Daily National Democrat

Deadly Weapons.

Editor Democrat:—I am glad there is a Sunday paper published in this city, as I hope I may, through the same, say a few words to my fellow men upon the subject of carrying deadly weapons. Sunday is a day when all are presumed to be at leisure, and when they should employ the mind in profitable thoughts. This is a lovely—a beautiful day—all around us seems balmy, and sweet nature is dressed in her gayest attire; our sweet homes are made vocal this morning with the prattling of our young loved ones, and the songs of merry birds; the mellow ding dong of the church going bell excites in our bosoms the thoughts which point heavenward to him who is the giver of every good and perfect gift. It is a day consecrated by God himself, to holy works, and holy thoughts. Then, O man, let me approach you and reason with you. I am not going to select a text and preach you a sermon; first because I am not a preacher, and second because I know you will have a chance this day offered you, at all the churches in the city, to hear a better discourse than I have the ability to give you.

I wish to persuade you, my brother, to have more love for your fellow men. If you have none of the milk of human kindness in your bosom—if you wish to be wise and happy here, and, I may say hereafter, you should endeavor to cultivate goodness of heart for your brother. There is no such thing as substantial happiness, without proper love and respect for our fellow mortals. A proper feeling of this kind will prevent us from doing many an injury by word, thought and act towards our neighbor. But you will say you love your fellow man, and would do him any good in your power. But, my dear friend, you will turn around and pick up your bowie knife or your pistol, and you will place it in some part about your body, and you will walk out, not dreaming that you will see aught in your own human shape divine, but civilized man. Perhaps you engage in conversation with some of your kind; a difference of opinion arises, your friend asserts that a proposition advanced by you is ridiculous; you assert dogmatically, that it is true; he asseverates with additional warmth, that it is not true—you fly into a passion forgetting Solomon's proverb that "a soft answer turneth away wrath, but grievous words stir up anger," and you tell him out flatly, that he lies. He thinks that as a man of courage and spirit, his feelings being aroused too, that he must resent your insult. He strikes you, or aims a blow at you: you in a moment of rage, mechanically seize that deadly—devil's—instrument which you put on your body when you left your happy home, and in a moment, as the realization of a terrible dream, your friend lies a bleeding corpse at your feet. My God, my God, my God, what have you done! Perhaps your lifeless friend had that morning left as happy a little family as your own. Perhaps in a few moments the frantic screams of the wife are heard by you while she bends over the bleeding bosom of her dead husband—perhaps the dear distressed offspring are gathering around the bloody scene, bewailing in agony unspeakable, the death, aye the death of their dear father—their support—their all. May be, my brother, that you may not see, in reality, the wife and children of your slain and bleeding victim hovering in such frenzy as described above; but the time will come when about your couch at night will appear your slain friend, with his ghastly wound more visible than he, surrounded by his dear little ones and his wife, to chide you in your horrible dreams. God has so ordained it, and it will be so!

Stop and reflect, my dear, dear brother. And the weapon you put on your person this morning cast from its concealment as you would a lurking and hidden thief from your house at night. Then adopt the above proverb from Solomon, and you will have taken one long step towards happiness, or rather from misery and wretchedness.

BROTHER.