Muscatine journal. [volume] (Bloomington, Iowa) 1849-185?, 1853-07-01
For the Journal.
SANDER.

"Oh reputation! dearer far than life
Thou precious balsam lovely, sweet Of smell.
Whose cordial drops, once spilld by rash hand
Not all thy owners care, or the repeniing toll
OF the rude spoiler's ever can collect
To its first purity and native sweetness"
He who steals from me my good name is
a liar, cheat, coward, gambler of human
souls, hungry lion in boots, a starving
tiger in broadcloth, with the paw Of the
wolf beneath the gloved hand. The ex-
terror may be glazed by profession. but
the head brainless to all virtue. With
naLght beneath it but the snail's slime, the
viper's venom, with a heart OF guilt that
even fiends would turn from, the slanderer
is curse to society, the evil genius of the
innocent, thorn in every body's side, a
moving mass of corruption, from which
emanates nothing but stencil. He leaves
the print of his forked tongle in every
house he enters, with his smokey, jealous
slime, deeply impregnated on the minds of
many, to the destruction of the richest
flowers of society--its most ciaste lilies
its sweetest buds, whose rare and eloquent
perfume keeps that society pure with its
enchanting grace-whose rich, delicious
odor watts on toe ear from tie gifted and
well-stored brain like mu Isle from sweet
scented lutes. 1t takes us from this world
of signs aud cares into its heecy barks, and
with its paddles of poetry, i. sails of life
and truth, it buoys US on to inhale the in
vIgorating air, to drink from the sweet,
delicious, Intoxicating cup profftred US by
the stars of society, whose wealth Of mind
and brilliancy of intellect wraps them in
that dampering pail the sheet of envy
draped round their shoulders By jealous
hands, vanquishing their lustre byther en-
yious hearts This jealous and forked-
tongued monster has but one desir-that
is to have all of the same legion with him
self--to crush the innocent, annihilae vir-
tue and steep in the deepest dye the lentle
and con6dIng. He creeps, at midnightinto
the quiet home of unsullied happiness, and
there spews his black yonit into unus-
pecting bosoms, where naught but muual
confidence gleamel, leaving yenomed sar
so deep u would taint the purest diamoh.
'Tls not the weak or foolish that he SEX
for his prey his arrow is poised for tie
brightest star It's the gifted, the high
minded, and the lofty-the rich, chaste
gems of society-the rubies of innocence
the pearls of truth--the fair, divine image
of the gentle Eve, who floats in natural
beauty, whose pride is innocence, wrapped
IN the paradistlc garb OF living smiles from
the lips of sweetest flowers. 'ris from
these flowers he cannot nectar sip; and
thus, in disappointed rage, he turns with
gnashing teeth and biting tongue till the
venom spills from his eyes, vowing re-
venge. Thus he weaves his web to sting,
taint and stab the inofensiye; he let's fall
from his foul mouth vituperation too vile,
too low for the inearnate from the lower re-
gions to have conjured up.
And woman-gentle, loving woman-is
it possible that thou, too, doth stoop to
carry beneath thy lips the sting to poison
thine own sex! Is it possible that from
the lips where naught but kind words, sweet
breathings of tender sympathy, garlanded
by the wreath of everything friendship
gracing the perfumed vase Of the souls
purity-is it possible thou hast polluted
thai vase and withsred the wreath by thy
stagnant breath! Yes, it is possible! thy
lip hath poisoned the morning dew-drop
from which life is drank, and devastated
many light heart of its bright summer.
Woman, listen not to the Vaccinations
against thine own sex, for know, if thine