If, ! ' """"" COME AND TAKE JIE. Dcvivier. VOL. 1. CLEAEEIELD, WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 1, 1854. NO. 18- RAFTSMAN'S JOURNAL. ' Bex. Jones. Publisher. Tor. annum, (payable in advance.) . . SI "0 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. BT REQUEST. Is it Anybody'! Business 1 The members of the "Mind-your-own-bnsiness Society" propose for consideration the following QrERIES. Is it anybody's business If a gentleman should choose . , To w;.'t upon a lady, If the lady don't refuse? Or, to speak a little plainer, That tho meaning all may know, Is it anybody's business If a lady has a beau? Is it anybody's business "When that gentleman does call, Or when he leaves the lady, Or if ho leaves at all? Or is it necessary That the curtain should he drawn To save from further trouble The outside lookers on ? Is it anybody's business But the lady's, if her beau Rides out with other ladies, And does'nt let her know? Is it anybody's business But the gentleman's, if she Should accept another escort, Where he does'nt chance to be ? If a person on the side-walk, Whether great or whether email, Is it anybody's business . Where that person means to call ? Or, if yon see a person As he's calling anywhere, Is it any of your business : What his business may be there ? The substance of our quary, Simply stated, would bo this Is it anybody's business What another's business is ? If it is, or if it isn't, We would really like to know, For we're certain if it isn't, There are some who make it so If it is, we'll join the rabblo, And act the noble part Of tho tattlers and defamers Who thronh the public mart; JBut if not, we'll act the teacher, Until everybody learns - It were better in tho future To mind his own concerns. (Driginnl 3Hornl Cnle. WRITTEN FOR TI1E JOURNAL. the & w?7fr m & mm it :o: COPTRIGUT SECURED. CHAPTER V. Continued from last trerfr. Valencia was completely overpowered, and sat gazing in silent astonishment at the pale face, and wild, glaring eyes of her daughter. : '-Confound the man ! What docs he mean!" said Marcus to himself, as he slowly and thot' f ally found hi3 way along the dark streets In the direction of the Tiber, his face swollen with surprise and chagrin. ''lie thinks, perhaps, I've not enough of no ble blood in my veins. But am I not the son of as brave a general as ever commanded the armies of Rome, and on whose brow the Em peror's own hands, more than once, placed the victor's crown. And does not the son inherit the father's virtues ? Stop perhaps now I offend ed him with what I said about the christians But he's no christian himself, and must hate them as much as I do. And then, there is Valdinus and Vertitia zealous worshipers of the Gods, and could see the cursed sect burnt to ashes. And they are a cursed sect, and by the Gods of Rome, this arm of Marcus' shall spend its strength in their annihilation," said he, giving the earth a stamp with his foot. : Thus he continued, railing in his thoughts against the christians,almost forgetting Valens and '. his family, till ho found himself at the door of his quarters. On the banks of the Tiber, at the distance of qnarter-a-niile south of the Campus Martins, stood a low, rude building, a hundred or more feet in length. It was built substantially of unbnrnt brick, and was destitute of all archi tectural taste or ornament. Within, it was simply divided into small rooms or apartments, with thin partitions or walls of brick running cross-wise. .. . This was the quarters of the inferior officers belonging to the Roman legion stationed with in the walls of the City, and upon the steps in front of one of the doors of which, Marcus now stood, his brows knit, and his lips curled with indignation. Having abruptly entered, and closed the door, he threw himself upon an old oaken bench. After a time he become more composed, but not less indignant. "May be, Valens is a christian after all," he muttered to himself; "they're so secret in their meetings, and so reserved in everything, it's hard finding them out. But I'll find them out. And 30 much the better if he is. Revenge will be so much easier had; and revenge I will have. Fool ! he shall see that rank and blood aint going to shield him from the wrath of a Roman officer who feels himself slighted and insulted. " - With feelings of revenge burning, Volcano like, in his breast, Marcus sprung from his seat; and as though he had his victim already in his clutches, he began pacing his little apartment with a fiendish sort of delight, while the im plements of a military life lay in profusion around him. . "Bnt, Vcrtitia! gay and loving Vcrtitia ! Can Marcus prove thus recreant to thy plight ed love ? I know thy heart is mine, though, a father's whims may deny me thy hand;" and Marcus threw himself again on the old bench and burst into tears. There is an affection so powerful, that it readily expells all others from the breast, and rules the minds of the sternest men with infi nite ease. Though, when absent, the basest and most malignant passions may fill up and occupy its place, yet, soon as it returns, these intruders flee aghast, and resuming its seat in the heart it rules again the whole man with the same mystertous and potent influence as form erly. Its presence in the midst of the unruly passions of the mind, is like oil poured upon the turbuk nt waters of the deep. This is the affection of a pure and ardent love; and not even the rude, hardenedsoldier, or the stern commander of armies can resist its allaying, calming power. So we see in the case of Marcus. The idol of his heart had been lost sight of in the tu multuous emotions that agitated his soul, but the moment it returned again to his view, he is sulnlued by its strange influence, and lies weeping like a child, ashamed, yea, even alarmed at his own cruel and perfidious thoughts. 'But," said he, again springing to his feet, "does not my honor as an officer in the army demand it ?" Just at this moment an intimate friend, and an officer of the same rank with himself, hur riedly entered. His face was red and glowing, and large drops of sweat were standing pro fusely on his forehead, while over his features played a secret, heart-felt delight. 'Come, come !" said he to Marcus, "come quickly-" ! "Why ; what's the matter ?" "O, the best sport that's ever been seen in Rome." "What ! burning christians ?" "Yes ; and I have just been helping for an hour to pitch them into the flames. Only to see how they writhe and torture, and scream, and tumble about, and spring up and down, and some of them leaping clean out again ! And then the fun of catching them, and pitch ing them back ! O, its worth all the gladiato rial shows and fights you ever seen." For the life of him, Marcus could not help frowning, and casting a look of indignation at his friend. Much as he thought the cursed sect disserved death, yet he could not hear of such a whole-sale destruction of life without the most painful feelings. Hence turning round and deliberately seating himself, he said : "All burnt without ceremony, I reckon." Xo,no!" said his friend, "the Emperor graciously condescends to give them a trial. He is now in the Forum hearing their cases ; and as soon as half-a-dozen or so arc found guilty, they are handed over to his officers and guards, who drag them out, and pitch them into the flames." "But come ; make hast! It's grand sport, I assure you," said his friend, growing rather impatient. "Rather monstrous sport," said Marcns,drily. "But how does the Emperor find out that they are christians," he inquired. "Confess, or not confess; all the same thing," replied his friend. In a few moments Marcus, having put on his officer's visor, and girt his short sword at his side, was hurrying up the banks of the Tiber with his eager and excited friend. We shall not attempt at present to describe the monstrous spectacle which these young of ficers had gone to witness, and participate in. It must suffice to say, that in the great square in front of the Roman Forum, several large fires had been kindled, and were kept amply supplied with fuel by the Emperor's slaves. Around these were congregated thousands of boisterous,. drunken citizens, with hearts hard ened into steel, and destitute of all the tender feelings of a common humanity. Every few minutes a company of soldiers were seen forcing their way through the jeer ing, laughing crowd, draging after them men and women of all ages, and with horrid oaths and curses, hurling them indiscrimately into the flames, while their fervent prayers and dy ing groans were drowned by the shouts of the rabble multitude. That night about one hundred of God's peo ple were consigned to tho flames, and their bo dies burnt to ashes; while their spirits, releas ed from their frail tenements of clay, fled away to that bright world of which they had often dreamed, to be dressed in robes of white and to join with the souls under the Altar in the cry, "how Jong ; O Lord, how long ?" Indeed the whole-sale work of death contin ued till a late hour, and until the stench of the consuming bodies became so intolerable that all were obliged from necessity to disperse. But we must return again to Valens and his family. "Why! what's the matter here ? said Valens, as he re-entered the hall, and observed Vcrti tia imploringly at her mother's feet. "I guess she heard you say something to Marcus that has distressed her," said Valen cia ; at the same time turning away her head, she burst into tears. "I have only," said Valens, "exercised the rights and duties of a Roman parent and chris tian man. I supposed I had been sufficiently explicit in stating my wishes a few evenings ago, and that I should not have been under the painful necessity of recurring to this mat ter again." "I wish my daughter to rise," he added, "and listen to the counsels of a father who on ly consults her happiness and the safety of his family;" saying which he took Vcrtitia affec tionately by the hand, and seated her at his side. "I trust," said Valens, after a few moment's tilencc, "my daughter sufficiently understands mo in this affair. In a union so lasting and in timate as that which you now proposo to your self, there should bo a perfect harmony of feel ing, a oneness of sentiment as well as of heart, in every thing pertaining either to the present life or the life to come. Otherwise, such a union must necessarily be productive of dis cord and misery. A house divided against itself cannot stand, or be the abode of domes tic joys. Now Marcus is a Pagan, and wor ships at the alters of her Gods ; you, my daughter, if not now, I trust ere long, in an swer to my own and your mother's prayers, will worship the God of heaven, and rejoice with us in the glory to come." "Do you mean by that that I will become one of your faith a Nazarene ?" said Verti tia quickly. "It's our heart's desire our earncst,constant prayer," said Valens, with deep emotion. "Never! no, never!" exclaimed the indulg ed Vertitia, looking indignantly at her father, "I'm of the same mind with Marcus, and I'll worship with him at tho same altars ; and if that's your reason for opposing my wishes, its a needless one." "My daughter Mill remember the respect due to a parent," said Valens kindly, and yet in a tone of voice that conveyed a smart re proof. "Well, it's just as I tell you; I'll never be a christian." "There is an invisible agent," said Valens, "goes along with our faith, and subdues the will into a glad and cordial reception of it. It brooded over the chaotic masses of an unfin ished world, and by" its omnipotent touch formed them into order and beauty : so doth it come at its own pleasure, or at the request of importunate prayer, and renew the disordered elements of the soul, and spread over it the beauty and freshness ot a new creation. In the readiness, and the irresitable, effectual working of this divine agency, is our hope. "But if I am not willing; what then ?" in quired Vcrtitia. "Thou mayest bo made willing," said Va lens. Vertitia seemed greatly alarmed at this, and even terrified. Her feelings were all averse to the new faith, and the thought of a power that could subdue her into a willing reception of it, caused her to tremble. And then the known antipathy of Marcus to the christians, in con nexionwith her own fondness for the pleasures and gayeties of the world, had determined her to turn a deaf ear to all the counsels of her pa rents, and persue that course of life which she had inconsiderately marked out for herself. "But will not my daughter, in this affair, re gard our personal safety. As I intimated be fore a danger threatens us, and in fact, is now upon us. I am a christian, and your mother and sister are the same. Because of our faith we arc vilified, proscribed, and charged with the most monstrous crimes ; and even to-night hundreds are suffering death, ostensibly at least, for an act of which they are innocent be fore heaven. Should our faith be discovered, nothing can save us. Marcus might betray us: and shall Vertitia, by her persistence in this matter, be concerned in bringing upon us such a calamity." Valens made these remarks in a moving, melting tone of voice, and with tears in his eyes. Vertitia sat for some minutes in silence at his side, evidently in a great mental ogony; when suddenly throwing her arms around his neck, she impressed a fond kiss upon his cheek and burst into tears. They all wept. Nothing was heard for some time but their sobs and sighs. Valen's eyes were up-turned to heaven at length, in earnest fervent supplication; while Vertitia's arms still continued to encircle his neck in their embrace. To be Continued. EE-One way to get on is to put up your modesty and sell it to the lowest bidder. If no ono will buy it, give it away, send it as a gift to some asylum do anything with it but keep it. CF"Whiskey drinking was never known to conduct wealth into a mans pocket, happiness to his family, or respectability to his charac ter. Therefore, whiskey is an non-condact or and it ; w '.' ' - The Priater Boy aad the Ambassador. BY THE LATE GEORGE LIPPARD. Genius in its glory genius on its eagle wings-genitis soaring away there in the clouds! This is a sight we often sec ! But genious in its work shop genius in its cell genius digging away inthe dark minesof poverty toil in the brain and toil in the heart this is an everyday fact, yet a sight we do not often see ! Let us for a moment look at the strange contrast between Intellect standing there, in the sunlight of Fame, with the shouts of mil lions ringing in its ears, tho Intellect down there in cold and night, crouching in the work shop or in the garret, neglected, unpitied and alone! Let us for a moment behold two pictures, illustrating The Great Facts Intellect in its rags, and Intellect in its glory. t The first picture has not much in it to strike out lancy; here arc no dim cathedral aisles, grand with fretted arch and towering pillars; here no scenes of nature in her sublimity, where deep lakes, bosomed in colossal cliffs, dawn on your eye or yet, of nature's repose when quiet dells, musical with the lull of wa terfalls, breaking through the purple twilight, steal gently in dream-glimpses upon yoursoul. No! nere is but a picture of plain, rude toil yes, hot, tired, dusty toil ! The morning sunshine is stealing thro' the dim panes of an old window; yes, stealing and struggling through those dim panes into the recesses of yonder room. It is a strange old room, the walls, cracked in an hundred places, arc hung with cobwebs; the floors, dark as ink, are stained with dismal black blotches; and all around are scattered the evi dences of some plain workman's craft heaps of paper, little pieces of anatomy are scat tered over the floor; and there in the light of the morning sun, beside that window, stands a young man of. some twenty years quite a boy his coat thrown aside, his faded gar ments covered with patches, while his right hand grasps several of those small pieces of antimony. Why this is but a dull pictnr; a plain, sober everyday fact. Yet look again on that boy standing there in the full light of t,he morning sun there is meaning in that massive brow,shad6d by locks of dark brown hair; there is meaning in that full gray eye, now dilating as that young man stands there alone in the old room But what is this grim monster on which that young man leans? This thing of uncouth shape, built of massy iron, full of springs and screws, and bolts; tell us the name of this strange uncouth monster, on which that young man rests his hand? Ah! that grim old monster is a terrible thing; a horrid phantom for disobedient priests or traitor kings! Yes, that uncouth shape, every now and then, speaks out words that shake the world for it is a Printing Press ! And that vounz man standins there in a rude garb, with the warm sunshine strcamin over his bold brow that young man standing there alone neglected unknown is a prin ter boy; yes, an earnest son of toil, thinking deep thoughts there in that old room, with its dusty floor, and cobweb-huug walls. Those thoughts will one day shake the world! Now let us look upon the other picture Ah ! here is a scene full of Light, and Mu sic, and romance. We stand in a magnificent garden, musical with, waterfalls, and youder, far thro' those ar cades of towering trees, a massive palace breaks up into the deep azure of night. Let us approach that palace, with its thou sand windows flashing with lights hark ! how the music of a full band comes stealing along this garden; mingled with the hum of foun tains gathering in one burst' up into the dark concave of heaven. Let us enter this palace. Up wide stair ways where heavy carpet give no echo to the footfall up wide stairways through long cor ridors, adorned with statues into this splen did saloon. Yes, a splendid saloon. Yon chandelier flinging a shower of light over this array of noble lords and beautiful women; on every side the flash of jewelry, the glitter of em broider; the soft mile gleam of pearls, raising into light with the pulsation of fair bosoms ah! this is indeed a most splendid scene. And yonder far through the crowd of no bility and beauty yonder, under folds of pur ple tapestry, dotted with gold, stands the throne, and on that throne is the King. ' That King, these courtiers, noble lords, and proud dames, are all awaiting a strange spec tacle. The appearance of an Ambassador from an unknown Republic, far over the wa ters. They are all anxious to look upon this sti ange man, whose fame goes before him Hark to those whispers; it is even said this strange Ambassador of an unknown Republic has called down the lightning from God's eter nal sky. No but this Ambassador will be something very uncouth, yet it must be plain he will try to veil his uncouthness in a splendid . court dress. The King, the courtiers are all on the tiptoe of expectation. Why does not this magician from the new world, this chainer of thunder bolts, appear ? Suddenly there is a murmer; the tinseled crowd part on either side look ! he comes the Magician, the Ambasscdor. lie comes walking through that lane, whose walls are beautiful women. Is he decked out in a court dress? Is he abashed by the pres ence of the King?. Ah no! Look there, how the King stares in surprise, as that plain man conies forwaad. That plain man with the bold brow, the curl ing locks behind his ears, and such odious home made blue stockings upon his limbs. Look there, and in that Magician that chainer of the lightnings behold the Printer Boy, of tho dusty room, stout hearted, true soled, common sense, Bex jahix Fkaxklis. And shall we leave these two pictures with out looking at the deep moral they inculcate? Without the slightest disrespect to the pro fessions called learned, I stand here to-night to confess that the great truth of Franklin's life is the sanctity of toil. Yes, that your true noblemen of God's ere. ation, is not your lawyer, digging away among must' parchments, not even your white cra vatted divine but this man clad in coarse garments of toil, comes out from the work shop, and stands with the noonday sun upon his brow, not ashamed to own himself a me chanic! Ah! my friends, there is a world of meaning in those pictures. They speak to the heart of the universal man forever. Here, the unknown Printer Boy standing at his labor neglected, unknown; clad in a patch ed garb, with the laborer's sweat upon his brow; there, the man whom nations are proud to claim as their own, standing as the Ambas sador of a free people standing as a prophet of the rights of man unawed in the presence of Royality and gold! Benjamin Franklin, in his brown coat, blue stockings! mocking to shame the pomp of these courtiers the glittering robes of yonder King. Tne Indian Story. The rapid growth of northern Illinois com menced at the conclusion of the war of 1812 The log huts of the Indians suddenly disap peared, the smoke of the wigw ams no longer ascended towards the heavens. The rapid improvements commenced by the white man, had driven them into tho prairies, and their wigwams were no longer pitched in the vicinity of the towns, except when they came to barter their furs for goods. The music of the saw, axe and hammer had driven the game far away. The Indian's land cast of the Mississippi had already been ceded to government by trea ty, and the red men only dwelt there, by the consent of government. When the Indians went away, 1 went with them. I took up my quarters at the head waters of theWisseba, at the junction of two important streams, tribu taries to the great father of waters, and open ed my store for trade. After exposing my goods, in all their Indi an varieties, for some days, without any suc cess in selling, I became almost discouraged, and nearly concluded to give it up. The In dians wculd come into my store by dozens, and after examining my goods, go away with out purchasing. They had plenty of shu-nc-ah (money) and furs, but bought no goods, and the reason was a mystery to me. At length the chief of the nation came in company with a crowd of Indians. He in stantly exclaimed' 'How do, Thomas ? Come, show me nice goods. What do you ask for this? I'll take four yards of calico three coon-skins for one yard half a dollar exact ly by'iu by, to-morrow, I'll pay you.' The next day he came, accompanied by his whole band. His blanket above his waist was stuffed with coon-skins. 'American I will pay that bill now,' said the Indian. Suiting the action to the word, he began to pull tho skins from his blanket, and counting out twelve, held the thirteenth in his hand, and finally laid it upon the rest, exclaiming, 'That's it, exactly.'. I gave it back to him, telling him he owed but twelve, and the Great Spirit would not let me cheat him. We con tinued to pass it back and forth, each one as serting that it belonged to the other. At last he appeared satisfied, and gave me a scrutanizing look; then placing the skin within the folds of his blanket, he stepped to the door, and with a yell cried, 'Come! come in, all of you, and trade with the pale face he's honest he will not cheat the Indian, he believes in the Great Spirit his heart is big, he is an honest trader !' He then turned to me, and said, If you had taken that one coon skin, I and my people would have had nothing to do with you, and would have driven you away like a dog ; but now I have found that you arc the Indian's friend, and we shall be yours.' The Indians then began flocking into the store, and to trade, and before the sun had gone down, I was waist deep in furs, and had shu-ne-ah in plenty. That one, toon-skin saved me. E7"'Patrick, hereafter I want you to cow mence work at 2 o'clock and quit at 7, Sure and wouldn't it be as well if I'd commence in the morning at 7 o'clock and leave off at 5 in the evening ?' The Last Theft. The most impudent and expert achievement in the art of thieving that we have lately heard of, was related to us a few days since as follows: - - - - - At a laborer's boarding house, where it is customary, in warm weather, for the men to leave their coats in the entry while at meals, a thief took it into his head to make an incur sion one day while all hands were busy at din ner. Accordingly he reconnoitered the pas sage way, saw a good variety of coats and jackets, some new, some half worn, &c., all of which he gathered into his arms, and care lessly commenced making his exit. Just as he was about to cross the threshhold, the man of the house, who was late to dinner, arrived at the door. "What are you doing with these coats?' cried the landlord. "I'm taking them to my shop, sir." "And what for." "The gentlemen want to get era scoured, sir," replied the thief. "O, then, if that's all," said the landlord, "I believe my coat wants scouring, and you may take it along too." So saying he doffed his garment, handed it over to the thief and proceeded to his dinner. The surprise of the boarders, when they went to don their habiliments, and the confu sion of the landlord in giving his statement, may well be imagined. Natioxal Peculiarities. The Bohemians of the middling and the poorer classes have certainly less sincerity and straightforward ness than their neighbours. An anecdote is related illustrative of the slyness of the Bohe mians, compared with the simple honesty of the German, and the candid unscrupulousness of the Hungarian. During the latc,war, three soldiers, of each of these three nations, met in the parlor of a French inn, over the chim ney piece of which hung a watch. When they had gone, the German said: " That is a good watch; I wish I had bought it." "I am sorry I did not take it" said the Hun garian. "I have it in my pocket," said the Bohemi an. A Lesson for the Girls. My pretty little dears you are no more fit formatrimony than a pullet is to look after a family of fourteen chickeus. The truth is, my dear girls, you want, generally speaking, more liberty and less fashionable restraint, more kitchen and less parlor, more leg exercise and less sofa, more making puddings and less piano, more frankness and less mock-modesty, more break fast and less bustle. I like the buxon, bright ej-cd, rosy -cheeked, full-breasted, bouncing lass, who can darn stockings, make her own frocks, mend trowsers, command a regiment of pots and kettles, milk the cows, feed the pigs, chop the wood, and shoot a wild duck as well as the Duchess of Marlborough or the Queen of Spain; and be a lady withal in the drawing room. Mrs. Ellis' Lectures. A Great Eater. When Prague was be sieged by the Twcdes, under Charles X, a very great glutton cat, in the presence of the king a hog alive! . . General Konigsmark was also a spectator: this veteran officer told the king, the fellow was a sorcerer, and that it was by inchautment and description he appeared to eat what In fact, he did not. The operator being nettled at the general's increduality, told the prince, that "if he would commaed his officer to take off his boots and spurs, ho would eat him," which so terrified Konigsmark, that he retired with great precipitancy, choosing rather to put up with a little confusion, than be con vinced, at so dear a price,of the goodness of this fellow's appetite. C?"Our Jim, of the Boston Post, perpetra ted the following on the marriage of Thomas Hawk of Mansfield, to Miss Sarah J. Dove: It is not often that you see So queer a kind of love; 0 what a Savage he mnst be To Tommy-IIawL a Dove. A Good Oxe. "My dear, what shall wc name our baby?" said Mr. Smith to Mrs. Smith the other day. "Why huz, I've settled on Peter." "Peter! Good Lord, I never, knew a man with the simple name of Peter who could earn his salt." "Well, then, we'll call him Salt Peter." HFA person alllicted with stammering be ing advised to take starch, in order that he might be clearly understood, took ;it itt such large quantities that he became so stiff ho could neither get his hands into his pockets nor walk round a corner, and was obliged to have his back bone taken out, to enable him to get his boots off. K-'Ofy son," said an old lady, "how must Jonah have felt when the whale swallowed him?" "A little down in the mouth, 1 suppose," was the young hopeful's reply.- OThc Boston Bee states that a few drops of peppermint, scattered upon the pillow w ill drive away mosquetoes B-What men want is not talent, it is pur posein other words not the power to achieve '4 ,! Hi Mi m v Ir ? Hi i ."a n s n 1:1 ; m IT" ! ' i HI V - i at, V i " 4" -- ii
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