*tar X. . - 't:•tioslattcottt - .:'.'„::'.: -. •. 1 -,---:1) , .. - itisttir • c ... VOL. .11X.--NO. 48.] Office of the Star & Banner: Chambersburg Street, a few doors We of the Court-House. 1. I. The STAII & REPUIILICAN ILL:USED is pub -•!iehed at TWO DOLLARS per annum (or Vol ume of 52 numbers,) payable half-yearly in ad vance: or TWO DOLLARS & FIFTY CENTS if not paid until after the expiration of the year. ,♦ 11. No subscription will be received fr a shorter period than six months; nor will the paper be dis continued until all arrearages are paid, unless at Cho option of the Editor. A failure to notify a dis continuance will be considered a new engagement and the paper forwarded accordingly. 111. AIIVIIIITIMICXEN7II not exceeding a equare will ho inserted TIIIIEL times for $l, and 25 cents or each subsequent insertion—the number of in sertion to be marked, or they will be published till forbid. epd charged accordingly; longer ones in the soma proportion. A reasonablededuction will be mode to those who advertise by the year IV. All Letters and Communications addressed to the Editor by mail must be pod-paid, or they will not bojttondcd to TIIE GARLAND. t-,. : \\: q"With sweetest flowersetwichNi, w - Trariour garden* otili'd with etre." "The Dying Husband. HY ANN 6. 5T1P111.66. Aineft, I'm dying! bend thee down • . • One.little moment by my bed, \ ..._.`"" ~AsuLlet the shadow of thy hair --'‘' Fall gentlyo'er in , aching head. 7111 . " — „h, raise me up, and let me feel - : \Once more the beating* ofthy heart, sal f.2ild press thy lips again to mma ri fore in midnight death we part. Nins tremble not; but fold me close, Pillowed upon thy own deer breast; I fain would let my struggling soul Pass forth to its eternal rest. She stoops, and on her bursting; heart His drcioping head is resting now, While white and trembling fingers part The damp hair from his pallid brow. And there, upon its cold white front, With quiv'ring lips the kiss was given And pressed slid %would draw him back. Alack from the very gates of Heaven. There like a dying bird, his soul Lay panting out its quiv'ring life; And still his almost lifeless arms') Clung fondly to his pale young wife. Ono look ha gave her, and it seemed . ..An angel had from Heaven above EitintlNl with wings of tenderness Alm troubled fountain of his love. ~/ A 'holy smile came o'er his face, u 's moonlight gleaming over snow; 'One struggling breath—one faint embrace, And lifeless ho is lying now. The setting sun with golden light _ Was flooding all the room and bed, Enfolding with his pinions bright The fainting wife, the marble dead. From the Southern Literary Messenger. . I LOVE THEE STILL. I lo . vo thee still—though doomed to drink Of fell despairs most bitter rill— Though sever'd be ltfe's dearest link, I love thee still. 1147;H:we still—and though I give Myeelf to roam o'er dale and hill. Thy imago in my heart shall live— nl love thee still. . I love thee still—and though thy brow Should wear the marks of death's last chill, I'll not forget my sacred vow, I'll love the still. I lova then still—and I will own. When through my waning senses thrill Tho last sail notes on trumpet. blown, I lovo thee Mill. Ltarcos. 'ULM 12alli),Vaili?atUYes f From the 3tetripolitan. 'Tile : veiled Bride and mur dered Groom. VENETIAN STORY—FOUNDED ON FACT. In the commencement of the seventeenth century a young noble, of whom the chron icle gives us only the baptismal name of I.Vonardo, returned to his country from Par- Whither he had accompanied the Vene jinn ambdssador. The chronicle adds that ha.was of a most ancient and powerful fam ily:' Gilled with a generous soul, adorned with polished manners, surrounded with pzwerful friends, eloquent, brave. and hu- Maim, he soon became the object of loie to ...ilia people, of envy to the aged aristocrats, ,and of imitation to the youthful nobles who ..banoreirl him as their chief. "!ll'ilenice had no honorable office, no bril liant dignity, hi which Leonardo, not yet thirty years of age, might not aspire. He led a gay life, however, amid ambitious pro _ jects and cares of state, and had in accord 't - *ace with the custom of the day, his casino. tetnple consecrated to mystery and sensu ality. • One day his most - intimate friend entree fed hire to grunt him the use of this for a few hours, in order that he might contlact thither secretly a younit lady, With whom ho wished for some- conversation, and or whom he draw with all the eloquence of love, a most enchanting picture. Leonardo ,consented, striving in vain to learn the name and condition of the lady. Urged by curiosity, he tesolved at last, to PRINTED BY GEORGE BERGNER, FOR ROBERT S. PAXTON, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR Conceal himself in one of the rooms through which the unknown fair one must pass, and in which, when she laid down her zendado, (mantle of thin silk,) he could see her, un seen, and retire without being observed. His plan was successful. The lovers entered this room towards midnight—the youth murmured a few words in the ear of his mistress, tank from her after a slight resistance the close wrap ping zendado. More perfect beauty had never mat the eyes of Leonardo. A mixed expression of candor, virtue and sweetness, WHO the great attraction of this almost di vine lace. Her hair was fair, her eyes a vivid blue. Such was the force of the impression that Leonardo, to dissipate it, was obliged to keep in mind who was her companion, and for what purpose they were there, then this simple and pure expression was to him only an error of nature an hypocritical mask,and he conceived towards this beautiful creature only repugnance and disgust. These feel ings united with astonishment at tier mar. velous beauty, stamped her features indeli bly on his memory. Many months passed away, and Leonar do, in the vigor of his age, beautiful in his person, conspicuous for his endowments and honors, was desired as a snide law by the most illustrious of the aristocracy. He yielded to the representations of an aged friend who proposed his marriage with the only daughter and heiress of a powerful emiator. Leonardo obtained the consent, of her Caber, and permission to oresent his tonnage to the beautiful Eliza—that is, he was allowed to pass beneath her balconies two or three times in the course of ouch day. She frequently showed herself there, but her form and features were always to tally concealed by an invidious veil Loenardo was in despair at this extraordi nary reserve, which it seemed to him could proceed only from dislike and contempt ; but he was told that a vow to the Virgin forbade the maiden to uncover her face be fore any man but her fattier. It is very easy to imagine with what enchantment this mystery and delicacy enveloped Eliza in the eyes of her admirer. We know how powerful is the influence of imagination in love, and how it feeds itself on the indefi nits and indeterminate. At-length the day ofnupttals arrived the friends and relations of bath families assem bled, at setting sun, in the house of the aged senator; laeonnrdo, afler the custom (tibia country, received the guests at the door of the palace. He was the last to en ter the grand saloon, and his emotion was, for a time, suspended by the imposing spec table before him. The nobles occupied seats raised above each other around the ball, in the manner of an amphitheatre; at the end of it, a priest, clad in pontificia. robes was kneeling before a magnificent altar. Warlike trophies, arms, and weap ons, of every variety, hung from the walls, blackened by age, and the splendor of the wax-lights was not suf f icient to dissipate the gloom which reigned in the vast circle. When Leonardo appeared,the bridesmen threw open the doors of the interior apart ments, in which the bride, surrounded by the matrons of Venice, awaited the mo ment of the ceremony. All eyes were di• rected toward t:tem, and those of the bride groom, with inexpressible impatience. Af ter a moment of hesitation the bride advan• ced. The cry which burst from the lips of Leonardo, was lost amid the shouts of admiration and enthusiasm which were raised on all sides at her extraordinary beauty. but in the eyes of the miserable Leonardo, this pure and'; lonely maiden,who advanced, half veiled in white symbol of a spotless life, was no other than the mistress of his friend ! He saw her again with that eternal mask of ingenious innocence which had already so much provoked his disgust, a thick cloud obscured his sight, terrible though short, was this moment of weak , ness! He soon regained power enough to cover, Wile would, with public shame her who had dared to be willing to , bring him infamy as a dower, but the sight of her aged father, the thought of his desperation, pity for the fair creature who stood before him, the gen erosity of his soul all determined him to in cur rather, the reproach of inconsistency and caprice in the eyes of his fellow citizens, and when the maiden, having received the paternal benediction advinced toward him ho went backward two paces and command ing silence by a gesture, exclainied,— "She can never be my wife. Never shall I be her husband. Eliza raieed to him for a moment her be wildeted gaze fell motionless labia feet and was carried to her own apartments. Excess of astonishment had held the assembly mute but the fainting of Eliza was the signal for noise and confusion. The seats were vacant in an instant all rushed into the middle of the ball demanding the explanation, the a ged senator alone remained in his place. He made a violent movement when he heard the unexpected words of Leonardo and afterwards followed his daughter with his eyes as she was borne from the saloon. It might have been almost imagined that his tranquility was not disturbed, but for his fixed look and the trembling of his con. vulsed lips. All at once, putting aside the crowd, he advanced close to Leonardo, and, grasping his arm with force. "Nast thou then, resolved,' said he, "to disgrace me, and all belonging to me—to hurl contempt on all that 111 , 1 republic holds most worthy. • Speak ! Is this rnadness to have an end?' ''Never," replied the other, with a firm voice. • At this word, cries or vengeance resoun ded through the hall. The friends and re- Irj - FEGIRLESS .11.4'iEP FREE. eLtnAPUMP,UPItiIit o tiVWZZl)ctlit a 0 11t.121 - 11V4111111 :304 lotions of Leonardo, were furiously assault ed by those of Eliza. Insult defiance, the clung of steel, the cries of women and priests, wliosought safety in flight, drowned the few conciliatory voices which still spoke of pence, when the aged senator, bridling his own anger employed all the force of eloquence and authority to prevent the ef• fusion of blood; when he had succeeded— "Go!' said he, to Leonardo, renounce vengeance ; I commit it to Him who pun ishes the injuries offered to grey hairs. A few days after this, Leonardo perished by the hand of an assassin. He was peirced by twenty strokes of a dagger. The Widow. It was a cold .and bleak evening in a most severe winter. Few dared or were willing to venture abroad. It was a night which the poor will not soon forget. In a most miserable and shattered tene ment, somewlptt remote from ani. habits tion, there then resided an aged widow, all alone, and yet not alone. During the weary day, in her excessive weakness, she had been unable to step be ynnd her door stone, or to communicate her wants to any friend. Her last mor sel of bread had been lona since consumed, and none heeded her destination. She sat at evening by her small fir,e ha:f famished with hunger—from exhaustion unable to sleep—preparing to meet the dreadful fate from which she knew not how she should be spared. She prayed that morning' "Give me this day my daily bread," but the shadows of evening had descended upon her, and hell prayer had nut been answered. While such thoughts were passing through 'her weary mind, she heard the dour suddenly, open and shut again, and found deposii ed in her entry by an unknown hand, a basket crowded with all those ar ticles of comfortable food, which had the sweetness of manna to her. What were her feelings on that nigh!, God only knows ! but they were such as rise up to him—the Great deliverer and provider, from ten thousand hearts every day. Many days elapsed before the widow learnt through what messenger God hind sent to her that timely aid. It was at the impulse of a little child, who on that dis tnal night, seated at the Cheerful fireside of her home, was led to express the generous wit,h that poor widow, whom she had some time visited, could share some of her nu• merous comforts and cheer. Rer parents followed out the benevolant suggestion ; and a servant was soon despatched to her mean abode, with a plentiful supply. What a beautiful glimpes of the chain of causes, all fastened at the throne of God I An angel, with noiseless wing came down, stirred the peaceful breast of the child. and with no pomp or circumstance of the out• ward miracle, the widow's prayer was a nswe red.— The Watch lower. The Nobility of Labor. BY ORVILLE DEWEY. So material do I deem this policy—the true nobility of labor, I mean—that I would dwell on it a moment longer, and in a larger view. Why, then,in the great scale °fillings is labor ordained for u 4 Easily, had it so pleased the Great Ordainer, might it have been dispensed with. The world itself might have been a mighty machinery fur the pro duction of all that man wants. The motion of the globe upon its axis might be going fin ward without man's aid, houses might have risen like an exhalation, "With the sound Of dulcet symphonies and voices sweet, Built like a temple." Gorgeous furniture might have been placed in them, and soft couches and luxurious ban quota spread,by hands unseen,and man cloth ed with fabrics of nature's weaving, rather than imperial purple, might have been sent to deport himself in those . Elysian palaces. 'Fair scene!' I imagine -you aro saying: 'Fortune for us had it been the scene ordain. ed for human life!' But where, then, tell me, had been human energy, perseverance, patience, virtue, heroism? Cut off with one blow from the world— and mankind had sunk to a crowd of Asiatic voluptuaries. No, it had not been fortunate. Better that the earth be given to man as a dark mass, whereupon to labor. Better that rude unsightly materials be provided in the ore bed and in the forest, for him to fashion, to splendor and beauty. Better, I say, not because of that splendor end beauty, but be cause the act creating them is better than the things themselves; because exertion is nobler than enjoyment; because the laborer is greater and more worthy of honor than the idler. I call upon those whom I address to stand up for the nobility of labor. It is Heaven's great ordinance for human improvement. Let not that great ordinance be broken down. What do I say? It is brOken down—and it has been broken down—for ages. Let it then be built up again; here, it any where, on these shores of a new world—of 'a new civilization. But how, I may be asked, is it broken down? De-got men toil, it may be said. They,do indeed toil, but they too gen erally do it because they must. Many submit to it,as in some sort,a degra ding necessity, and they desire nothing so much on earth as an escape from it. They , fulfil the great law of labor in the letter,but break it by spirit. To some field of labor, mental or manual, every idler should hasten, as a chosen coveted field of improvement. But so he is not impelled to do under the teaching of nue imperfect civilization. On the contrary, ho sits down, folds his hands, 'and blesses himself in idleness. This way of thinking is the heritage of the absurd and unjust feudal system, under which serfs la bored, and gentlemen spent their lives in fighting and feasting. It is time that this opprobrium of toil were done away. Ashamed to toil an hour! Ashamed of thy dingy workshop and dusty labor field —of thy hard hand,scnrred with service more honor able than that of war—of thy soiled and weather stained garments, on which mother nature has embroidered mist, sun and Jai it, tire and steam, her own heraldric honor 4 Ashamed of these tokens and titles, and en vious (damming robes,' inbecile idleness and vanity? It is treason to nature, it is impie ty to Heaven--it is breaking Heaven's great ordinance. Toil I repeat—toil, either of the brain, or of the heart, or of the hand, is the only manhood, the only true nobility! LOVE, TREActi ERY, AND DESPAIR The following ronian.ic story is related as • fact in a letter from Thesalunica, dated Nov. 10: ustar.ha Paella, reputed to be the ablest of all public officers of Tur key, has just delivered Macedonia from a formidable band of brigands, who have in. fested the country for upwards of four years The memo; he took are to singular not to be mentioned —Having learned that u young Albanian girl, bearing the name Theodosia Marin Samik, residing at M iel nik, a town on the frontier of Greece, had secret communications with the robbers, Mustapha had her watched and questioned, but could not obtain any disclosures. He then engaged one of his lieutenants named Ishmael, a young man of remarkable [WI SO nal beauty, to go and endeavor to gain her affections. This officer succeeded to such a degree that she becaine warmly attached to him, and informed him that her real name was Eudoxia Theresa Gherundaxi, and that she was niece of the chief of the brigands, Michael Gregorio Gherundaxi, whose troop amounted to between 1400 or 1500 men. She painted in glowing terms the charms of their errant and adventurous life, and urged Ishmael to join them. He pretended to yield to her instances and then learned further from her that her uncle would hold a general muster of his band on October 2stli, in the Forrest of Pheloidos. All this Ishmael communicated to Mus tapha, but, in order to avert suspicion, went with his fair one to the rendezvous. The wily Mustapha collected his troops, our-' rounded the assembled freebooters, and as. they refused to surrender. attacked them With all his forces. The greatest number of the brigands fell on the spot, preferring deatlf , im the - field to,capture and an ignomi nious execution. A few escaped - for the moment,but they were afterwards talcen,and are now waiting their sentence in the citadel of Thessulonica. Among the dead were found the chief, Gherundaxi, whose head was cloven trom a stroke from a sabre, and the young lieutenant, lshrnael, whose breast had been penetrated by a musket ball. Mustapha cut off the heads of all the killed, and has paraded them in triumph through the town. The wretched Eudoxia, 3n discoveriug the treachery of her lover, has fallen into a state of complete abandon ment, and is believed to have entirely lost her senses. Mustapha has taken her into hie own palace, and ordered that every care her deplorable condition requires shall be lavished on her.—Presbyterian. A FAIR Bursivass TIIANSACTION.- The best joke that has occurred for a twelve mouth has been at our exparwe. It will he remembered, perhaps, that a few weeks since, we gave notice to country editors gen. ()rally, that we require boot, as the difference of exchange between them and us was so great that we could not afford to do other, wise. Since that notification we have re numerous remittances from our rustick brethren, but the oddest specimen of coun try currency that we have yet seen, reached us yesterday through the post office. It was contained in a large package, done up in straw paper. We burst open the envel ope, arid unrolled till me came to the sec owl—then there was a third—then a fourth —but the hardness of the package covinced us that it was not all paper, till at length, alter taking off about one dozni envelopes, out came a hug., old, worm out run down dirty, mashed up boot, containing a news, paper from the office of one of our brethern in Mississippi, with notice—" Please exchan ge—and give us credit for the boot. Well, the currency of Mississippi, as every body knows, is a long way below par; but we had no idea that it had got down to such low footing. We have no complaint however to make—we asked for boot,and we have got boot; and our brother at Holley Springs shall have the Picayune in consideration of the boot.—N.O. Picayune. CURIOUS CROCKERY WARE. A few evenings since about one hour af ter sunset, a very staid and moral gentle- man, of exemplary piety, stopped at the window of the post office to obtain a letter. Whilst time a very pretty modest young lady, carrying a basket in her hands, step ped up and said to him in a sweet low tone of voice, "Will you be so kind as to show me which is the window for the ladies 'letters?; "Certainly my dear," said he very a miable, "It's just around the corner." 'l'ho pour girl immediately began to fumble about her pockets trying to get out her purse. The geutleman very gallantly said, 'Permit me to hold your basket while you get out your purse." "Oh, thank you sir," was the prompt reply. "but I'm sorry to give you so much trouble!" "Not the least trouble in lice," said ho ; ~ but what have you in your basket so heavy !" "Only a little crockery ware, sir" M a id she. "I'll go round the corer midget my letter delivered,nud relieve you it: a minute.' She went round the corner. and was seen no more. The gentleman wailed till he was tired, and then opening the basket, to his surprise lie found a sweet little boy there about a mouth old. This was therefore, the only "delivery" that the young lady de sired to effect at the post office, and this was post paid. The gentleman took it to the alms-liou le, where at received the cngnotm•n of "Crockery conic by-chance N. Y. Ifer. The London correspondent of the New York Journal of Commerce writes: Tern Campbell, the author of The pleasures of [lope, has addressed the following lines a pilot "The Stitt. Spenif led Banner." They appeared in t ha Morning Chronicle of the 6th of November: TO TILE invirrEn STATES OP NORTH AM nnicA, ON THEIR STRIPED AND STARRED BANNER• United btates, your banner wean• • Two emblems; one of fame: Alas! the other that it bears Reminda' us of your shame! The white man's liberty in types titands blazoned by y outistars-- But what's the meaning of your strip till They mean your negroes' scars. THOMAS CAMPUELL. A young gentleman, a native of Boston, who was with me when 1 road this biting ef sion, immediately altered it as follows: United States your banner wears Two emblems; ono of fame: Alas! the other that it bears Iteminds us of our shame ! Man's righteous liberty. in types Stands blazoned by your stars-- But what's the meaning of your stripes? We feel Ikon in otir scars. A parish clerk, not far from Banbury, a f•w Sundays since, gave out as follows: "The inhabitants of this parish are to take notice that a public vestry will be held on Wednesday, to consider what color tho church shall be wliitc•washed." THE END OF "GREAT MEN." Happening to cast my eyes upon a. prin ted'. page of miniature portraits, it perceived that the personages who occupied the most conspicuous places, wore Alexander, Banal ha', Caesar and Bonaparte. ,1 had ,ieen the same unnumbered • times before,tut . never, did the sensations arise in my - boiam, as my miud hastily glanced over their several histories. Alexander, after having climbed the diz zy heights of his ambition, and with his temples bound with chaplets dipped in the blood of courtless nations, looked down upon a conquered world, and wept that there ‘bas not another world for him to conquer—sot a city on fire, and died in a scene of de. Watch. Hannibal, after having, to the astoniAi meat of Rome, passed the Alps; after hav ing put to flight the armies of this "mistress of the world" and, stripped three bushels of gold rings from the ringers of their slaugh tered knights, and made her very founds• Lions quake, fled from his country, being hated by those who once exultingly united his name to that ol their god, and called him Hannibal, and died, at last, by poison administered by his own hands, unlamented and unwept in a foreign land. Cwsar, after having conquered eight hundred cities, and dyeing his garment in the blood of a million of his foes—after hav ing pursued to death the only rival he had on earth—was miserably assassinated by those considered his nearest friends, end in that very place the attainment of which had been his greatest ambition. fluonaparte, whose mandate kings and princes obeyed, after having filled the earth with the terror of his name—closed his days in lonely banishment, almost literally exiled from the world, yet where he could some• times soc his country's banner waiving o'er the deep, which would not or could not bring him aid 1 Thug these four men, who from the peculiar situations of their portraits, sco rned to stand as the representatives of all those, whom the world calls great—these four who each in turn made the earth trem ble to its very centre by their simple tread severally died—one by intoxication, or some supposed, by poison mingled in his wine— one Li" suicide—one murdered by his friend —and one in lonely exile ! 'How aro the mighty fallen!' SHAMEFUL "Hosx."- . —The Cincinnati Whig says: A most reprehensible hoax was recently palmed upon one of the editors of the New Orleans Sun. It seems that the senior editor of that paper was ill at his lodgings, and that_ late at night eGme mischievous wag, waited upon the junior editor, informing him that his senior assuci. ate had just committed suicide. The too credulous junior, not doubting the truth of his informant's statement, immediately wrote a full account of the dreadful suicide, accompanied with the usual regrets, dic. and spread it before the public in his mor ning paper. The story proved to be wholly false, and was palmed upon the junior ae a very witty hoax—but in our opinion, the perpetrator of the infamous falsehood ought to be put upon the tread mill for six months fur his reiireheusible folly.—Bolt. Put. Disgueling.—The Boston Seminal states that two females, one white, and the other black, were seen arm io arm parading the strentt city, one d,►v last week. They:were, both flothionably clad. T4OMAB CAMPOZLI. Temperance cause in France. Mr. E. C. De!even, who was in Franca n fee: , months since, in a letter to John H. Cooke, Esq., President of the American Temperance Union, dated Paris, Nov. 13th, gives the following account of his interview with King Louts Philippe. Afterleaving Britirm and entering France, I expected to do nothing, as my ignorance of the French language would prevent my approaching most of the influential men.--- -However, having received from the French Consul General, in the United States of A. merica, a letter of introduction to the Aid, de.Camp, near the person of the King; I en closed it to his address,soon nfler my arrival in Paris. I received an immediate answer, saying, that his Majesty would see me thro' our minister, Gen. Cass, who, with great kindness and promptitude, at once made the necessary arrangements; and last evening at half past eight, 1 was introduced by him at the Tuilleries, first to the Queen, and the sister of the king, who, with half a dozen, ladies in N aitin:.7„were seated around a table, engaged in various occupations, the Queen in netting articles to sell for the benefit of the poor. Both the Queen and the Princess addressed me in English, the hitter making some kind remarks relating to Temperance, which she said was a highly philanthropic effort. The King was no! in the apartments when we arrived, but soon entered; when Gen. Cass immediately presented me, and the conversation commenced, by his Majes. ty's offering to do all in his power to assist my efforts fiir temperance. I was not a lit. tle surprised to find that the King was per fectly well informed on the subjrct, aware of its importance to all branches of industry as also of its political and moral value; o more so to find that there was on disagree. meat in our views of the habitual use of wine. He stated expressly that the drun kenness of France was occasioned by wine; that in one district of his empire, there was much intemperance on gin, but be consider ; ed wine the great evil. I took the liberty of asking.him, if I had under: need him to say, that his opiniOn was that wine occasion ed most of the evils ofintoxicatioe ni France; and was answered in the same words, " The drunkenness of France is on wine." I presume you recollect, that while in Virginia and Washington,some years since; I visited Messrs. Madison, Jackson and Ad ams, and obtained their signatures to an ex pression in favor of abstinence from ardent spirits.• 1 named this to his Majesty; and !mints '' the medel in my pocket, I shoe ed it to him; he retired to another mine where he soon seat for me, and read it aloud ; and when he returned it to me, said it was not only true, but well expressed.(you probably know that it watt drawn up by our excellent fellow laborer, Dr. Edwards.) After this our conversation continued, by my giving the history of our Peoria while confined to ardent spirits, and the cause at gi necessity of our taking broader grottedsand trying to banish the use of all intoxicating drinks. I subinitted on paper to his &Netts ty; by his permission, 14 llarlaralinn or our [WHOLIB IVO: 464. Ttrentv-fire Good Reasons for :tot ming strong I.brink. 1. It has no nourishment. 2. It produces a fever in mind and body. 3. It makes me feel had. ' 4. I alsav'• susynct I have done wrong. 5. It creaks an appetite which demand• more. 6. It demand,' a more iicquent and abun dant gratification. 7. It costs a good dea!—l cannot teord cnn spend my time and money in some better way. 9. 1 am afraid others will follow my ex ample and be ruined. 10. Sonic of my nearest friends have killed themselves by chinking. . 11. It never promotes but alway's urea health. 12. Is does not fit men for business. 13. It does not improve the temper. 14- It is the cause of three-fourths of the civil crimes committed to our land. 15. Several of my neighbours are mow intemperate. W. All such liquors are poison. 17. They cause many diseases. 18. Those who drink don't live so long as others. 19. 1 don't like to kill myself. 20. All who drink at all are drunk in some degree. 21. God and reason do not require me o.be drunk. 22. Tile brat men de not drink—the worst 23. No drunkard bath eternal 24. It does no good . to drink, but always evil. 25. 'Tip sate to leave off drinking br.Gue it is meddled with ; but death iu ►n every cup. POPITLAII Poirscrs.—When pure ardent spirits are taken into the stomach they cause ►rritation,which ie evinced by warmth and pain experinced in that organ; mid next, lab rimi lion of the delicate coats of this part, and son►etiaies garigrine. They act in the same manner as poison. Besides the local injury they produce, they act on the nerves of the stomach which run to tbe brain, and tf taken in large quantities, cause insensi• bility, stupor, kremlin: convulsive action', difficult breathing, profound sleep, and often sudden death. The habitual new of ardent ,i,piritscanse . a slaw inflammation of tha stomach it* liver, which proceeds "stead. ily, but is often undiscovered till too late for relief.
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