'T.11.E .-- ::i.T-PEOPLES':...-:JOUTIAAL..
VOL. VII
TICE PEOPLE'S JOURNAL.
ectiusete EPERY FRIDAY MORSLNG,
BY HABRELL /I& AVERY.
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TES BELEAGITERZD CITY
HY HENRY W. LONGFELLOW
I have read in Fo me old marvellous tale,
Some legend strange and vague,
That a midnight host of spectres pale
Beleaguered the walls of Parague.
Beside the 510;dan'9. nulling stream,
With the wan moon overhead,
There stood as in an awful dream,
The army of the dead.
Whites a }e_ fo g , landward bound
The !pectral camp wa: seen,
And, wuh a sorrowful, deep sound,
The river flowed between.
No other voice or sound was there:
No drum. nor sentry's pace:
The mist like banner. clasped the air
A. clouds with clouds embrace.
But, when the cathedral bell
Proclaimed:he morning prayer,
The white pavillioni rose.and fell
On the alarmed air.
Dcwn the bread valley fait and far
The troubled army tlecl:
Up ro ,- e tl;te eorio.t , mom:mg-star;
The glnstly host was dead.
I have read in the marvellous heart of man,
That strange and mystic scroll,
That an army of phantoms vast and wan
Beleaguer the human soul.
Encamped beside Life's rushing stream,
In fancy's misty light,
Gigantic shapes and shadows gleam
Portentious through the night.
Upon its midnight battle-ground
The spectral camp is seen,
And, with a sorrowful, deep sound
. Flows the river of life between.
No other voice or Found is there.
In the nt-t - ny of the grave;
No other challenge breaks the air
But the rushing of Lire's wav e.
And when the solemn and deep church bell
Entreats the .onl to pray,
The midnight phantoms feel the spell,
The shadows sweep away.
Down the broad Vale of Tears afar
The spectral camp is tied,
Faith .hineth as a morning star,
Our ebastiv fears are dead.
THE BARON'S KNELL
=EI
• In the town of Rudenburg thete
stands a square, massive, stone tower,
green with moss, and shattered by
centuries. The superstructure, accor
ding to tradition, was the work of the •
Evil One; and there is that in its •
gloomy old walls, the deep embra
sures of the windows and the scarred ,
and blackened appearance of the!
building. which would seem to corrob
orate
the legend. In this tower hangs
a bell, of strange uncouth shape, but
immovably fixed in masonry, so that
no living mortal has heard - it toll.—
The tradition goes. that bell and tower '
bad the same origin, in the bargain of ,
some erring soul ; but with whom the i
stibtle enemy mad., the compact is not
so certain. Some. too, assert that the
old tower was the r , .*i.ience of a beard
ed warrior who fought in the
Holy Land. and 'who brought back
with him a train of Saracen servants,
dressed with barbarous magnificence,
and speaking in an uncouth tongue.
Yet all agree in one thing; the first
possessor of the place attained un
bounded opulance, but died miserably
after every descendant in the direct
line had perished by violence. And
'strangest of all, the wizard bell tolled
at every death, as if rung by invisible
hands. But from the day when the
last of the race perished, no mortal
ear has heard the knell.
A student of Leyden first gave me
the true version of the Legend. One
evening in conversation, , speaking of
Rudenberg, I told him the ver,ions
that had been given to me, but he
shook his head.
" There are none of them right,"
he cud. " I believe one of my antes
tors were present at the catastrophe.
and so the true tradition has come
down in our family. We rarely men
tion
it; but you are a foreigner, and
I will waive our secrecy for once.
" The real builder of the tower was
a needy Baron of the Palatinate, who
suddenly rose to great.power and op-,1
uier,ce. The superstructure was built
by I, , ,rch light, and with almost incred
ible
rapidity. But the greatest mys
tery attended the hanging of this great'
DEVOTED TO THE PRINCIPLES OF DEMOCRACY, AND THE DISSE3IIIiATION OF MORALITY LITERATURE,. AND NEWS
bell, for no mortal eye, it is said, wit
nessed the act. The bell was found
one morning s*nging high up in the
krrn
old tower; but any a long year,
no one heard its oice.. When other
belL3'rung out it remained silent. At
length the townfolk heard a wild toll
at midnight, and their blood curdled
at the sr;and, so unlike all others was
.;s unearthly tone. That night few
slept in Ru - denberg. The morning
dawned, the citizens learned that, at
midnight, just when the bell began to
toll, the beautiftil daughter of the
Baron had died, it was feared, by poi
son, administered by some unknown
hand ; and the bell had - tolled at her
death, but by whom the bell was rung,
no one could tell.
" From that day a dark shade. set
tled on the brow of the Baron. In the
mean time his possessions continued
to increase, and while others lost, he
gained. But child after child perished
violently, and at - every death the mys
terious bell was tolled by unknown
hands. These things induced strange
suspicions among the townfolk. They
called to mind the poverty from which
the Baron sprung—they remembered
the singular rapidity with which the
tower had been built, and they thought
upon that. fearful night when the mys
terious bell broke its long silence, and
tolled at the death of his child. "Whis
pers; at first scarcely breathed, but
finally given utterance to even in the
market place, charged with having
him entered into a bargain with the
Evil One ; and it was said that wealth
and power was to be the portion of
the Baron, but that one by one he was
to lose his children as the forfeit, and
that the tolling of this unknown bell
was to warn each victim that the hour
had come. At length these rumors
reached the ears of the ,Baron. He
listened to them without any reply
except a sneer, but those who saw that
sneer shuddered when.they spoke of
it to their dying day.
" Years passed, and castle after
castle was added to me sternal a
Baron; but at every acquisition another
of his once fare family of children
died. The whispers of the citizens
now became louder than ever. The
Baron's wife had long since died, and
it was said that his turn would arrive
next. When they came to look back
at the death of his progeny, they found
that, by soiree strange coincidence, one
of his children had perished on the
same day, of the same month of each
succeeding year ; and it was predicted
that, at the next anniversary, the Baron
himself would die. But the stern old
noble only scoffed at these whispers;
and as the day -drew nigh, resolved to.
show his scorn of the danger, by hold--
ing high festival in his castle. He
caused moreover, the bell whose toll
ing had first produced these rumors,
to be embedded in solid masonry, as
it is now seen, so that no one could •
ring it. Then he made ready his feast."
The ball where the festival was
held was a wide apartment, with walls
so glooniy, and casementsso deep,that
the cheerful beams of the sun rarely
found entrance within, or only played
in sickly radiance on the damp stone
floor. But though such was the usu
al aspect of .the room, it was different
now. Lights blazed •in fifty places
from the walls. A table, covered with
the richest plate, stretched down this
ample hall. Never indeed had the
Palatine beheld such an array of wealth,
magnificence -and profusion. Well
might his guests, surrounded by all
that could delight the senses, scoff at
the l';:s.rs of others, and deem them
seli;e.s safe from harm. But ever and
anon, as the wandering eye of a guest
lit on the cold, damp wall, by some
strange whim left bare of tapestry, he
would shudder iuvoluntarially, as if
forboding ill. These feelings, how
ever, were rare, and did not interrupt
the evening's hilarity. As the hours
passed on, and the guests quaffed deep
er of :he glowing wine, their jests and
songs and gaiety increased, until the
hall rung • with merriment. Many a .
wild deed was then related, at which
good men would have grown pale, but
which was hailed now with shouts ;
many a ribald song was sung, convuls
ing the listners with unholy mirth.—
And thus hour after hour passed, while
still the lights burned on the wall; the
incense exhaled fromcensers, and the
music of the unseen performers filled
the air. Midnight had came, when
with a scornful sneer, and then a gay
mocking laugh, the Baron rose and
spoke—
'" 'Fill high your goblets,' he said,
'fill to the brim !' and as he spoke he
poured forth a bumper of the rich, red
wine, while each guest followed his
example. 'We will be merry to-nigh,
brave sirs, in spite_ of all the idle ru
mors of superstitious fools, and the
lying prophecies of canting priest.
Ho ! midnight of the day, on which
they said my race was to perish, has
come, and yet here I.stand, the last c,f
that lineage to mock such fears:: 'We
COUDERSPORT, POTTER COUNTY, PA., JUNE 30, 1854.
will be merry to-night, gallants, and
see whether the, old bell can disturb
our revelliaags. Better, wine than this
never crossed lip, nor ever did gayer
company meet at festal board. Ho !
give us a triumphal song, a gay and
exulting strain. Now, fair guest, join
hand and bring, one and all, my toast,
Confusion to the foul fiend. Quaff—
quaff.'
" And they quaffed the wine, and,
amid strains of triumphant music, with
linked hands, they shouted back the
toast. But ere thy huzza ceased, the
slow, measured tolling of the bell filled
the apartment, and, as the revellers
listened their cheeks blanched, and
their voices died in their throats, for
well they kriew that fearful sound.—
The music stopped in terror, and a
dead silence reigned through the hall..
Again and again, the toll of that bell
clanged awfully across the night, and
the lights waved to and fro, as if flared
by gusts of air. Each man drew closer
to his neighbor, and all gazed in wild
affright at their host, At the first toll
of the bell, the exulting sneer had
passed from his lips, and he gazed
fearfully around, of if hoping that his
ears deceived him, yet dreading the
Icontrary ; but when that unearthly
sound penetrated a second time into
Ithe hall, arid he saw, by -the faces of
the guests, that they.heard the knell,
his countenance became ghastly as
that of a corpse, and he clung to the
table to support his tottering knees.—
And as the iron voice rung out again
across the night, he uttered an ago
nizing
cry, gasped for breath, and I
sinking down utterly into his seat, with ;
the wine cup still in his hand, fell over I
at the twelfth stroke, dead on the floor.
At the same moment the wind eddied
through the casements, and the cen
sers expired. Then fear seized on the
guests, who wildly springing from the
board, fled hurriedly from the festal
hall. As they rushed into the air, the
room burst into flames. But they dare
not look behind, but with wilder speed
until they clasped
in supplicating amony, the rails beneath
the high altar of cathedral.
" All night that bell, rung by •un
known hands, tolled on, curdling the
blood of the listneners. When the
morning dawned, it ceased, and the
bishop, followed by the priests, entered
the still smoking ball. They found
the body of the baron charred, black
ened and mutilated ; the face only
was untouched by fire. But on that
countenance rested an expression of
fierce and bitter agony, such as haunt
ed the dreams of those who saw it to
the grave. From that fearful night
the baron's bell has neverbeen known
to toll, nor could a thousand men move
it in its bed of solid masonrv.".
poopmcg:o4
How universal it is. We never
knew ther man who would say, "I am
contented." Go where you will—
arhong the rich or the poor, the man
competence or the man who earns
his bread by the daily sweat of his
brow, you hear the sound of murmur
ing and the voice of complaint. The
other day we stood by a cooper, who
was
,playing a merry tune, with an
adze round a cask. ‘fAh! (sighed
he,) mine is a hard lot—forever trot
ting round like a dog, driving. at a
hoop."
" Heigh° !" sighed a blacksmith,
one of the hot days, as he wiped
away the drops of perspiration from
his brow, . while the red hot iron
glowed upon his anvil, "this is life
with a vengeance—melting and frying
One's self over the fire."
"Ola r that I were a carpenter," ejac
ulated a shoemaker, as he bent
over his lap-stone. "Here I am, day
after day, working my soul away in
this seven by nine room.".
" I am sick of this'out door work,
(exclaims the carpenter,) boiling and
sweltering under tlae sun, or exposed
to the inclemency of the weather. If
I was only a tailor!" •
"This is too bad, (perpetually cries
the tailor,) • to be compelled to sit
perched up here, plying the needle all
the while—would that mine were a
more active life."
" Last day of grace-41e banks
won't discount—customers won't pay
—what shall I do l" grumbles the
merchant. "I had rather be a truck
horse, a dog—anything."
145," Happy fellows," groans the law
yer, as he scratches his head over
some perplexing • case, or pores over
some dry record, " happy fellows! I
had rather hammer stone than cudgel
my brain on this tedious, vexatious
question."
And through all the ramifications of
society, all are complaining of their
condition—finding fault with their par
ticular rolling. "If I were only this
or that; or the other, I should be con
tent, anything but what I am," is the
universal cry. So wags the world, so
it has wagged, and so it will wag. '
From the Portland Transcript
JOSEPHINE.
How canons and thrilling are the
feelings awakened by the name of
Josephine.. I know not the history of
any person, of modern times, in which
is exhibited more clearly the hand of
an overruling Providence in directing
and controlling the fortune and destiny
of human beings, than is manifested
in the life •of Josephine. She was
born on the island of Martinique, the
23d of June, 1763. Upon the island
surrounded by the solemn ocean, be
neath the c'aeerful, sunny sly of the
south, as happy as the birds that car
oled over her, she spent the joyous
days 'of childhood—little dreaming of
the conspicuous part she was to act in
the great events which should decide
the fate of so many human beings, and
in a measure the destiny of her coun
try.
.Gifted with a superior intellect, her
naturally cheerful and sweet disposi
tion, together • with thy. beauty and
grace of her person, immediately won
the affections and made h. - :nr the favorite
of all. She is said to been en
dowed with - a voice of peculiar sweet
ness, and here she would pour forth
her melodies, as the gushing out of a
soul too full of blessedness to be silent.
But soon a cloud hovers over the bright
visions of her girlhood. Love had
unconsciously thrown a spell over her
spirit, and she - was promised in mar
riage to young William, whose parents
having lost their possessions in Eng
land, and fixed their residence near
the house of Josephine; but being
recalled to their estates, -returned to
-their country,- carrying with them
this, their only son. This caused a
severe pang to the heart of Josephine.
But months roll on, and the accom- 1
plished Beauharnais becomes a-suitor
for the hand of the fair Josephine;
and at the early age of. sixteen years
we see her wedded to one who will 'be
proud to present her at court, and
introduce her to the brilliant circle in
wan - nets accustomea -to move; - a - na
which she is so well adapted to adorn.
Here months vanish. like dreams to
the enchanted Josephine, and as time
winged -on its flight, two interesting
children, a son and a daughter, were
given to weave yet new ties of love
around her heart, and -yet swell the
fountain of her happiness. But a
darker cloud was gathering- to wrap
her soul. in gloom, and plant sadness
on the lip where smiles of peace alone
*ere wont to , play. In 'the political
convulsions which were, now .agitating
the French nation, Beaubarnais boldly
asserted his opinions in favor of a
republican government, and became
deeply engaged in the struggle for
reform. But his efforts were all in
vain—after a short imprisonment, he
was executed upon the scaffold, thus
sharing the same fate of many of his
noble countrymen. Now, we see. Jo
sephine left a lonely widow and mother,
confined to a dismal prison, ignorant
as to what may be -her own sad fate,
and the -fate of her country. But here
we may again trace the hand of Provi
dence controlling the destiny of our .
heroine, and ovecritling , the mighty
storm which threatened the destruc
tion of the kingdom. By a series of
unexpected circumstances, Josephine
regained her freedom, and a check was
thrown up onithe revolutionary struggle.
But does she now mourn over her mis
fortunes? Does she now repine that
the cruel - hand of adversity was laid
so heavily upon her? Ali, no! she
bears with - meek submission the af
flictive stroke, and finds a consolation
in the endearing and noble - qualities
which she sees daily unfolding in the'
hearts of her children ; and cheered
by visions of their future glory and
happiness, she passed tranquilly, en
joying the love of all around her, the
few months which preceded .her en
trance upon a more splendid field of
influence_
An accidental meeting between Jo
sephine and Bonaparte resulted in an
intimate acquaintance, and he soon'
became deeply impressed with the
charms of the interesting widow;
and
in the spring time of 1796, led Jose
phine to the altar, with a heart glow
ing with hope and fond anticipations,
and a towering ambition, which longed
to wave the scepter of command, and
encircle the brow of his adored and
lovely bride with the _laurels of fame.
The star of prosperity seemed to
beam over him, and he ' rapidly ad
-vanced in the career of glory upon
which he had entered. Every barrier
that obstructed his way was overcome
by his indomitable energy, and his
name was heard from one side of the
continent to the other. But he would
ever turn from the applause of the
enraptured multitude, to listen to the
ravishing tones of Josephine, and the
sweeter notes of love. Sirener skies
again dawned over the path. of Jose
phine, although sometimes a passing
cloud would flit across, yet she bad a
soul that -would look beyond the storm
to a calm, bright. future. In whatever
situation, we see her manifest the same
sweet resignation, the same pure, ar
dent affection inspired all her words,
and the same noble and unaffected
grace is displayed in every movement.
We will now contemplate her as she
reached the highest pinnacle of earthly
glory to which she is destined. The
imposing ceremonies prevjons to the
most magnificent coronation ever wit
nessed, are finished. Bonaparte rises
and places the glittering diadem, which
is to make him king, upon his brow.
Then he calmly raises the crown for '
Josephine, while with tears of grate- ,
ful omotion she kneels before . him,and
is crowned by the hand of her_idolized
husband. A simultaneous shout from
the vast. multitude, .with the thunders
of the artillery, proclaim Bonaparte
Emperor, and Josephine Empress of
France. And is she now weakly
elated by all this homage? . Ah, no!
her thoughts unconsciously wander
back to past adverse, scenes, and some
times• sad forebodings cast a shadow of
gloom over the sunshine of her soul.
All these trappings of glory are nought
to her, compared
. with the wealth of
affectionate. hearts; and she would
sooner renounce all these than part
with the regard of him on whore she
lavished the rich treasure' of her heart.
Napoleon was proud of Josephine,
and that she was worthy the rank and
heart she possessed, no one will deny.
We now have seen Josephine rise to •
an almost ' dizzy bight of splendor.
We see her happy herself, and with
her...benevolent heart and sunny face
filling all with joy around her. But
ah! how soon to her eyes may all this
splendor be shrouded in a gloomy pall.
How soon may her fond hopes be
crushed, and her happy heart swell
with grief and deepest sorrow. Ali,
Josephine, can we now see all thy fair
}lopes blasted, and thy joyful soul
droop in sadness? Would that some
bright seraph might bear thy pure
eoril away, ere it is again pierced by
the cruel arrow qt. misfortune. But
no! son-ow's cup ik again pressed to
thy lips, and thou must drink its bitter
dregs. Napoleon's• ambition, which
placed her upon the summit of grand
eur, now seemed the, instrument of
her own misery. He wished to trans
mit his great empire to a posterity
which should render it staple for years
to come. • His manner toward Jose
phine daily becoine more formal and
cold, and she saw that she was losing
his influence_ over him. She, appre
hending her fate, felt that her sunlight
had passed away, and that the tempest
would soon beat upon -her with all its
force. It is impossible to picture the
grief that preyed upon her heart the
few months previous to their divorce.
On the last flay of November he form
ally announced, to her his .decision.
His words fell like a dagger upon her
heart; she fell' upon the floor, over
come 'by her emotion, and remained a
number of hours insensible; but on
her recovery made no effort to change
his resolution.
And did this sacrifice cost Napoleon
no struggle ? The bitter, bitter feel
ingsof his own heart were known to
Him only \ vlia witnessed the tears and
groans that burst from the strongman's
soul in secret. But his ambition lured
him on, and he was 'unable to resist its
influence. We will now pass over the
ceremonies attending the divorce and
witness the final parting of Bonaparte
i and Josephine. At night she sought
the apartment of him who had been
her husband. With eyes 'red with
'weeping she slowly entered. Na
lpoleon, dismissing the servant, clasped
her in his arms; they remained locked
in each other's embrace, silently ming
'ling their tears. She remained with
him an hour, then parted with .him
;who had won and broken her heart.
The next morning she left the Tuil
eries, bidding a sorrowful adieu to all
those scenes held sacred to the memory
'of happiest days. In all the• days of
';her retirement, she seemed an angel
of sorrow smiling through her ghef.
She left this world' of changes the
twenty-ninth of May, with a smile
upon her lips, and in tones of gentlest
music, breathed her last words to
weeping friend's.
Rtxovz the Capitol! That be the next
resolve of the North.—Ckreland Lustier.
Where wilt you put it I Who wants it 1
Who will have it? Settle all that fret. 7 -Cin.
Enquirer.
Remove it to Detroit, and annex
Canada, if the privileged aristocracy
intend to secede from' the Union, and
put Waxikst H. SEWARD , in the new
White House; or, remove it to St.
Louis, if they can content themselves
within a free Republic, and put OLD
BULLION in the Chair of State. The
people want it. Any city will have it
that can get IL All that's settled.
N o w, what are you going to do about
=I
sone= cones. S
"And so; 'Squire, you do l n't take
your county paper?"
Major,l get the city apers
on much better terms; and so take
a couple of them."
"But, 'Squire, these county paper.t
prove". of great convenience to us.
The more .we encourage •them, the
better their editors - can make them." .
" Why; I don't - know any conve-
nience they are to me."
"The farm you--sold last fall waq
advertised in - one of them, and you
thereby obtained a customer. 120(l
you not?" • -
"Very true, Major, but - 1 paid three
dollars jr it."
"And made much more than -three
dollars by it. -Nowif your neighbors
bad not maintained their Ares.;, and
kept it ready for your use, you would
have been without the means of ad
vertising your property. But I think
I saw your daughter's marriage in one
of those,paper4 Did that cost you
anythine b ?" .
"No,but—" - ••
"Ann your mother's death was 644
published, with alongobituary notice."
" Yes,- - yes, but—"
"And the destruction of your neigh
bor Brigg's house by tire. You know
these things were exaggerated.till thu
a uthentic accounts of our newspaper
set them right."
" Oh, true, but—"
"And when your cousin Splash wai
nut for the Legislature, • you appeared
much pleased with his newspaper de
fense which cost him nothing." _C
" Yes, yes, but these things are nec.v
for the readers. They cause pcople
to take papers." /,
"No, no, 'Spuire Grudge, not if ',all
are like you. Now, I tell you the day
will come when some one will write a
very long eulogy on your life and
chat'acter, -- and the printer will put it
types, with a heavy black line over it,
and with all your riches this will be
done for vou as.a n , rave is given to a
pauper. Your we e 'alth, liberality, and
such things,-will be spoken of, but the
printer's boy, as' he spells the words
in arranging the types of these sayings;
will remark of you, 'Poor, mean devil
he is—even sponging for an obituary!'
Good morning, 'Squire.'
PRAYING FOR E 1 LEES
Under this caption, the Fon dat Lac
Freeman says:
"It is little less than solemn mc,ck
erv, in our estimation, to pray to the
almighty that our piers may rule us
in righteousness, when we know before
we vote them into powe:k that they are
unprincipled demagogues and oppres
sors, and only vote for them as a choice
between evils; or in other words, the
best the Devil is able to - furnish' us.
It seems like asking "a good deal, for
heaven to bless such rulers as we put
in power in these "latter days." Fred.
Douglass says he prayed a great -many
years for freedom, before he started
from Virginia, but finally be prayed
with his legs, and his prayer was ans
wered. So- if more of the praying
that is proper to do for our rulers,
was done at the polls, it would be a
wise arrangement." ,
"A Newfoundland dog in Boston
lost the wire muzzle from his nose as
he was passing along' Kilby street.
Instead of goinc , along without it, as
many dogs would havt: done, he paused
and gravely reinstated his nose into
his wicker covering, and distending
his jaws so as to keep it in its place,
went on his way, seeming conscious
of the laws, and determined to respect
them."
A much larger body, in the same
obedient spirit, list week distended
its jaws in Boston from the - Court-
House to T wharf, to keep on the max.- -
zie which the national lawgivers had
oi ,:ered. Both alike detested the ma
chinery; both alike will find that
strengtt .in manly resistance which
will most easily remove the evil.—
Portsmouth Journal. ..
THERE is nothing in the world really
beneficial that does not lie within the
reach of 'an informed understaxiaing
and a well-directed pursuit. There is
nothing that God has deemed good
for, us, that he has not given us the
means of accomplishing, both in the
natural and moral world. If we cry,
like children, for the moon, like chil
run we must cry on.
GOOD.—The city of Wheeling, Va., elected
a temperance Council: No Licenses were
granted—the Legislature overruled the dads.
ion—whereupon the Council secured their
object in this way: they charged $4OOO for a
licence for the Spring House; -$2OOO for the
31cClure ; slsot; for a Retail Merchant's li
cense, and $5500 for a wholesale and retail
license,—too sharp a Council for the LesisLa,
tune.
NO. 7.