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Devoted to Total Abstinence, Morals, Education, Literature, Useful Arts, Domestic Economy, and General Intelligence. Strictly Tec-total, . ad Exclusive of all Matters of a Political or Sectarian Character, anil of all Advertisement* of Intoxlcatlngj-drink-selllng Establishment*. NUMBER 5. BY GEORGE COCHRAN & CO.] WASHINGTON, D. C., JULY 5, 1845. [FIFTEEN CENTS PER MONTH. PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY, BY GEORGE COCHRAN & CO., WASHINGTON CITY, D- C. PUBLICATION OFFICE ON SIXTH STREET, SOUTH OF PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE. TERMS OF ADVERTISING. ONE SQUARE, one insertion, FIFTY cents, or FOUR insertions for ONE DOLLAR. ONE SQUARE, 3 months $2 50 " " 6 " ...... 4 00 ? " 12 " 7 00 Longer advertisements in proportion. DO" FOURTEEN lines, or under, called a square. 9T BUSINESS CARDS, of SIX LINES, will be conspicuously inserted for FOUR DOLLARS per year, in advance. 53T Apothecaries, Stutioners ,and others, wishing a column or half column, will be accommodated at the lowest rates. POETICAL FOUNT. " Here Nature's minstrels quaff inspiring draughts. From the New London Advocate. TEMPERANCE DOXOLOGY. Praise God for murmuring rills and streams, For dimpled waters clear and bright, Cool babbling brooks, and fountains pure, And laughing lakes in liquid light. Praise God for songs of gushing floods, From c-lefted rock and rugged steep? Where tiny shells, with princely pearls, lu sweet communion calmly sleep. Praise God, whose mighty hand hath stayed, The burning tides of death and hell? And for the trusty traveller formed Soft gushing spring and moss grown well. Praise him whose spirit gently led The wanderer back to heaven and home? And ere the spoiler's snare was set, Preserved him from the drunkard's doom. Praise God for friends and happy home, For souls redeem'd, a conquering host, For blessings undeserved, though free? Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. THE GROG-SELLER'S INVITATION. Come rest on this counter, thou rum stricken loafer, Though the pavement's thy couch, come liore jolly toper? Here still is the friendship no cloud can o'er cast, No malice destroy?while thy money shall last. O! what was rum made for, if 'twere not for man To sell and make money as fast as he can'! Though thy friends shall all seek to persuade thee away, Yet stay, I entreat thee, oh! stay, loafer, stay. Though the wife of thy bosom, heart broken should weep, Though the long lonely night forbids her to sleep, Though the smiles of thy babe may allure thee away, Y*et stay, 1 entreat thee, oh! stay, loafer, stay. Here still amid scenes of enjoyment you'll revel, Keep bright all day, and drive care to ihc devil, While you keep up your score's you're welcome to But your pockets are empty?baste, loafer, away ! SAFETY-BONDS. " The pledge tee total has its millions sav'd.'' tllMMlL PUIS?!. Wc promise to abstain from all intoxicating drinks, and to discountenance the causc and practice of Intemperance. PLEDGE OF THE JUVENILE COLD WATER ARMY OF THE DISTRICT. Nor fiery Rum To turn our home Into a Hell, Where none could dwell? Whence peace would fly, Where hope would die, And love expire 'Mid such a fire; j'e unceasing hate, This youthful band Do with our hand, The pledge now sign To drink no Wine, Nor Brandy red To turn the head. Nor Whiskey hot That makes the sot, So here toe pledge To all that can intoxicate. PLEDGE OF THE SONS OF TEiMPERANCE. I, without reserve, solemnly pledge my honor as a man, that I will neither make, buy, sell, nor use as a beverage, any Spirituous or Malt Liquors, Wine, or Cider. PLEDGE OF THE UNITED BROTHERS OF TEMPERANCE. No brother shall make, buy, sell, or use, as a beverage, any Spirituous or Malt Liquors, Wine or Cider. GOLDENSANDSl ^ "Like spangles shining through the chrystal wave." When the soul is ready to depart, what avails it whether a man die on the throne or in the dust 1 Nothing can be accomplished without labor, and with it nothing is too difficult. Precepts and rules are repulsive to a child, but happy illustrations winneth him. Many persons who are alarmed by their dreams, care little what they do when they are awake. The seeds of misery and madness have been sowed in the nights of infancy. Men are harassed not by things themselves, bnt by their opinions respecting things. Things undefined are full of dread, and stag ger stoutest nerves. Temperance has not only health to recom mend it, but decency. Be careful that ghastly fears be not the night companions of the child. Happy is that country, whoso public men are gentlemen. Time obliterates speculative opinions, but confirms the judgments of nature. POPULAR SELEOTIONS. " From grave to gay, from lively to severe. "virtue rewarded. A GOOD STORY, WELL TOLD. (Concluded.) The young girl paused n moment after read ing the note, ?nd then, raising her eyes to meet her mother's, remarked, as she placed it on the work table: "Do you not think mother, that letter is perfect? except the too high opinion expressed of me ? I really think that M. Barsac is endowed with the utmost good sense. I almost regret that I had not seen a man whose conduct is actuated by such hono rable motives." " This letter," said Madame Revial, mourn fully, " certainly augments my regret. I feel that I could have loved this young man as a son. Now what a different lot awaits you! Are you not terrified at the idea of being ob liged to work for your poor mother!" ?"How unkind," said Anna, "how unlike yourself! Why, what is it, after all? For merly, I embroidered to anause myself, I do thfi same now to contribute to your comfort. The latter will be surely the most agreeable. Beside, I can do it now so much more cheer fully. Look, I have disposed of the collar," and she showed the empty case which she had brought, " and here's the price obtained for it," placing three pieces of money on the table. A light knock at the door interrupted the conversation. Anna cast a look of inquietude at her mother; for since the loss of their for tunes no visit had broken their solitude. " Go and open it," said the lady. With a smile she obeved, and the opened door gave entrance to a man, whom she immediately recognized as the stranger who had assisted the poor old sufferer. The countenance of Mademoiselle Revial at once assumed a grave and severe expression. Her mother perceived the change, but before she could make an inquiry into the cause, the stranger advanced, and saluting her with res pect, said, "Madame, you are, I presume, the mother of this young lady ?" Madame Revial made a sign of assent, and pointed out a chair to the stranger. He took it, and continued, "chance this morning brought Mademoiselle and myself together in affording assistance to an unhappy?" " Oh! mother," interrupted the young girl, whose neck and face was covered with blushes at this allusion to the morning's adventure, " 1 have not had time to tell you about it. Do you remember the poor old man who generally took up his station at the door of our hotel formerly? He always wore a green bandage over his eyes, to conceal his face from the passers-by, and held a small basket of matches in his hand." " Yes," interrupted Madame Revial in her turn, " I remember him well; your father always dropped some money into the basket when returning from the Bourse. Y ou always used to call him your poor old man; and you, as little as you were, delighted in giving him every thing you could scrape together. " Well, since our departure from the hotel, we have asked each other a hundred times what could have become of him?" "Yes," said Madame Revial, with evident interest. " Well, mother, I found him to-day, at last, but in such a wretched state that I was really shocked. Stretched on the snow, dying, abso lutely, of cold and hunger; and, without the j assistance of this gentleman, he must have perished where he lay." "Say, rather, without yours," said the young man earnestly. " I could do nothing, for I had lost my purse. To you, and you alone, is he J indebted for life;" but, contiuued he in a dif ferent tone, seeing the color mounting to Anna's face, " it is not for the puipose of disclosing to this'lady the secret of your good actions, that I have followed you here, it is to request you to take the trouble ol buying a bed and some other little necessaries for this poor child of misfortune. Here are a hundred francs that you will have the goodness to employ for this purpose. I pray you to believe that if I was not a stranger in Paris, and on the point of quitting it this very evening, I would not take the liberty with persons to whom I am un known. I trust that you will excuse my request." ? " There is no necessity to offer an apology, said Madame Revial, "on the contrary, we ought to thank you for having selected us to complete a benevolent action." " Now, madame," added the ycung man in a hesitating and timid manner, "it only re mains for me to inquire the name of my young sister in this work of kindness." " Mademoiselle Anna Revial." A cry of astonishment broke from the stran ger~"The daughter of M. Revial, of Bordeaux, who lost his fortune by trusting a fnend, and [ died of grief!" " Alas! you have but too truly stated the case. How does ithappen that you are ac quainted with these facts ?" "I am Jules Barsac," said the young man, in a voice scarcely audible. Anna grew pale, and went and placed her 1 self near her mother's seat. A mournful silence succeeded tor a short time, and it was Jules who broke it. " Oh, Madame, said he, suddenly rising, "I perceive that I yesterday seut you my renun ciation of a life of happiness. This letter, he repeated, as he slightly touched it with the finger of his right hand with a look of disgust, " permit me to destroy it, and to forget that it I was ever written." Looking from one lady j to the other, and seeing no sign of opposition, j he tore it down the middle, and threw the portions into the (ire. He watched them until the flames had seized on every part; and then, as if content that it was irrecoverably lost, he approached Madame Revial and bent his knee before her, as she regarded alternately, with the utmost satisfaction, her daughter, and him whom she would have chosen for her son-in-law, if the choice had been in her power. " Or if the memory of this unhappy letter cannot altogether pass away, and if it must still remain in your remembrance, think only of the words which say?'If your daugh ter and myself had been acquainted.' We are acquainted, and know each other already as if we had never been apart. I just now called Mademoiselle by the name of sister: let me call her by another name, no less kind, but more sacred?that of wife. I have no fortune to offer her, bnt I feel animated by double courage and hope. For her?for you, Madame, who will never quit us, I will work with energy and determination, and I feel that I shall succeed in my eftorts. Oh, Madame, deign to answer me. But you weep?you give me your hand?you consent to my re quest I" " And you, Anna, what do you say ?" asked Madame Revial, as she held out the other to her daughter. "Have I ever any other will than yours, dear mother ?" and she pressed her hands to her lip*. ??You consent, then, Mademoiselle," said Jules; "then you will allow me to present you this ring as a mark of our engagement." He handed her a ring set round with tor quoises. j " It is Anna's ring!" said Madame Revial, with surprise. "Yes, mother," said Anna, quite confused, " I was obliged to sell it to replace the money I had received for my embroidery." " It was in purchasing it that I discovered your address, although you entered in the Jeweler's book only the name of Anna. It is to this ring I owe the happiness of again be holding you." He took, as he spoke, the un resisting hand of the young girl, and placed on the finger the pledge of their union. | The same evening, in order to fulfil the be ! nevolent intentions of M. Barsac, who was i obliged to leave town for Bordeaux, Anna re* | turned to the old man's lodgings. He was no i longer to be found; he had disappeared with : out pointing out his new abode. * * # * A month after, in the humble lodging of Madame Revial, a few assembled to witness the signing of the marriage contract before the notary, who soon made his appearance; he was followed by an elderly man, richly attired. As the latter was not introduced, no person took notice of him, for each was too much oc cupied with the ceremony for which they had come together. Madame Revial was still an invalid, and had her daughter seated near her. Jules Barsac was standing on the other side. The notary placed his port-folio on the table, and took from it a contract of marriage, which he proceeded to read aloud. After having specified the little property of the bridegroom, he went on to detail the fortune of the lady; " Madame Revial makes over to her daughter the sum of XI,000 per year." " You are making a mistake, Monsieur," interrupted Madame Revial; "formerly, in deed, I did intend?" The notary, without paying any attention to the interruption, continued?"?1,000 a year, arising from money in the public funds for which here are the securities." Saying this he displayed the coupons on the table, and Madame Revial, the daughter, and Jules Barsac, all made a movement as if to speak, when the aged stranger ar?se and made a sign for them to remain silent. Surprised at this interference, they awaited with interest the result of this strange scene. "What!" said the old man, with a broken voice, and addressing Anna, " what, Made moiselle, do you not remember your poor old man ?" While she was looking earnestly at j him, trying to read in his venerable counte nance the marks of misery and suffering, he continued: "You have then forgotten tea years of daily kindaess ? You have forgotten the 34 of Jaa uary, with the assistance you gave so oppor tunely; the fire, the wine, and the wing ot a fowl, wrapped up in a piece of newspaper ? All forgotten? Well, that very piece of news paper is the cause of all my misery being at an end. In an advertisement which it bore, I read the intelligence that a French gentleman named Francois de Chazel, had been for years 1 seeking in vain for his brother, Jacquez de I Chazel, ruined, like him, in the revolution; and that, by his will, he had ordered an ad ' vertisement to be inserted every week for three years, that the brother might come forward aud claim his ample fortune- That Jacques de Chazel stands now before you; it is I. I set out for London without delay, and only returned yesterday. Your attorney, con tinued he, speaking to Madame Revial, is mine; from him I heard ot the intended mar riage of your daughter. To that sweet girl I owe my life, and the least I can do is to pre sent her a part of that fortune, which, without her, never could have reached my Jiands." "But, Monsieur," said Madame Revial, with emotion, " perhaps you have a family." I " Yes, Madame," replied he, bowing low as he spoke, " if you will admit me into j yours." ? Ah, you have made a part of our family for such a long time !" said Anna, pressing in her hands those of M. de Chazel; then, with a gesture full of naivete and grace, pointing to her intended husband, she added, in a low voice, " It is he who took you up. Do you recollect him? Ah, you say that to me you owe your life; if you only knew how much I am indebted to you?if you only knew it! But we will separate no more, and I shall have time to tell you all about it." Jules came forward to present the pen to his bride, and they both signed the marriage contract. Formed under such auspices, who can doubt but that it was a happy one 1 THOU ART THE MAN. BY T. S. ARTHUR. ? How do you reconcile it to your conscience to continue in your present business, Mr. Mud dler?" asked a venerable clergyman ot a ta vern keeper, as the two walked home from the funeral of a young man who had died sud denly. ? ... ? j find no difficulty on that score, replied the tavern keeper, in a confident tone, " My business is as necessary to the public good as .that of any other man." " That branch of it which regards the com fort and accommodation of travellers, I will grant to be necessary. But there is another portion of it which you must pardon me for saying, is not only uncalled for by the real wants of the community, but highly deleteri ous to health and good morals." " And pray, Mr. Mildman, to what portion of my business do you allude ?" " I allude to that part of it which embraces the sale of intoxicating drinks." " Indeed, the very best part of my business. But certainly you do not pretend to say that I am to be accountable for the unavoidable ex cesses which sometimes grow out of the use of liquors as a beverage ?" ? I certainly must say that, in my opinion, a large share of the responsibility rests upon your shoulders. You not only make it a bu siness to sell liquors, but you use every device to induce men to come and drink them. You invent new compounds, with new and attrac tive names, in order to induce the indifferent or the lovers of variety, to frequent your bar room. In this way you often draw the weak into an excess of self-indulgence, that ends, alas! in drunkenness, and final ruin of body I and soul. You are not only responsible for all this, Mr. Muddler, but you bear the weight of j a fearful responsibility." I " I cannot see the subject in that light, Mr. j Mildman," the tavern keeper said rather gravely. " Mine is an honest and honorable calling, and it is my duty to my family and to society, to follow it with diligence and a spirit of enterprise." " May I ask you a plain question, Mr. Mud dler ?" , "Oh, yes, certainly, as many as you please. << Can the calling be an honest and honorable one, which takes sustenance from the commu i nity and gives nothing in return ?" " I do not understand the nature of your question, Mr. Mildman." I " Consider, then, society as a man in a lar I ger form, as it really is. In thi. great body, as in the lesser body of man, there are various functions, of use and reciprocity between the whole. The hand does not act for itself alone receiving strength, and selfishly appropria ting it, without returning its quota of good to the general system. And so of the heart and lungs. Reverse the order, and how soon is ,h. entire system dwased. Now doe. the member of the great body of people act hon estly and honorably, who regularly rece.ves hi. portion of good from the general social system, and jives noihipg bKl> in return ? To this the Landlord made no reply. Mr. Mildman continued? "But there is a stronger view to be taken. Suppose a member of the human body is dis eased?a limb, for instance, in a partial slate of mortification. Here, there is a reception of life from the whole system into that limb, and constant giving back of disease to the entire body, and unless that body possesses extraor dinary vital energy, in the end destroys il In like manner, if in the larger body there be one member who takes a share of life from the whole, and gives back nothing but a poisonous principle, whose effect is disease and death, surely he cannot be called a good member nor honest, nor honorable." "Aud pray, Mr. Mildman," asked the tavern keeper, with much warmth, " where will you find in society such a man as you describe." The minister paused at this question, aud looked his companion steadily in the face. Then raising his long thin finger 10 give force to his remarks, he said, with deep emphasis? ? Thou art the man." " Me, Mr. Mildman! Me!" exclaimed the tavern keeper, in surprise and displeasure. ?' you surely cannot be in earnest." " I utter but a solemn truth, Mr. Muddler; such is your position in society. You receive food and clothing, comforts and luxuries of various kinds for yourself and family, from the social body, and what do you give back for all these? A poison to steal away the health and happiness of that social body. You are far worse than a perfect dead member! You exist upon the great body as a moral gangrene! Reflect upon this subject. Go home, and in the silence of your own chamber, enter into unimpassioned and solemn communion with your heart. Be honest with yourself. Ex clude the bias of selfish feeling, and selfish in terest, and honestly define to yourself your true position." " But, Mr. Mildman ' The two men had paused nearly in front of Mr. Muddler's splendid establishment, and were standing there when the tavern keeper commenced a reply to the minister's last re marks. He had uttered but the first word or t two, when he was interruptedly a pale, thinly dressed female, who held a little girl by the han<J. She came up before him, and looked him steadily in the face for a moment or two. ? Mr. Muddler, I believe," she said. ? Yes, madam, that is my mame," was his reply. " I have come, Mr. Muddler," the woman then said, with an effort to smile and affect a polite air, " to thank you for a present I re ceived last night." "Thank me, madam! There certainly must be some mistake. I never made you a present. Indeed, I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance." " You said your name was Muddler, I be? licve?'' " Yes, madam, as I told you before, that is my name." "Then you arc the man. You made my little girl here a present also, and we have both come with our thanks." " You deal in riddles, madam. Speak out plainly." "As I said before," the woman replied, with bitter irony in her tones, " I have come with my little girl, to thank you for that pre sent we received last night. A present ol wretchedness and abuse!" ?|'m still as far from understanding you as ever," the tavern keeper said?"I never abused you, madam. I do not even know you." " But you know my husband, sir! You have enticed him to your bar, and for his money ? have given him a poison that has changed him from one of the best and kindest of men, into a demon. To you, then, I owe all the wretchedness I have suffered, and the brutal treatment I shared with my helpless children last night. It is for this that I have come to thank you." " Surely, Madam, you must be beside your self. I have nothing to do with your hus band." . , ? Nothing to do with him. the woman exclaimed in an exciting tone. "Would to Heaven that it were so! Before you opened your accursed gin palace, he was a sober niaii, and the best and the kindest of husbands?but, enticed by you?your display of fancy drinks he was tempted within the charmed circle ot vour bar-room. From that moment began his downfall, and now he is lost to sell-control? lost to humanity!" As the woman said this, she burst into tears, and then turned and walked slowly " To that painful illustration to what I have said," the minister remarked, as the two stood once more alone, "I have nothing to add. May the lesson sink deep into your heart. Between you and that woman's husband ex isted a regular business transaction. Did it result in a mutual benefit? Answer that question to your own conscience!" How the tavern keeper answered it, we know not. But if he received no benefit frona the double lesson, we trust others may; and in hope that the practical truth that we have eodemvored briefly to illustrate, will fall some where upon good ground, we cast it forth for the benefit of our fellow men..