VOL. VIII. Tim PEOPLE'S 3OURNAL. ?crustier) EVERY THURSDAY MORNING. BY ADDISON AVERY. Team—lnvariably In Advance: One copy per annum, $l,OO Village nabecribersr• 1.£5 'MK MS OF ADVERTISING. INUIT, of ll lines or less, 1 in:en:Kai, $0 . 50 " " " 3 insertions, .1.50 every subsequent in.ertion, sale and figure work, per sq., 3 insertions, ant) E ver y subsequent insertion, .50 / column, one year, 23.00 column, six utonths, 15.00 Administrators' or Executors' Notices, 2.01) *lteritEs Sales, per tract, 1.50 Professional Cards not exceeding eight lines t ererted for $5.00 per annum. 7.7ir letters on business, to secure at cation, should be addressed (post paid) to ?Alt Publisher. Select portrg. WHEN I AM OLD BT inss CAROLINI: A. BraGGS, When I am old—and oh, how soon IVill life's sweet morning yield to noon, Arid noon's broad, fervid, earnest light, Ile shrouded in the gloom of night; Till, like a story well nigh told, Will seem my life when 1 am old, When I am old—this breezy rartk Will lose for ine its voice of mirth; The streams will have an undertone Cot - sadness, not by right their own; And spring's sweet power in vain unfold In rosy charms—when I au .old, When I am old I shall not care To deck with flowers my faded hair; 'Twill be no vain desire of mine, La rich amt costly dress to shine t Ilriekt jewels and the brightest gold It'lll charm me not—when I am old. When I am old—my friends will ho Old and infirm, and bowed—like me, Or elhe—their bodies 'neath the sod, Their spirits dwelling safe with God— The old church bell will long have tolled Above their rest—when I ant told. When I am old—rd rather bend Thus sadly o'er each buried friend, Than see them lose the earnest truth That marks the friendship of our youth; 'Twill he so sad to have them cold, Or strange to me=when l am old. When I in old—oh, how it seems Like the wild lunacy of dreauas, To picture in prophetic rhyme, That dint, far distant, shadowy time; So distant that it seems o'er bold Esva to say—" when I am old 1" When 1 am old !—perhaps ere then. 1 shall be missed from haunts of men; Perhaps my dwelling will be found Beneath the green and quiet mound; My name by stranger hands enrolled Among the dead—ere 1 am old. Ere I am old ?—that time is now, For youth sits lightly on my brow; My limbs are firm, and strong and free, Life has a thousand charm:: for met harms that will long. their influence hold Within my heart—ere I am old. Ere I am old—oh, let me give My life to learning how to live; Then shall I meet with willing heart, An early summons to depart, Or tind nay lengthened days consoled, Be God's sweet peace—when I am old A SHORT STORY WITH A MORAL I= Honor thy father and thy mother," is the first commandment with prom ise—promise as beautiful in its exem plification as glorious in its conception. A mother's lips first breathed into our eai s those words of Holy Writ, and explained their general import; and from the time when the story of gray haired Elijah and his youthfid mockers first excited my youthful imagination, up to mature womanhood, the respect then inspired for the white hairs of age has grown with my growth, and strengthened with my strength. We sigh as we think of the days when the young were wont to bow before the hoary head, and by gentle, un called-for assiduities, strew roses in the old man's tottering path. But those kindly customs of our Puritan ancestors have passed away. The world grows selfish as it grows old ; and age-dimmed eyes must turn homeward for stays to, their trembling hands and tottering' limbs. Here should they find the fulfillment of the first commandment with promise. No true, womanly soul ever with drew her gentle hand from her poor old father or mother; no manly heart ever forgot the home loves of his way ward childhood, or ceased to hear the echoes of a fond mother's prayers. Often the cares , f)f this world, and the deceitfulness of riches, may choke up the inborn affections of narrow souls ; but few and far between is the fondly loved child, who can be so untrue to himself or his Maker, as wholly to forget the mother who bore him. Yet even with the holiest dictates of our reasons and souls, as with the wider application of the command ment, has Fashion insinuated her poi sonous influence; and the son, per chance, who left his fond parent's humble home reluctantly and tear fully, to make his way in the world, forgets, when fortune &Tors, to wel come his rustic mother to his own luxury, with the same cordial embrace - ---t. . - • . . • • • . - . . . . . . . . . . 0 . . . • ' • • ! t • t.'. .IU . '. .•.N AL 7, .... , . . . ...• _ .et .. H l l -41 11 . . ~ .. , . I . . ' , . . , ~ .. ; . ~ • .: . • . . . . . • with which he left ber in his childhood home. Herdim old eyes,perchance, do not catch 'readily - the meaningless courtesies of .life ; nevertheless, they look none the less lovingly upon her child than when_ they 'watched over his helpless infancy. Her withered hands may be large and bony, and never have known.tr jewel; but none the less gently did they smooth the weary pillow,' or . bathe the bested brow, in the dependent days of boy hood. Alt ! she's the same fend mother still; her age and work-bent form, clad in rustic garb, csnceals a heart full •pf never-dying love; and ready for new sacrifice. And, thanks to the great being who gave us the cOmmandment with prom ize, now and then there stands up a noble man, true to his inborn nature,. who, throwing off the trammels of Fashion, however wide the gulf which separates him, in the world's eye, from: the humble poverty of his boyhood— who is not ashamed to love, before his fellows, the humble mother who gave hhr birth. "My cnetAer—permit me to present her to you," said an elegantly dressed, !noble looking young 171813, to a friend, for whom he had crossed a crowded drawing room, with his- aged parent leaning on his arm. There was a dead silence for full five minutes. The moral beauty of the picture per vaded every soul, and melted away the . frostwork from world-worn hearts. 'Twas the old foreground of a fash ionable summer resort, whither hosts had come, with all their selfish pas sions, to seek in vain for health and pleasure. :But here was a variation— a bit of truth to nature—in the motley mingling of colors. From a little brown farm-house, pent in by forests, way up in the Granite State, that young man had gone forth, with brave heart and stal wart arm; strong, like native hills, he had already made a name for him self. Polished circles opened for him, and gentle lips bade him welcome. Yet none" the less carefully did hiS manly arm support his homely - , tot tering old mother; none the less softly and tenderly did he call her, queer though she looked, "7ny mothei," amongst the proud beauties who had striven for favor. Her dress was antiquated, for the good gifts of her son had been sadly mutilated by rustic. hands ; yet only one heartless girl tittered, despite the broad-frilled cap and well 7 kept shawl. Her voice was tough, and often her expressions coarse and inelegant. Used to the social rang at home, she asked for her neigh bor's goblet at table, and was guilty of many like vulgarities. She was not an interesting woman, save in her vigorous age, and her beautiful love ;for her sou. Yet, for a week the on watched over that mother, and gained for her kindness and deference, in the very face of fashion, walked with her, drove with her, helped her, like an infant, up a difficult mountain side of twenty miles, humored her every caprice, and each day found some new friend,whose heart he might thrill by those gentle words, " my mother." To hiM she was the gentle mother, who rocked him to sleep in childhood; and, true to the great commandment she had taught him, he was making the path smooth for her dependent years. One there was, in the gay throng, whose eyes flashed haughtily, as they rested on the homely, toil-worn wo man; but she was a noble soul, and truth and right gained an instant vic tory over life-long prejudices. Qui etly and elegantly she crossed the room, laid her snowy little hand, with such a gentle, thrilling touch, On the arm of her lover, and whispered a word in his ear. Will she ever forget the look of love-triumph in his eyes, or the melt ing gentleness of his tones, as he pre sented his beautiful, high-bred be trothed to his gray-haired, doting mother! 'Twas a holy sight—that . of polished, glowing - beauty, grasping the band of wrinkled, homely age! When summer and summer guests had gone, many a one remembered and watched that young man, whose filial devotion had in it a moral sub limity. And surely -to him the com mandment proved wtth promise. PUOFOUND ignorance makes a man dogmatic. He who knows nothing, thinks he can' teach others what he has just now learned himself; _whilst •he who knows a great deal, can scarce imagine any ono cannot be acquainted with what ho . says, and speaks for this reason with more indifference. • HEALTH—An indispensable requi site for business as well as amuse ment, which young men spend the greater part of their time in damaging, and old men the greater part of their wealth in repairing, DEVOTED 'TO THE PRINCIPLES OF DEMOCRACY, AND THE DISSEMINATION OF MORALITY;IITERATURE, AND NEWS CO'UDERSPORT,:POTTER COUNTY, PA., JUNE 28,4855. M:i~~I:Vr4:it~:1~l~I2M~4~r~f ~~i~l~r~ ,7:~~:i: The following account of "the nat ural substitutes for paper," contains much that will be novel • and interest ing to the general reader: The first portable writings—name ly, the first that were not on rocks or buildings--were necessarily on the substitute most nearly. approaching them in durability—that, is, tablets of mineral substance. Men had recourse to vegetable and animal substances only fbr the sake of their flexibility, and therefore, only when records became bulky and somewhat common,. and were intended rather to assist the memory than to bear testimony; so that ease of carriage was more im portant than durability. There was but one mineral substance that was tolerably.flexible, viz., sheets of lead, and at<cOrdingly this metal is associated with the art of writing in the most ancient extaTir allusion to either lead, or the materiii is of writing; the desire of Job' concerning his ; prediction of the Redeemer. (chap. xix 25,) which' was that it.should be both written and printed (or impressed) in -a book, (verse 23,) "and graven with an iron pe.tt and lead in the rock forever." The word printedor impressed suits better than any other the mode of writing with iron or on lead, of which there is a specimen in the Chinches-. ter Cathedral—namely, a pardon or indulgence granted by a pope of the dark ages to a bishop of that see, who seems to have worn it constantly about his person. The writing is indented rather than cut in lead, which is about the thickness of the lead used for lining tea-chests. Some persons, how ever, suppose that Job alluded to the filling up with melted lead the letters cut with iron in a rock. That there were portable writings in his day ap pears by his assertion elsewhere (chap. xxxi. 35, 36,) that had his adversary written a book (or a bill of . indict ment) he would "take it upon his shoulder, and bind it as a crown." The utmost union of durability and portability was attained in 'prepared animal skins, or what we call parch ment. This is abstractedly, leaving expense out of the question, the l best of all writing or rather book mate rials. The dais of deeds and testi monial writings, or muniments, is'that for which parchment is at present chiefly employed. There is much probability in the supposition that this material was well known to the Hebrews and descended from them to us with, and in consequence of, the spread of Christianity. It is com monly said, indeed, to have been in vented, and brought into use, two hun dred years earlier, by Eumenes, the most famous king of Pergamos, in Asia Minor, who wished to rival the then unequalled. library of Alexan dria. But this is probably only a sto ry founded on its name, pergamena, the name which it still retains all over the south of Europe, and which in - plies that it was at some time best made at the town of Pergamos.. It is not so called, however, by any writer until long after the Christian era, when it was spoken of simply as membrane. As the classic literature and learn ing declined, so (lid the use of the papyrus, which was the most general writing material employed by the oldest profane prose writers, its other name biblus, or a word formed there from, having nearly five hundred years before become the ordinal y Greek for a book. But this was far from being its only or chief application by the Egyptians, although the only Man ufacture of it which they - exported. Pliny and other ancients enumerate many things into which they plaited its bark, as baskets, shoes, boxes, (of which, and of chair bottoms there are some in the British Museum,) and the lightest possible kind of canoes or boats, which were made water-tight with asphalte or pitch. The variety of these articles, and their being gen erally of the commonest use; or even necessity to the po2rest, shows that the plant_(psiliaps several species of the same plant) must have been not only a spontaneous product of the soil, but naturally one which most abund antly rewarded the 'labor of the culti vator. The. Cyperus papyrus was carefully cultivated by the Egyptians, who maintained a strict monopoly in the manufactured material. Cassio dorus, a writer of the fifth century, mentions the papyrus as quite a dis tinctive feature of Egypt. "There rises," says ho, "a forest without _branches; that leafless wood; that crop of the waters; that 'ornament of the marshes." ,The 'commerce in' h a prepared skin in paper was also so, extensive that Firmus, a Roman'Gov ernor of Egypt, boasted that he Would maintain an army solely on the rev enue-from papyrus and glue. It appears scarcely credible that such a-plant, at once the commonest, the molt variously useful, and the most' commercially valuable for so many agei in. Egypt, should have so totally disappeared from that land as to have been long unknown to .mod ern botanists, and after such scientific surveys and examinations as no other extra-European country has ever un dergone, still to remain undiscovered in any part of it. Yet andi appears to be the cue, foe the ancient descrip tions of. the papyrus are quite irre concilable with the plants which now bear that, name, the leafy-stemmed and seed-bearing kinds of cyperus, which are common to Europe and the modern Nile. May we not venture to consider this as the fulfillment of a moat remarkable prophecy : "The pa- . per reeds by tho brooks, by the mouth of the broOks, and everything 'sown by the biooks, shall wither, be driven away, and be no more."--Isaiah, six, 7. Nothing could be simpler than the Egyptian process of preparing the papyrus skin, as described by Pliny. They split the stalk and peeled off the several layers of fiber, of which the outer' and inner served for inferior paper, and the few middle ones for the best. They laid these parallel strips side by side on a table, and then crossed them by a second layer at right angles. They then wetted and pressed them, and dried them in the tun. The Nile water was sup posed to be necessary and to have a glutinous quality, which probably•on ly belonged to the juice of the plant. Theo sheets were afterward joined with paste or gum into continuous rolls, and by the stationers of Rome underwent further improvements by washing, beating with hammers, and smoothing with calendera. The best and widest kind, called Augustan, was only thirteen inches wide, and so thin as to permit the writing to be seen through, until Claudius Cesar causedit to be made with three layers instead of two. A sort of size of flour paste was applied also to make it take the ink better. The qualities of light ness and suppleness were greatly val ued, and the makers aimed at pro ducing paper which should be more supple than linen cloth. It was not written on both sides, and hence the papyri remaining to us admit of un rolling and attaching to a firm surface;. but this is an operation of great deli cacy, and many papyri have remained for years in museums partly unrolled, awaiting the discovery of better modes Of handling, Those from Egypt have become especially friable from the dryness of the climate, but some of those which had buried and baked at Pompeii and Herculaneum, have been partiallydeciphered. The largest vol umes of papyrus yet unrolled meas ure about thirty feet. This material could not be joined into such immense rolls by sewing together, as the parch ment ones, on which the Jews copy their Scriptures. No . writing mate rial, in fact, aimed less at strength or durability. Pliny relates as remark able the existence of autographs of Augustus and of Cicero—i.e., 100 or 150 years old. The most inferior pa pyrus, only five or six inches wide, was used by Roman shopkeepers for tying up parcels. SUCCESS. Nothing is more common, especially in this city, to hear men complain that the chances of success lessen every "day; that every avenue of business is overcrowded, and unless a man be a perfect Hercules of talent he is elbowed out of the way and prevented from "getting on," left to languish in obscu rity and pine in neglect; to grow old, in short, before his time, and die at last of disappointment and heart-sick ness. Undoubtedly . there are many instances in which society is to blame,- many sad instances of capacity over looked, and talents slighted; .but the complaint, as a general thing, is false and foolish, and the evil is in the com plainer, not in the society. Men often miscalculate their own powers and mistake their line. The speech of a very wealthy citizen, when asked how he made his money, is the answer to all such railers against society. "Sir," said he, "I understood my business and attended to it, and if I were poor again to-morrow, I could commence as an ash-man and make a fottunelf God spared me life and health - to - work." A knowledge of our own capicities. and a fixed and steady aim, in short, steadiness of purpose and steady consistent effort are the condi tions of success, and almost invariably command it. ROBERT SCHUMANN, the great artist, said .of his wife,-"Others make poetry, she is a poem." WRITTEN fiction may be bad, but living "social fiction" is infinitely worse.—Getting Nang. From the Boston Atlas. THE PHILADELPHIA CONVENTION. The importance of the late transac tions in Philadelphia cannot ho -over rated. The intensified madness of the South has reached at last a - cliniax. Relying too confidently upon the ma chinery of a secret society, it has im pudently pressed its demands until reason was forgotien, toleration tram pled under foot, and even a show of fairness lost sight of. This thing called a platform, which'is already moist with the . salivarY contempt of all honest men, demands everything for Slavery, and - concedes nothing to Freedom. It is a wholesale usurpa tion of the power of the Government. it seizes upon;the` Republic at a grasp. It does,; indeed, settle the Blarersr question,i but it does it as the highwayman settles with his victim when he calls inine bludgeon or the blunderbuss to aid in his delicate negotiations. In order to get rid of all embarrassment it is prepared to knock Freedom:plumply on the head. For the North to assent to this or to anything like k, s would •be not only madness, but the madness which pre cedes suicide: 1 We were not sur , _prised, therefore, to find the Northern delegations (with one miserable ex ception,) promptly refusing to accede to these insolent demands. We treas ure our astonishment and we husband our contempt for the two-legged dogs from New- York—the creatures who volunteered to be tools; asked with childish eafferness for - ornamental col lars, licked a theihands that were smi ting them, and ibegged for fresh dona tions of degradation. As 'these aril . - mals have shOwn the possibility of human servility, we thank our own members for preserving our estimate of human nature at least at an equi librium. We are much obliged to Mr. Wilson, to Gov. Gardner, and to those with whom they acted, for saving - the American race from the contempt of the world. They may not value our thanks, but we freely and frankly tender them, and esteem it a privilege to db so. For the first time in the -history of National Conventions the North has maintained the -perpendicu larity of its sinual column. Two or three of the lower vertebra; proved gristle and not bone, but that must not detract from - the merited honor of the - remainder. After finding fault . with the KnoW-Nothings so long, it is refreshing to have something to praise. We do not dare for motives—we do not mean to Pry into policy—we ac cept with infinite content the refresh ing fact that ;ono great battle has been fought in Which the North has not shown a traitorous and cowardly spirit. Yet we do not think that- the rejection of , the platform of abomina tions deserves the largest credit, for to have 'accepted it would have -been an idiotic filo de' se: We honor the Northern delegation, not for spitting upon the great wrong, but for lavish ing equal contempt upon little ones. For the first time, intrigue, blandish , meet and denunciation have failed. It is-true the charnier did not charm very wisely; but then she has hereto fore been very successful when quite as little skillful. Now; however, there has been no crouching, no concession, no compromise. The skies are clearer and the atmosphere sweeter to-day for the manliness of . the Northern Know-Nothings, and we who have denounced their oaths, ridiculed their mummeries and refuted their argu ments, are not ashamed to thank them 1 1 here and now for the service. INALIENABLE RIGHTS OF AMERICANS. --The following are not enumerated in the declaration of Independance; To know any trade or business with out apprenticeship or experience. To marry without any regard to fortune, state of health, position, or opinion of parents or friends. To have a wife and children depend,. ent on the contingencies of business, and in case of sudden death, leave them wholly unprovided for. • To put off upon •hireling strangers the literary, moral and religious edu cation of children. To teach children no good trade, hoping they will have, when they grow up, wit enough to live on the industry of other people. To enjoy the general sympathy when made bankrupts by reckless speculations. To cheat the. Government if possi ble. To hold office without being corn petent to 'discharge its duties. - . To build houses with nine and six inch walls and to go to the funerals of tenants, firemen and others, killed by their fall, weeping over the mysterious dispensation of Providence. To build up cities and towns with out parks, and call pestilence a visita tion of God. . • MEM WOMAN NOT INFEBION. . No, sir. . Woman was .not created subordinate to man, nor is•she inferior him.to . Her . Strength is a different strength from that Of the other sex,. but it is not less. If,-in some particu lars she is the. weaker, in other partcu 'ars she is the stronger; .and those in which she is stronger are more impor tant mid inure noble that those iu which she is weaker. • - • ' A woman cannot lift as Many Pounds avoirdupois, nor strike as hard a blow as a man. But in her own sphero,•she can work as hard, as long, as loyally, as efficiently as man can in his. Her share of the world's existence . as man's share. She can endure anguish bet ter than mau, and, God knows, she has more anguish to endure. She. can die in the Most appalling circumstan ces, with a .placid .dignity: which man can seldom eqtial—never surpass. If she reasons less, she preceives more, and more only than man—O, who has ever heard eloquence equal to that with which his mother warned, taught, and inspired him? The beaming eyes, the transfigured countenance, the pene trating tones, the attitude, the gesture —no orator, in hiS highest flights, • has 'ever approached them. Subordinate? Never! Women on . - civics, and rightfully occupies in every enlightened. community, THE FIRST PLACE. She is the household's queen, not. the household's drudge. She is . the queen of hearts. Sheis the moth er of the race. Woman owes her pre-eminence of social rank, not to'm,an's magnanimity. It is not because she is the weaker sex, that men assign her the - best and the choice of everything; for she is not the weaker sex. It is because Woman is the Mother of man. It is because every woman, whether she be mother or not, belongs to the Order of Moth ers; and, sharing in that high dignity, every son owes her reverence.. The mother is, in very nature of things; the social superior of the son. A hus band. too, when the raptures of his early love has subsided, reveres his wife, not so 'much because she is his wife, as bec:ausO she is the mother of their children. With regard to the vexed question of woman's voting—it will be time to consider that when the accursed al liance between politics and rum is dis solved, when persons are nominated for office for whom man need not bo ashamed to invite woman's vote--when the polls become clean enough for woman's delicate foot to tread—when political measures wilL bear the scru tiny of woman's intuitien. At present, woman may well disdain to mingle in the vulgar brawl for the spoils of glori-: uus victory.—Lielllustrifted. TOMBOYS. The pnblic mind is awakening to the importance of physical education. At the recent ladies. exhibition of gymnastic, calisthenic, _and dancing exercises, given at Prof. Stewart's Rooms, in Boston, Dr. J. Y. C. Smith, mayor, in his speach to the parents and teachers while distributing the prizes, addressed them at much length on the importance of thus developing the muscular apparatus of children, and made the pertinent remark: "That the little girls . he knew when a boy, who used to climb trees audiences with the boys, and were gilled 'Tomboys' by their mothers, were now, wherever found, leading women in society; with: strong healthy bodies and minds.'-' Mayor Smith was right. Our girls had better be tomboys than mincing young ladies. Under a right systerit of education they wonld be as far from one extreme as the other; .but if we must have an extreme, give us that which-secures strong limbs, rosy cheeks, and a constitution that will last. Tire New York Time:, in the course of an article under the head of a "col ume of talk for young men on small wages," has his plain and sensible paragraph on the subject of dress Then—it is a great nonsense to say that all must dress faShionably or looks cease. What is fashion? Who wears a fashiobable coat, and how do you know that is the fashion ? Tell us one sithstantial merchant, one thrifty me chanic, one successful lawyer, •or one gentleman who wears it, and we will name ten of each, equally noted and successful, who do not, and the fops ,whoM you despise that do. • The fash ion in New York just now • requires a clean decent garthent, with no patches en it—no more • nor • less. A lady might wear her grandmother's shawl in Broadway and not be noticed. The timid ones, and those - just, in from oth,er cities and villages, • alone are Worried about their looks' when the:), wear last' winter's bonnets to the lec ture or church. Let the young imitate the substantial and common sensible rather than thoie who are keepingr,up appearances at a sacrifice.' II NO. 6
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers