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TO S!«ffl!HT Mil >l. V. TURNER, EDITOR. VOLUME I. INDEPENDENT press. “ Without Fear, Favor or Affection.” EATONTON, GA. SATURDAY MORNING. OCT 21.1854. Rcr. Rill ngfon «?/. Sanders. I:: > 111•»■; r> - ' *; rjiintsOrn.i! la ! 0. v\ \'j>! i:s, wo oonnol do ;>> .; :<']>! fho htnghrigc of •!i {{ .. M:. Mailnrv, who has faith i ;liv ied the duty of writing a - >. io. . piiy Os tlit' subject oft! • skc c .: Brother Sanders was now fully es tablished in the w rk of the ministry; a work in which he greatly delighted, and which he prosecuted with diligence and success as long as health and strength r niained. From the time of his ordination until his settlement in Greene County, at the place now known as Penfield, he preached regular ly at Williams’ Creek, and most of the time at Pine Grove ; trom the begin ning of 182 b till his removal, he was pastor of the .Union Church, to which he belonged, and most of the same period he also preached at Powelton.— His labors upon this interesting field ; were highly appreciated, and he was instrumental, there is reason to believ , in turning many to righteousness.— During this period he was also instru mental in helping forward to the min istry some of our most useful and pro minent laborers. While laboring :d road upon his somewhat extended field, lie was not unmindful of the re ligious welfare of his own family and the immediate neighborhood around. Having provided for himsetf anew and eomfortablehou.se, with pious and considerate care he fitted up a comfort able room on his premises, as a place of worship for the special accommoda tion of his family, including his ser vants, and for the convenience also of meetings occasionally appointed for his neighbors. But he must not long remain in his comfortable, mansion, and amongst the people to whose spiritual welfare he was so vueli devoted; Prov dence sum- I mons him to anew home, and to m >re ar te uous labors. The B iptist C niven \ tion having determined, at their anual [meeting in 1831, to establish* a Classi cal and Theological Seminary, as soon as the necessary preliminaries could be adjusted, Brother Sanders was called upon, .to take charge of the infant enter prise. As the insti' ution contemplated, as one of its prominent objects, the im provement of tlie rising ministry—a matter dear to the heart of Brother Sanders —and as he entertained no de sign to cease proclaiming the gospel message as he might have opportunity, liesuppos: <1 that la might engage in the work propo and, at 1 ast for a time, without doing violence to his minister ial engagements. He consequently yield and to the wishes of his bretheru, .and vet und> r circumstances which were well calculated to test his faith, and afford convincing evidence of Bis benevolent, self-sacrificing spirit. To do full justice to his sacrifices and mo tives in undertaking, and prosecuting so long, the work proposed, we must go back to his quiet residence in Co lumbia County. As already intimated, he had provided for himselfa comfort able mansion; a thriving plantation is spread around him; and, what is more, be is occupying, happily and usefully, as we have just seen, a wide field of ministerial labor—sufficiently wide to task well his powers, and gratify the promptings of an ordinary benevolence. Then consider, in the next place, that the enterprise upon which he is called to embark, in some of its features, is an unsettled experiment; its sanguine friends arc not very numerous; its pe cuniary prospects not tbe most hope ful ; and the anticipated accommoda tions for his wife and children, for teachers and pupils, of tfie rudest char acter. Will he give up the comforts of Columbia, and pitch his rude tent in the forest of Greene ? W*ll he harness bimsclf, even for a season, to an enter prise of so much apparent risk, of so much certain toil? Christ speaks through the voice of his brethern, and he has learned to bow submissively to tbe call of duty. December of 1832, (Suds hi mat Ids po t The first cfJ| an- % fonnral:~Dtlnrtti) to if itcratnre, lolitirs, anil (general ifistellaiti), uury following, finds ready for him and his charge, “two double cabins, with a garret to each, for dwelling, for din ing and for study, for both teachers and students.” There, in those two log cabins, in the oaken wools, with some imperfectly cultivated acres near, with one teacher by his side, and thirty-nine ! pupils (seven having in view the minis try) around him, in toiling faith, in laboring love, in patient hope, did our beloved brother lay the foundation of the Mercer Institute, in a few years to be known as the Mercer University.— The following extract from Brother Sanders’ Valedictory Address, whilst mainly intended to remind us of some of the encouragements which attended his first year’s labor in the Institution, more than hints at many of the difficul ties with which lie was* compelled to struggle:—“ I shall ever remember, with lively emotions of pleasure, the patience and cherfulness with which the students of this year sustained the privations and trials to which they were subjected by their cramped cir cumstances. They may be truly said to have borne hardness like good sol diers. Whilst living, as in a camp, in their midst, and burdened with the charge and the responsibility of the lit erary, theological, laboring, and board ing departments, I found no little sup port in all my cares and labors, from witnessing, that while they lived upon the cheapest fare, had no place for stu dy but the common school-room, no place to retire to for rest but a garret without fires, in the coldest weather, and laboring diligently three hours every day, no complaint was heard, but that the most entire cherfulness ran through all their words and ac tions.” At the expiration of his first year’s service at Penfield, it being deemed essential to the interest of tne Semina ry that he remain, although he had already passed through so many priva tions, and still perceived that many anxieties and hardships awaited him, lie consented to prosecute his labors. It would require too much time to do ample justice to the diversified and arduous toils of Brother Sanders, dur ing the year already referred to, and the five years that succeeded. lie was not merely the general superintendant of the Seminary, but he entered labor iously into all the various details of the different departments. He was teacher, steward and farmer. lie had accounts to keep, buildings to erect, land to clear, financial plans to revolve, discipline to administer, studies to re view, extensive correspondence to keep up; besides the anxious and never, ceasing attention which he devoted to the religious welfare of his pupils, his ministerial labors in churches around, and his not unfrequent attendance on special and important meetings of his ‘brethern, connected with the interest of the schools and the general welfare of the Redeemer’s Kingdom. Add to all this the attention which was de manded by an increasing family, and his important private agricultural in terest, and you may form some idea of the diversified toils and cares which rested on the heart and hands of Bro ther Sanders. For many yeaas he was frequently up, in the diligent prose cution of his duties, till eleven or twelve oifclock at night; whilst he was uniformly up and to his toils at an ear ly hour in the morning. He proved himself to be the very man that God had raised up for this important en terprise. In those branches of instruc- tion to which he gave special atten tion, he was one of the most thorough and efficient teachers that was ever connected with the Institution. In the administration of dijiiplmc, although sometimes considered as leaning to severity, he nevertheless displayed much tact and ability. Indeed, in all his various duties, he sustained him self with much success. God smiled upon his self-denying endeavors.— Public favor was conciliated to tbe Seminary, the number of students in creased, pecuniary aid flowed in, and precious revivals of religion were en joyed from year to year. It was at length determined to ele vate the Institution to the rank of a College, and Brother Sanders was elected as its first President, It was with much reluctance that lie accepted W the appointment, not through “WITHOUT FEAR. FJIVOR OR JIFFFCTIOJW” EATONTON, GA., SATURDAY, OCTOBER 21, 1854. dreiki of toil and sacrifice, but through a modest distrust of his ability to ful fil its duties, lie yielded only upon two considerations: one was, that he must be allowed to employ an assis tant Professor, and support him out of his own salary; the other that the Trustees should use all reasonable ef forts to secure a successor at their ear liest opportunity. A successor hav ing been provided, lie resigned his charge at the close of 1839, after hav ing conducted the Institution success fully through the six years of its Aca demic minority, and the first year of its Collegiate career. He turned it over into other hands, not indeed a completed structure, but with founda tions well laid, and its walls going up in strong and useful proportions. On giving up his charge, he delivered a Veledictory Address before the trus tees, faculty, students and friends of the University: this Address, which was subsequently published, contained an interesting account of the origin and early history of the Institution, and was replete with maxims of sound, practical wisdom. Though no longer the President, Brother Sanders contin ued, in other relations, his untiring ef forts for the prosperity of the College. He was about five years its Treasurer, occasionally its traveling agent for the collection of funds, a member of its Board of Trustees until his death, and also for several years, up to the time of his decease, the Secretary of the Board. He will be long and gratefully remem. bered for his arduous and disinterested labors in behalf of the University; though hitherto his labors in this re spect have not been sufficiently appre ciated by his own denomination, nor by the country at large. Coming years will do him justice. So far as personal sacrifices and self-denying labors were concerned, he might be considered more specially its founder than any other individual. It is true he was blessed with the counsel and co-ope.ni tion of other valuable brethren :—how needful were the early efforts of a Sherwood, especially in rousing the minds of his brethern to the impor tance of education; how needful the strong and clear-sighted financial saga citv of a Janes; how needful the sound wisdom and princely muni Science of a Mercer, not to speak of the valuable services of associate teachers, and other zealous helpers; but how specially needful, under God, was the versatile mind, and the strong, dexterous right hand of Billington Sanders. That in all his round of arduous and com plicated service, lie should have com mitted no mistake, would have been in deed miraculous; that he should have done so much, and done it so well, is truly a matter of admiration and thank fulness. In other hands the work has gone prosperously forward, until the Mercer University ranks high amongst the most thorough and useful Semina ries of our country. And who more heartily rejoiced in the growing usefulness of the. Institu tion, than Brother Sanders? How was I gratified, in one of my very last interviews with the venerated man, to notice how his fading features lighted up with the smile of gratitude and joy, as he spoke of the prosperity and pros pects of the beloved Seminary. And well mignt it be so. It was a child which he had watched with a father’s love for twenty years. And as his thoughts reverted to those two log cab bins, and the laborious, anxious years that succeeded, and as he then turned his dying eyes towards the neat and comfortable edifices that had been rear ed, and the smiling campus in front, and the lovely village around; as he thought of the noble pecuniary endow ment of the Seminary, and its still rich er endowment in an able, diligent and pious faculty; as he thought ofthema ny precious souls which had been hopefully converted within its walls, the respectable number of useful min isters, teachers, and citizens whom it had trained and sent forth; when he thought of the reputation its pupils had gained for energy, sound morali ty and thorough scholarship—?o much so, that the graduate sos Mercef sought after with interest in various regions in Georgia, and in sister States; and when he further thought of the cheering prospects of the Seminary for years, perhaps for generations to come, and then of the important instrument- alitv with which lie had been honored in aiding to bring about these pleasing results —well might the glow of thank fulness and joy kindle upon the fea tures of the dying Sande s. Well might he say, with the aged Simeon, as perhaps he did, “ now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.” As long as the Mercer University stands, so long will Brother Sanders be ratefully re membered for his self-denying and be-, nevolent labors; and as long as it stands, may it be guided by those sound and wholesome maxims which controled its youthful destinies. But we must hasten on. During his residence at Penfield, our beloved brother, ever mindful of the charge of his divine Master, “go thou and preach the gospel,” labored much in the ministry. He was four years pastor of the Shiloh church ; lie labored ten years with the church at Greenesboro; and was pastor of the church at Penfield, from October, IS-/ 49. He also labored regularly for some time with the Antioch and Sugar Creek churches ; and one year supplied the church at Griffin two Sabbaths in each month, distant by railroad, the route he always took, about one hun dred and thirty miles. In the bounds of these churches, his labors were ac ceptable and use; on some occasions seasons of special refreshing were en joyed, “ and much people was added to the Lord.” He sustained an eminently impor tant relation to the large advisory coun cils of his brethern. For more than a quarter of a century, he was a burning and a shining light in tho Georgia As sociation. He was several years the Clerk of that body, and at nine of its annual sessions be presided as its Mode rator. And is it necessary for me to remind you, brethren of the Conven tion, of the endearing and highly use ful relation which he sustained to this body? llow ready, how skillful,, and often how powerful, was he in your discussions: how wise and efficient in aiding to give general shape and pro portion to your measures, and to ar range their various details. On spe cial committees, how diligent and la borious : on commissions to other im portant bodies, how faithful and how helpful. Do I exaggerate at all when I say that, for many years, lie was more fully identified with all the important measures of this body, at least as to their practical execution, than an other individual in Georgia? For six years he was the President of this Con vention. His indefatigable labors on that very important and responsible Board, the Executive Comrnitee, run back beyond my particular knowledge: seldom did he miss its meetings; for many years he prepared its lengthy re ports, and from the death of Mercer till his own death, he was uniformly its Chairman. His assistance in laying out, organiz ing and adorning the town of Penfield, must not be omitted in the list of his use ful services; nor the labors of the year during which he so acceptably edited the Christain Index, though with much risk to his health ; nor his useful visits as one of your Delegates to the. Gen eral Triennial Convention, before the separation of the Northern and South ern Baptists; nor his subsequent visits as your Delegate to the Southern Bap tist Convention, an organization in which he took much interest; nor his occasional visits to distant churches on important service, his frequent attend ance on the sessions of the various as sociations in the State, at union, mis sionary and protracted meetings, and on funeral occasions, during which ex cursions he traveled thousands of miles, endured many privations, and lifted up his voice for the instruction of a great multrde of immortal souls. Nor must we fail to place upon the record of his useful services, the important aid which he rendered to many of our excellent ministerial laborers. Some of them he was the means of first directing to the Lamb of God. Some of them were helped on to their first trembling ef forts in the ministry by his encourag ing voice. Many of them he greatly aided by the instruction he imparted in useful literary branches, and in the doctrines of the Bible. Many young ministers, struggling with narrow means, and with a sense of unfitness for their responsible work, shared large ly in his encouraging sympathy and friendship, and as they went forth, some to the sea-board, some to the moun tains, and some to Alabama, Texas, and other regions of the country, they carried with them, and those that yet live still retain a profitable, animating remembrance of his paternal counsels, and of his bright .example of Christain faithfulness and self-denying labor.— Time would fail me to speak of Ids valuable services in support of the cause of Temperance, of' which he was an early and efficient supporter; of the cause of Foreign and Domestic Mis sions, Sabbath Schools, Bible and Tract distribution, with all kindred plans of Christain beneficence. Time would fail to do justice to his numer ous and liberal pecuniary contribu tions, which flowed forth steady and bright as the bounty of the laboring Sftn; steady and unambitious as the fertilizing flow of the perennial stream in its mountain valley. Whilst on this latter topic, however, 1 would do wrong to omit the interesting fact, that by his last will and testament, he le vied a wise, benevolent tribute on the estate which he left to his children.— He directed that one-tenth of the in come on the property left to his minor children, should be given to benevo lent purposes; they, in consultation with their mother, to determine the particular objects to be aided. Thus, whilst lie provided for a liberal contri bution to the cause of Christ from his estate as long as he could control it, with his accostumed sagacity, he so arranged it that his children should en joy the advantage of an important moral dicipline in its regular yearly disposition. [to be continued] A Little Husband and a Little Wife. —The Sandusky Register is res ponsible for this: Two little children —a boy and a girl aged four and three years respectively—were missed by their families, and search made every where for them, but in vain. The day passed, and considerable alarm existed. Persons were out in all directions, and the bell-ringer had been sent fb , when passing a thicket of bushes in the garden, the mother thought she heard low voices near. Pulling away the leaves, there were the truants, with their night clothes on, locked in one another’s arms, and very comfort ably stowed away for the night. The precocious lovers were stirred from their nest, but the boy expressed the utmost indignation; for said he, “the hired man had married me and sissy, and that bush house was his’n and we were goin’ to live there till it rained.” The donouemsnt was so comical that it was concluded t let the babies be married until they had a falling out, which occurred the next day, and now they live apart —a separated man and wife. Excellent Repartee. —The Rev. Dr. M’C ,minister of Douglass in Clydesdale, was one day dining in a large party where the honorable Henry Erskine and some other lawyers were present. A great dish of cresses be ing presented after dinner, Dr. M’C who was extravagantly fond of vege tables, helped himself much more large ly than any other person, and as he ate with his fingers, with a peculiar voracity of manner, Mr. Erskine was struck with the idea that he resembled Nebuchadnezzar in his state of condem nation. Resolved to give him a hit for the apparent grossness of his taste and manner of eating, the wit addiess cd him with, “Dr. M’C., ye bring me in mind of the great king Nebuchad nezzar;” and the company were begin ning to titter at the ludicrous allusion when the reverend vegetable do von r er replied, “ Ay, do I’mind ye o’ Ne buchadnezzar ? That’ll because I’m eating among the brutes !” A Beautiful Incident. —A naval officer being at sea in a dreadful storm, his lady sitting in the cabin, near him, and, filled with alarm for the safety of the vessel, was so surprised at his com posure and serenity that she cried out — “ My dear, are you not. afraid ? llow is it possible that you can be so calm in such a dread!ul storm ?” lie rose from his chair, rushed to the deck, drew his sword, and poin ting it to the breast of his wife ex claimed. — " “ Are you not afraid ?” She instantly answered, “No.” “Why ?” said the officer. “Because,” rejoined the lady, “I know this sword is in the hand of my husband, and be loves me too well to hurt me.” “ Then,” said he, “remember I know in whom I believe, and that He who holds the winds in his fists and the wa ter in the hollow of his hands is my father.” ... * .■',/v./ more parental authority w. s exercised over children, there would be less criminals. floettij. TOR TUB INDEPENDENT PRESS. [No. 24.] i Oh! Put Them Away. Oh! put them away from the Banquet hall, Those gilts of his, for thou may’st not gaz* Unmoved on tho same, at the festival, Where silvery lamps on thy nuptials blaze. Oli! put them away, for thy haughty groom Cannot bear to gaze on his rival's gift, And liis angered eye would upon thy bloom Like sun-beams fall, on a snowy drift. Oh! put them away in a lonely spot, Those gifts ofliis, or the chandeliers Will shine but to dazzle their humble lot, And bathe their beams in thy gentle tears. Oh I put them away, or thy guests will look Where his pencil traced his name with thine, And will sneer with pride at the humble book, "When their costly gifts shall around it shine. Oh! put them away—his daguerreotype Should not be seen by the heartless crowd ; And 'twere well for thee if their ban s could wipe His name from thy heart in sorrow's shroud. Oh! put them away in the lowly cot, Where his aged mother weeps her son; They will serve to adorn that humble spot, Where he lived when he thy bosom won. Turn wold, Aug. 17th. l. l- §1 (Talc. FOR THE INDEPENDENT PRESS. BENT WOLD: A TALE OF FLORID A AND GEORGIA. BY T ( Con tin v <■(/.) chapter xiv. A goodly portion of the visitors at Bentwold were frequenters of watering daces. Indeed, among them all, not me was found, who did not occasion dly visit the Indian, Catoosa, Madison, fee. Some of th *m went as votaries of fashion, and some went for tin benefit, of the air and water — while others still went, from a mere disposition, which would not allow them to remain long in one place.— The season was near by, at which t was fashionable to congregate at the lifferent watering places in Georgia, •nd Bentwohl began to lose the gay •rowd which had so long filled its rooms. The guests parted with engagements o meet again, some time during the summer. Mr. Bentley, Helen, and In r mother, concluded to spend August, September, and part of October, in Georgia—stopping some weeks at Ca toosa. Tom Butler rode over to Bentwold one evening to see Frank. Tom had not been so joyous and gay of late as be once was. Frank himself was not in very good spirits, and Helen seemed really sad. The whole party were sit ing in one of the summer-houses, and silence had reigned for some moments: Each one was busy with his or her own thoughts. Tom had made several ef forts to be gav, and Helen had second ed his endeavors ; but the efforts had resulted in miserable failures—so mis crab'e that they grew tired of them. — At length Frank looked up and said: “What is the matter with us all ?” “Our guests all departed too sudden ly,” answered Helen. “Not more so than than they always do,” said Frank. “Still I don’t think their departure ever made me so sad before.” “That is true” said Helen, and she could not repress a slight sigh. Tom raised his eyes quickly, at sound of that sigh, and as her eyes met his, she could not avoid blushing and casting her’s down. Poor Tom! A choking sensation seemed to come over him, which he mastered and enquir ed— “Frank when do you go to Europe?” “To Europe!” answered Frank sur prised. “Ye. Did you never dream of the possibility of visiting that country ? Have you not said, albalong, you in tended making a tour thither?” “Certainly, but—" “But what? ’ “I have forgotten it of late.” “Well" said Tom, “l have come to a very sudden resolution -to st rt to Europe next week.” } “Next week !”'said Helen, “Then |TERMS, $2,00 A YEAR NUMBER 27 if all our friends leave, we will be sad indeed ” “You cannot be so long,” answered Tom. “You will soon be among your former guests, at some gay watering place, and you will forget Florida, and the beach—the live oak-—the old neigh borhood and old neighbors.” Tom’s voice was tinged with bitter ness and despondency, and he could not help it. “You have no right Mr. Biitler,” said Helen, “to make sych an assertion, not having any evidence at all to support it.” Tom’s conscience smote him and he replied quickly— “l humbly beg pardon Miss Helen. I know you never can forget the hour* that you and Emma and Frank and I have spent together; but the idea of leaving my home and friends, for an indefinite period of time, makes rno sad and foolish, and almost reckless.” “You surely are not serious about starting next vreek,” said Frank, who had been pondering deeply, during the time Helen and Tom bad been speak in g “I am serious,” said Tom. “Because if you are” said Frank, “I may go with you. Os course I have not abandoned my old, cherished idea and now is as favorable a time as any for carrying it out,” “Why brother” said Helen, “I thought you had concluded to spend the summer with us, in upper Georgia. What will Kate Morgan think of you ?” “I must go and consult father,” said Frank rising. “If Igo with you Tom, I must be rapid in my preparations.” He went off, saying, “I will be back in an hour Tom, and give you an answer.” “When lie was gone, Tom did not begin to speak of the subject which was nearest his heart, but said,*’" “Emma lias concluded to accept of your invitation, Miss Helen, :|pd join your party” A short pause followed' and Tom again spoke. He was rather a rash impetuous youth, and lie broke out with, “Miss Helen, do you love Fitz Wa rren?” lie said this in bis gay familiar man ner, which his long acquaintance war rented. Her tone was equally as ay as she‘replied, J| “Really sir, I c»v, not 1 recognise your right to ask the quest ioni’ “I can keep up this mask no longer,” now, said Tom, “I must ask. the ques tion seriously, whether—” i.,, “And I,” said Helen, “also drop the mask, and say, seriouslg, that I da not consider your question a fair oner’ * “Iliad hoped”said Tom, mounifully, “that the terms of intimacy on vfiichyou and I, and our respective fammps have been, since your infancy anal mine, would warrant my asking the question Since you refuse to answer it, M it pass; but there is one point to which I be seech your attention. Miss’ Helen, I love you, with a love which has grown with my growth, and hasqeaiiied strength with every day of exis tence ; and now that I am my native land, I come tanenow wheth er for me there is hopa# Helen was silent affi Tom resumed, “Helen, by your cJodness of heart; by all the pleasurejJ&f our youthful intercourse; by thejyidness and friend ship which I kuW? you feel for me; by the must feel in my well-being and#ny career during life, drive me not tojlespair. Send me not abroad, a liopellss, aimless wanderer. A few simple Ards will suffice. On ly say, I may hope.” "“It'is impossible,” answered Helen in great agitatvm, for she knew the young man’s ament temperament, and dreaded the effect of a disappoint ment. Tom groaned agony, and covered his face with ms*&Mids. “ Then,” he raising his head, “}‘<>u love anotr?e||y “You are mistaken” said Helen. “ If this is so, you cannot, cannot in-. tend to extinguish within my breast the last spark of hope. ’ “Mr. Butler, you torture yourselfx unnecessarily. It is useless for me to say how much I esteem you, but I must tell you candidly, that my heart is untouched. And foil are blinded with reference, to your own love. Ik/ fore'you ha''a been gone a month, you