VOL. VIII.
THE PEOPLE'S JOURNAL.
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From Elio National Era
A PATRIOTIC ODE.
BY M. H. COBB
Our own fair land! so free in name,
So boastful, whi.c the ungli.iest shame
Thai ever reigned on th.s green earth,
Frowns down on every freeman's hearth!
So proud of what its martyrs bought
Whh b.ood, and treasure, and with fife;
Undreaming dm, the work they wrought
In counse. and in mighty sink!,
Shou.d by the.r clii.dren be defi!ed;
lindreaming that their momdering bones
Shou.d be dis.urbed by sighs and groans,
By sound of scourge and c....uk of chains.
Upon their sacred bur.in pains;
Undrdatuing .bat .heir ins.ed brands
Shou.d serve as gyves for freemen's hands,
Or that Co.umb.a's honored shimd
Shou,d bear, upon a gory tie.d,
Scourges for tam boas for stars!
That ireemen's backs shoiral g,ow With scars
15 h.ch crush the treelMai's manhood out,
And haunt hum ake the litho.: and bars •
115 here !mous drag .heir !hams about!
Our own fair land ! land of the brave !
Home of the free—home of the stave!
Utopia, b.ost I reedonf's foal,
'Where man is scourged, and bought, and sold
Where wourtin—tast create and bes
Earth's crowning joy, by inn confessed—
As tf Cominbia's pride to mock,
Sits throned upoz the auctitm-abck
Oh! ie. us boast, but nut forget—
Columbia's not Utopia yet !
THE OPEN WINDOW
EEMISIE=I
The old house he .he I,ndrns
Stood si,en. m .1! Annie,
And on ,he gra% a ed nadiway
The hgln nd :11.(Inw
I saw the nursery ‘sindows
Wide open to the air:
Bu: the faces of ,he ein.dren,
They are no lonizer 'here.
The large, Newfoutaand house-dog
Was sumding he .he door:
Ile looked for his Mho p.aymates
Who wou.d rekurn no more.
They walked not under ill. , linden , ,
They waked not in the hall ;
But sh,dow, silence, and sadness,
Were hanging over all.
The birds sang in the branches,
st‘ce., faiiii.lar tone;
But the voice, or Ale clii,dren
Will be heard in dreams alone I
And the boy that walked beside we,
Ile cou d not undern,:id
Why c.oser in tnine, ;.11! elos.er,
I pressed It.s soft
OUT OF WORK
RY SYL6NUS COBB,IR
'lt is no use, Maria,l've tried every
where.'
'But you are not going to give up,
Peter?'
'Give up? How can I help it ?
Wifbin four days I have been to every
bookbindery in the city, and nut a bit
of work can 'I get.'
But have you tried anything else ?'
'What else can 1 try r
'Why, anything that you can do.'
'Yes ; I've tried other things. I
have been to more than a dozen of my
friends and offered to help them ilthey
would hire me.'
'And what did you mean to do fot
them ?'
offered either to post their ac
counts, make out bills, or to attend at
the counter.'
Mrs. Stauwood smiled as her hut
band thus spoke.
•What makes you smile!' he asked.
'To think you should have imagined
that you would find work in such
places. But how is Ma! k Leeds ?'
'He is worse off than I um.
'How so?'
'He has nothing in his house to eat.
It was a 'shudder that crept over the
wife's frame now.
.Why do you tremble, wife?'
'Because, when we shall have eaten
our breakfast to morrow morning, we
shall have nothing.'
'What 1' cried Peter Stanwood,,half
starting from his chair. 'Do you mean
that?'
•
'I do.'
'But our flour?'
'All gone. I baked tho last this
afternoon.'
'But we have pork.'
'You ate the last this noon
'Then we must starve!' groaned
the stricken man, starting across the
room,
THE PEOPLE'S JOUR\AL.
Peter Stanwood was a hook-binder
by trade, and had now been out of
employment over a month. He was
one of those who generally calculate
to keep about square with the world.
and Who consider themselves particu
tarly fortunate if they keet out of debt.
He was now thirty years of age; and
had been married eight years. He
had three children to provide for, be
sides himself and wife, and this, to
gether with house rent, was a heavy
draught upon his purse even when
.work was plenty; but now—there was
nothing. •
.'Maria,' said he, stopping and gaz
ing his wife in the face, 'we must starve.
have not a single penny in the world.'
'But 'do not despair, Peter. Try
again to-morrow fir work. You may
find something to do. Anything that
is honest will be honorable. .Should
,you make but a shilling a day, we
should not starve.
'But our house rent ?'
Trust to me fin. that. The landlord
shall not turn us out. If you will en
gage to find semething, to . do, I will
see that we have houseroom.'
make one- more uttered
Peter, despairingly.
'But' you must go prepared to do any-
'Anything reasonable, Maria.'
'What du you , call reason ble ?'
'Wby—anything decent.'
The wife reit almost-inclined to smile,
but the matter was too serious fur that,
and a cloud passed over bar face.—
She knew her husuand's. disposition,
and she ibit sure tiia, he would find no
work. Sne knew that he would look
about for some kinds of work which
would not lower him in the social scale,
as • he had once or twice expressed it,
However, she knew it wouid be of DU
use to say anything to him now, and
she let the matter pass.
On the, following morning, the last
bit of food- in the house was put upon
the table. Stanwood could hardly
realize that he was pennilness and
without food. For years he had been
gay, thoughtless and fortunate, making
the must-of th'e present, forgetting the
past, and leaving the future to look
out fur itself. Yet the truth was naked
and clear; and when he left the house
he saili—ontetfting must be done.
Nu zumner had the husband gone
than Mrs. Stanwood put on her bun
net and shawl. Her eldest child - was
a girl seven years old, and her youngest,
four. She asked her next door neigh
bor if she would take care of her
children until noun. These children'
were known to be good and quiet, and
they were taken cheerfully. Then
Mrs. Stanwood locked up her house
and went away. She returned at
noon, bringing some dinner for her
children, and then went away * again.
She get home in the evening before
her husband, carrying a heavy . basket
upon her arm..
'Well, Peter,' she asked, after her
husband had entered and sat down,
'what lu'ck 1'
'Nothing! nothing!' he groaned.
made out to squeeze a dinner out of an
old chum, but I can't find work:'
'And where have you looked to
day'?' -
"'O—everywhere. I've been to a
hundred places, but it's the samein
every place. It is nothing but one
eternal 'No-NO-NO !' •Pm sick and
tired °fit.'
'What have you offered to do 3'
'Why. I even went so far as to
oiler to tend in a liquor store down
town.
The wife smiled.
'Now what shall we .do ?' uttered
Peter spasmodically.
'\Vhy, we'll eat supper first, and
then talk the matter over.'
'Supper ! Have you gut any
'Yes—plenty of it.'
'But you told me you had none.'
'Neither had we this rimming, but
l've been alter work to-day, and found
some.'
'You ? You been after work ? utter
ed the husband, in surprise.
'Yes.'
'But how? where? what?'
'Why, first 1 went to Mrs. Snow's.
I knew her girl was sick, and 1 hoped
she might have work to be - done. 1
went to her and told her my story,
and she set me at work at once doing
her washing. She gave me food to
bring home for the children, and paid
me three shillings when 1 got through.'
'What? You been out.washing for
our butcher's-wife?' said Peter, look
ing very much surprised. -
Uf course I have, and have thereby
earned enough to keep us in food
through to-morrow, at any rate; so to-,
morrow you may come home . to din
ner.
4 But how about the rents'
'O, I have seen Mr. Simpson, told
him just how we were situated, and
offered him my watch-as a pledge for
the payment of our rent within two
months, with the interest on all -ar-
DEVOTED TO THE PRINCIPLES OF DEMOCRACY, AND. THE DISSEMINATION OF MORALITY, LITERATURE, AND NEWS
COUDERSPORT, POTTER COUNTY, PA., AUGUST 2.3, 1855.
rears up to that date. I told him I
did the business because you were
away -hunting up work.'
'So he's got your gold watch 1'
'No—he wouldn't take it. He said
if I would become responsible for the
payment he would let it rest.' -
'Then we've, got a roof to cover us,
and food for to-morrow, But what
next ? 0, what a curse these hard
times are !'
'Don't despair, Peter, for we shall
not starve. I've got work 'enough en
gaged to keep us alive.'
;Ah—eli ? What is that?
'Why, Mr. Snow has engaged me
to carry small packages, baskets, bun
dies, and so forth, to his.rich customers.
Ho has had to give up one of his horses.'
'What do pr mean, Maria
'Just what 1 say. When Mr. Snow
came home to dinner, I was there, and
asked him if he ever had light* articles
which he wished to send around to his
customers. Never mind all that was
said. He did happen to want just
such work done, though he had meant
to.call upon seine of the idlers who
lounge about the market. He promis
ed to give me all the work he could,
and I urn to be there in good season iu
the morning.'
'Well, this is a pretty go. Illy wife
turned butcher's boy? You won't du
any such thing.'
.'And wny as.t
Why not: Because--becaus6—'
'Say, because it will lovi , er me in
the social scale.'
•
-A Well and so it •
'Then it is more honorable to lie
still and starve, and see one's children
starve, too, than to earn honest bread
by honest work. I tell you, Peter, if
you can not find work, I must. We
should have been - without bread to
night had not I found work to-day--
You know that all kinds of light agree
able_business are seized upon by those
who have particular friends and rela
tives engaged in them. At such d
time as this it is not for .us to con
sider what kind of work we will do, so
long as it is honest. 0, give me the
liberty of living upon my own deserts,
and the independence to be governed
by my own conviLtions of right.'
'But, my - wife, only think—you car
rying out butcher's stuff! Why, I
would sooner gu and do it myself.'
'lf you will go,' said the wife with a
smile, will stay at home and take
care of the child' en.'
It Was bard for Peter Stanwood, but
the more be thought upon the matter
the more he saw the justice and light
of the path into which his wife thug
led him. Before he went to bed he
prounsed that he would go to the
butcher's in the morning.
And Peter Stanwood wentupon his
new business. Mr. Snow greeted him
Warmly, praised his Ildthful wife, and
then sent him on' with two baskets, cm°
to go to a Mrs. Smith's, and the other
to a Mrs. D ixal l's. And the new carrier
worked all day, and when it came
night he had earned just ninety-seven
cents. It had been a day of trials to
him, but no one had sneered •at him,
and all his aciptaintances whom he had
met had greeted him the same as usual.
lie was tar happier than lie was when
lie went home the night before, Ihr
now he teas independent.
On the next day he earned over a
dollar; and thus lie continued to work
for a week, and at the end of that time
-he had five dollars and "seventy-five
cents in his pocket, besides having
paid for all the food fur his family,
save some few pieces of 'meat Snow
had given him. Saturday evening he
met Mark Leeds, another binder who
had been.discharged from work with
himself.- Leeds looked Careworn and
rusty. .
'How goes it ?' asked Peter.
'Don't ask me,' groaned Mark. 'My
family are half starved.'
'But can't you find anything to do?'
'Nothing?.
'Have you tried ?'
'Everywhere; but it's no use. I've
pavhiecl all my clothes save those I
have on. I've been to the bindery to
day, and what- do you suppose the old
man offered we'?'
'What was it!'
'Why he offered to let me do his
hand-carting! He had just turned off
his nigger for drunkenness, and offered
me the place ! The old curmudgeon !
By the powers, 1 had a great mind to
pitch him into the hand-cart and run
'him to the-'
Mark int•ntioned the name - . of an
individual who is supposed to dwell
somewhere in a region a little warmer
than our tropics.
'Well,' said Peter, 'if I had been in
your place 1 should have taken up
with the offer.'
• Mark mentioned the name of that
same • individual again.
'Why,' resumed Peter, 'I have
been doing the work of a butcher's
boy for a whole week.'
Mark was incredulous, but his com-
ituit))) soon convinced him, and then .
they separated, one going home happy
and contented, and the other going
away from home to find some sort of
excitement in which to drown his
misery.
One . day Peter had a basket of pro
visions to carry to Mr, IY It
was his former employer..He took
the load upon his arm and started off,
and just as be was entering the yard of
the customer, he met Mr. NV—com
ing out.
'Ah, Stanwood, is this you ?' asked
his old employer, kindly.
'Yes, sir.'
'What are you up to now?'
'Pax a butcher's boy sir. •
'A whatl
'You.see I've brought your -provis
ions for you, sir. 1 am a regular
butcher's boy.
'Aud Miw long have you been at
work thus ?'
'This is the tenth day, sir.' .
• 'But don't it come hard ?'
'Nothing comes hard su long as it
is honest, and will furnish my family
with bread.'
'And how mud' can you make a
day at thiS ?'
'Sometimes over a dollar, and some
times not over fifty cents.'
*Well, look here, Stanwood, there
have been no less than a dozen of my
old hands hanging around my; count
ing-rOom fixr a fortnight, whining for
work. They are stout, able men, and
yet they lie still because 1 have no
win k fin them: Last Saturday I took
pity on Leeds, andl . diered him the job
to do my hand,carung. I told him I
ivould•" ° ive him a dollar and a quarter
a day ; but he turned up his nose and
asked me not to insult him ! And yet
he owned that his family were sutler
iug. But do you come to my place
to-morrow morning, and you shall
have something to do,• if it is only to
hold your bench up. I honor you for
your manly independence.'
Peter grasped the old
. mati's hand
with a joyous, grateful grip, and bless
ed him fervently.
That night he gave Mr. Snow notice
that he must quit, and on the following
morning he went to the bindery. Fur
two days he had little to do, but on
the third day a heavy job came in,-arid
Peter Stanwood had steady. work.—.
He was -happ y —more happy than
ever, for he had learned two things;
first what a noble wife he had ; and
second, how much resource for good
he held within his own enemies.
Our simple picture has two points
to its moral. One is—no man can be
lo v wered by any kind of honest lab Or.
The second—while you Are enjoying
the fruits of the present,. forget not to
provide for the fixture; for no mail is
so secure but that the day may come
when he will need the squauderings
of the. past.
HINTS TO . DENTISTS.—To dentists
who may be in want of a little prac
tice, just "to keep their, hands in,"
the following anecdote may afford a
Useful hint. A good cat practice
might be worth picking up—it cer
tainly would be a-view-sing ! " Mr.
Tiedernann, the famous Saxon dentist,'
had a valuable4ortoise-shell cat, that
for days did nothing but moan. U uess
ing the cause, he looked into its mouth,
and seeing a decayed tooth, soon re
lieved it of its pain. The following
day there•w-ere at least ten cats at his
door—the day after, twenty; and they
went on increasing at such a rate that
he was obliged to keep a hull-dog to
drive them away. But nothing would
help them. A cat that had the tooth
aclM would conic any number of miles
to. him. It would come down the
chimney even, and not leave the room
till he had taken its tooth out: It
grew such a nuisance at last, that he
was never free from one of these fe
line patients. However, being one
morning very nervous, he accidentally
broke the jaw of an old tabby. The
news of this spread like wildfire. Not
a single cat ever came to him after
wards."
A .singelar soft of a man once sent
for a magistrate to write out his will.
After mentioning a number of be
quests, he went
on
-4' 1 . give and bequeath to my beloved
brother Zack, one thousand dollars."•
Why, you are not worth half that
sum in the world," interrupted the
magistrate.
Well, no - matter if 1 ain't," re
plied the other, "it is' my will- that
brother Zack .should- have that sum,
and he may work and get it if lie has a
mind to." •
Mr. Greeley says that it will be a
century yet before France is. as well
supplied with railroads as Massachu
setts, or even Ohio now is. And in
despite of the great disparity in the
waves of labor, we make railroads
cheaper than they can,
THE COSSACKS IR THE FREE STATES
Is it not time to deny to the party
that supports the Administration the
title "Democratic ?" What is that
party but an instrument of the Slave
Power? . What . democratic principle
has it illustrated, what democratic,
measure executed, since it gave us a
President 1852 1 Was it demo
cratic to repeal an ancient comprom
ise, for the purpose of nationalizing
slavery in all United States territory
Was it democratic to plot a war
against Spain, with a view to rob her
of her richest colony—and failing in
that, to offer two hundred millions of •
the people's money, without their
consent, for possession intended to
inure to the benefit of a selfish, sec
tional interest ? -Was it democratic
to lay out millions more of their mon
ey, without asking leave, for enough
Mexican territory to open a slavehold
ing highway to the Pacific? Was it
democratic to strike down, in obedi
ence to the Slavery Propaganda,Thom-•
as H. Benton, that vetei an champion .
of Democracy, to eject from office the
friends of the only slave State states
-man favorable to free institutions In
Kansas, aid to fill their places with
the creatures of his sworn enemy, the
leader of the Vandal horde which has
subjugated Kansas by fraud and vie
lence !
When those Northern men, Pierce,
Marcy, and ensiling, came into pow
er,-Thomas H. Benton and the Liberal
party in Missouri, were -dominant in
that State, and had they remained so,
the country would not have been dis
honored by the infamous deeds of
border ruffianisin. But those North
ern men, not
_satisfied with breaking
down the barrier against Slavery north
of 3G deg. 30 min., erected by our
fa;hers, put down Mr. Benton and his
friends, put up Atchison, Stringfellow,
and their associates, and offered them
every facility for carrying out their
devilish scheme of Slavery Propagand
ism.
In a word, from the 4th of March,
1852, down to this hour, the one (iver- •
shadowing characteristic Or this . Ad
ministration has been undeviating,
unhesitating, ever-active obedience to
the will of the slaveholding OligarOhy.
And yet it vaunts its Democracy, and
the party that sustains it styles itccll
DemoLratic !
It lies before Cod and man. Shive
ry is a flat contradiction of every pi in-.
ciple of Democracy, and 'the part•
that• upholds it, connives at or is con
trolled by it, has no more claim to the
title Democratic, than the Cossacks
whom the Czar lets loose upon Poland
and . - Hungary.. The Administration
champions at the North are the Co.;-
sacks of the Slave Power, instruments
of its will,, dependents upon its bounty..
Already they are preparing for the
campaign of 1856. They meet to- .
gether in State. Conventions in the
guise of Democrats. They pass "Dein
iicratic" resolutions, nominate "Dem
ocratic" candidate?, pledge support to
the " Democratic " National AdmilUs
tration—and their opponents, with
extraordinary amiability, recognize
their impudent pretensions by conce
ding that they are indeed "the Demi c•
racy."
Let us put a stop to this miserable,
mischievous mocker•. Once there
did exist a 117tig and a Donor/wile
party, and their names designated
pretty fairly their characters ; but, the
.
questiOns at issue between themshave
been . settled, or are now overridden
by another and More vital one—the
question of freedom for all or slarery
for all. The terms \Vhig and Demo
cratic, as party names, have now no
pertinence. There is no Whig - , no
' Democratic party. There are but
I two parties—the party of. Freedom,
which finds its' representatives in such
men as Chase, Seward, Preston King,
Sumner, Adams, Wilson, Hale, Fes
senden,- Giddings, Julian, Cassius N.
Clay, and a host like them ; and the
party of Slavery, with its head in the
South and tail in the North ; its chiefs
the slaveholding Oligarchy ; its sub-.
ordinates, Pierce, Cass, Douglas, and
Marcy, with their associates, office
holders and- office-expectants, who
hold_occasional conventions in the free
States, \,shicli they affect to' call Dem
ocratic. ' It is nonsense, or worse, to
talk of any other. -- The question Wheth
er Slavery of Freedom shall rule this
Republic and the continent it is em
bracing, has thrust aside all other
issues, and men must range themselves
on one side or the other, anti-slavery
or pro-slavery, for freedom or against
it. He who will not rally under. the
banner of Liberty, must take his place
under the black flag of Slavery. He
who will not openly enroll himself in
the army of Freedom, must be held
an ally of the slave Oligarchy, lot hini
shout, Democracy till he be hoarse.—
National * Era. . .
Buffalo contains 50,000 inhabitants,
How to P/ant,Trees.
The number of Philadelphians who
have ." cottages out of town," or whO
reside permanently. in the rural dis
tricts, has rendered the planting of
,shade and other ornamental trees, a
subject of general interest. Every
person who owns an acre desires to
have trees on it. Yet so few individ
uals understand how to set them out
properly, that usually . it is only after
frequent trials, and until years have
passed, that the covetea.object is at
tained.
This failure is the resultof a popu
lar notion that trees do not require
cultivation. Four men out of five
who set out trees around their houses,
think that it is only necessary to put
thriving young plants into the ground,
and thatNato - re will do the rest. Yet
if a farmer were to-display
. similar ig
norance in relation to his wheat or
potatoes, these same persons would
pronounce him a fool. A yowl?: tree
demands cultivation as much a'; corn.'
What the method of that cultivation
should be, is .the subject we propose
to consider. We can do it best by
giving an actual experience.
A gentleman, some two years ago,
purchased a small place out of town,
which had on it quite a number of
deciduous trees planted about four -
years helot e. None of the trees, bow
ever, were healthy, though some
throve better than others. Resolving
to reset them, he had them all care
fully dug up, and in this process no
ticed that the most flourishing • had
been accidentally put dOwn in largo.
holes, and where the soil was corn
paiatively rich. He found also that
the puniest of all had been set in a
soil so hard that their roots had been
unable to penetrate the nearly imper-•
vieus earth. He concluded from this
that the great difficulty in transplant
ing trees, lay in the omission to pro
vide a proper soil for the suckers of
the roots to extend themselves its,- and
that this omission could best be cor
rected by increasing the diameter of
the hole, as well as by supplying a
soil sufficiently nutritious. The air,
he reasoned, was always the same,
whether a tree was well or illy set
out. A damaging exposure being
avoided, the proper care of the root
Was all in all. . -
Accordinglyfie dug, for each tree,
a bole five feet in'diameter. The. top
soil he carefully reserved, but the
sub-soil he rejected. liaCing the
young plant in. its proper position in
this hole, he had the roots carefully
spread out, even the - smaliest'sucker,
patiently avoiding to bruise them.
The hole was then filled up with the
top soil, and with other similar soil
brought from other parts of the field.
The time chosen for setting out the
trees was autumn, on the supposition;
that they would be -hi a better condi
tion to receive the beneficial iufluen
ces of spring, than if they were left
till the latter season to be planted. A
covering of well rotted manure, about
fonr inches deep, was spread over the
ground around the young tree, as far
a; the hole had extended, which the
winter rains gradually dissolving, be
came disseminated through the earth
belos,v, where it Was drank up by the
roots. .The results fully verified the
expectations of the transplanter. In
eighteen months tho trees have grown
more than they did in the ibui' pre
ceding. years, and surpass in luxuri
ance nearly all those which have been
set out in the neighborhood. They
now require nb more care.
To those familiar with the'scientific
cultivation of shade trees, this narra
tive may seem unnecessary. It -de
tails a process substantially similar.to
that which has been pursued, they
will say, both in England and the
United States; for over fifty years.
But it must be remembered that few
men who purchase rural homesteads
about ;Philadelphia, have studied the
scientific cultivation of trees, and that
they generally suppose nature will
kill or nourish the tree as she pleases,
and that all they can do to stick it
in the ground. Besides, the plan we
have detailed is one which a man of
the most mode rata means can adopt ;
for it. does not require the calling in
*of a professional assistant, with its *at
tendant bill - of costs.—Pleitadelphia
Ledger. .
A BROAD RoAn.—" Who will hes
itate when the road is so - broad?"
says the Washington Union, in an
appeal for volunteers to the Demo
cratic party. It is the width of theroad
that keeps so many gnod men out of
the Democratic party. They remem
ber what a certain „good book says
about a broad road.—N—Y. Commer
cial Advertiser. •
A young lady being asked whether
she would wear a wig when her hair
turned gray, replied with the greatest
earnestness, !‘ Oh ! nd, I'll dye first,"
0
IM
NO. IL