in all the roads
and places where men frequently travele<l*so fixed
that thousands saw no danger in them. By
which means they were constantly catching men
and crushing off their legs at the knees and then
taking from tlieir victims the property they had
and leaving them and their innocent families in
distress and hopeless ruin ! Then suppose you
were to apply to your Christian neighbors to join
you in a petition to the Legislature, asking for a
passage of a Law to suppress this trapping, and
they were each one to reply, and say I am not
afraid of their injuring me, and as to the harm
they do to others that is no business of mine, let
every one take care of himself. Besides that, lam
opposed to interfering with men’s privileges and
therefore I will not sign your petition, nor will I
vote for any one who is in favor of suppressing this
traping business.
Now the absence of morality and religion in the
case supposed is not more manifest than it is in
the various points connected with the retail of in
toxicating drinks. The business of the trap maker
for the purpose supposed, and that of the stiller in
making liquor to he sold and drank in dram-shops
are in principle the same. The supposed business
of buying and seting the traps and taking from
those caught all their propeity, basin it an exact
analogy to the business of those who set up and
supply their dram-shops and allure men into hab
its of drinking and drunkenness, stripping them in
the meantime of their property, and often causing
blood shed and murder, and in numerous instances
filling untimely grave.s with the victims of their
enticing and t-mpting snares. The injury which
would he done to families in the ease supposed,
great as it would he, is less in its degree than that
which is constantly done by liquor-shop men ; for
in the former ease, though the victim would he
lost to his family, and possibly might he a charge
upon them ; yet, besides this in the latter ease the
victim of the dram-shop very often treats his fami
ly with frequent violence and abuse.
If the evil of the supposed strike us with more
force than those produced by the liquor shops, it
is only because we have become familiar with the
latter, whilst the former appears as they are, with
out any of the obscuring of their enormities or the
hardening of our sensibilities effected by a long
familiarity. The wrong of refusing to petition the
Legislature in the case supposed and the reason
given f<r it, bad as the refusal and the reasons for
it are—they are the same and no worse than the
refusal and the reasons given for not uniting iu an
effort to effect a repeal of the License Law.
There is no sin, oppression or cruelty which is
not produced, promoted and encouraged by the
business carried on under the authority of a liquor
shop license. By it the public morals aie corrupt
ed—the churches are often disgraced—families
are sunk in degradation and want-many murders
are committed and many individuals go stagger
ing along, pitiable victim to a drunkard’s grave.—
How can you, my friends, reflect on this terrible
business ahd avoid seeing that these dram-shops
are Satan’s strongholds, where his troops are garri
soned, defending and carrying on the works of his
earthly government! We cite not see how you
can examine and avoid coming to this conclusion.
When you oppose every one who wishes to free
the country of these evils, (and you know they are
TERMS:
$1 in advance} or, $2 at the end of the year.
, UOHN JtTsEAI.S
FIIOPIUETOR.
VOL. nni-KUMBER 21.’
evils,) and electioneer and vote f r men to legis
late, who you know, if elected, will protect and
support these institutions—when you do (his how
can you avoid knowing that you make yourselves
willing accessories to all tlieir evils.
L. R.
( To be Continued.)
Yor the Crusader.
‘•Three Score and Ten,”—A Picture.
BY MISS C. W. BAKBUrt.
“I feel like one who treads alone,
Some banquet hall deserted,
Its lights are fled, its garlands dead,
And all except me, departed.”
A touchless crane, sat in the chimney corner 1
and clasped her crooked fingers together in her
lap, and swung her body to and fro, and laughed
in a low tone as if to herself, and then she sung
snatches of old songs.
Her faded eyes wore a look of unusual bright
ness, and her wrinkled face had grown as gleeful
as childhood’s at its play.
“What are you doing mother?” asked a sober
browed matron, who sat near, —“what are you try
ing to sing ? You are unusual merry to-dav.”
“I’m thinking Alice, of the olden times; precious
days those were, child!—we have nonesuch now
—the songs that the young folks sting were a
long ways sweeter than any you and Alferd sing
—the sun shone brighter too —the bees burned
louder—the crickets chirped more merrily, and the
world was better every way. Yes, it surely was
so—there lay a blessing on the olden time. Paul
—my dear beloved husband, Paul, Heaven rest
his soul! I can scarcely persuade myself that he
has been lying so long in the ground. It has
been —let me see —twenty years last July since he
died, it seems but yesterday, when he first came to
see us, looking so fresh, and vigorous, and manly,
and handsome. I used to be a famous weaver in
those days —there were few girls in all the parish
who keep bouse as well as I could-l could cook a
dinner with the best of them, and weave checks
on plain cloth in a hurry. I remember one day
Paul helped me to spread a piece that I had
woven, upon the green grass to bleach, and after
wards he pulled a wild flower for mv hair, the
’’black and glossy, and said, Peggy you are a pret
tier fewer than that l’m trying to sing to dav
the song we sung afterwards, but somehow I can’t
exactly get the tune, —my voice is cracked—my
brain is dizzy —I can’t remember the words, I wish
Paul was here to help me. Ah, child! we don’t
have such times now as we had then—it seems
to me there is another race of people in the world,
but I have been thinking all day of the olden
times.
Ah, aged mother! the precious olden time “will
return to you no more. Time’s wintry orb will
wheel no more back to life’s rejoicing summer”—
smooth the cambric caps over hair once like the
raven’s wing, but now well frosted for the grave—
bum the songs you used to sing—wish the dear
companions back again, for memory is the angel
sent in kindness to sooth your departing daya.—
The blood in your veins is chilled—it is you and
not the world which has so sadly changed. That
lies as fresh and fair as it did when creation was
young. But broken fragments of dream are all
that remain to you now, of the much talked of old
en times.
A Touching Scene in < ourL— The Buffalo Ad
vertiser of Friday states that Dr. Beigler, covieied
of the seduction and murder of a young woman,
was brought into court for sentence. During these
proceedings the family of Dr. Beigier, came into
court consisting of his wife, a grown up son and
daughter, a little girl and a bright little bov, who
had laughed with pleasure as he met his father.—
That laugh broke down the strong man, and hard
ened as he has seemed to be heretofore, cold and
heartless as he was under the eye of the mother
of his victim, the tears burst from his eyes at the
magic of that bright, cheerful smile. Ilis wife sat
down and held his hand, weeping quietly as ibe
proceedings went on
The prisoner, however, soon recovered himself
and was again unmoved, the icy being that he
seemed throughout. The prisoner is a mau of
wealth and education, and enjoyed a large prac
tice. He was sentenced to the penitentiary for sev
en years.
A Good Man's Wish. —l freely confess to you
that. 1 would rather, whet) lam laid down in the
grave, have someone in his manhood stand over
me and say : “There lies one who was a real friend
to roe, and privately warned me of the danger of
the young ; no one knew it; hut he aided me in
tho time of need ; I owe what I am to him” or I
would rather have some widow, with choking ut
terance, telling her children, “There is your triend
and mine. He visited me in my affliction, and
found you, my son, an employer —and you, my
daughter, a happy home in a virtuous family.”—
I sav, I would rather that such persons should
stand at my grave, than to have erected over it
the most beautiful sculptured monument of Pari
sian or Italian marble. The heart’s broken uttelr
ance of reflections of past kindness, and the tears of
a grateful memory shed upon the grave, than the
most costly cenotaph ever reared.
I did’nt sell rum somebody else would,’
is the argumeunt of the dealer. If one highway
man dkrut rob the traveler, another one would.—
Therefore, the fhst rascal is justified in robbing!