VOL. VI, No. 43.] T 11P. AZ a OF THK HUNTINGDON JOURNAL. JOURNAL" will be published every Jalnesday morning, at two dollars a year, paid IN ADVANCE, andif not paid with six months, two dollars and a half. Every perat;n who obtains five subscribers, :Led forwards price of subscription, shall be :Arnished with t sixth copy gratuitously for me year. N t subscription received for a less period tit to six tomtits, nor any paper discontioued anti! all arrearages are paid. communications must be addressed to the Editor, POST PAID, or they will not attended to. tisein !tits not exceeding one square, All be inserted three times for one dollar, ad for every subsequent insertion, twenty cents per square will be charged. Hu 'finite orders are given as to the time a Ivertisement is to be continued, it will b l , k.lpt in till ordered out, and charged accor u Jingly. AGENTS FOR The YinntinAdon Journal. Daniel Teague, Orbisonia• ' David Blair Esq. Shade Gap; Benjamin Lease. Shirleys burs; Eliel Smith, Esq. Chi/coustottm; Jas. Entriken. jr. Ceffee Run; Hugh Madden, Esq. Springfield; 1)r. S. S. Dewey, Bir mingham; Jain-s Morrow. Union Furnace; John Sisler. Warrior Mark; James Davis, Esq. West township • D. H. Moore. Esq Frankstown; Gl:lbreath. Esq. Holli daysburg:: Henry Neff. Alexandria; Aaron Barns, lir,lliamßbur.:"; A. J. Stewart, Water Street; Wm. Reed. Esq. Marria township; Snlonyin Hamer. Acre Mill; Ja.mes Dysart. ilhuth Spruce Creek; Wm. Murray, Esq, Graysville; John Crum. Manor Hill; Jas. F. SrewArt. Sinking Valley; L. C . Kessler Mill Creek. ~ f rfli. wi 5 tV;., , ,,„,_• 4 .44 - , , - er 2 7-.) - .),..--, A .,. _ , crl za -10 I ~t 6: l :f rri it :. ^ 14 0 14 V ' ' Alo4l* -- late ' PO El' RY. THE AMERICAN BOY, ST JOHN M. lIEWIT, " Father, look up and - - How gracefully it flies; Those pretty ,tripes--they seem to be A rainbow in the skies." It is our country's flag, my son, And proudly drinks the light, O'er Ocean's waves—in foreign climes A symbol of our might. "Father—what fearful noise is that. Like thundering in the clouds ? Why do the people waive their hats, Aud rush along in crowds P' It is the voice of canuonry, The glad shouts of the free, This is a day of memory dear— 'Tis freedom's jubilee. "I wish 1 was now a man, I'd fire my canncn too, I'd cheer as loudly as the rest— But, father, why don't you ?" I'm getting old and weak—but still My heart is big with joy ; I have witnessed many a day like this— Shout you aloud my boy. "Hurrah I for freedom's julb ilee ! God bless our native land, And may 1 live to Mid the sword Of freedom in my hand !" Well done my boy—grow up and love The land that gave you birth ; A home where freed= loves to dwell, Is Paradise on earth. Fronuthe New Yorker. HE COMES NOT YET! ."Tis night—from Heaven's sapphire loft The moon smiles on the lea, - - And zephyr's sighs are stealMg soft Across the earth and sea; The sister spirits of the even, In their blue home above. Have lit the twinkling lamps of Heaven, To light the hour of love ; And every Herb and tree and flower With twilight's dew is aet ; It is his own loved moonlight hour— But oh ! he comes nut yet." "Each little wave bath murmured o'er Its moonbeam-witnessed bliss, And stolen on to give the shore A holy vesper kiss; Each flow'ret from the lip of night A drop of dev: bath pressed, Then folded up its leaves in light And perfume-sweetened rest; And every charm that sea and sky Have on our planet set, Proclaims that Love's own hour is nigh— But ! he comes not yet." TO MY SWEET HEART. Your lips !how temptingly they pout! They're lucious as wild cherrie s Red as a Turkey Go bier's snout, And sweet ae Huckleberries ! :.i• ) " 4 . n • 4. MidlN, If. kfIN - 7.71: A, HUNTINGDON, PENNSYLVANIA, WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 27, From Graham's Magazine far October. KATE BEVERLY. A Story of the Valley of Wy oming. BY PERCIE H. SHELTON, "Do you see that landscape?" said the old man to me, as we paused on the edge of the mountain road, and looked down into the valley of Wyoming beneath us. "Well, that spot, calm and beautiful as it now is, was once the scene of massacre. God help me! the agonies of that day al most wring my heart to think of them, even after the lapse of fifty years." "I have heard it was a IZaiful time, and you have often promised to tell me the tale of your own connection with it. Yet, if the subject be so painful to you, I dare scarcely make the request." "No, boy, no," said the old man sadly, "I will tell it, fur the promise is of long standing, and I feel to-day as if I could eat rate that tragedy with less emotion than usual. Sit down on this rock, and give me a moment to rest; I will then commence my story." bile the old man wiped the pespira lion lion his brew, and sat fanning him self with his broad rimmedsummer hat, I took the place pointed fiut by him near' his side, and spent the moments teat elapsed before be began his narration in gazing at the landscape before tee. Slum.; on a huge bolder at the edge of the moutitain, just where the hill Legan to slope down into the valley, we coin mended a view of one of the most nori• vatted landscapes in the world. To our left rose up the mountain, bold, rugged, and barren, like the back of seine vast monster reared against the sky---Lbut on the right nothing, twerp:AE.(l to destroy the view ; whose luvel,ess as fur exceed ed even my expectations, that for wrote minutes I gazed on the scene in mute ad miration. Beneath me stretched the val• ley, diversified with gently sloping eleva tions, and sprinkled with fields of waving golden gr in ; while here and there a patch of woodhoel, with its dark green hue, lay slumbering on the landscape—the surface of the forest ever and anon varying to a lighter tint, as the wind swept over the tree-tops. Right through the centre of the valley meandered the river, now roll ieet betwixt bluff' banks, and now stealing gently among the rich meadow lands in the distance, until at length it turned to the left, and, skirting the 'foot of the far off hills, was lost behind the profile sit the mountain before us. In the centre of the vale was the village, with its white houses and airy church steeple, smiling ceer the scene. Far away on the horizon stretch ed a line of hills, their dark blue summits, half hid by the clouds, which wrapped them as in a veil of gauze. No sound came up from the valley. Occasionally the twitter of a bird would be heard from the surrounding trees—while the low tin kle of a tiny waterfall on our left kept monutonously sounthng in our ears. The month% rays of a suminer's sun poured down upon the landscape, and every thing around was bright, and gsy, and beauti ful. I was still lust in admiration at the loveliness of the scene, when the uld man signified his readiness to commence his tate. "It is now fifty years ago," he began, "since I came to this valley a young fron tier man, with a hearty constitution, a love of adventure ; and the reputation of being the best shot on the border ; the place was, at that time, settled principal ly by tamilies from Connecticut, and even then bore traces of its present luxuriant cultivation. Many of the families were in good circumstances. Others had seen better days—and altogether the society was more refined than was usual on the frontier. Among the families, however, in the valley, none pleased me so much as that of lir. Beverly—and, of his fireside circle, ha second daughter, Kate, was, in my eyes, the gem. How shall I describe ' her Leauty? Lovely, without being beau tiful, with a sylph-like form, a laugh as joyous us the carol of a bird, u step light er than that of a young fawn in sportive play, and a disposition so amiable as to win, irresistibly, the love •f all who met her. Kate Beverly was scarcely seven teen before she hail a host of admirers, and might have won any youth in the valley. Why it was that she preferred me over all the rest, I cannot say ; perhaps it was the consciousness of some mysterious sym pathy linking us together, or perhaps it was that we both came from the same town in Connecticut, and had been school mates in childhood—so it was, however. It soon began to be known throughout the valley that before another season should elapse, Kate Beverly would become my wife. Oh! how happy were those days—too happy, indeed, to last. I will not dwell upun them, for they till my soul with ago ny. suffice it to say, that while dreaming of bliss, such as mortal aeytr before expel "ONE COUNTRY, ONE CONSTITUTION, ONE DESTINY." A. W. BENEDICT PUBLISHER AND PROPRIETOR. rienced, the war of the revolution broke out—and, after a hard struggle between' my passion and my duty, the latter con quered, and I joined the army. Kate did not aaempt to dissuade ore from the act, —she rather loved me the more for it.— Though her womanly nature caused her to shed tears at my departure, her reason told her I was right, and she bid me God speed. '"Heaven bless you, Harry,' she said, 'and bring this unnatural war to a conclu sien, I cannot hist you stay, bat pray that the necessity fur your absence ,may soon cease."' Fiume rolled on--the American cause was still doubtful, and the war bid fair to be protracted into years. t had risen to be a captain in the regiment, when I received information that the tories and Indians intended making a descent o n the valley of the Wyoming. 1 knew the uu protected situation of my adopted dis trict, and trembled fur the lives of those I held most dear. At first 1 discredited the rumor—chance, however, threw in my way an opportunity of ascertaining the reality of the reported descent, mif be. came convinced that not a moment was to be lost if I would:save the lives of those I loved at home. My determination was at once taken—l solicited for leave of ab sence—it was refused; I then resigned my commission, and set forth fur PS yo• tiling. "1 never shall forget my emotions when I drew near the ill-fated place; it was on the very day of the massacre—and the first intimation I had of ,the calamity was the mangled body of one of the in habitants, whcan I had known, floating down the stream. A culd shiver ran through every vein as 1 gazed on the ter rible sight, and a thousand fears agitated my bosom; but my worst surmises fell far short of the truth. When, hours after, I met Fume of tho fugitives, and they re hearsed to inn that tale ot• horror, I stood for a moment thunderstruck, refusing to believe that beings in humaii form could perpetrate such deeds—but it was all too true. "Almost my first inquiry was for Kate. No one knew, alas! what had become of her. One of those who had escaped the fight, told me that her father had been killed at the beginning of the conflict-- and that, deprived of a protector, she had probably fallen a victim to the infuriated savages, while the other inhabitants were severally engaged in protecting them. selves. How I cursed there for this eel.. fishiness! And yet could I expect aught else of human nature, than that each one should protect those dearest to them, even to the desertion of other:,? "But my mind was soon made up. I resolved, come what might, to ascertain clearly the late of Kate- —so that if dead I Might revenge her, and if living, I might rescue her. Bidding farewell to the flying group, I shouldered` my ride anti struck boldly into the forest, trusting in the guid ance of that God who never deserts us in our extrlmities. 'I will not tire you with a contracted liar. ration ; I will only say that, atter numer ous inquiries from the fugitives I had met, I learned that Kate had been last seen in the hands of a party of savages—this was sufficient for a clue—l once more be. gan to hope. I waited until night-fall, when I sought the spot which had been described to me as the one where Kate had been last seen—and never shall I forget my feeling of almost rapturous pleasure, when I found.in the neighboring forest a fragment of her dress sticking on a bush, by which it had, doubtless, been torn from her in passing. I was niw sat. isfied that Kate had been carried off cap. tive. Fortunately I had met, in the group of fugitives, a htfuter who had been under some obligations to her family, and he was easily persuaded to join me it, my search. Together we now began a pur suit of the savages. Ile was an adept in forest warfare—could follow a trail as a bound the chase—knew the course which would be most likely to be chosen by flying party of Indians, and withal, was one of the keenest shuts who had carried a rifle on the border. "It's my opinion," said he, "that these varmints did not belong to the regular body of Indians who followed Butler, Mu' even they were bad enough. I think, how ever, he would'ut suffer a deed like this. These villians seem to have acted on their own behulf—and, it so, they would fly to the back country as soon as possible. You may depend upon it we shall overtake them if we pursue that way." "I felt the truth of these remarks, and assented to them at once. In less than a quarter of an hour after first discovering die trail, we were threading the forest in pursuit of the savages. "Let ins hasten to the close. Hour af ter hour, all through the livelong day, we pursued the flying Indians—crossing swamps, clambering, over rocks, fording streams, and picking our way through the lebyrinthine woods, until, towards night • fall, we reached the edge of an open space —or, as it were, a meadow, shut in by gently sloping hills. Hist,",said my companion, 'we are upon them. Du you nut see that thin thread of smoke curling upward over the top of aged hemlock ?' "'Ay—it must be tnetu—let us on.' 'Sufily or we lose all. We know not, certainly, that this is ete party we seek; let us reconnoitre' "Slowly and stealthily, trembling least even a twig should crackle under our feet, we crept up towards the edge of the mea dow—and peeping cautiously through the underwood, beheld the objects of our search in six tall swarthly savages, sit ting smoking around the remains of a fire. At a little distance knelt, with her hands bound, t.ut her eyes upraised to heaven, my own Kate. Oh how my heart leap. ed at the first sight. I raised my rifle convulsively, and was about to lire, whet my companion caught my hand, and said: "'Softly or you spoil all: Let us get the varmints in range, and then we shall fire with sonic effect. Hist /' This last exclamation was occsairned by the sudden rising of one of the savages Ile gazed a moment cautiously around, and then advanced towards the thicket where we lay concealed. I drew my breath in, and trembled at the beating ut my own heart. The savag e still approach ed. My companion lai d hand on my arm, and pointed from my Title to one of the Indians. I understood him. At this juncture the advancing savage, warned of our presence by the cracklin. ; of an ui lucky twig beneath toy companion's foot, sprang back, with a loud yell, towards the lire. "'Now,' said my COM panion, sternly. "Quick as lightning I raised my piece and fired. My companion did the same. said, displaying , t the Maine time the 'sot The retreating savage and one of his cum- end ore large pistol, "evil be to him who panious fell dead on the ground : each of 1 evil thinks." the Splinter! smiled, and us then sprang to a tree, loaded as we ran.; said that he did not feel well, but the It was well we did it, for in an instant !stranger swore that no man should leave the enemy was on us. Shall I describe !the room until he hied finished his story. that dreadful fight? My emotion forbids i Requesting us not to be amazed at his it. A few minutes decided it. Fighting I conduct, he ptoceeded: from tree to tree—dodging, loading, and "Some ten years ago," said he, "I was endeavoring to get sight on a foe, we kept : travelling over these mountains on horse. up the conflict for nearly five minutes— : back, and I stopped at this very house. at the end of which time I found myself The landlord was extremely obs,2ipio,a s wounded, while tour out of the six savages in at tending to my comfiirk, and alter sup ly prostrate on the ground. The other per he requested me to j'orti him in a bot. two, finding their companions dead, and the of wine. Nothing loath, I consented, despairing of being able to carry off their and before midnight four empty bottles prisoner, suddenly rushed on her, and be. stand on the table end, and he was ac. lore we could enterpose, had seized their quainted with all my business. I very hapless victim. I had only been prevented imprudently remarked in the course of hitherto, from rescuing Kate by the .knowl• conversation, that I had a large sum of edge that an attempt of the kind, while motley in my valise, and he politely in. the savages were still name, ically superior formed me that he would take care of it to us, would end in the certain ruin of us for me until mornin Although some • bot , h—but now, worlds could nut have re- what intoxicated, I did not appiove of strained me, and, clubbing my rifle, for leaving it in his charge, and ed-ling the piece was unloaded, I dashed oat, him good night, I toe!: my valise in my front my covert, shunting to my coinpan- ' hand and retired to Le. After I had un ion— dressed, I placed my pistols under my "'On— on, in God's name, on. pillow, and carefully us I thought exatn ;fling the town, I laid myself down. and "'Take care of the taller varmint,' thundered my companion. • soon sank into a fitful sleep. I suppose it "The warning was too late. In the must have been t,o hours alter when Ia• tumult of toy feelings I had not observed i woke, and recollecting my scattered sem_ that the savage the furthest from me died ;ses I endeavored to think what I had been his piece loaded, and before I could avail about Suddenly I detected a faint' to.. myself of my companion's cooler observe- der toy bed. What was my horror ,then tint, I received the ball in my right arm, II observed a small piece of carpet stretch. and my rifle dropped powerless by my led along my bedside , moving as thou, : h side: had I not sprang involuntarily aside .sotnething was under it. A cold perspi slmythromu copanion's eart cry, I should have been ration started from every pore; hut thank sotthrough " .on—on,' I roamed in God, I had presence of mind enough to g agony, as I prepare for the worst. Grasping a pistol in my right hand, and hiding it under the seized my tomahawk in my almost useless left hand. bed clothes, I feigned to b:• asleep. In "'Stoop,' said my companion, 'stoop an instant afterwards I saw it trap door, lower ; and as I did so, his rifle cracked which had been concealed by a carpet, un the still air, and the Indian fell dead. cautiously lifted up, and I saw my laud "All this had nut occupied an instant. lord with a dark lantern in his hand, di- I was now within a few feet of her I buy- reefing his glittering eyes tow.trds me. ed, who was struggling in the grasp of the Still I moved not; but as he turned his other Indian. He had already entwined back to put the lantern on the floor, I his hands in her long hair—his tomahawk fired," and— was already gleaming in the setting sun. "You killed him, did you not!" shriek- Never shall I forget the look of demoniac s e eat.. d the Spaniard almost jumping from his fury with which the wretch glared on his victim. A second only was left for hope. . "Silence! until I have finished!" said My companion was far behind, with Ins Ins stranger, and again he . trched the rifle unloaded. I made a desperatespi ing butt end of his weapon- " lite instant forward, and hurled my tomahawk at tit. that I fired, the villain fell ! I started savages head. God of my father's! the u weapon whizzed harmless by the wretch, up, and merely pulling my overcoat on, and buried itself, quivering, in the trunk snatched the lantern that he dropped, crept cautiously down, with inv valise in ore neighboring tree. I groaned aloud on my hand, to the stable. It was a bright lin agony—there was a yell of agony the air—a sudden flash in the sun, like a awnnshinY night, and I soon saddled to , e ' glancing knife, and— but I cannot go on. horse. I galloped ten mil s, when I inet a party of wagoners, and in door compa- She I loved as my own life ; she who was the purest and loveliest of her sex ; she ny I returned to the hooog but de,,pi te of our rigid search, not YVYII sum much am ow with whom I had promised myself a long villian's body could be found. Hell s , ize life of happiness—oh ! must 1 say it--she lay a mangled corpse at my feet. But my soul, when I once put my hands upon . her murderer, aye I—he was cloven to the I him, if it costa me my life, he shall .Ile breast by a blow from his own tomahawk, the dog's death!' which I hail wrenched from hint with the The stranger arose and caught the Span strength of a dozen men." lard by the throat; tearing open his shirt The old win ceased—big tears rolled collar, he showed the tnark upon his neck! down his furrowed face, and his frame We need not say more. Three weeks shook with emotion. I saw the remem- after that Jose Gomez was hanged in the brance of the past was too much for him, city of Cumberland, upon his own c inf.s. and I sat by his aide in silence. slim of having murdered 119 less than flue i I subsequently held his sad tale from' travellers to that very room I others, and then learned the manlier in which Kate had been carried ofF. The old man'!: companion was right—she had been made a prisoner by a predatory band Indians, who had followed Butler, and deserted him Just after the massacre. Beautiful as the Valley of Wyoming is, I never have seen it, from that day to this without thinking of the sad fate of KATt; BEVERLY. From the Crescent City, The Traveller's Story A party of travellers, we among the number, were seated around a blazing tire in a tavern, upon one of the Allegheny Mountains, The coach had broken /town and per force we were detained until the next morning We had finished a sub stantial Virginia supper, and each one with his feet on the reader, and a cigar in his mouth, ruminating upon the storm without and the warm crazy comfort within.— E.tch one in his turn told a story or related an anecdote, and at last the joke came round to a hollowscheeked individual, who until then had remained silent. "Gentlemen," said he, fixing a pier ciog grey eye upon one of th, company—. a Spaniard, who uninvited hat drawn Ins chair up to the fire, "some Nil years ago I came near being murdered in this very house." At this moment the Spaniard got up and was going out of the room, uhen the narrator arose, and locked the only door in the room, put the key into his pocket, teak the Spaniard by tln. arm, [(Atli', z Mtn up to an old picture, surmounted by the English coat of arms in gilt work, ran his finger along the motto— “Houi soil qui malty prase,” Di'ffor.E No. 303. dedivson and Barr. The tolur,vinh ititeresti:ig anecdote of the fiist meeting of rson and Burr, was communicated to the Democratic Re. viow by 1). P. Thompson, Esq. of Mont pelier, Vt., who was for ►natty years a 11,4;hboi and friend of Mr. Jefferson. The hillo,sing anecdote was relited by Mr. Jefferson to the writer, while on a visit to Montrcello, in the year 182:2. it was told iu illustration of an opinion ad vanced by the former in relation to phys iognomy, that although it was but lolly to attempt a system of Judging character front any particular conformation of fea tures, yet the eye was an unerring index of the soul, and no hailing 'on the part of its possessor could present it troin dis closing his true moral nature to a skilful observer. I will endeavor to repeat the anecdote in the words of the illustrious narrator. During my attendance on some one of the earliest sessions of the Continental Convi , ss at Philadelphia, said Mr. J., I chanced to dine one day at a public house where several distinguished gentlemen from abroad, all entire strangers to me. just arrived in the city. Among these was a gentleman who became seat directly opposite to me at the table, and st ho soon attracted my observation by his peculiar and remarkable countenance, anti especially by his singularly restless and subtly quivering eye, which to me threw oil an expression extremely Giall6* ter ; for I had ever nosed, that an eve of this character indicated moral obliquity of heart, and this kind of an eye he pos sessed in a more eminent degree than any li al ever seen. So strong, indeed, were my impressions it, the case that I felt no hesitation in making up for myself a de. cored opinion of the true character at the man to ore me, though, as before men -6,114, then unknown to me, even by name. After retiring to the private room of the friend at %%hose invitation I had dined there, lie asked tne, with an a r of curiosi ty, if I had noticed the gentleman who sat opposite to me at the table we had just left; and if so, 1% hat was my opinion ut him ? I ieplied, that I had not only noticed the men, bin► formed a decided opinion of him, and that was, that his true character migt.t be expressed in three words—cold ness, cunning, and perfidy. W hy, sir,' said my friend, in cirprise, 'you cannot know the man of whoa you are tip, Liking—it is Mr. Burr, the greaten' lawyer in New York. •I will not alter my opinion fur all that.' I remarked. .1 have never known Ouch an eve as his in an honest man's head and whatever may be his present. emi nence, and lair reputation, I will venture the prediction, that he will yet be knows as a villain.' 111 after times, continued Mr. J. to me. I hail frequent reason to recall my first impressions of the true character of Aaron Burr. The folio ving humorous accoest el t, , xation went the rounds of the new-riper many years ago, credited to an 'EnOir,ll paper.' It originally appear ed in one of the early numbers of the Ed inburg Revew, and we think emanated from the pen of the Rev, Sidney Smith, the father of that review and its first edit, TAXATION IN ENGLAND.— We can in. I form Brother Jonathaa what are the In evitable consequences of being too fond or glory. Taxes upon every article which enters the mouth, or covers the back, or is placed under foot—taxes on everything which is pleasant to see, hear, feel, smell or taste--taxes upon warmth, light and locomotion—taxes on every thing on earth 'and the waters under the earth—on eve. ry thing that comes from abroad or is grown--taxes on the raw material, and on every value that is added to it by the industry of man—taxes un the sanco which pampers man's appetite, and en the dru which restorer man to health— on the ermine which decorates the judge &Mt ilte rope which hangs the criminal—on cis poor man'tssalt, and so the rich man's s;i,ce—on the brass nails of the coffin, ribands of the bride--to bed or hoard, couchant or luvant we must pay. rie at hool boy whips his taxed top—the ti,ardless youth manages his taxed horse, with ti taxed bridle on a taxed road—and the tlyinr., Englishman, pouring his inedi eit, which has paid 7 per cent, into a spoon wnich has paid 19 per cent. dings otoisell back upon hit chintz bed, which tat paid 512 per cent, and expires in arms ola taxed apothecary who has paid a cense of 2t041 for the privilege of praeti situ: his calling / His whole property is rotor taxed from 2 to 10 per cent, and be. side the prabate; large fees are damn let for burying him in the chancel--his virtues arc handed down to posterity an use 1 marble, and he is et length gather ed to his fathers to be taxed no more.
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