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Mjiwiiiair k J. A. TURNER, EDITOR.| VOLUME I. INDEPENDENT PRESS. “ Without Four, Favor or AfToction.” EATONTON, GA. SATURDAY MORNING. SEPT. 1,1834. Faith and Reason Fiith and reason are antagonistic. Faith is passive—-reasonactive. Faith receives what is told it. and never asks ‘‘ls it so?" 11 ason inquires into the evidence which supports the proposi tion laid before it. Faith is quiet— reason restless. Faith stands still — reason advances, Faith is of the earth. Par thv —reason soars to beaten, 1 nith is an infant —reason a giant, bait.; is falsehood—reason is truth. Reason mov be applied to all things, sav certain persons, save to religion. In this, the most important thing of all, reason must lay aside its sceptre, and faith alone must be called into pl.iV. That is. von must receive what is told you, and never inquire into, or examine, the subject. And cspecial- Iv vou must not apply to religious topics the same system or manner of reasoning that you do to other sub- Now, as to the latter proposition, which we choose to consider first, we say that whatever is indeed a correct method of reasoning as to one tiling, is so Us to all others. Reason is reason, and reason is truth. And in reason ing of God and his attributes, you must make use of the very same system that you do upon all other subjects. For if you reason one way as to things temporal and another way as to things spiritual, be assured that one or the other system is wrong. If your tem poral system is right, then your spir itual is wrong. If your spiritual sys tem is right, then your temporal is wrong. Reason is the process by which truth is developed. And it the devclopement of truth is not the result, then your process is not reason, but sophistry. Therefore it is we say that you must apply the same system ot reasoning to things temporal, that you do to things spiritual. We do not say that truth may not be arrived at by travelling different routes of rea soning, but this we do say that these different routes must run parallel with each other, and never diverge, converge or curve. Perhaps it were better that we should here illustrate what we are contend ing for. Take this instance : A. be lieves in unconditional decrees, and hence believes that some men are de creed to everlasting perdition. Now 13. comes in and says to A. “Suppose it were in my power to create a senti ent being, and I should decree at the time T am forming it, that it should un conditionally go into everlasting pun ishment. I have the choice as well as> the power to create or not to create, while that which is to be my creature, has no choice whatever in the niattei. Will i> be either good or merciful in me to exercise my creative power un der the circumstances?’' A. would answer, “No! you would be acting the part of a demon to create even a worm under such circumstances. Tou should at least, give your creature a chance to be a happy being.” “Then,” retorts 13., “if it be so fiendish in me, who am but a mortal, to create even a worm under such circumstances, how much more fiendish would it be in the great God whom you represent to be all-good, all-just and all-merciful to create a man under like circumstances ! But re turns A., horrified with B’s. blasphe my, “You must not apply human rea son to the motives which impel God head. You can’t reason after the same manner of God that you do of yourself. You must throw reason aside, and ex ercise faith. The doctrine is in the bible, and you must believe it.” And straightway A. goes to reasoning with B. to prove that B. must not reason , thus doing himself what he condemns in another. He may reason, B. must not. He reasoned very well in the beginning to show that it would be fiendish in B. to do what it would be very merciful and good in God to do! A. then, ha 6 two systems of reasoning, one of which he applies to things hu man, and the other of which he applies to God and things spiritual. We have thus illustrated what we mean by hav ing two systems of reasoning. Let us turn, now, to the former pro position, that in religious matters, you A Mlftlilii foumal:—filcliotcii to filtrate, fjolitits, anil derail Utiscellaitg. must In\ aside reason and exercise faith only. You must believe. Be jlicvewhat, and believe whom? Be lieve the bible. Well, the bible is believed. But one man construes it one way, and another in a different way. One person says baptism must be bv immersion, and another says sprinkling will do as well. One says that infants may be members of the church, and another says they may not be. One believes in close communion, another in open communion. It may be said that these are unimportant mat ters, and therefore you may differ as to these, but you must believe all the essentials of doctrine. Well, who is to sav what are the essentials, and what are the non-essentials? The or- F'.odox. Who arc' the orthodox? Who constituted them so? 1 hey themselves ( did. Have they any more right to construe the scriptures than other men ? None. But they answer, “We have the bible on our side/’ How do you know you have? Why, reason teach es us that the construction we put up on the words of the bible is the only legitimate and proper one. Reason teaches you does it ? We thought you objected to reasoning upon this subject. Well we did, but we only objected to reasoning contrary to the proper construction of the bible. We, the orthodox, may reason to prove to vou our construction, because that is right ; but you must not reason in fa vor of your construction, because that is wrong. Ah! but how do you know that you are right and we wrong? We know it because ice say so. —Vain men! Worms of the earth! who gave you the right to judge ex clusively of what is right and what is wrong? Who delivered to you the keys of heaven and of hell? Who made you iike dragons to stand before the throne of Omnipotence, and disrobe Deity of the power which belongs to God alone—to wrench off from the bow of Jehovah the missives of mer cy that bear healing in their wings, and affix in their stead the poisonous darts of hell ? Who gave you the power to tear Jehovah from his throne, usurp his seat, and make for your foot stool the oright intelligence with which lie has endowed all his crea tures, and which is the breath of Ilis own nostril ? Who gave you the power to trample under your feet the j fixed law of God, whose fruit is the I creation of the reasoning faculty in all I His creatures? But we return to the question of es sentials and non-essentials in doctrine. Take Predestination and Free-agency. Predestination says a change is neces sary in the heart, in order to the salva tion of a man’s soul. Free-agency says the same. But Predestination says the work must be begun in the heart for you, while Free-agency says you must begin the work yourself.— Predestination says icpentance and conversion are necessary, and in this it is agreed with Free-Agency. But Predestination says conversion pre cedes repentance, while Free-Agency says repentance comes first. Predesti nation says that there is no falling from grace. Free-Agency says that there is. Will you say that there is no essential difference in these points of doctrine, and that a man’s conduct, a man’s efforts to do and be good, will not be influenced by which of the above points he believes? No reason able man will say so. He who be lieves that the work of grace must be begun for him, will sit still, and wait as a passive beiim. lie who believes that he must begin the work, will be up and doing. He who believes that conversion precedes repentance, will be careless and indifferent as to his sins. He who believes that conver sion is only to be gained by repentance, w ill feel a deep and abiding sorrow on account of his transgressions of the law. He who believes that having once gotten in the way, there is no danger of getting out of it, may be come careless and unconcerned, while he who believes that he may fall from grace, will be watchful, lest he do fall. Say you there is no essential differ ence between the above points of doc trin ? If it be true that a man’s salvation is not in his own hands, but in those of God alone, what oceans of tears might not bo dried ! What tempestß of sighs might not be hushed 1 What groans and sweatmight not be done away with | —what groans and sweat, with agony KATONON, GA., SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 1854. little less than that of the Man of sor rows, acquainted with grief, when an guish caused great drops of blood, as drops of molten lead, to burst from the Son ot Man, in the dark shadows of the olives of Gethsemane! If it be true that the salvation of man depends upon God alone, what human misery, what bitter thought, what keen re morse, what anguish, deep as hell, might not be rolled off, like mountain loads, from poor humanity, bowed down under the curse of an offended God ! On the other hand, if it be true that mans salvation is in his own hands, how many millions ot sinners annual ly go down to the bottomless pit of wo for lack of proper exertion on their part! If it be true that man’s salva pon is in his own hands, the paths that lead down to the gates of!'01 are pav ed with the bleaching bones of count less myriads who sat in ignorance that heaven was within their grasp and who missed it because they did not close their hands and clasp the prize where the smile of God makes all things bright and level} 7 ! Say you then that there is no essen tial difference between Predestination and Free-Agency, as they influence the actions of man ? And yet both go to the bible and by their own construc tion get passages of scripture for their foundation. Yet they are as much op posed to each other as heaven and hell. And yet each reasons to sup port itself—are both orthodox —and both say to others who differ with them, you must not reason. We do, but you must not. We are agreed as to essentials, and are right. There is no difference between us except as to un important, non-essential points. We are right and will reason you into the belief that we are. You are wrong, and must not reason. We are ortho dox. We are the vicegerents of God — you must follow us- And still they differ widely as the poles, and differ, too, on the most important points, (notwithstanding they say they do not) —points upon which hang their woes in hell, or their joys in heaven! The matter then resolves itself into this, according to the proposition of ofthose whose cry is, “Up with faith and down with reason:” That some one must have the authority to dictate what shall be believed and what shall not be believed. It is useless to say believe the bible, for tha J must neces sarily be construed. Who shall con strue it? Who shall be the dictator ? The pope, of course. It necessarily runs into this. It may not be the pope of Rome, but it must be some othe'r pope. You may say, let it be the or thodox. Who is to establish the test of orthodoxy? You may say, the body of orthodox Christians. But sup pose they differ among themselves, as we have shown they do. Suppose the laity of any particular denomination do not agree among themselves, what is to be done —refer the question to the clergy? But they may differ. What then ? Do you answer, Some ruling mind among them will solve the diffi culty? If so, he whose mind it is, is to all intents and purposes their pope. John Calvin is as much a pope over his followers, and John Wesley over his, as the pope of Rome is over the Cath olics. We say boldly, that if the proposi tion be a correct one, that men, in re ligious matters, must believe and not reason , some one man must tell them what to believe, and this is popery.— Indeed, popery is the embodiment of faith as protestantism is the embodiment of reason. And when Martin Luther first burst the chains of papacy which had bound the Christian world for so many centuries, and swept off from the bible the shackles of the holy see of Rome as a lion would shake oft* a toil of gossamer, he who claimed to be the head of the church was no more guilty of presumption and blasphemy in pro nouncing his anathemas upon the great reformer, than they are who style them selves the orthodox in this day, and call down the curse of heaven upon the heads of those who differ with them in religious opinion. Men, then, will reason upon the sub ject of religion. And they ought to do so. It is wrong not to do so. God has given them the faculty of reason ing, and they will use it. Persons op posed to freedom of thought and free dom of opinion have fallen upon all sorts of plans to prevent mankind —“ WITHOUT Fa FOR OR aFFECTIOJT ” from reasoning, and especially upon the subject of religion. The thumb screw and the rack, tortures and flames, yea, even the flames of hell, have been called into requisition to prevent men from reasoning. Nothing of the sort has ever succeeded. You cannot fet ter immortal mind ; for the God of the Universe, when he created it, no more designed it to wear chains, than he did the lightning that courses the paths of the heavens. “ Canst thou bind the unicorn with his band in the furrow, or will he harrow the valleys after thee ? .Canst thou draw out leviathan with a hook, or his tongue with a cord which thou lettest down ? Canst thou put a hook into his nose, or bore his jaw through with a thorn? Wilt thou play with him as with a bird, or wilt thou bind him for thy maidens?— Canst thou fill his skin with barbed irons, his hc?/d with fish-spears ? ” Popery, we have said, is the embodi ment of faith, while protestantism is the embodiment of reason. The for mer taunts the latter with its supera bundance of sects and skeptics. And it is very true that these arise from freedom of opinion upon religious s ib jects. Now, more than at any other period of the world, is there a spirit of enquiry rife upon the subject of reli gion and the bible. It leads men into ten thousand variant creeds and isms. The question is, “Which is preferable, this state of things, or the establish ment o: one particular creed under the power and dominion of one man to be called the pope?’' We answer the present state of things is to be pre ferred, because we see looming up in the future as the result of the theo logical discussions now going on, the religion of Christ freed from the dog mas, the bigotry and intolerance with which it is now too often surrounded, dispensing light, and joy, and glad ti dings to the inhabitants of the earth.— We look forward with bright hopes for the human race, to the time when men every where shall cease disputing as to the forms of religion, and take the Nazarene at his word when he says “that they who worship God must worship him in spirit and in truth”— when Jew and Samaritan shall no longer contend, the one for Jerusalem, and the other for Gerizim, as the only places where oblation may be offered to Jehovah, but when the spirit of thank fulness may go up to heaven from the palace or from the cottage, from the valley or from the mountain, and when all can bow, not as sects, but as Chris tians, around one common altar. Rea son teaches that the passions of men may be sufficiently brought into sub jection to attain this desirable end; and without reason, passion and preju dice will still hold their sway, and men grope on in the darkness whose pavil lion hangs like a shroud around the inhabitants of the earth. Imprisonment for Debt. “It has recently been made public that Wm. Miller, now seventy-one years old, has been in Winchester prison, England, for the last thirty-nine years, for the crime of being in" debt.” [ Exchange. How indignation swells the free and honest heart when the above is read ! In the 19th century—in England, the powerful and free—in England who boasts of her enlightenment, her phi lanthropy, her Christianity—who sheds tears over the fate of the fat, sleek, well fed, comparatively free negro— in England a man, old and stricken, his grey-hairs whitened for the grave, and his old heart throbbing for the rest which it would find in the em brace of death, is kept mouldering and withering in a dungeon for thirty-nine years! And for what? Because he is poor —because he has no money to pay his debts—debts contracted possibly, yea probably, to obtain bread for little ones, who cried “Pa, we die of hunger 1” We look back nearly forty years, and our minds are carried beyond the broad Atlantic. Fancy points us to a happy cottage in what is called “Merry Eng land.” We peep into that cottage, and we see a cheerful little family circle. The father is in the prime of early manhood, the mother is by his side, and the precious links of affection bind them in tripple chains. Sweet babes prattle around the happy parents’ knees. We look again and see the shadow of misfortune cross the threshold)of that miniature Eden.— Once again we look, and behold mis- fortune stalk in at the door, and frown heavily upon the inmates of the cot tage. The father is stretched upon a bed of disease, and fever rages around his vitals. While disease presses him with a giant’s gripe in the very jaws of death, there is no arm at work to pr< - vide food for the mother and her ten der babes. And now a quarter’s rent is due, and at the bidding of the land lord comes the bailiff, and ere the fe verish blood of the unhappy man is cooled by the pinion of health, the fatner is hurried off to the dungeon, and iron bolts and bars, instead of soft white arms, embrace him. The moth er and the babes weep awhile, and suffer awhile for lack of bread, and then a God of mercy sends down his angels, who bear off the frail flowers of hu manity to bloom in the paradise of heaven. Still the father and the husband is in the dungeon, lie weeps until he can weep no more. A mountain load is upon his breast, and glad would he be could he dissolve that load into tears. But his grief is too deep, his anguish too keen for that. Day passes after day and year after year rolls away, and time every moment places a heavier burden upon the unhappy man. The sun shines, the flowers bloom, the birds sing, but not for him. He hears the voices of happy persons near his cell, and he hears the syco phantic slaves of royalty cry aloud “God save the Queen,” as regal pomp and liveried automatons sweep their pa gentry past his dungeon. There is no happiness for him, lor lie is guilty of the crime of being poor. While this poor old silvery-haired man lies in the prison at Winchester, England’s sympathies fly across the Atlantic to seek the American negro, and she sends her fleets and armies in conjunction with those of her ancient enemy to build up her own ambitious purposes upon the humbled aspirations of the Czar. Thus she adds to a na tional debt which already grinds her subjects in the dust, and which will increase the taxes imposed upon them, and furnish more opportunities to roll the fate of the Winchester prisoner upon others of her people. Such is England’s policy, and such the fruits of that policy. Her system is rotten at the core, and the days of her folly and her tyranny must soon be number ed with the things that were. W T e sincerely trust that Nicholas will, as Bonaparte did, teach her a lesson long to be remembered. And if he does, it will only save America the trouble of doing it in his stead. foriq. FOR THE INDEPENDENT PRESS. [No. 12.] The Rainy Sunday. The church-bell with its iron tongue, Its voice ha3 o’er the village rung, To call us all to preaching: But patter, patter , goes the rain, And bids us at our homes remain, In spite of our beseeching. There’s Jenny standing at tho door, And wishing that 'twould rain no more:— She wants to see her beau: But patter, patter, is the sound Os rain upon the muddy ground:— To church sho cannot go. There’s Sally with her finery on, Who wishes that tho shower were gone, To show her handsomo bonnet: But patter, patter, still sho hears, And if to church she goes, she fears That it will rain upon it. There’s Johnny with his new moustache, And Polly with her scarlet sash, Bought just to wear to-day: But patter, patter, kills all hopo, And they in moody silence mope, Sinco they at home must stay. The parson knows not what to do, For ho is sad and lonely too, But hope’s ’twill soon stop raining: He’s studied closely all the week, That he on Sunday well might speak:— He’s now—almost I—complaining. Oh 1 ’tis a gloomy time to day, It seems ’twill never pass away, In spite of sleep and reading: Old Time has hitchod a lazy horse, To draw his chariot in his course:— He’s hardly worth his feeding. ‘ Spring of 1848. L. L* Mrs. Squeezer writes to ask if “sheet music,” often mentioned in the papers, is singing in bed, for, she adds, Mr. Squeezer often sings delightfully while asleep. The desire of Mrs. S. for in formation is only equaled by her neces ity for it % ®alt. FOR THE INDEPENDENT PR EM. BENTWOLD: A TALE OF FLORIDA AND GEORGIA. T (Continued.) CHAPTER 111. The morning after the ride on the beach, mentioned in the last chapter, while the family at Bentwold were at breakfast, an intelligent looking negro came in, and handed Mr. Bentley a letter. TL is negro was one of a very small class, to be found at the South. In describing Howard, we describe the class. Asa general rule, whenever you find a negro of superior intelligence you perceive, in the lightness of his com plexion, evidence of the existence of Caucassian blood. Occasionally, how ever, as in the present instance, this superior intelligence is accompanied by the unmitigated blackness of com plexion which is possessed in common, by the least intelligent of the sons of Ham. Howard, was entirely black, and so far the color was concerned, differed not front the rest of his sable brethren.. But, in spite of the black ness of his complexion, his features differed as much from the flat un meaning ones of most negroes, as it is possible for one human face to dif fer from another, whose color is the same. His features were regular and prominent as those of a white man. To a well formed nose and mouth, was added an eye whose glance gave evi dence of a mind far above mediocrity. In that negro’s eye, you could also read evidence of faithfulness, steadi ness and devotion* of an extraordinary kind. Howard was indeed an extraordin ary negro —a perfect treasure, to his master. In Mr. Bentley’s young days, concerning which the reader shall soon know something—Howard had attend ed him in all his wanderings, and had ever proved a faithful, devoted servant, —on one occasion risking his life in defence of his master, perfectly deaf to all offers of freedom, from ab olitionists in whose company he had been thrown. His master had expos ed him to temptation of this kind for the express purpose of testing his de votion. He wished to make a choice, of a body servant, a constant attendant, and took the earliest opportunity of putting him to the proof. And well did Howard bear the test; so well that he had been retained about the person of Mr. from the time they were both mere youths, till now. At this time, he not only serv ed his master as valet, but was env loy ed by him to execute nearly all of his most important commissions, which could be legally entrusted to a slave. At this time, he was lately returned from Mr. Bentley’s Blue Spring Plan tation. “Well Howard,” said Mr. Bentley, after glancing at the letter, “I suppose you delivered my note to Jones?” “Yes sir,” said Howard, “and he gave me that letter for you.” “Never mind the letter now. What time did you get back?” “Long after bed time, sir.” “And how are matters and things generally, at the plantation ?” fair sir. They’ve' had some sickness. Old aunt Phillis can’t last much longer.” “Poor old woman !” said the com passionate master. “Howard are you sure she is well attended to? I would go down and see about it oftener, my self, but for my confidence in you.” “Don’t be uneasy master,” was the reply. “She has good care taken of her. Mr. Jones sees to it himself.” “Well she has been a faithful ser vant, and great will be her reward. It affords me satisfaction to know she is as comfortable as she can be made, in her present condition. Are any of the hands laid up now?” “No sir. There were some sick last week, jj but they are at work now.” “And how is the crop?” “The crop is first-rate. They’ve had plenty of rain this Spring, and the neighbors all say they will make bet ter crops this year than they have in two or three years. The poor people are mighty thankful for it, too, for they hardly made enough to eat last year. | TERMS, $2,00 A YEAR* NUMBER 20. Juba says they needn’t be troubling God with their thanks for the rain.-- He says that God fixed clouds so that’’' they could hold just so much water and no more—and that when ever they get more water in them than they can hold, they run over, and that makes rain. He says that God fixed all these things at first, and after that he didn’t bother his head any more about the matter.” “And what do you think of jubi’s system of Philosophy, Howard ?” said Mr. Bentley, amazed at old Juba’s no- ? tions. “Twould take me a long time to tell what I think about it, master,” was the reply: “I think though Juba is nearer right than you might suppose he is.” “What!” said Mr. Bentley, “are you both opposed to the doctrine of special providence? I’m afraid Mr. Smooth face, the missionary in the neighbor- ’ hood will pronounce you both sad in fidels. But never mind that now. Did you go over the low-ground corn?” “Yes, sir.” “Well, how is it doing?” “I think it will make ten barrels to the acre; and so does Mr. Jones.” “And what does Juba think of it? for he is a good judge of crops, if he is a free thinker like you.” “ Why Juba says he walked all through it last Sunday and that it won’t make but nine barrels and four fifths.” “Well I’ll bet Jrba is right,” said Frank, “although I have never seen the corn.” “I think he is right too,” said Mr. Bentley. “He has seen more corn measured than you and Jones both together, Howard.” “And that cotton over the creek,” resumed Howard, “is just good enough. Juba says it was the best prospect he ever saw before old Mr. Ramsey’ssfceers broke in it.” “Wkatl” exclaimed Mr. Bentley, “have those infernal steers been in my best cotton again ?” “Yes sir; but I don’t think they will go in there again, if Juba tells the truth.” “Why the old fool hasn’t killed them has he ?” “No sir.” “What then? I gave strict orders when I was there last, that if the neighbors’ stock broke into my fields, they should be carried home and the owner or overseer informed of it.” “Well they did do that the first time they broke in. That was Satur day. The next day one of the boys was fishing, and saw the very same steers they had carried home to Mr. Ramsey, the day before, trampling the cotton and eating it. Mr. Jones wasn’t at home, so he went and told Juba about it. Juba took the dogs, and two or three of the boys and went over, and dogged the steers till he was tired, and then he got one hemmed up in a corner of the fence, knocked him down with a rock, and made the boys hold him by the horns, while he cut him a good sized sapling and beat him with it till he could hardly breathe. Then he served the other one the same way, and when he turned them loose, they ran clear home-before they stop ped, and hav’nt been back since.” “Juba served them perfectly right then,” said Mr. Bentley. “Yea sir,” answered,-Howard, “but I’m af raid Juba has got himself into a scrape about it.” “How?” “Why Mr. Ramsey ..came over to the plantation next day, and wanted to whip Juba; bUft when Mr. Jones found out all about it, he'told Mr. Ramsey he didn’t think Juba had done anything to be whipped for, and he shouldn’t whip him, unless he' got your leave to do it. Then Mr. .-Ramsey got mad enough, and raved ahd cursed mightily, until at last Mr. Jones told him he’d better remember the frolic his sons had with you last year. At%his he went oft', and hallooed to Juba as he went, and told him, if he ever him outside of his master’s plantatiof|| he’d skin him.” ' jjj* During this recital, Mr. * Bentley’s eye blazed, and he seemed on-the point of giving way to a furious outburst. Mastering his anger, he merely said, in a stern, cool voice : “I will investigate this mailer fully; and if .it is as you have stgjed it, let old Ramsey dare to lay thejweight of his finger on my slave, afed he yUfe wish he. had never