Newspaper Page Text
the temperance crusader.
BY J. H. SEALS,
the law of newspapers,
1. Subscribers who do not give express notice to
the contrary, are considered as wishing to continue
their subscription.
. 2. If subscribers order the discontinuance of their
newspapers, the publisher may continue to send them
until all arrearages are paid.
8. If subscribers neglect or refuse to take their
newspapers from the offices to which they are di
rected, they are held responsible until they have set
tled the bills and ordered them discontinued.
4. If subscribers remove to other places without
informing the publishers, and the newspapers are
sent to the former direction, they are held responsi
ble.
5. The Courts have decided that refusing to take
newspapers from the office, or removing and leaving
them uncalled for, is prima facie evidence of inten
tional fraud.
6. The United States Courts have also repeatedly
.deoided, that a Postmaster who neglects to perform
his duty of giving reasonable notice, as required by
the Post Office Department, of the neglect of a per
son to take from the office newspapers addressed to
him, renders the Postmaster liable to the publisher
for the subscription prioe.
For the Crusader.
Dear Crusader: — “l take my pen in hand
to write you a few lines and inform you that my
health is remarkably good,” though I have not
been flirting at Saratoga, or bathing at New York.
Will you not think me terribly unfashionable
when I tell you that I have remained in our dull
dusty city the whole summer, making black-berry
pies, and latterly, when that amusement gave out,
or to use one of your elegant phrases, most chaste
Crusader, “caved in” for want of berries, I have
been endeavoring to read Burton’s Anatomy of
Melancholy, but as I do not know Latin from
Hotentot, and as Burton abounds in quotations
from that language (the former) I met with but
partial success. Is it not tantalizing my dear friend
to think that you, and I, have to submit to being
punished during these sultry months, away down
here in Georgia, when there are so many cool, de
licious spots on Earth, for instance those pleasant
little villages and cities sleeping in the shadows of
Mont Blanc’s “diadem of snow” where we might
have forgotten that there was such a thing ae beat
but for our past experience. How glad am I that
the winter is approaching, bright and very beau
tiful are our summers, with their Italian skies, rich
sunshine, and fragrant flowers, yet still I love the
glittering icicles and keen breath of the winter,
“And crown him king of intimate delights
Os fire-side enjoyments, homestead happiness.”
Our Madam la Modes are preparing for coming
seasons, throwing open their varied and endless
stores for the inspection of Fashion’s votaries, tnd
filling their windows with tempting baits to lure
those who would not otherwise go out of their
way to seek them. Alas with so many tempta
tions and seductions in our path, how can we be
anything but—woman. I wish I could discover
the best manner of spending ones life, can you tell
me Mr. Crusader ? Is it best to devote ourselves
to the acquisition of knowledge, storing our minds
•with the love of past and present ages ? or to toil
for fame, to strive for a proud name that shall go
down honored and briliant through all posterity ?
Or should fce wrap ourselves in the mantle of
Christianity, passing on our way regai dless of the
hopes, and pleasures and passions of earth. Or
should we flutter through existence like a butterfly
dancing in every sunbeam, drinking in the frag
rance of every flower, yielding to every tempta
tion that besets our .nature, and giving no thought
io the unknown future, which is, but who can tell,
what is human knowledge but a vague conjecture,
who knows to a certainty that the laws that men
have made to. govern nature and the univirse are
infallible? Or again might we not hve waited
till ©ur spirits escaped their prison houses of clay,
of “base degraded dust” and return from whence
they emanated, for will they not then know all
things, pierce all hidded truths? And what is.
fame ? its wreath is rarely won till the locks it en
circle are silvered with age, and the brow fevered
and aching with time and care, the footsteps trem
bling on the verge of the grave, ready to stand upon
the unknown, dreaded land beyond it, what
would human praise be to us then ? would it not
seem like a mockery to our helpless, pitiful hu-,
manity ? And religion, oh, faith in God is the
most holy and beautiful attribute of our nature,
yet I will not venture an opinion of iny own up
on that, but merely repeat a saying of my cousin
Samuel Chuzzunit’s “what doth it matter how we
spend our brief earthly existence” saith Sam,
“what is it compared with the endless eternity
which we will spend decourously in Heaven to the
glorification of the Lord, so my friends what doth
it matter I say, if we have a little frolicfieation
now, if we mend our ways in time to reach Para
dise and join in the hallellujahs.” Mind that is
Sam’s opinion not mine, and I do not say but
what it is very profane. How full the world is of
suffering and sorrow just now, more so than usual,
for it is not every day that such harowing, mur
derous things happen as are occuring in British
India, nor thank Heaven is it every day that a
gallant ship goes down, and hundreds of brave
men meet with an ocean grave. How generous
and noble were those men! we who have never
been shipwricked or in a storm at sea, can not ful
ly appreciate their self-sacrificing conduct. What
a parting was that between husband and wives,
fathers and children, we can imagine the fond wife
clinging to her husband’s bosom, entreating
to remain and share his fate be it good or evil,
and him unclasping those wining arms and put
ting her lovingly yet firmly from him—we can
•imagine that much, but who can divine the feel
ings of the husband left alone in bis anguish, and
peril, or of the wife, as borne over the surging bil
lows to safety, she strained her tearful eyes for a
last look at the pale calm face she loved best on
earth, and that pertchance would never glad
den her sight again. Os all shipwricks upon re
cord, that of the Central America was the sadest,
her doomed passengers had been on a long -and
self-injposed exile, laboring manfully, and enduring
much. Now flushed with success, their fondest
hopes realized they were returning to crown their
dear ones with joy and happi ceßß> but alas, almost
within sight of these homes they had hoped soon
to gladden with their presence, they were cast to
the mercy of the pitiless wayes, dashed hither and
thither at the will of the maddened waters, with’
perhaps high above their wild clashing, the mock
ing mirage of home and fond familiar faces beam
ing upon them. A
The fear of wearrying you has haunted me
from the first line to this, and yet I have merci
lessly scribbled on, but I will tax your patience no
longer. Adieu dear Crusader, and may your
prospects never grow darker, though Heaven send
your printing-ink many a shade or two.
Yours truly, Bmmie Emerald.
Sept. 30th, lßfiY.
The Work of Creation.
The Creator has spoken, and the stars look out
from openings of deep, unclouded blue ; and as day
rises, and the planet of morning pales in the East,
the broken cloudlets are transmuted from bronze
into gold, and anon the gold becomes fire, and at
length the glorious sun arises out of the sea, and
enters on his course rejoicing It is a brilliant day
—the waves, of a deeper and softer blue than be
fore, dance and sparkle in the light; the eaath,
with little less to atraet the gaze, has assumed a
garb of brighter green; and a the sun declines
amid her richer glories than those which had en
circled his rising, the moon appears full orbed in
the East, to the human eye the second great lumi
nary of the heavens, and climbs slowly to the zen
ith as night advances, shedding its mild radiance
on land and sea. Again the day breaks; the
prospects consist, as before, of land and ocean.—
There are great pine woods, red-covered swamps,
wide plains, winding rivers, and broad lakes; and
a bright sun shines over all. But the landscape
derives its interest and novelty from a feature un
marked before. Gigantic birds stalk along the
sands, or wade far into the waters in quest of their
ichthyic food, while birds of lesser size float upon
the lakes, or sceam discordant in hovering flocks,
thick as insects in the calm of a summer evening,
over the narrower seas, or brighten with the sun
lit gleam of their wings the thick woods. And
ocean had its monsters ; great “ tanninim ” temp
est the deep as they heave their huge bulk over the
surface to inhale the sustaining air ; and out of
the nostrils goeth smoke, as out of a “seething pot
or cauldron.” Monstrous creatures, armed in mas
sive scales, haunt the rivers, or scour the flat rank
meadows ; earth, air, and water are charged with
animal life, and the sun sets on a buisy scene, in
which unerring instinct persues unremittingly its
few stmple ends—the support and preservation of
the individual, the propagation of the species, and
the protection and maintenance of the young. —
Again the night descends, for the fifth day lias
closed, and morning breaks on the sixth and last
day of creation. Cattle and the beasts of the field
graze on the plains, and the thick skinned rhy
noceros wallows in the marshes ; the squat hyppo
tamus rustles among the reeds or plunges sullen
ly into the river ; great herds of elephants seek
their food among the young herbage of the woods;
while animals of fiercer nature—the lion, the le
opard, and the bear —harbor in deep caves till the
evening, or lie inj wait for their prey in tangled
thickets, or beneath some broken bank. At length,
as the day wanes and the shadows lengten, man,
the responsible lord of the creation, formed in God’s
own image, is introduced upon the scene, and the
work of creation ceases forever upon the earth.—
The night falls once more upon the prospect, and
there dawns yet another morrow, the morrow of
God’s rest —that Divine Sabbath in which there
is no more creative labor, and which “blessed and
sanctioned” beyond all the days that had gone be
fore, has as its special object the moral elevation
and final redemption of man. And over it no ev
ening is represented in the record as falling, for its
special work is not yet complete. Such seems to
have been the sublime ponorama of creation, ex
hibited in vision of old, to
“The Shepherd who first taught the chosen seed,
In the beginning, how the heavens and earth
Rose out of chao3
and rightly understood, I know not a single scient
tific truth that militates against even the minutes
or least prominent ofits details.— Hugh Miller's
“ Testimony of the Rocks.”
Man.
What do we comprehend by the terra man ?
Do we recognize in him a being of great intellec
tual endownents, moral faculties, and a soul, be
sides the common animal capabilities ? or do w©
view him as a purely physical being—a mere an
imal, that must eat, sleep, and gratify the passions
which he possesses in common with all the lower
animals ? I fear that there are too many, if not a
majority of persons, who act as if they thought
man was a mere animal, having no mind to im
prove, no soul to enlighten, and no responsibility
resting upon him.
We have only to open our eyes and look a
round us to see a great por on of mankind en
gaged in eager pursuit of Fra “Almighty Dollar.”
The merchant bends over his desk, or labors a
mong boxes and bales, the livelong day ; the far
mer sweats and broils in the sun : the blacksmith’s
hammer is heard to ring early in the morning and
late in the evening, and persons of all other oc
cupations are equally persevering to acquire prop
erty. And for what purpose do most persons
seek to acquire property but for the gratification
of the animal wants—to dress, eat, drink, and
gratify the passions ? Yet they seem perfectly
contented ; to have no elevated purposes, no no
ble aspirations. We are glad, nevertheless, to see
all the avocations of man well followed and made
profitable, but how much more would we rejoice
to see the profits of such successful business ap
propriated to the cultivation of the mind, the ele
vation and refinement of the soul, as well as the
proper development of the body.
Can a man be properly called a man without
intellect, or without moral faculty, or without so
cial dispositions, or without selfish and animal fac
ulties, or yet, indeed, without a healthy and well
developed body ; and is a man really a man with
out intellectual education, moral trainiug, social
culture, and good bodily developments ? Men are
but half developed in the true sense of manliness.
They are dwarfed in body, cramped in mind, big
oted and warped in their moral nature, and per
verted in their social impulses.
What a caricature upon the original—when
God pronounced him “very good”—is man of the
present day ! In body, hardly a sound one can be
found; and in mind, how feverish and warped !
In proportion as man is cultivated in all his
faculties, and trained in a healthful manner, phys
ically, does he bear the image of his God, and in
proportion as he reflects that image does he de
serve the name of man.
The Stars. —Has it ever struck one that a pow
erful argument may be drawn from the arrange
ment of the stars with reference to this earth, to
prove the existence of a God? Gaze into the
blue heavens on some calm and quiet night, when
the whole expanse seems crowded with these sil
ver gems, and then ask yourself whether anything
short of Almighty wisdom and power could have
conceived of such a roofing for the temple of night.
Thore they glisten and -burn, those mysterious
orbs; millions of miles apart, looking upon each
other as we do upon them, and yet in their seem
niuig all clustered together on the concave dome
abpve us, as on one uniform plain, to be gazed at
by mortal eyes, and to lighten their stumbling
steps.
The Dead.
There are those who look with profound mel
ancholy on that great city of the dead—the buri
al-p'ace of all that ever lived in the past—which
occupies with its ever-extending pavements of
gravestones, and its ever-lengthening streets of
tombs and sepulehres, every region opened up by
the geologist. They see the onward procession of
being as if but tipped with life, and naught but
inanimate carcasses all behind —dead individu
als, dead species, dead genera, dead creations—a
universe of death ; and ask whether the same
annihilation which overtook in turn all the races
of all the past, shall not one day overtake our
own race also, and a time come when men and
their works shall nave no existence save as stone
pervaded fossils locked up in the rocks forever %
In looking along the lino of being—ever rising 1
in the scale from higher to- yet higher manifesta
tions, or abroad on the lower animals whom in
stinct never deceives —can we hold-that man,im
measurably higher in his place, and infinitely
higher in his hopes and aspirations, than ail
that ever went before him, should bo, notwith
standing the one grand error in creation—the one
painfal worker, in the midst of present trouble,
for a state into which he is never to enter —the
befooled expectant of a liappy future, which be
never to see ? Assuredly, no. He who keeps
faith with all his humbler creatures, who gives to
even the bee and the dormouse the winter for
which they prepare, will to a certainty not break
faith with man — with man alike the deputed
Lord of the present creation, and the chosen heir
of all the future. We have been looking abroad
on the geologic bury ing-grounds and .deciphering:
the strange inscriptions on their tombs ; but there
are other burying grounds, and oilier tombs—
solitary churchyards among the bills, where the
dust of tho martyrs lies, and tombs that rise over
the ashes of the wise and good ; nor are there
wanting on even the monuments of the perished
races, frequent hieroglyphics and symbols of high
meaning, which darkly intimate to us that while
their burial places contain but debris of the past,
we are to regard the others as charged with the
sown seeds of the future.— Hugh Miller.
The Beautiful.
Gome in the calmness, of the twilight hour,
wdien the zephirs gently play among the branches
of moving trees —when the birds are caroling their
evening songs —and muse on earth’s beautiful ob
jects. All nature is lovely, from the blue sky a
bove us to the springing grass at our feet; from
the mighty ocean to tho rippling streamlet passing
gently by among the shrubbery. And charming
indeed is the cool fragrant air of the warn, and the
gentle breezes of evening. The sparkling ray of
the sun, and the pale silvery beams of the moon
and stars, tnat lend their influence to illuminate
our earth are beautiful. Even the birds, as they
tune their sweet voices, teach us a lesson of cheer
fulness—inspire within our breasts a love of the
beautiful. The rosy dimpled-cheeked child enjoy
ing its innocent plays—the ruby, noble spirited
youth, and even the aged with beads already
blossomed tor the grave, each feel that life has
some sunny spots —some halcyon days. Some
may tell of the disappointments, the partings, the
bitter tears ; they may tell of death and the grave
but you who are good, say, is not this a happy
world of ours after all ? Do you not remember
some bright joyous day, when the world seemed
as one pleasant dram, and no cloud dimmed the
clear sky of hope and prosperity ? Does not mem
ory recall the innocent sports of childhood, the
happy hours spent with young companions, and
the kind friends who hovered around, strewing
our path with flowers of tenderness and affection-?
Think of the pleasant smiles, the hours of sweet
communion with the loving ones of earth, and
then join the song of all nature that beauty dwells
in every path. Ye who say it is bitter, cruel,
think O ! think again—gaze on all life’s attract
ive objects, taste the pleasures of a well spent life,
and joyous will be your meditations, calm and se
rene your spirits. Life will pass as a pleasant
dream, and death will *only be a passport to a
more genial clime—angels will waft your spirit,
on their glittering wings to the Elysian fields a
hove, and their soft strains of music shall forever
fall in sweet accents on your ear.— Ex.
Junius’ Letters. —The National Intelligencer
copies from the Dublin University Magaziue, a
long and powerfully written article touching the i
deniity of Junius, a mystery which sseins destin
ed to exercise the ingenuity of the wits of Eng
land till the end of time. According to the pres
ent writer, there have been thirty-five candidates
for the authorship and a hundred books and a
vast number of articles have been written by
men desirous to point out the real author. The
Dublin scribe contends that Lord Chatham was
Junius, and he certainly makes out a strong
case, though, to our mind, it is clear from his
own reasoning that while Chatham may have
been and probably was Junius, in the ideas,
the general scope, and above all, the fierce vin
dictive and merciless spirit of the letters, it was the
eloquent and practiced pen of Sir Philip Francis
which embodied Chatham’s conception in the most
masterly specimens of epistolary invective which
have ever appeared in the English tongue.
There is but one link wanting in the chain by
which Lord Chatham is as the author of
Junius, and that is, he was not a good writer.—
Sir Philip Francis, on the contrary was as skilled
with the pen as Chatham with the tongue. Chat
ham was his patron and his friend. ‘Francis was
in the habit of reporting his speeches, and it is
stated by one authority, composed many of them.
It is conceded by the writer that Sir Philip Fran
cis may have had his five huudred pounds a year
in the war office exchanged for a situation in In
dia at one thousand a year, on a hint from Chat
ham to Lord North, that if young Francis was
sent away, there would be an end to Junius. He
was sent away and the letters ceased. Lord Chat
ham remained, but the letters were not continued.
The head and the hand were separated ; the one
was in England , splenetic, fiery and powerful as
in youth ; the other was in India, clutching the
ten thous nd a year, and—the secret —however
much its exposure might have enhanced the lite
rary fame of Sir Philip Francis, would have
brought ruin upon the towering crest of Chatham
his benefactor and friend .—Richmond Enquirer.
The Fires Burning.
We frequently notice in our Temperance ex
changes, accounts of the actions of Divisions, as
vigorous and determined as in the earliest history
of the Order. They are not negligent in the
hour of triumph; and under defeat, rally with
unflaging Zealand reliant faith.
There is a mighty power in this spirit which
never wavers, despairs, or falteis. The writer
once knew a Son of Temperance, who had been
snatched like a brand from the rod waste of in
temperance. His brother members of the Divis
ion, one after another, abandoned the organiza
tion, and the room was deserted. All the summer
time, this true soldier made regular visits to the
Division room, and his steady glare at last attract
ed attention. recreants were ashamed of
their apostacy, and returned. Anew impetus
was given to the cause, and the community y/ns
revolutionized.
“What good does your preaching do—you have
preached twenty years, and converted but one
soul,” was once asked of an old clergyman. “I
am cheered,” was the reply, “and 1 will preach
twenty years more, and by the help of God, per
haps 1 may convert another soul.” There is gran
deur in such spirits. One soul saved rewards them
for a lifetime of eflort. *
“ Whftt have you accomplished ? n is the frequent
inquiry. V. T ell, we know not. The seed scatter
ed by a human hand may have bloomed into liv
ing ideas in some heart. Some footstep may have
been dached down. If so, the toil is not unrequit
ed. The harvest lias been garnered, and through
other years the sead may drift errand take too*.
Ho is a poor soldier who despairs or who apos
tatizes because lie has failed of siorming the citadel
of wrong. Were, all our friends of the right
stamp, how steadily the strongholds of intemper
ance would give way, and the thrall of the bond
men he ; broken forever! —Cayuga Chief.
; — > m .cm • m .
A Home Without a Daughter.
“ A home without a girl in it is only half blast;
it isan orchard without a blossom, and a spring
without sor.g. A house full of\sons is like Leba
non with its cedars, but daughters by i} ie fireside
are like rosea in Sharon .”
Well may the da .ghter of the house-hold he
compared to the apple-blossoms, spring-songs, and
rores of Sharon. When she is there, the eves and
ea, sos those who love her are satisfied ; when she
departs, she. carries with her the golden treasures
she was wont to-dispense.
Boys may not lack affection, hut they may
lack tenderness. They may not be wanting in
inclination to contribute their quota to tiro Pn ra
il : -c of Home, but they may be wanting in the a
bility to cany out their inclination. Tne son of a
household is like a young and vigorous sapling —
the daughter’ like a frag' l e vine. Their natures,
are different—their constitution, temperaments,
tastes, habits are different. Wo do not love
Csesar less, if we love Rome more.
We know a home that once rejoiced in the sun
ny smiles and musical accents of an only daugh
ter. She was a lovely child—womanly beyond
her years—
“ Full of gentleness, of calmest hope.
Os sweet and quiet joy.
A child never breathed \yho evinced a more af
fectionate reverence for her parents than did she.
Instead of waiting for their commands, she antici
pated them—instead of lingering until they niade
known their wishes, she studied their wishes out.
Morning broke not in that household until she a
woke —the night was not dark until her eyes were
closed. How they loved her ! did her father and
her mother, and es how many blessed pictures of
the future was she the subject. It is a fearful
thing that Love and Death dwell in the £sme
world,” says Mr. Hernans. “Fearful !” It is mad
dening —it is a truth that is linked with despair.
Suddenly, like a thief in the night, there came
a messenger from Heaven for the child—saying
that the Lord had nee 1 of her. She meekly
bowed her head—breathed out her litttle life
and, at midnight, “went forth to meet the biide
groom.” The last minute, of the last hour, of the
last day of the month, was hallowed by her death.
She went, and came hack no more!
Years have worn away since then, hut still there
is agony in the household whose sun went down
when she departed. The family circle is incom
plete—there is no daughter there? The form tb n t
ance washer’s reposes amid the congenial chaims
of nature and art; they have made the place of
her rest beautiful. It the grass grows rank upon
her grave, it is because it is kept wet with tears.
Os truth, “A home without a girl in it is only
half blest; it is an orchard without blossoms, and
a spring without song. A house fulll of sons is
like Lebanon with its cedars, but daughters by the
firesido are like roses in Sharon.” — Syracuse
Journal.
Poison in Whisky.
Brown Holler, 9th September.
The Rogersvillo (Tenn.) Times says that ten or
twelve cattle drovers are down seriously sick, oc
casioned by drinking rectified whisky, which they
had obtained in the country near that place.
Mr. Telegraph : —Seeing this piece in your pa*
per, \ thought I would write about a decision on
Strucknine whisky in the holler. The “Brown
Holler Scientific Association” met last Saturday :
Subject, whether and how much worse the Struck
niue wur than the “Plane Corn Sperrots.” After
the discussion, a comitee wur appointed, and thar
decision wur that it made no grate material dif
ference in the long run. The one burnt and the
other skinned, and the Strucknine made the mon
keys with bloody chops and bright red and yalier
rings round their tales when leastways they should
be ski blue. The association put it to vote and so
decided, bnt the cheerman protested again it. He
say’d they could’nt determine, bekase the plane
sperrets wur a thing unknown since corn wur over
25 cents a bushel, and when a man drunk whisky
now, it wur only a question how much Strucknine
went down his throte, for some wur bound to go
any way. The Tennessee men wur nigh a mill
and drunk heavy when the iikor wur fresh and
afor the pizen drugs were settled. Es they’d a gin
it time to forment and clarify, as Dr. Stilgen said
to the association, untwell the gasseous hyder ox
ygenated vapor of the pizen Strucknine had fer
mented into a sedentitious mass at the bottom of
the bail, they rnought have lived a year or so af
ter, instead of burning a hole through thur in
nerds with the first pint.
The doctor thinks es a man will rest a while
atween drinks, say a week, so as togiv the system
time to recover from the stroke, may live several
years and still drink the common strucknine, but
will be liable to the belliake, and es after sicli a
dose he will swallera leetle castor oil, as he says,
to coleagnate the embranous lining of the stomake
he will be still more secure. Yours.
Fast Men.
. The vicious die early. They fall like shadows,
or tumble like wrecks and ruins into the grave —
often while quite young —almost always before
forty. The wicked “liyetk not half his days.”
The 4 world at once ratifies the truth and assigns
the reason, by describing the dissolute “fast men,”
that is, they live fast, they spen their twelve hours
in six, getting throng the whole before the meri
dian, and dropping out of sight and into dark
ness while others are in the glow and glory of
life—“ Their sun is down while it is yet day. And
they might have helped it. Many a one dies
long before lie need. Your men of genius, like
Burns and Byron, to whom, when dissipated and
prolligate thirty-seven is so fatal ; ami your ob
scure and nameless ‘.‘wandering stars,” who waste
their youth in libertine indulgence—they cannot
livelong. They must die early. They put on
the steam till they blow up the boiler. They run
at such a rate, that the fire goes out for want of
fuel. The machinery is destroyed by reckless
speed and rapid wear. Nothing can save them.
Their physical system cannot stand the strain they
put it to ; while the state of their minds is often
Such that the soul would eat the substance of the
most robust body, ami make for itself a way to
escape, from the incessant hell of its own thoughts.
—T. Binncy.
The whole of the Lawrenceville Factory and ma
chinery, together with twenty houses and lots were
sold by the sh'erifi, on sale day, in August and
brounght only $35,000. It and the improvements
are valued at $150,000. v “ -
C|t tnujimuicc dkusakv.
PENFIEKP, GEORGIA.
Thursday Morning, October 8, 1857.
The Annua! Session of the Grand
Division of the Sons of Temperance,
for the year 1857, will he held at
Bethanny Camp Ground, Jefferson
County, commencing on the fourth
Wednesday in October next. The
Camp-Ground is within three-fourths
of a'mile of the Central Bail Road,
(lie place for getting off, is at Griflins,
the 107 mile post, where; Delegates
’ may expect to find conveyance for
their accommodation.
Baldwin Raiford Division held at
■ that place have made ample arrange
ments for the accommodation of all
Delegates who may attend. The
| meeting is looked forward to with
much interest, and it is hoped that no
Division in the State will fail to he
1 represented, the officers of the Grand
Division are all expected to he pres
i er.t.
The communication of Greene came too late
i for this issue, ii will appear next week.
. -——-
Harper & Brothers New York, have failed.
Election.
I The Democratic majority for Governor it
is thought will be about ten thousand. Col. J. Hill
(American) beat Linton Stephens Esq. (Deni.) in
this, the 7th Dist. 277.
I'-W” We invite attention to the Administrator’s
. Sale in this issue, on the Estate of Louden A’illis,
; deceased, advertising some valuable lands for public
. sale in December next.
—
. We notice in our exchanges that the Wilkes
Republican has suspended publication, owing to pe
: cuniary embarrassments of the publisher.
C <Cg> <►—
; The Greenesboro’ Bank.
Amid the almost uni.
versal suspension and crash of Banking Institutions,
the above “wild cat” concern, on Thursday night
last, brohetoo, ami has not been beard of since.—
The whole concern left under the cover of night at
Railroad speed, ami we guess their exchange, (of
climate,) is not yet mytendet \\ edo not think they
had a great mam notes in circulation in i’ is section
nor in this Slate. Attachments have been levied on
all the furniture which they !e t, but it will not u
mount to a gre it deal we presume.
The Georgia Association.
convened on Fri
• day last wth the Shiloh Cntirclt near tuns place
The Rev. I*. !i. Moil was elected a-, m > ler ifor, an l
Mr. Flickt-m, chili This jissoci v.ion is the largest in
the State, it .ndu aces perhaps more churches, and
more tah.-rt than any other. Its j.resent session
• seems to b : ma y hug. iy attended notwithstanding
! the uitivvo;abi ness oi tin- weather, and we nation a
’ good many and legal s from a considerable distance.
We attended the >1 ;libei'ati >i ; of t’l ■ b> l * on
Saturday, and were agreeably entertained though no
great amount of business was transacted. Under
the head of miscellaneous busme.-s the Faculty of
• of Mercer University extended a cordial invitation
- totiie Association to visit Fenth !d and the College
’ and kindly profl'ued the use of the College Chapel
for religious services. Mr. .Joseph Walker Editor
’ of the Christian Index, ptesented the claims of that
1 paper to the association in a very forcible ad
-1 dress, and his argument that it is the. duty of Geor
gia Baptists and of Georgians generally to support
their own State Papers, .s irrefutable.
, A motion was made by Judge Thoans Stocks to
change the Li.uo of c >nv ; ling ill j Association from
Friday to Tuesday in the week, me object of the
motion being to exclude the Sibbath from its ses
sions. An interesluig discussion was elicited and
many plausible argument:; were adduc <1 pro and
con the change, but on Veto the motion failed.
The itev. Mr. Bn.ven Missionary to Africa made
some very interesting, eucouiaging and storing
statements connected with his mission to that
heathen country. After he had concluded, the
Rev. Mr. Suarpe presence 1 the claims of tin Sun
day School publication society.
The committee on preaching, appointed tiie Rev.
Mr. Beck to preach at this place m Saturday night
and the Rev. Mr. Tapper of Washington, on Sunday
night. Quite a large number of visaing friends
were present on Sabbath n.gtit, and Mr. Topper
preached a very fine tennon from the Text ‘"God
fori id that I should glory sure in. the cross of Christ.”
The association adjoin ed on Monday morning at 12
o’clock.
Mr. T. R, 11. Cobb.
Will please accept our thanks
for a printed copy of bis address delivered before
the Alumni of Franklin College at its late com
mencement.
We make the following short pithy extract from
it.
Gentlemen, to you, and among ourselves, we may
speak plainly. What is the sum of Collegiate edu
cation ? You have doubtless preserved your Diplo
ma : Can you ti{instate it to-day without a dictiona
ry ? You pored over Homer and Demosthenes:
How many of the Creek letters can you to day pic
ture distinctly in your mind’s eye? You studied
Botany : Can you classify for mo toe Violet, or <dve
me the name of the Dogwood ? You studied Miner
alogy : Look at the pin, which is graced by the fair
neck of the lady by your side, and distinguish forme
the Onyx from the Jvpphire ; the Turquoise from
the Ruby ? You were pleased when a buy with As
tronomy : Can you mmihor the stusin the licit of
Orion, or explain the equation of time in your Al
manac? Was, then, our labor in vain within these
walls, and our time spent for naught ? Not so, And
these queries are put not to detract from the impor
tance of this part of our education, but to draw a con
clusion too little considered and known—that its
object is not to send out from them men learned in
anything, but simply to train the mind so as to pre
pare it lor study. Your Diploma states you to be
Vloctus in artilms. ’ A few year’s experience shows
that ypu are master of no art. The curriculum of
study crowded within the short space of four years
gives no time to master any of them, but it accom
plishes the great object of collegiate education, the
preparation and training of the mental faculties.
Shooting Area tr in Hancock. —On Monday last
we learn shat James Stewart shot John Buoyer in
the town of Sparta, Hancock county. The ball from
Stewart’s pistol passed through the wrist of Buoyer
then between the fifth and sixth ribs itqo the dia
phragm. There is a hope of his recovery, unless in
fiamation ensues. We have not heard any of the
particulars which occaioned this difficulty. Imme
diately after it occurred Stewart fled. Both parties
are respectably connected in Hancock county
j e wouuded man having a wife and twelve chil
dren.
Laugh More.
One great and fatal omission of
which the American people are guilty almost uni
versally 7, is, they don’t laugh'enough. Nothin* is so
effectual in chasing away the ennui, hypochondria,
and all those l/ite spells to which we are subject as
a good, hearty, and jolley laugh, a laugh all over.
“A woman has no natural grace more bewitch
ing than a sweet laugh. Tt is like the sound of flutes
on the water. It leaps from her heart in a clear,
sparkling rill; and the heart that hears it feels as if
bathed in the cool, exhilarating spring. Have you
ever pursued an unseen fugitive through the trees,-
led on by her fairy laugh; now here, now lost—now
found? We have. And wc are pursuing that wan
dering voice to this day. Sometimes it comes to us
in the midst of care, or sorrow, or irksome business
and Hum we turn away 7 , and listen, and hear it ting
ing through the room like a silver bell, with power
to scare away the ill spirits of the mind. How
much we owe to that sweet laugh ! It turns the
prose of our life into po try; it flings showers of
sunshine over the darksome wood in which wc are
traveling; it touches with light oven our sleep,
which is no more the image of death, but gemmed
with dreams that are the shadows of immortality 7.
“But our song, like Dibdin’s, ‘means more than
it says;’ for a man, as we have stated, may- laugh,
and yet the cachinnation be wanting. His heart
laughs, and his eyes are filled with that kindly 7, sym
pathetic smile which inspires friendship and confi
dence. On the sympathy within, these external
phenomena depend; and this sympathy it is which
keeps societies of men together, and is the true free
mason! vof the good and wise, It is an imperfect
sympathy that grants only sympathetic tears; we
must join in the mirth as welt as melancholy 7 of our
neighbors. If our countrymen laughed more, they
would not only be happier, but better; and if phil
anthropists would provide amusements for the peo
ple, they would be saved the trouble and expense of
their fruitless war against pubfic houses. The French
and Italians, with wine growing at their doors, and
spirits almost as cheap as beer in England, arc sober
nations. Ilow comes this? The laugh will answer
that leaps up horn group after group, the dance on
the village green, the family-dinner under the trees,
the thousand merry meetings that invigorate indus
try-, by solving as a relief to the business of life.—
Without these, business is care; and it is from cate,
not from amusement, men fly’ to the bottle.
“The common mistake is to associate the idea of
amusement with error of evety kind ; and this piece
of moral asceticism is given forth as true wisdom,
and, from sheer want of examination, is veiy gener
ally received as such, ‘i he amusement is tiie cx
cittincut which the wearied heart longs for; it is
the reaction which nature seeks; and in the instan
ces of a coarser intoxication being superadded, we
*ee only 7 the craving of depraved habits—a habit
engendered, in all probability, by 7 the want of a
musement. No, good friends, let us laugh some
times. A dangerous character is of another kidney,
as Ciesar knew to his cost:
‘lfe loves no plays,
As thou dost, Antony; lie lioars no music;
Seldom lie laugbs,’
and when he does it is on the wrong side of his
mouth. Let us be wiser, and laugh in fitting time
and place, silently or aloud, each after his nature.
Let us enjoy an innocet reaction rather than a guil
ty one, since reaction there must be. The bow that
is always bent loses its activity, and becomes use
less.”
Let every man who pretends to be a business man
read and adopt the following as his daily routine of
habits.
II a hits of a Man of Business.— A sacred regard
to the principles of justice forms the basis of every
transaction, and regulates the conduct of the upright
man of business. He is st ict in keeping his “en
gagements; does nothing carelessly, or in a hurry ;
employs nobody 7 to de what be can easily 7 do him
self ; Keeps everything in its proper place; leaVes
nothing undone which ought to be done, and which
circumstances permitted him to do ; keeps his de
signs and business from the view of others; is
prompt and decisive with his customers, and, does
not ovci trade for his capital; prefers shoi t credits to
long ones, and cash to credit transactions, at all
times when they can be advantageously made, eith
er in buy ing or selling, ad small profits with little
risk, to the chance of better gains with more hazard,
lie is clear a..d explicit in all his bargains; leaves
nothing so the memory which he can and ought to
commit to writing; keeps copies of all important
letters which he sends away ; and has every letter,
invoice, Ac., belonging to his business, titled, classed
and put away, He never suffers his desk to be con
fused by many papers lying upon it ; is always at
the head of his business, well knowing that if ho
leaves it, it will leave him; holds it as a maxim,
that he whose credit is suspected is not safe to fie
trusted, and is constantly 7 examining his books, and
sees through all his affairs as far as care and atten
tion enable him; balances regularly at stated times,
and then makes out and transmits all accounts cur
rent to his customers and constituents, both at home
and abroad; is economical in his expenditures, al
ways living within his income; keeps a memoran
dum book with a pencil in his pocket, in which he
notes every little particular relative to appointments
addresses and petty cash matters; is editions how
he becomes security for any person, and is generous
only when urged by motives of humanity. — Worth
and Wealth.
Singular Stone from Delhi. —An English paper
says, that a Mr. Jellia, of Southamton, has in his
poscession a piece of the celebrated flexible sand
stone i.om Delhi, theseat of the great Indian revolt.
It is a small slab about a foot long, four inches wide,
and three-quarters of an inch thick, and can be lit
erally bent. While bending, a slight rattle is hear#
as if the slab was fractured or jointed, but although
so thin, not the slightest sign of a fracture is observ
able on its surface. The sandstone is hard, of a very
light color, and when examined by a powerful mi
crocope its crystalization appears exceedingly beau
tiful.
We cut the obovc paragraph from the Richmond
(Va.) North American ; and are happy to inform the
Editor of that paper and the people of Virginia,
that there is abundance of this same kind of flexible
sand stone in that State. Captain Dewey, of Jack
son figure-head memory, owns a quarry of it in Pat
rick county, and has formed a company to work it.
It resists the action of fire even better than the best
fire-brick..
R would seem that by Pennsylvania law,
the suspension of a bank must be followed by liqui
dation. The following is the 2-tth section of the
banking act, passed April IG, 1850:
“If any bank shall at any time fail or refuse to
redeem its notes, and pay its liabilities in gold and
silver coin, upon demand being made at the bank
ing-house of said bank during banking hours, such
failure or refusal shall be deemed and held to be an
absolute forfeiture of the chart of said lank”
-O • -O’ • e
special suggestions for individual improvement.
Read only such works as will profitably admit of
a second perusal. Read carefully. Pass over no
woid of which you do not comprehend the meaning,
hut invariably refer to the best authority for expla
nation. Duly reflect on every sentence, and mental
ly digest every page. This process will properly
discipline your mind, impel concentration of thought
expand your intellectual capacities, improve your
gih erstanding, inform your judgment, deeply iiu
piess on your memory the sentiments of the author,
increase your power of retention, indefinitely multi
p.y our ideal associations, furnish you with inter
esting and profitable tapicsof conversation, materi
ally contribute to your correctness and facility of
expression ; and thus prepare you for mental, moral,
and physical advancement, and qualify you for the
general improvement of your respective associates,
as, well as all within the sphere of your influence.
Lhe course here recommended will be found diffi
cult at first, and perhaps discouraging; but if you
arc impressed with a strong desire to improve, and
will firmly resolve to peruse one volume on these
principles, you will be so fully convinced -of its ad
vantages as to continue the practice in future.