The Organ of the “Sons of Temperance,” and of the “Eastern Temperance Union” of North Carolina.
v oL -- PITTSBOROUGII, NORTH CARn^STA, NOVEMBER 24, 1848.
THE TEMPERANCE COMMUNICATOR
IS PUBLISHED WEEKLY,
At One Dollar and 50 Cents a year,
PAYABLE IN ADVANCE.
WILLIAM POTT ER,
EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR.
E. Io PERKINS,
CORRESPONDING EDITOR.
8@“ Advertisements inserted at one dol
lar per square for the first, and twenty-five
cents for each subsequent insertion.
Temperance Tale.
From the Rochester Democrat.
THE LOST FOUND.
We have frequently observed a heart-
broken looking lad pass by with a gallon
oil can in his hand. Ills tattered gar
ments and his melancholy face were well
calculated to excite observation and pity.
It was but too evident that the vessel
which he carried had been diverted from
its legitimate, use, and that it was now
used, not as an oil-can, but a whiskey jug.
Having seen him pass twice in one day,
with his ever present can, we had the cu
riosity to accost him, and did so by in
quiring his residence.
‘I live,’ said he, ‘five miles from the
city, on the road.’
‘You have been to the city once before
to-day, have you not?’
‘Yes, sir, I came down in the morn
ing; but I could not get what I was sent
for, and had to come again.’
‘What was you sent for, my lad? It
must be something very important, to
make, it necessary for you to walk twenty
miles in this storm.’
‘Why, sir, it was whiskey that I was
sent for. Father had no money, and he
sent me to Mr. ’s to get trusted; but
he wouldn’t trust any more, so I had to
go home without the whiskey; but father
sent me back again.’
‘How do you expect to get it now,
when you couldn’t get it in the morning?’
‘Why, sir, I have brought a pair of
shoes which sister sent mother. Mr.
will give whiskey for them. He has got
two or three pairs of mother’s shoes now.
‘Do you like to carry whiskey home,
my boy?’
‘Oh, no, sir, for it makes all so unhap
py; but I can’t help it.’
We took the responsibility of advising
the boy not to fulfill his errand, and re
turned home with him. The family, con
sisted of husband, wife, and four children;
the oldest (the boy,) was not more than
ten years of age, while the youngest was
an infant of a few months. It was a cold,
blustering day. The north wind blew
harshly, and came roughly and unbidden
through the numberless crevices of the
poor man’s hovel. A few black embers
occupied the fire-place, around which were
huddled the half naked children, and the
woe-stricken mother and wife. Her face
was haggard—her eyes sunken—her hair
dishevelled—her clothes tattered and un
clean.
She was seated upon an old broken
chair, and was mechanically swinging to
and fro, as if endearvoring to quiet her
infant, which moaned pitifully in its mo
ther’s arms. It had been sick from its
birth, and it was now seemingly strug
gling to free itself from the harsh world
into which it had, but a few months pre
vious, been ushered. There was no tear
in the eye of the mother, as she gazed on
the expiring babe. The fountain had
been, long before, dried up by the inter-
nal fires which alcohol had kindled and
fed. Yet she was the picture of despair;
and we could not but fancy, as she sat
thus, that her mind was wandering back
to the happy past—the days of infancy
and girlhood, and her early home. Poor
thing! She had given her affections and
her hand to a man who had token the
first steps in intemperance. She had left
her home fall of buoyant hopes—hopes
never to be realized—to spend a life of
misery with a sot. Broken-hearted—
cast out from the society of her former
friends—frowned upon by the ‘good soci
ety” humane—spoken of as the miserable
wife of a miserable drunkard—with no
arm to help, no heart to pity—she very
soon became a tippler and a drunkard
herself.
By the side of this woe-smitten mother
kneeled a little girl of five or six years,
down whose sallow cheeks tears were
coursing, and who ever and anon exla m-
ed, ‘Poor little Willie! Must you d'e?’
‘Oh, mother, must Willie die?’ and then
kissing the clammy sweat from little Wil
lie’s brow, covered her face with her tat
tered apron, and wept.
In the opposite corner of the chimney,
and among the ashes which covered the
hearth, sat a boy of about seven years,
dragging from the half dead embres a po
tato, which he broke open with the re
mark, ‘Mother, give this to little Willie.
May be he’s hungry. I’m hungry, too,
and so is sister; but Willie’s sick. Give
him this potato, mother.’
‘No, poor boy,’ said the mother, ‘Wil
lie will never be hungry again. He will
soon be dead.’
This remark drew all the children a-
round the mother and the dying child.—
The father was sitting upon what was in
tended for a bedstead, without hat, shoes,
or coat, with his hands thrust into his
pockets, apparently indifferent to all that
was passing around him. His head was
resting upon his breast, and his blurred
eyes were fastened upon the floor, as ifhe
was afraid to look up at the sorrowing
group who were watching the countenance
of the dying infant.
There was a moment of silence. Not
a sound was heard. Evon the sobs of the
little girl had ceased. Death was cross
ing the hovel’s threshold. The very re
spiration of the household seemed sus
pended; when a light shivering of the
limbs of the infant and a shriek from the
half conscious mother told that the vital
spark had fled.
For the first time, the father moved.—
Slowly advancing to where his wife was
seated, with quivering lips, he whispered,
‘Is Willie dead?’
‘Yes, James, the poor babe is dead!’
was the choking reply of the mother, who
still sat, as at first, gazing upon the face
of her little one.
Without muttering another word, the
long brutalized father left the house, mut
tering as he left, ‘My God how long?’
At this moment, a kind-hearted lady
came in, who had heard, but a few mo
ments before of the dangerous illness of
the child. She had brought with her
some medicine; but her angel visit was too
American Biography.
THE LATE «EA. KEARNEY
Was born in Newark, New Jersey, a-
bout the year 1793, and was pursuing his
studies at Columbia College, New York,
when the war of 1812 broke out. He im
mediately left the institution, and entered
the army as First-Lieutenant of the thir
teenth infantry, then commanded by Wool.
Under this heroic leader he marched to
the Canada frontier' fought at Queenstown
heights; and was taken prisoner with
Scott and other officers. Being soon af
ter exchanged, he rejoined his old regi
ment, and served through the war with
credit.
On the conclusion of peace, Kearney
remained in the army. The next twenty
years of his life were spent chiefly at
frontier posts, but the time was not wast
ed, for Kearney being a close' student, was
daily perfecting himself in the knowledge
of his profession. He soon acquired the
reputation of being one of the most rigid
disciplinarians and lest tacticians in the
service. His coolness in difficult emer
gencies passed into a proverb. No man
could be braver when danger was abroad,
His rise was slow, however, the result of
along peace. A Major in 1824, he be
came a Lieutenant-Colonel in 1833, and a
full Colonel in 1830. When the first reg
iment of dragoons was organized in 1833,
he was charged with its discipline, a task
] late; the gentle spirit of the babe had fled,
I and there remained for her but to comfort
the living. This she did, while we fol
lowed the father. We related to him. the
circumstances which had led us to his
house, and briefly spoke of the misery
which inevitably follows in the wake of
intemperance.
‘I know it, sir,’ said he; ‘I have long
Known it. I have not always been what
you see me. Alcohol and my appetite
have brought me to this depth of degrada
tion.’
‘Why not master that appetite? You
have the power. Thousands have proved
it.’
‘Sir, I believe it. I have seen others
as far reduced as myself restored and
made happy. But you are the first who
has ever spoken to me upon the subject;
and I had too strong a passion for liquor
to think of a reformation myself.’
‘Well, will you let. me make the effort?’
‘I will. It has occupied my thoughts
during the whole morning,; and now, in
the presence of Almi A - God, I swear
never again to touch the accursed thing
which has ruined m> ‘°Pd made beggars
of my family.’
Happy enough to iear this manly res
olution, we returned, to the house with
him; in due time we made the fact known
to the wife-—and producing a pledge, the
whole family signed it upon the table
which held the dead body of their child!’
The scene was an affecting one.
********* # * *
Two years had passed, when the inci
dent was recalled to our mind by a shake
of the hand from a gentleman who was re
turning west with a stock of dry goods
which he hehad just purchased in New
York. It was the man who signed the
temperance pledge by the dead body of
his. child!
which he executed in the ablest manner;
indeed, the cavalry arm of the service may
be considered as indebted to Kearney for
all that it is. He prepared a system of
tactics, instructed the officers, and inspir
ed the corps with his own heroism.
In 1839, when a frontier war was an
ticipated, Kearney was ordered to Fort
Wayne, to overawe, the Cherokees. He
had now under his command, for the first
time, a full regiment of ten companies.—
He subsequently made many long march
es through the various Indian territories,
acquiring a fund of valuable information
for the government, and disseminating a
wholesome respect for the flag which he
represented. He had, during the years
1835, and 1836, penetrated to the head
of the Mississippi, and .to the Rocky
Mountains, on which occasions, also, he
had left a strong impression among the
savages, of the power and energy of the
United States. The Indians called him
the “horse-chief of the long knives.”—
These journeys materially assisted to im
prove the condition and discipline of his
dragoons.
When the war with hjexico began, the
President determined ti, gen d an expedi
tion against New Mexico ana California,
and Kearney was selected to command
the troops raised for this enterprise.—
Accordingly, he assembled his forces prin
cipally consisting of volunteers, at Fort
Leavenworth, in June, 1846, and, on the
30th of that month, began his march for
Santa Fe, at the head of about sixteen
hundred men. For six weeks he travers
ed the vast wilderness which stretches be
tween the last civilized settlement on the
Missouri, and the first one of a similar
character in New Mexico. Ile reached
his destination in August, without opposi
tion. Having formally taken possession
of Santa Fe, he proceeded to declare New
Mexico annexed to the United States.—
He next drew up a form of government
for it, and superintended the election ofa
Governor and proper authorities. He
now considered his work in this province
finished, and prepared to advance on Cal
ifornia, pursuant to his instructions, only
waiting for the arrival of Colonel Prince
from Fort Leavenworth, with the thousand
volunteers, whom Kearney had left be
hind in his eagerness to advance. At
last, on the 25th of September, ho moved
from Santa Fe for California, with about
four hundred dragoons, but, after having
marched one hundred and seventy five
miles, he met an express, with the news
of Fremont’s conquest of that country.-—
He now sent back most of his little army,
retaining only one hundred dragoons as an
escort.
When Kearney reached the river Gila,
in California, he learned that the province
had revolted, and that the Americans had
been expelled from Los Angelos, the
principal city in the south. On the 2d
of December he arrived at the first settle
ment in California, where the news of the
insurrection was confirmed. Four days
afterwards, he fell in with a body of the
enemy, somewhat superior in numbers,
whom, after a sharp action, he totally
routed. In this skirmish, Kearney was
wounded severely, and would have been
killed, but for Lieutenant Emory, who
shot his antagonist just as he was about
to make a second thrust with the lance.—-
Kearney advanced about nine miles, when,
being assailed by the Californians again,
he seized a neighboring hill, and held it
until Commodore Stockton, four days af
ter, sent him a reinforcement of seventy-
five marines, and one hundred seamen.—
In these two skirmishes Kearney fought
under great disadvantages, his men being
mounted on broken down mules, while the
enemy had superb horses. Two days af
ter he was succored, Kearney reached
San Diego, where he found Commodore
Stockton.
Having ascertained that the insurgents
were still at Los Angelos, where they
numbered seven hundred, under the com
mand of General Flores, the two Ameri
can leaders resolved to march, with their
combined forces, and dislodge him. Ac
cordingly, with about seven hundred men,
and six pieces of artillery, they left San
Diego, and proceeded to meet the enemy,
the united force being under command of
G eneral Kearney. On the Sth of Janua
ry he came up with the-Californians, who,
with four guns, were drawn up on a height
on the opposite side of the river. Kearney
instantly formed bis troops in order or
battle, and placing himself dauntlessly a
their head, forded the stream, stormed th
height, and gained a complete victory.—
The action lasted about an hour and ahalf.
By the following day, however, the Cali
fornians had recovered their spirits, and,
on Kearney’s resuming his advance, show
ed themselves in his front and on his flanks.
When he had descended from the heights,
and reached the plains of the Mesa, the
artillery opened upon him, and soon after,
concentrating their columns, the Califor
nians furiously assailed his left flank.—
Their charge however, was decisively re
pulsed, on which they took to flight. The
next day Kearney entered Los Angelos
in triumph.
A difficulty now arose between Com
modore Stockton and General Kearney
in reference to the civil authority in Cal
ifornia. Kearney produced the commis
sion of the President of the United States,
authorizing him to act as Commander of
the country and Governor, and claiming
submission from Stockton in consequence
of this document. Stockton, however,
asserted that, as the country had been
conquered before Kearney’s arrival, a con
dition of affairs had arisen which the Pres
ident had not foreseen, and in consequence,
it could not be expected that he and Fre
mont, the real conquerors, should be de
prived of their power by an authority vir
tually abrogated. Fremont took the same
view of the question as Stockton, and re
fused obedience to Kearney. Unfortu
nately, however, Kearney was Fremont’s
superior officer, and hence entitled to the
latter’s obedience, irrespective of the spe
cial commission. Of this he was soon
reminded, for when Cammodore Shubrick
arrived with California volunteers, Kear
ney, finding himself with a superior force,
deposed Fremont, ordered him to the U.
States, and on his arrival there, placed
him under arrest. Kearney did not con
tinue long in California after the arrival
of Com. Shubrick. He remained, howev
er, until he considered the province paci
fied and secure from further insurrection.
He then returned to the United States,
accompanied by Fremont. Firm, skilful,
brave as a lion, he was one of the most
valuable officers in the lino of the army.
His country acknowledged this, through
the President, by conferring on him, the
rank of a full Brigadier.