VOL. VIII.
THE PEOPLE'S JOURNAL.
PORLiSHED RVERY THURSDAY MORNING.
BY ADDISON AVERY.
j'errns—lnvaxlably k* Advance:
One copy per annum,
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!ention , should be addressed (post paid) to
the 1'111)11,11er.
BLIND JOEL
Founded on Fact.
OM@
One of the persons whom I Most
wished to see, when a child of seven
5r eight years, was old blind Joel, a
spoor
_colored man. 'My eldest sister
had married into the family with whom
he lived, and gone to reside near them:
Da her first return td us, nothing
which she had to tell of her new
home and friends, had such an inter
est for me as the story of old Joel.
He was born in Virginia, that State
so proud of her many sons distin
guished in the struggle fur American
freedom ; he was born, too, in the
very year when a Virginian wrote
that grand d Declaration of our Inde
penence, based on the grander truth
that all men are free Lind equal ;"
but alas ! ho was horn a slave, and
even in his earliest infancy the blight
fell upon him.
When he was hut two weeks old,
and his mother was still very feeble,
the overseer of the plantation to which
he belonged, was heard at day-break
loudly demanding more hands in the
harvc't. lie soon entered the cabin
of :Sally, Joel's mother, and in no
very pleasant tones called out,
Sid, it's time you were at
work. No more playing sick. Get
ready and ofr to the field with the
re •t.`'
But, maFs.r, my baby !" she tx
c:nin,,(l with all a mother's anxiety.
N er mind the young one. 'Come
Air y, ulsolf," was the cruel com
mand ; bUt it was more easily given
than obc•voil.
Little .1(101 was the first-born child
of that miserable slave woman. A
mutltet•s love, so beautiful, so pure,
had ju , ,t sprung up in her broken and
bleeding heart, and it engrossed her
whole bting. She thought not of her
self—how she could bear the hard
labor, the mid-day heat, in her weak
ness—but of liar child. There was
no one to take care of him in her
abLscuce ; the field where 4.he harvest
was to be gathered, was so far distant
that z•he would not be spared the time
to return to him - before night.; She
luld not leave him without care or
food through the lung day. So, swing
ing him in a coarse blanket on her
back, she started ofT with her fellow
slaves for the field.
What you here for, Sally ?" said
one of the elder women, as she joined
them. "I reckon a aint stout enough
to lug your boy. What good'll you
do ? It's a shame."
" A dace's a stare, and Pm a poor
slave," was the bitter reply of the
young mother. " forgot it awhile,
Lal .de lc •d
my ~ )y made me so glaL_ covet.
him so : but oveiseer'll soon make
you think on't."
"Overf•eoi's a fool—kil! gal for
a few days' work ! What'll mass‘r
say !"
'• Mass'r! he don't care," said one
of the men. " The house-folks say he
don't care for anything now, but the
fighting. Tie talks a great deal 'bout
freedom. He'll be free or• die, he
says."
"Free ! Aint he free now ? Can't
he come and go as he likes, do as he
likes, work us worse than beasts to
get more money than ho knows what
to do with, and who dares say
word ? Wouldn't / like to be such a
slave as mass'r is !"
"When he gets free hope he won't
let old oversee! drive U 5 to death the
way he does now."
" He won't trouble hisself 'bout
niggers. They's nobody."
" Free ! Let• him give me back
my freedom. What right has he to
me or my work 1" spoke out a native
born Guinea man, a prince in his owb
land. " Better never have been free,
if one must come to this. Cage the
bird and bit the horse, but let the
Guinea man be free. I. know to'o
well, what freedom is. I ,was like the
antelope on my own hills. Look at
me now—this fetter on my heel !
Better have been killed in the fight.
Better have died with -my sister in
that dreadful ship-hold! A slave !
lied better "
THE PEI
L 14i4 4 JO uIT
It A
He stopped short, but there was a
ferocity in his look and tone that
startled those around him.
. This slave had not been fort on
the plantation, : and his manner had
been heretofore reserved; sullen, and
brooding. Now when he spoke his
Companions looked at hinrwith won
der, admiration-, and fear.. The over
seer, who was a little behind, saw the
interest excited, and soon subdued it
by his presence among them.
" Hurry up, hurry up, no lagging,"
and be carelessly snapped his long
*hip at the hands in the rear, last of
*horn was poor Sally.
The end of the lash struck her
baby's face, and the child gaVe a sud
den scream: What Mother's heart
had not then bled ? What heart of
man had not been roused in righteous
indignation I But the slaves dared
not even look around in sympathy.
The tears rolled down Sally's
Cheeks, but she did not speak. She
had long felt the curse ; she was used
hardship and indignity ; but it was too
Much for her to learn so soon . that her
tender, innocent babe was a wretched
slave like herself=that even his help
less infancy was not exempt from cru
elty. The Heaven-implanted hopes,
the joy born of her love at his birth,
Were rudely crushed out ; and that
-love; like every slave mother's, be
tame a new source of sorrow deeper
than any she had known before.
It was with a heart as heavy as that
of Hagar in the desert, that she en
tered the rich and beautiful harvest
field ivhich showed so plainly the
kindness of God to his creatures.
But she saw it not. How could she
see it ? The darkness' of her awn
sorrow enshrouded her. And where
was the angel of mercy to cheer her
heart, to open her eyes, to point out
the waters 'of strength and healing I
God no more sends his angels in
bodily shape to earth. He would
have us to do their work. Ah ! who
of us has dune it Who will do it
How beautiful, how glorious to do
angels' work.! The field of labor is
large. The Hagars of slavery. are
very Any. They faint in the wilder
ness, and sink down by the way. No
well of the water of life 'is shown
them. They see the death of their
hopes, the death of their children,
and their hearts are broken. Sister
women are near them who are bidden
to do for them the part of the angel,
- but they give no ear to their cry of'
anguish. Are they hardened toward
them ?
$l.OO
12,5
25.00
•
The sun was not many hours high
before Sally's strength had so much
failed that notwithstanding the help
she received from herjcompanions, she
could not keep up - her rbw, and the
overseer appeared with the terrible
la. h.
" Put down that young one, and
bring up your work,"
The mother clung to.her child, and
plead—
" He's sick, mass'r."
It could hardly be called a comfort
for her to have it with her, for she
seemed to have no comfort ; but it
would increase her sorrow to have it
taken from her.
" Put him down, I say," repeated
the overseer. -
" Please, mass'r, the skeeters will
sting him, and there's snakes in the
field:"
She still plead for the child, when
she would not have dared to plead for
herself.
The cruel man wrenched the blan
ket from her Shoulders, and carelessly
swung the sleeping child to the
ground.
"There, let him lie there; and you
work away."
The babe was roused by the violent
action, and screamed loudly with
fright and hunger. With a lo6k of
entreaty which had moved any but
the bean of a slave-driver, the mother
begged--
"Please, mass'r, let me give him
one drop of milk. He'll die, mass'r."
" He's well enough. Young ones .
don't die so easy."
Sally turned away, And sprung at
her work with a strength which was
wonderful. She would gain a few
minutes to spend With her babe.• His
cries urged her on. What an im
pulse ! Better to work under the
urgings of infant suffering.
And who would revel in wealth
gotten by such toil 1 Alas ! alas !
how many. Even in the free North,
what numbers make their enriching
profits on the products of slave labor,
and never think of or cafe *for the
sweat of unrequited toil, the burning
tears ) the blood, the agony, the mortal
and immortal hopes which they have
cost their fellow men
Notwithstanding her exertions, there
was no respite for. Sally until noon,
when the slaves were allowed a short
time for their dinner. The babe ex
hausted by weeping, had finally . sunk
to sleep, but she hurried to it, .clasped
DEVOTED TO THE PRINCIPLES OF DEMOCRACY, AND THE DISSaIINATION OF MCHIALIn• LITERATURE, AND NEWS
it passionately in her arms, and woke
it with her endearments.
At nightfall, when she again took it
to return to her home, it was Moaning
and felerish. The old women said it
was melted by the beef ; and half the
night, weak and . Weary as she was,
Sally walked her cabin floor, trying to
quiet it. Early the next morning she
was summoned again to toil; and so
day after day, till the harvest was
done. For several days her baby was
very sick, and' cried almost incess
antly ; then it grew better and seemed
to thrive. But - there was something
strange in its face ;- its look was un
natural ; and it was soon perceived
that it took no notice of anything—it
did not close itseyes to the strongest
light--z-it was blind: Th 6 exposure to
an August sun in the open field had
put out its sight forever.
Sally clung the closer to her boy
for this calamity ; she loved him the
more for it. Such is the -pity,- the
tenderness of a mother's heart. Still,
he had met with a terrible calamity,
one which cannot be appreciated by
the seeing. He was never to look on
anything- - - - -never to see the grass, the
flowers, the beauty all around him—
never to know anything of the glori
ous heavens, the sun and the stars.
He could never see the faces of those
he loved. He must live in darkness,
thick darkness—groping his way at
noon-day.
The winter "of that same year bad
scarcely closed, when the master of
these poor slaves was summoned to
appear before Him vviso bath said of
those who buy the pour for silver,
"Surely I will never forget any of
their works." He left two sons be
tween Whom his estate was to be
equally divided. One of these resem
bled the father in taste and disposition,
and had always resided with him; the
other, very different in character, had
been educated at the North, and had
married and settled in the State of
New York, then a Colony. He now
requested that his portion of the land
ed inheritance should remain unsold
till the close of the war in which the
country was engaged. The slaves,
forty in number, should be shipped to
him. Accordingly; they were put on
boat d a sloop at Jamestown, bound
for Albany.
Among them was little blind Joel
and his mother; the latter in very fee ,
ble condition. The severe labor of the
proceeding summer and autumn, in
her weakened state, together with the
watchfulness and anxiety for her child,
had kroken her health beyond restora
tion ; and ere the -vessel had finished
its tedious passage, she had departed to
that land "where the wicked cease
from troubling, and the weary are at
rest; where they hear not the voice of
the oppressor; where the small and
great are, and the servant in free from
his master." 'My baby! my poor ba
by!" were her last words. God heard
them, and raised up for the helpless
and stricken thing a friend.
The slaves were landed at Albany,
where they were met by Mr.
as we shall designate their now owner,
and conveyed to his home, where tem
porary accommodationshad been made
for them. New York was then a land
of slavery, and they were still slaves.
With a spirit of freedom, thorough and
unselfish, Mr. G ., ----had free papers
executed for them all; settled them
comfortably, with .employment suited
to their capacities, bidding them go
forth, men and women, to a worthy
post in life.
But Joel. The wife of Mr. G—
was a young mother. Her first-born
lay in the cradle; and when. her hus
band brought in the little motherless
blind baby, and placed it in- her arm,
black though it was, and neglected,
and she high-born and delicately bred
—she shrunk not from. it; her true
woman's heart went - out 'towards it;
she loved it for its very need of love;
and from that hour it shared her care
with her own cherished son.
.By night,
its cradle stood by her bed-side, ' The
boy grew up happy as be could be in
his blindness, loved by the family who
nourished him, loving them in return.
His earilest benefactors were a long
time dead; their sou had succeeded
them; and Joel had- become an old
man, when I first heard of him. He
had never left the family into which
he had been adopted. Though his
blindness and helplessness had often
tried their patience and their love, they
had been unfailtngs They never look
ed upon him ,as a burden; never
weighed in the balance his profit and
his cost; never thought whether they
were rewarded or not. The little that
he could do in their service was done
with, such a spirit of kindness . and
gratitude, that it was sufficient.
As I have said, Joel was a person
of great interest to me in my childhood,
and I wished to see him. -I was at
length gratified. 'While on a visit to
my sister, I went to spend a day at
her father:in-law% Joel's home. As
COUDERSPORT; POTTER COUNTY, PA., JUNE. 14-, 1855.
soon as civility would permit, I in;
quired for him. He was sitting in the
sunshine on the back piazza, his fa
vorite place-through the sumrher.
I approached him, and gazed curi
ously, to see if his appearance corres
ponded with the childish image in my
childish fancy. There was consider
able difference; still, there was the
same white hair, the dim eyes, and the
expression of extreme good nature, I
had pictured. The old house-dog
stood beside him, and he was gently
stroking his head. I longed to speak
to him, but could not summon cour
age, as ho did not seem to be aware
of my presence. So I watched him a
while, and left him.
&wt. a short time, I again visited
the piazza- - this time ; armed with a
piece of cake.
"Here's some 'cake, Joel."
I soon made him ianderstand that
I was already a friend of hiS, and it
was not long before we were on famil
iar terms. At length he said to me—
" Little gills like . apples. shan't I
get,you some fine ones I" and he took
up his staff, which had been lying on
the seat beside him, and started for
the orchard..
..I accompanied him, greatly interest
ed-to see how he would find his way.
reeling carefully with his: stick, he
followed a path which led across the
orchard, until he came to a little rise
in the grtiuMl, when he turned to one
side, and we soon found the golden
fruit in abundance.
"Let's sit down here. It's so pleas
ant," I said.
We sat down, •
"Yuu don't know bow beantifolit is
here," I added.
"I do," he answered. "I can feel
the soft wind, smell the fresh earth
and the ripe fruit. The birds sing for
me more sweetly than if I could see
them. 1 like to hear the leaves mov
ing in the wind; and there's a brook
over_ the bill that I listen to- half the
year."
"But you cant see."
- "No; hut there's a great deal be
sides seeing, if you'll just shut, your
eyes. Gud is very rich and good, and
he's filled the earth with everything
good."
"Don't you want to see, Joel?"
'..No'; I can't say so, I don't want
anything God has not given me. .'He
maketh the seeing and the blind.' Ho
knows what is best for me, and I
know nothing." -
"Don't you want to see the-lightl--.
It is all night to you."
"No—it is not all night, I can feel
the light, if I- can't see it. I should
know when day_comes and goes, if it
weren't for the sounds which come
an d go with it." .
"Wasn't it very wicked in the slave•
driver to make you blind?"
"He did very wrong, but God has
overruled - all for my good. The curse
has .been. turned into a bleising. My
blindness has made everybody kind to
me. If I could have seen, I don't
know where I might have been now,
or what kind of a person I might have
been."
"How can you be so happy as ycni
seem, Joel ?"
"Happy!"' repeated he, smiling;
"'Why shouldn't I bet Haven't I every
bing to make me happy? There
never were betterpeople than. I live
with, and . they do every thing for me,
though I am a blind old colored man."
"But wouldn't you like to see them
—to know how the look ?"
"I do not know that. I know vi.ry
well that Mr. G- - ---bas just the
best face in the world ; and his wife,
too-1 know by the way she speaks
thatshe is like an angel."
"I was sui ptised at the spirit be
manifested, and tried him further—
"But you are poor, JoeL Don't
you wish you had a house and children
of your own 3"
"No. I enjoy everything here as
much as if
,'twas really mine: The
garden and orchard seem to be partly
mine. The horses and cattle, too—
some of them they do call mine. And
then the young people; I could not
love them any more, and they do
everything for me."
So we talked on for some time; and
when I have recalled this conversation
in later years, I have felt how true it
is that "Godliness with contentment is
great gain."
- • This was the only time I ever saw
Joel. The next summer, he sickened
and died. He was buried in. the
quiet country graveyard near where
he lived, where his early friends re
pose; and at the head of the little
mound which covers him is a neat mar
ble slab, on which you may read the
inscription
"In memory .of JOEL, who was born
in 1776, in Virginia, a shire; was made
free in 1777; and died June, 18—.
'Christ's servant.' Though blind to the
light of earth, 'the Lord was his ever
la*tictg light.'
He4Las gone "where there shall be
no night;: where'tke'y need no.candle,
neither light of the sun ;- for the Lord-
God giveth them' light."
A CELA,PTEII OF 1118 TORY
Correspond nice of - the N. Y. Tribung.-
ST. Lours, May 28, 1865.
Among all the letters in the Tribune
from Kansas and its neighborhood,X
do not retollect anywhere to have
seen the true reason , stated why the
Parkville Luminary was destroyed
and its proprietors presented with the
alternative of flight or violence:. Leo;
me briefly disclose it. One warm day
last summer a large' crowd had as
sembled at the • town site of Atchison
in Kansas to attend a, sale of lots.
'Dave' himself was there, and as there
was much whisky 'and , many friends,
he got 'glorious' a little earlier lir the
day than usual.. So with much spit
ting on his shirt and making himself
generally more nasty than common,
the Vice President: delivered himself
something after this wise:
Gentlemen,' you make a d—d fuss
about Douglas—Douglas--but Doug
las don't deserve the credit of this
Nebraska bill: I told Douglas to in
troduce. it—l originated it—l got
Pierce committed to it, and all the
glory belongs to me.. All the South
went for it—all to a man but Bell and
Houston—and who are they ? Mere
nobodies—no influence nobodycares
for them.
It happened that a young man from.
Parkville was present—a friend of
Atchison's, by the way. When he
cane home he was sounding Atchi
son's praises and repeating what he
said. Patterson of the Luminary got
him to write down the exact words of
the Vice President, and the next num
ber contained a verbatim report of
portions of his conversation. By this
time some of Dave's friends were
sober, if he was not. There was
trouble in the camp. The Platte Ar
gus, the Atchison organ, came out with
a flat denial of the language. The
Parkville young man replied 'corer his
own initials that he heard and reported
the words exactly as they were pub
lished, and whoever should deny them
was a liar—intimating his readiness to
maintain the same against all corners.
Meantime a chivalrous nephew of John
Bell, residing in St. Louis, has seen
I the report of Atchison's language in
the Luminary, and • had written him
requiring a categorical answer to the
question whether he had used the lan
guage, imputed to him concerning his
uncle. The tone of the letter was I
strongly suggestive of 'the usual sat
isfaction.' Dave evidently thought his
three hundred pounds of flesh ton
good a mark for a pistol ball, and he
accordingly replied to the nephew
that he - had the most distinguished
consideration for his uncle, and never
said such a word about him—if he had
said anything that the lying scoundrels
had tortured into what they had pub
lished, he begged that it might ho
passed by, as he was in liquor at the
time.' And thus the Vice President
escaped the vexation of personal re
sponsibility for his language. Drunk
enness is not usually regarded a valid
plea for a lawyer to make in behalf of
a client, but it seems very good for a
Vice President.
But the mischief was done, notwith
standing. Douglas looked glum about
his stolen thunder. Bell and Houston
were not disposed to any special
affability toward the President of the
Senate;.so he sent his resignation and
stayed away two or three weeks after
the meeting of Congress. Judge with
what bitter hatred he regarded the
Luminary, and when he could away
the mob power- how eagerly he em
ployed it to wreak his private ven
geance. VWTAS
Now DON'T TELL. -Ellen's mother
was so very anxious to have her al
ways have an open and ingenuous
temper, that she was alarmed by the
least appearance of concealment. One
day she overheard• her talking with
her cousin Jane, who was older than
herself, and among other things she
said, with great earnestness, "now
don't you tell." She immediately
called them both to her, and Ellen
told her at once the whole story.
"Why, dear mother," said she,
"there is a bird's best just by, and so
low among the ivy that the boys can
reach it. • Last night one of the poor
little birds fell out of its nest. So I
told cousin of it, and she came and
put it back, and I am afraid the, boys'
will find the nest, and take away the
little ones. froin the poor bird; so I
begged Jane not to tell them of it.'
Must we not think that this was a
very kind little girl, as well as a .very
frank one? And must not her mother
have•felt very hippy to find •two such
,excellent qualities in her little, girl?
Ask your mother what she'- thinks
about it.--Youth', Cc;mpaxion.
BEGIN TO-DAY.
Lord;•I do discover a fallacy, where
by I have long deceived myself; which
is this : I have desired to - begin my
amendment • from , my birth-day, or
from some eminent festival,• that so
my repentance might bear.some re
markable date. Blit when those days
were come, I have adjourned my
amendmentto some other time. Thus
whilst I could nee agree with myself
when to start, I have • almost lost the
running of the race. I am resolved
thus to befool myself no longer. I see
no day •but to-day ; the instant time is
always the - fittest time. ilebuchad+
nezzar's image the \ lower the mem
bers; the coarser the. metal. Thaler
ther off the time the More unfit. To--
day is the golden . opportunity, to
morrow will be the sanr season, next
day, but the brazen one,\ and• so on till
at last 1 shall come to the toes of clay,
and be turned to dust. Grant, there
fore, that to-day I may hear Thy voice-
And if this day be obscure ,in the cal
endar, and remarkable in itself- for
nothing else, give me to make it me
morable in my soul, hereupon, Ily thy
assistance beginning the reformation ,
of my life.—Fulicr.
AT.; ACT or Jusrice.—The Detroit
Inquirer states that W. H. Goodwin,l
a citizen of Richmond and a native Of
Virginia, has been stopping at the
Michigan Exchange during last week,-
and left there last evening for home..
He brought with him four slaves, two
of whom are cbildien, their . mother,.
who is married to a free colored man,
and their grandmother, who was his
own nurse in infancy. He gave them
their liberty, and bought a, house and
lot, for 8800, on Macomb street, which
he deeded to the old woman, and. left
$lOO to- their credit in bank. This is
.but an act of justice; still a's the World
goes, especially the Southern part of
it belonging to us, it is a deed that
deserves honorable mention.
" PROTERTY."—There i 3 n great
deal of talk about the property which
will be sacrificed, if a prohibitory law
is passed. Can any one fhot up the
ainnunt of property sacrificed to keep
up the rum traffic—the -- amount paid
for taxes to support rum mad paupers
and criminals? Again: the greatest
wealth of a State is the-intelligence
and moral worth of citizens. Look
over the history of New York. Many
of her noblest and best minds have
been sacrificed upon the ram altar,
Talk abOut the sacrifice of property!
The wealth of worldsould not weigh
a feather in the scalp, against one"
mind scathed and ruined by rum.—
Cayuga Chiff.
• THERE is a speaking lesson in the
following extract sent to us by a lady
reader. Near the end of his days, the
licentious Byron wrote the following
lines :
"My (lays are in the yellow leaf,
The flowers and fruit of love are gone,
The worm, the canker, andthe grief,
Are mine alone."
Near the end of his days, "Paul, the
aked," wrote to a young minister,
whom he had greatly loved, as follows:
apt now ready to be offered, and
the time of my departure i at hand-
I have fought a good light,j have kept
the faith; henceforth there is laid up
for me a crown of righteoilsness, which
the righteous Judge shall give me at
that day." _
ARMS FOR KANSAS.—The Philadel
phia Ledger stares that Theodore Par
ker told them in his anti-slavery ad
dress in that city, last week; that. 200
of Sharpe's rifles had been sent froth
Boston in boxes, labeled "Books," to
arm as many of the New England
settlers in Kansas territory against the
attacks of Missourian incursionists.
CURRANT GRAFTED ON MneLe.---,A.
correspondent of the Rural New York
er says that he transplanted into his
door yard, a young thrifty maple, and
engrafted into it.the scions from a cur
rant bush. They grew,well, and when
ripe, looked very handsome.' He
you must not graft until the sugar water
begins to run.-
"An, Miss Caroline," said a Sun
day School teacher to one of his class,
"what do you think you would hare
been without your goud father and
pious mother?"
"I suppose sir," smartly and pertly
replied Miss Caroline,'"l should haV•o
been an orphan."
THERE are now in the United States
thirty-two insane hospitals in active
operation, and wine others in tours
of construction. Twenty-eight
State institutions; and the number of
the insane is nearly •20,00.
NO. 4