i COME AND TAKE ME. Huyivlkr. i ? VOL. 1. RAFTSMAS JOURNAL. Bex. Jonks. Publisher. Per. annum, (payable in advance,) $1 00 If paid within the year, 1 50 After the expiration of the year. 2 00 No paper discontinued until all arrearages are paid. A failure to notify a discontinuance, at the expi ration of the term subscribed for, will be consider ed a new engagement. BATES Or ADYEETISE1XG. 1 ins. 2 ins. 3 ins. Four lines or less. $ 23 5 37$ 5 50 One square (12 lines,) 50 75 1 00 Three squares, - 1 50 2 00 2 50 Six lines or less, one year. 4 00 Osesqaarc " " SO Three squares 12 00 Half a column " . 25 00 Advertisements not marked with the number of insertions desired will be continued until directed to bo stopped, and charged according to these terms. Business notices, in item column, eight cents per line for every insertion. All lottcrs'itc, should bo addressed, Bcnj. Jones, Raftsman's Journal," Clearfield, Pa., (post-paid to receive attention.) OUR UNION. The blood that flowed at Lexington, and crimsoned bright Champlain, Streams stitl along the Southern Gulf, and by the Lakes of Maine ; It flows in reins that swell above Pacific's golden sand, And throbs in hearts that love and grieve by dark Atlantic's strand. It binds in one vast brotherhood the trapper of the West, With men whose cities glass themselves in Erio's classic breast; And those to whom September brings the fireside's social hours, With those who see December's brow enwreathed with gorgeous flowers. From where Columbia laughs to greet the smiling Western wave, To where Potomac sighs beside the patriot hcro'3 grave : And from the streaming everghides to Huron's lordly flood, The glory of the nations past thrills through a kindred blood '. Wherever Arnold's tale is told it dyes in cheek with shame, And glows with pride o'er Bunker Hill or Moul trie's wilder fame ; And wheresoever above the fray the stars of em pire gleam Upon the deck or o'er tho dust it pours a common stream. It is a sacred legacy ye never can divide, Nor take from village urchin,' nor the son of city pride ; Nor the hunter's white haired children who find a fruitful homo Where nameless lakes are sparkling, and where lonely rivers roam ! tircen drew his sword at Eutaw; and bleeding Southern feet Trod the march across the Delaware amid the snow and sleet ; . And lo ! upon tho parchment, where the natal re cord shines, The burning page of Jefferson bears Franklin's calmer lines. Could ye divide that record bright, and tear the names apart, That erst were written boldly there with plighted hand and heart ? Could yo erase a Handcock's name e'en with a a bre 'sedge. Or wash out with fraternal blood a Carroll's double pledge? Fav. can the South sell out her share in Bunker's hoary height ? Or can the North give np her boast in Yorktown's closing fight ! Can jo divide with equal hands a hermitage of . graves, Or rend in twain the starry flag that o'er them . proudly waves ? Can ye cast lots for Vernon's foil, or chaffer mid the gloom, That hangs its solemn folds about your common Father's tomb f Xr could ye meet around his grave as fratricidal . ; foes, And wreak your burning curses o'er his pure and calm repose? Ye dare sot! is the Allcghanian thunder-toned de cree, 'Tis echoed where Nevada guards the blue and tranquil soa, Where tropic waves delighted cla'p or flowery Southern shore, And where through frowning mouutain--atcs Ne- ' braska waters roar. ' From the Flag of our Union. THE SYBIL'S PREDICTION. PT HORATIO ALGEK, JR. i La Vinctte is 3 beautiful village. You jnjgbl search through France, and hardly find rair. How indeed cocJd it be otherwise 'With. ts -XruiMvJ vineyards, it? substantial white ..farmhouses, ana its streets uneu w, side with varieties of .fruit trees 7 Everything "iooiii so' comfortable and hoja;e-Iik, so ex pressive of peaceful plenty, thai .it is no won der that the traveller, as he passes through he jrillage, permits his eye to rest with pleasure upon its neat appearance, and exclaims, ."Surely it is a little paradise !" After all, I have not named its chief recom mendation. A'o where will you find .prettier maidens than those of La Vinctte.' To be sure, they are not high-born, nor versed in the elegant accomplishments, since there is not one amongst thera of higher rank than a far mer's daughter. Fortunately, however, beau ty and high birth are not always inseparable, nor do . liry Always go together. At least, there is many a countess who would count no price too great by which she might purchase the charms of Marie Maillard, who outshone all other maidens of La Vinette as the sun does the stars. For all that, Marie was a great favorite with all her companions. Uncon scious of her own superiority, she did not ob trude it upon others. One afternoon -it chanced that Marie and several of her companions were returning merrily from the vineyard whither they had been to estimate the probable amount of the coming vintage. All at once, one of them espied in the road an old woman, walking along by the help of a stall' which she held in her right hand. She turned towards them, and awaited their coming. "What can we do for you, good mother," inquired Marie. " Cross my hand with a silver piece, my pretty maid, and I will tell you your fortune." " You are a sybil, then ?" " You may call me so. It is given to me to see ere they arrive the chances which fortune mav have in store." They looked at her with growing reverence, despite her tattered garments and unprepos sessing face,but none spoke at first. However mueh one may wish to know what is to happen to him or her, he caunot avoid feeling a little reluctance a little disposition to defer the eventful moment. " Here mother," at length said Lizette, one of the gayest of tho party, holding out her hand to the old crone, "you may tell my for tune. But I must tell you beforehand, that you need not take the trouble to provide me with a husband, as I have vowed to be an old maid." The sybil took the hand of the laughing maiden, and, after a single glance, fixed her penetrating eyes upon her. " I see," she said slowly, "a bridal train marching slowly to the village church. Flow ers are strown along the way, over which pass the bridal pair. Xeed I mention the name of the bride ?" Lizette drew back with a blush; the sybil was right, for on that day week she was to stand at the altar. Another took her place, and still another, till Marie, alone remained. Come, Marie" said the girls impatiently; "don't keep us waiting. We want to know what vour fortune will bo. It should be a good one." Marie came forward and submitted her hand to the interpreter of fate. The sybil started, as if suspicious that her art had failed her. But a moment's survey dissipated her doubts and she murmured, as if to herself. " Maiden, a brilliant destiny awaits you. You will wed a title and become the mistress of a fair estate. Servants shall be in waiting to do your bidding, and wealth will pour forth its choicest blessinzs at your feet. Such is the decree of destiny." " Mother," said Marie in extreme astonish ment, " you have certainly read wrong for once. Such a fate is not for me, and I would not that it were. Enough for me that I settle down in the same position that I now occupy, surrounded by my friends and acquaintances." " No matter," said the . sybil, composedly; " you cannot change the course of events.- Wait patiently for their unfolding. Be not apprehensive of evil, for this line," and she placed her withered finger on Marie's palm, "betokens a long life and a happy one." " I am much obliged to you, mother," said the latter laughing, "for your favorable pre diction, and when I become a countess, I will take care that you are provided for." " You owe me nothing," was the reply, "I am but a mouth-piece of fate. I may demand the fulfilment of your promise sooner than you think." " Be it so mother. When jou arc entitled to make it, bo sure that I shall not withdraw from my engagement." When the sybil had hobbled away, richer by some francs than lefore, Marie was ban tered not a little by her companions on the destiny which hail been marked out for her. " Which shall it be, Madame La Duchesse, or Madame La Comtessc ?" inquired Lizette, gaily. " I have a good mind," said Marie, "in re turn for your malice, to steal away jrour Philip, and marry him myself. In that case, at least, the prediction. " Lizette, who would have been very unwilling for Marie to attempt in earnest what she threat ened in jest, thought it best to drop the ban tering tone she had at first assumed. As for Marie, she thought little of the prediction. To her mind it was so altogether improbable that she did not think it worth while to waste a thought upon it. The soil of La Vinette is somewhat uneven, though it contains no very" high hills. In the northern part there is a little broo& flowing over a roeky bed, with considerable impetuosity- Over this stream, which is, however, too shallow to be dangerous, there is a narrow tfoot bridge for the accommodation of passen gers. . It so happened that about a week after the events above described, Marie, who was just returning from a visit to a neighbor, the other side of the stream had occasion to pass over the bridge. Doubtless her thoughts M ere pre occupied, or she would have been more care CLEABFIELD, WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 9, 1854. ful. As it was, her foot slipped when half way across and she fell in. It was not a very serious affair, but she felt awkward enough, and vexed at the necessity which compelled her to wade through the water. She had hard ly picked herself up, when a pleasant voice was heard at her side, saying : " Mademoiselle permit me to escort you to the other side." Marie looked up, and encountered the re spectful gaze of a young man dressed in work in" alt ire, with a broad brimmed straw hat upon his head. She had time, though it was but a moment to perceive that he had fine black e3'es and a prepossessing, countenance. Not being disposed to prudishness or coquetry, she accepted wirhout hesitation the proffered aid and was soon upon the bank. " I am much indebted to you for your kind assistance,' said she, casting down her eyes, for she could not avoid noticing that those of the young man, were fixed upon her in admi ration. " There is no need, mademoiselle. The ob ligation is all on my side," was the reply. "Will you be kind enough to inform me," he added after a pause, "whether there is any one in the village who would be likely to em ploy me upon his farm 7 Fardon my troubling you, but I am a stranger, and know no one here." I think," said Marie, after some hesitation, "that I heard my father say lately that he wished to secure additional assistance. If you would like to inquire, you can accompany me." . " Thank you," said the young man, "noth ing would please me better." They walked along together, conversing so ciably. Marie learned incidently that her companion's name was Henrique Armand, and that he was the only son of a widowed mother, living in a village some twenty miles away, and that it was for the purpose of re lieving her necessities, and placing her in a more comfortable situation, that he was now about to hire himself out. This information led her to regard Henrique with still greater favor, and she could not help wishing that her father might engage him. Farmer Maillard was also prepossed in fivor of Henrique, and as he really wished to hire some one to gather in the vintage and aid in other farm-work, it was not long before a bar gain was struck, and the new-comer was in stalled as a member of the household. Hen rique's after course did not belie these impress si 6ns. It was not long before he became a general favorite. When the labors of the day were over, he would get his flute or guitar for he was versed in the use of" both instruments, and play for the entertainment of those who were attracted to him. Occasionally he would accompany himself on the guitar, in a pecu liarly rich and melodious voice. These songs were so pleasing that a repetition would often be demanded. On one occasion, having re. hearsed a popular song to tho general satisfac tiou, he was pressed to sing it through once more. " No," said he, " I will not do that, but if you like, I will sing you one of my own com position." This proposal was received with evident pleasure, and after a moments pause ho com. me need : Know'st thou my love ? Her dark blue eyes Shine with soft and pleasant glow, As if the colors of the skic3 Had found its way to earth below. Know'st thou my love ? AVhen morning comes And sunbeams on her pathway fall, She trips along the flowery meads, Herself the fairest flower of all. Know'st thou my love ? Full well I know No fairer dwells beneath the sun ; Ah ! would that our divided lives Might in ouo peaceful current run. The rich voice of the singer lent much sweet. ness to the simple words of the song. All ap plauded the effort all except Marie. She stood apart from the rest with a pensive and abstracted air, and said nothing. " Don't you like it, Marie 7" asked one of her companions. " It was very pretty," she replied in a con strained voice. " M. Annand is a good sing. er." So saying she went into the house, Henrique not appearing to notice the move ment. : " But are the words true 7 Have you really a lady love, M. Armand 7" asked a lively mai den of fifteen. Come, describe her. . What does she look like 7 What is her name 7" " You are altogether too fast," aid the young man, smiling. " Don't you know that we poets are not obliged to adhere strictly to the truth. In fact I have usually noticed that those who are in love, arc the very last to write songs about it. How do you know but it may be so with me 7" I don't believe it at all," said the young girl, shaking her head. . " You sang with too much feeling for that. Depend upon it I will find out who it is this love of yours if I can." It is well accepted," said Henrique. "I defy you to the discovery. '- From this time Marie treated Henrique with less familiarity and more coolness than she had been accustomed. Her spirits : became less buoyant and more edatc. One afternoon, Henriqne, in passing through the garden, saw her sitting in an arbor, at its foot, with her eyes fixed musingly on the ground. " It is a fine day, Mademoiselle Marie," said he, approaching her. She started, for she had not been awaro of his approach,aud murmered an affirmative. He laid down his pruning knife, and stepping into the arbor, he sat down on a rustic bench at her side. It was now his turn to look embar rassed. Marie," said he, after a pause, " there is a question I wish to ask, but I hardly know how to set about it. Will you promise not to be offended ?" " I do not think you would ask any question which would render it necessary." " Tell me then why for some days past you have seemed to avoid me, and when in my presence, have shown a reserve and constraint altogether different from the friendly famil iarity you used to evince. Have I offended in any way 7 If so, I will gladly make repar ation, for I value your regard and good opin ion highly." " There is nothing in which you have of fended me," said Marie in a tremulous voice. " I am glad of it," said Henrique, his face brightening, for it emboldens me to make still another request. I love you, Marie," he ad ded, impulsively." "I love you most devoted ly. You must have noticed it. in my looks, and every action. Do you remember the evening when I sang by request a song, " Kuow'st thou my love ?" It was of my own composition, as I said. Did you not divine, dear Marie, that it was of you I was singing 7" Marie started with surprise, and a blush of pleasure mantled her features. Was it indeed of me .that you were sing ing 7 I thought that is, I did not know " Marie did not finish the sentence. Henrique perceived at a glance, that herein lay the se cret of her apparent estrangement, but with true delicacy he forbore to speak of it. " May I hope," he asked timidly, "that I am not wholly indifferent to you ? I am poor it is true, but the recent legaey of a relative has given me the means of supporting you in comfort." If you think me worth taking," said Ma rie, with engaging frankness, "you may have me." When the engagement of Henrique, and Marie became knowu, it was universally pro nounced an excellent match. It was a mooted question which was the more fortunate, the bridegroom or the bride. " I shall never more believe in fortune tell ing," said Marie to Henrique one day as she sat busily employed in preparations for her approaching marriage. " Why not 7" he asked. " Because," was the reply, "it was foretold of me that I should wed a title, and become mistress of a fair estate." " Was that the prediction 7" he asked in surprise 7 Who told you 7" " A sybil who was passing through tho vil lage. But I put no credit in it. I told her if ever It should come to pass I would provide for her." " And are you sure that you do not regret the non-fulfillment of the prediction ?" " Can you ask 7" said she reproachfully. It was the bridal morning. The sun shone out with more than ordinary splendor, as if to do honor to the occasion. Before the altar of the village church stood reverently Henrique and Marie, and the white-haired priest pro nounced with trembling voice the word which united them. The nuptial blessing was scarce ly over when an old woman bent with infirmity passed up the aisle and stood before the bride. " I have come to claim your promise," said she. It was the old sooth sayer. " But," said Marie, "it was dependent on my marrying a title. You see I have not done so. You were wrong." Rather," said the old woman, raising her voice, "it is you who are wrong, Madame La Comtesse." " What can she mean 7" asked Marie, look ing towards her husband with surprise. She is right, Marie," said he gently. "In me behold not Henrique Armand simply, but Count Henrique D'Armand, the possessor of much weiilth, but of none more precious than yourself. Listen, and I will explain all. Be ing desirous of seeing country life in all its varieties, and mingling in it without being known, I found my way to your pleasant vil lage. The rest you know. Will you forgive me?". . : ' ' It is needless to say that pardon was accord ed, and that Marie graced the high station to which she had been elevated. Her promise to the sybil was fulfilled so the letter. - ; t .1. A Sufferer .A. garrulous fopj who: iai annoyed by his frivolous remarks his partner in the ball-room, among other empty nothings, atked whether "she had ever had her ears pierced ?" - - -- - " $" was the reply ; "but I've often had them bored!" - .' CP"' Will you .rise npjr, my dear 7" said a broker's wife to her. sleepy spouse ; ".the day brpke Jong ago." "I wonder," replied ihe somnolent financier, "if the endorsers Here secured," Omer Pacha A friend in Paris has furnished us with an interesting anecdote of Omer Pacha, one of the master spirits of the Turkish Empire. The son of a poor Austrian Lieutenant of the name of Hattah, Omer was, in his youth, ap pointed Sub-Inspector of Roads in Dalmatia. Already he was tired of Austria, whose Gov ernment he detested. Turkey being the neighboring country, offered him the best chance of making his fortune ; with a passport and some money he passed the froniier, and entered by the village of Omer-Assay. Hard ly had he penetrated into Bosnia, than he was plundered by robbers of all he possessed, even to his shirt. A Turkish peasant took pity on him, and furnished him with clothes and money. Arriving at Benja Loaka without re sources, he was happy to find employment in the house of a Turkish merchant; he had a daughter, with whom the young Austrian be came enamored, and was about to marry her, when, unfortunately, she died. From this time Ilattah turned Mahometan, and took the name of Omer, in remembrance of the first Turkish village he stopped at. From Benja Loaka, Omer went to Widdin, to seek service under Hussim Pasha. At this time he was in the flower of manly beauty, representing one of the most graceful models of the Croat race, with pure soft complexion, eyes soft and pen etrating, and a splendid figure. He presented himself before Hussimr The Pacha was en camped in sight of Widdin, iu a superb green tent, lined withiu with red velvet and gold. According to tho Eastern custom, Omer en tered the tent without ceremony just as the chief had risen from his siesta. " What do you want 7" a&ked the Paclia. " To enter the service of your Excellency." We have already too many strangers in our troops," was the reply. Omer then took out of his pocket a small package, neatly folded, and begged the Pacha to accept it. What is all this 7" asked the chief. " Some gloves, your Excellency." " And what are they used for 7" (gloves being a thing unknown to him.) " When you are marching in the broiling sun," replied Omer, "have not your fair hands sometimes blistered, and do not your fingers often get stiffened holding your hard bridles?" " And how do you get them on ?" said the Pacha with a smile Omer quickly showed him. Having got them on, Hussim raised his arms and : gazed upon his hands in astonishment, as did hi officers, who then entered the tent. These gloves got Omer employment, and soon after he became the Pacha's aid-de-camp. When the Governor of Widden died, he set off for Constantinople, and rising gradually, became Generalissimo First Step to Ruin. " My first step to ruin," exclaimed a wretch ed youth, as he tossed from side to side on his straw bed in one corner of his prison house, "was going fishing on the Sabbath. I knew it was wrong; my mother taught me better; my Bible taught me better ; but I would heed none of them. , I did not think it would ever come to this ! I am undone ! I am lost !" What a warning is contained in the above lines, to Sabbath-breakers ! The wanton des ecration of that holy day, may be looked upon as a light thing, by frivolous young men ; but it is not so. God, in his Word and in his Providence, makes it a very serious matter It is more corrupting to the heart than many suppose. It seems to lead directly away from God ; and, consequently to crime, with a strange facility ! Just watch the course of the habitual sabbath-scorner, and, you will most likely see him come to some bad end Perhaps he becomes an infidel, and "says in his heart," "There is no God!" Beware of "the first step to ruin 7" 05s" "Don't carry on so," said Mrs. Par tington to Ike as she saw him resting his head on the ground in a vain attempt to throw his heels into the air. There was solicitude in her tone and a corn broom in her hand as she looked at him. " You must not act so gymnastily, dear," continued she, "you will force all the brains you have got into your head if you do. You can't do like the circus riders, because Provi dence has made them o'purpose for what they do,outof Ingee rubber,and itdon'thurt 'cm at all. They a'nt got bones like other people, and can turn heels over head with perfect im purity. Don't do it!" screamed she as the boy stood on one leg upon the wood horse, and made a feint as if about to throw a suni merset, "you'll descerate j-our neck by ajid by with your nonsense, and then you'll regret it as long as you live." ' . A fashionable lady, a would-be-somebody said to a friend : " My new house, now 'directing,' is to be SUbliniated and 'splendiferous.' There is to be a Por to Kico' in front, a Pizarro' in the rear, and a 'lemonade- w around it.' The water is to come in at the side Cf the house in an anecdote,' and the lawn is to be 'degrad e and some large trees are td be'uppTaiiVed' in tho 'critic' iu the rt-ar." ' tXT-Some , la;?)- fellow fpe.Us Tencessee, af ter this fashion ; 10 a C. M 0. Beautiful Euloty on the Bible. We would be pleased to know the' author of the following most eloquent eulogy On the Bi ble. It appears to have been addressed to the young men. We have seldom read anything liner: "Study now to be wise : and in all your get- tinss. set understanding. And especially would I urge upon your heart-bound, soul- wramu-d attention, that book upon which all feelincrs are concentrated all opinions; which enlightens the judgment while it enlists the sentiments, and soothes the imagination m songs upon the harp of the "sweet songster of . Israel." That Book which gives you a faith ful insight into your heart, and consecrates its character in ".rhrincs. Such as the keen tooth of Timo can novcr touch.". Would vou know the eil'ect of that Book upon the heart 7 It purifies its thoughts and sanctifies its joys; it nerves and strengthens it for the sorrows and mishaps of life; and when these shall have ended, and the twilight of death is spreading its dew-damp upon wasting features, it breaks upon the last glad throb, the bright and streaming light of Eternity's morning. Oh ! have you ever stood beside the couch of a dying saint, when '"Without a sigh, A change of feature or a shaded smile, . He gave his hand to the stern messenger. And as a glad child seeks his father's arms. Went home." Then you have seen the concentrated influ ence of this Book. Would you know its name ' It is the Book of Books. Its author? God. Its theme? Heaven Eternity. The Bible! Read it search it ! Let it be first upon the shelves of yonr library and first in the affec tions of your heart. Search the Scriptures,, for in them ye think ye have eternal life, and they are they which testify of me. Oh ! if there be sublimity in the contemplation of God if there grandeur in the displays of Eter-nity-if there be anything ennobling and pu ritiing in the revelation of man's salvation search the Scriptures, fur they are th.vy which testify of these things. The Miser. Or all the creatures upon earthy none is so despicable as the miser. It is not- impossible that the profligate may have afriend, for there is usually left aoout him some touch of hu manity some unbroken chorJj of the finer feelings of our nature; hot the-miser meets with no sympathy. Even the nurse '.VUjj, hired to attend him in his latest hours; loathes the ghastly occupation, and lngs for the niu- ment of her release; for although the dvath.., damp is already gathering oa his brtvw, thu,-, thoughts of the departing sintitr are stiltapon, , his gold; at the mere jingle ofa key ho ' Marts . from his torpor in a paroxyisu. of terorj' Jea, surreptitious attempt is being, made upon lhc . sanctity of his strong box. There are: no, prayers of the orphan or thcjdow' for him not a solitary voice lias ever breathed his name-. to Heaven as a benefactor- One poor penny given away in the spirit of true charity, would now be worth more to him than all the gold; that the world contains; but,.not Withstanding that he was a church going man, and familiar . from his infancy with those awful texts in which the worship of mammon is denounced and the punishment of Divefc told, he has nev er yet been able to divorce himself from his solitary love of lucre or to part with one Atom . of his pelf. And so, from a mi serable life, de tested and despised, he passes into a drear eternity; and those whom he has neglected or misused, make merry with the hoards of the miser! SamglipV on Courting:. Oourtm7 a gal, I guess is like catchio' a- young horse in pastur. You put the cats in a pan, hide the haltar, and softsawder the crit-. t ter, and it comes up softly and shyly at. first, j aud puts its nose to the grain, and gets a taste, . stands off and munches a little, looks round to see that the coast is clear, and advances cau tiously again, ready for a go if you are rough. Well, you softsawder it all the time : so-so, pet! gently, .pet ! that's a pretty doIT! and geta it to kind of like it, and comes closer,'and you think you have it, make a grab at its mane, and it, ups head and tail, snorts, wheels short round, lets go both hind feet at you, and is oft' like a, shot. That comes of being in. u iiurry. If you had put your hand, up slowly towards its shoulder, and felt for the mane, it might perhaps have drawed away, as raich as to say, hands off, if you please ; I like your oats, but I don't want you, the chance is, you would have caught it. WelL what's your play, now you have missed it 7" Why:you ctat give chase, for that only; scare the critver J out you siana su.s Yne oats In the pn and say, cope, cope, copev and it st'C8 looks at you, and comes up again, but awful skittish, stretches its neck out eyer so far steals a few grains, and then keeps a respect ful dIStance. Now, what do you do then t why , aiake the pan, and ,moe slowly, as if you. were goinff toi leave; the pasr and mako for hum ; wheu it ream's of bein' o distrust ful, comes up ad yAVi iip the halter ou. 03- Mr. Ferguson says that he ought to be considered a friend of the Maine Law, for'he has made as great personal e forts to PhI liquor as anybody. ft n n
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