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ltd) n ill smilmii, un If tiimw in Tiia uise if inifn iwmili. - 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!