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BY W. LEWIS.
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•• ' t
Let others wake the boastful strain,
To sculptured temple rare,
And bow before the gorgeous fan;
To pay their worship there;" •
But we will raise a nobler,son,g,
The song of Freedom's band,
And sing—while joy the strains prolong—
The school house of the land !
Let myriad serfs in other lands,
•
Adore the conqueror's name,
And rear aloft with slavish hands,'
The monumental fame ;
But we will rear with hor.est toil,
From inland to the coast ?
The School house fruit of Freedom's soil,
Our country's pride and boast.
Go ask of kings to tell you o'er,
The story of their fame;
With all the noise of battle-roar,
Has died.away their fame.
But ask 9, sons whose fathers bled
-The trophies of their hands,
Their shades with majesty will lead
To where the School house stands !
Hail ! School house---temple of the free,
The shrines where Freemen bend,
The bulwark of our liberty,
Do thou our home's defend ;
And while our rivers flow alonz,
And hills adorn the land,
Let,every heart awake the song—
Now let the School house stand.
4 , EVERY THING G/VES."
The sun gives ever; so the earth
What it can give, so much 'tis,worth.
The ocean gives in many ways—
Gives paths, gives fishes, rivers, bays;
So too, 'he air, it gives us breath ;
When it stops . giving,, comes in Death.
Give, give, be always giving ;
Who gives not is not living.
The more you give
The more you live.
God's love bath in us wealth upheaped ;
Only by giving is it reaped;
The body withers, and the mind,
If pent in by a selfish rind ;
Give strength, give thought, give deeds, give
pelf,
Give lOve l give tears, and give thyself.
Give, give, be always giving ;
Who gives not is not living. .
The more we give
The more we live.
THE DUELIST'S DOOM.
Moses Stevens came to Mississippi when
but a youth of eighteen. He then possessed
the mildest manners and strictest puritanic
Moraity, and was particularly noted for that
hardworking practicability of purpose and
pursuit so characteristic of his countrymen
in general. Rapidly, by hii industry and
.economy, he amassed wealth in lands and ne
groes, and arose to influence till he was run
as a volunteer candidate for a seat in the low
er House of the Mississippi Legislature.—
And dow the shameless stipendiaries of elan-
Ale': set to work to blacken the hitherto unim
peachable reputation of the new politician.—
His name filled the news-papers with scandal,
moulded by the plastic hand of fancy for the
.occasion, and supplied the foaming stump or
ators with a theme for the most bitter philli
pies. The temper of Stevens became roused
by the unmerited denunciations heaped upon
him; excited to a like fury with his foes ; he
•repaid them in kind for all their unmitigated
'tirades of abuse. It was supposed that the
Yankee would not fight, and Allen Simmons,
a noted duelist, was selected by The opposite
party as a proper person to send him a chal
lenge, and if he, refused to accept it, as a
matter of course, he was degraded, and the
!political contest Would he thereby determin
,ed. They were miserablee deceived in their
, man. Stevens accepted the challenge. His
band was firm as his aim was sure, and he
shot his adversary through the heart the first
Ore' r - Other . personal. reneonters followed in
rapid succession, and in all of which Stevens
displayed the same cool courage, and always
'came off victorious. He soon became inso
lent, overbearing and exceedingly quarrel
some. 'Up to the year 1834, he had killed
half-a dozen men.
In the autumn of that year • he *was one
Ilay in a country grocery, about ten miles
from Vicksburg. A mixed company was pre
sent, to whom the desperado was boasting of
The - number of victims he had slain, recounting
'with savage delight the several
,circrimatan
ces of horror attending the death of each, and•
spicing the whole with the usual exaggera
tioris supplied by the vanity of boasters. As
he went on thus, reciting the most enormous
cruelties, his quick eye wandering around the
circle -a his eager auditors for sympathy and
the 'customary approbatiOn that was - wont to
salute his ears, he encountered the fixed gaze
of a stranger, which riveted his attention, and
made him almost start from his seat •as it
thrilled him with a momentary dread.
This man, or rather youth, for to judge
from the extreme juvenility of his appear
ance, he could not have seen more than nine
teen summers, .was a stranger whom no one
, present knew, or recollected to have ever
seen before. He was tall but slender in shape,
almost to a -defect. His hand was very
small, • wt:ite as snow, and regular as cut
with a chisel.-,The face was pale, almost
colorless, and- sweetly sad. There was 'noth
ing in the appearahce of the stranger youth
to excite alarm, unless it were, - perhaps, the
steadfast, piercing gaze of his strange, wild
blue eyes, 'immovably- fixed• on the face of
Stevens,, as. that - ferocious wretch painted,
with words • steeped in blood' his revolting
story: •
Disconcerted, surprised if not alarmed,
Stevens shrank from that glance, and cast
his eyes on the floor, but still made an effort
•to proceed with his narrative. But he felt
that the gaze of the stranger was upon him
and he began to burn with shame and indig
nation at the reflection that he had encounter
ed one look of a mortal man which had mas
tered. his' own:spirit as with a mysterious
spell. He felt in his heart that he was a
coward I , Again he raised his eyes to the
face of the stranger, and met the same mys
terious gaze, the same calm, unearthly look,
that seemed to be a question from eternity,
saying—'Murderer, where are thy victimes
He observed now, also, that the hands of
the youthful intruder no longer hung motion
less •by his side; but the left was in his coat
pocket, and the right thrust into his bosom,
grasped something which gleamed through
the clasp of his fingers like silver.
The desperado comprehended at a glance
his peril. He was in the power of an ene
my. Mastering, however, by a great effort
of self-control, his fears, he took his resolu
tion quick as thought to gain time, and, if
possible, obtain the chance of an equal com
bat. This must be done, or instant death
was the only alternative. For he was a pro
fessed judge of the human character, and
knew that he had to deal with no common
foe, and that a sirgle violent gesture or move
ment to grasp a weapon, would be a signal
for a stab at his heart.
He, therefore, assumed a look of careless
good humor ; and addressing the stranger in
in a friendly tone of well feigned familiarity,
inquired—'You have listened to ray idle
stories with some appearance of curiosity,
young man ; what do you think of my pow
ers as - a story-teller !'
The stranger replie.l, in a low voice—'l
was not thinking of your powers as a story
teller ; I. was wondering at your prowess as
an assassin !'
was but julcip,g, I assure you,' said Ste
vens.
,'You lie !' was the calm response. •
The• desperado turned pale as death, but
gulping down his emotion, he proceeded ;
`How do you know I lie You are to me
a total stranger ; I am positively certain that
I never saw you before in my life.'
That matters not, Mr. Stevens, I have
known you as an assassin since I was ten
years old : and I now know you as a das
tardlv coward !'
'Who are you exclaimed the desperado,
in real surprise, as well as consternation.
'I am the son of a mart you murdered P
'You must be mistaken in me, young man;
what was your father's name
'That you shall never know, infamous liar
and poltroon, till I whisper it in your dying
ear, as the signal to blind your soul to eternal
torture. Man of blood your last hour has
come P
The last sentence was repeated in a shrill
trumpet-tone that made every hearer start.
It deprived Stevens of the faculty of speech.
He sat dumb and trembling like a sinner at
the bar of the final judgment.
The stranger youth contemplated him in
scorn for a few seconds, and then said in cut
ting accents—' I had thought to slay you
where you sit, you bas© wretch ! but I dis
dain to kill even a murderous coward with
out 'ivin- him a chance for his life. Pol.
troop, will you meet me in a fair combat?'
A gleam of savage joy shot across the - face
of Stevens as he answered—' I will. Name
your time, place and seconds.'.
' That is soon done,' replied the stranger.
'Meet me to- n ight,precisely at twelve o'clock,
at the Old Waste House,' in the pine woods,
five miles east from this place. Bring with
you a single friend;
I will contrive to have
one present also. We two only will enter
the house, armed each with a bowie-knife or
dagger at our option. Our - friends will lock
the door from the outside, swearing first on
the Holy Gospel to leave us alone for the
space of twenty-five minutes. Are you
agreed I'
But the house io which you refer.' sugges
ted Stevens, has not been inhabited for eight
years. The window and doors are exceed
ingly strong, almost half covered with bars
of iron, and . are, moreover, securely fastened
so that we cannot possibly gain admission.—
Therefore it would be best to name some
other place.'
I have the key,' said the youth ; ' are you
satisfied V
'I am.'
At this answer of the desperado, the young
man, without uttering another word, turned
upon his heel and left the room ; and mount
ing his horse, which had been hitched near
the grocery door, rode slowly off in an eas
terly direction..
The rumor of this strange challenge and
prospective duel flew around the neighbor
ing country like the wind, and two hours be
fore the appointed time a large crowd of spec
tators were assembled, eager to witness the
expected scene.
It was a.night without moon or stars, of a
thick pitchy darkness, with a drizzle or a
light sifted rain from the ebon clouds lower
ing overhead. The spectators carried in their
hands lon g torches made of Ditch pine knots,
whose red, glaring lustre reflected among the
green boughs of the dense surrounding grove;
and the clustering vines that were intertwi
ned with theirluxuriant foliage all over the
lonely walls and mouldering roof of the old
building presented a scene at once picturesque
and savage.
HUNTINGDON, JUNE 4, 1856.
Ten minutes before twelve o'clock Stevens,
accompanied by a chosen second, arrived.—
His countenance was flushed, his nerves
were tremulous, and his, whole air and de
meanor gave evidence of, the high-excitement
under which be was laboring. He appeared
to be intoxicated. The stranger had not yet
made his appearance. Minute after minute
rolled on, and 'still he (ILI not come. The
spectators looked disappointed. They thought
themselves in danger of losing their promised
sport.
It was - three minutes till twelve. Stevens
stood with his fine,gold repeater in his hand,
gazing on the slow Movincr a index that glit
tered beneath' the polished crystal with the
most intense anxiety._ At last ,both•hands
were perpendicnlar ' one above the other; and
directly over the ..6gures XII.. A-.sneering
smile played•around his.coarse features, and
he said aloud—' I am here at the time; blit
where is he
Hardly had the words died •on his lips,
when a loud voice from the old house shouted
in a clear, reverberating tone—' Here P - A
key grated in the rusty lock, the bolt was
drawn back, the door opened with a harsh
creaking noise on its hinges, and the stranger
stepped from the sill.
We petio l e, a minute to survey his friend,
who was by his• side_ He was a stranger
also; a man of Herculean size, and exceed
ingly wild aspect. His hair was long, coal
black, and straight as an Indian's. His skin
was smartly sun-burned, almost copper-col
ored. His face and forehead, a huge mass of
bones, sharply projecting and repulsively
ugly; and his dark eye flashed rays that
seemed sparks of fite to scorch the beholder.
The arrangements were immediately made
for the duel. The stranger stripped off his
coat, vest and shirt, and tied a red silk hand
kerchief around his waist. His weapon
was a single long dagger, not very broad, but
keen as a razor, a double-edged. His ether
arms he handed to his friend. The weapon
of Stevens was an enormous bowie-knife,
heavy as the warclub of a savage.
The stranger exactel an oath from the sec
onds, that alter the two foes entered the house,
they would neither open the door themselves
nor suffer any, one else to open it. It was al
so agreed that all the spectators that bore tor
ches should retire some twenty.paces from the
house, so that no ray of light could penetrate
through the crevices in the wall to illuminate,
however feebly, the deadly gloom within.
All the preliminaries being thus adjusted,
the combatants were placed by their seconds
in opposite corners of the room, when the lat
ter withdrew, locked the door, and left the foes
alone with death.
At first they both stooped down, and
stealthily untied and laid off their shoes, so as
to make..no noise in walking across the floor.
The same thought had struck them at
,the
same time — to manoeuvre for the advantage.
The young .stranger moved in a circle, and
softly as a cat around the room, till be got
within four feet of the corner where his ene
my had first been placed. He then paused to
listen. For a few seconds he heard nothing
in the gravelike silence but the quick beats
of his own heart. But presently there crept
into his ear a scarcely audible sound, as of
suppressed breathing, in the opposite corner
of the room, which he had just left. His foe
was trying the same stratagem. The ma
nmuvre was repeated several times by both,
and with a like resu:t. At length the youth
concluded to stand still and await the ap
proach of his adversary. Motionless now
himself arid all ear; a soft noise like the drop
pirm •clf flakes of wool, became distinctly au
dible, and slowly -approached him. When
the sound appeared about three feet from
where he stood, he suddenly made a bound
ing plunge, with his dagger aimed in the air
where he supposed the bosom of his foe to
be. Stevens, at that time, was stooped for
ward, thus seeking for the advantage, and
the point of the dagger blade, by a singular
fatality, perforated his left eye and pierced
deep in the brain. He fell with a dull, heavy
sound : on the floor. He had fought his last
battle.
The seconds waited with breathless anxiety
until the expiration of twenty-five minutes.
They then- unlocked the door' and the crowd
rushed in with -their flickering torches. A
most hideous spectacle presnted itself. There
lay the gory trunk of Stevens, the head sev
ered from the body, and placed, as if in sav
age mockery, on the breast of the dead, and
there was still sticking in the bloody right
eye the fatal two edged dagger, almost up to
the hilt in the soulless brain! The stranger
was standing in the middle of the room, witn
a large hawk-bill pocket knife in his hand,
stained with reeking gore, with which he had
evidently performed the work of decapitation.
On his face was still the . same look, arid the
same melancholy smile. He seemed, in fact,
to be conscious of nothing saveh is own dreamy
thought, that wandered through wide eternity.
The spectators crowded with mute coun
tenances of horror around the mutilated
corpse, and for a moment lost sight of the liv
ing foe; till maddened at the lamentable sight,
some one called - out—'Arrest the iiiurdm!'
And all the crowd cried•-=,'Sieze him ize
him!!' They turned to seize him; but both
he and his second had disappeared, • and no
where to be seen.' Neither was ever after
wards heard of in that region.of the world.
Eighteen months ago I met them both at
San Antonio in Texas. The acquaintance
was accidental, and forthed under peculiar
circumstances, that gave me their full confi
dence, and, accordingly, I received from them
a clear and complete narration of the facts
herein- before related, most of which I. had
previously learned from witnesses of the
transaction.' Their history since that dreadful
combat has been deeply - tinged with the •ro
mantic;' but its occurrence must be left for.
some future work, or other pen than mine.—
I am not permitted now to give their names;
but will only state that one of them has gath
ered imperishable laurels in the late Mexican
war, and is altogether one of the most remar
kable men of the age.
A wag, on hearing that a man had given up
chimney-sweeping, expressed surprise, as be
thought the business sooted
An 'Affecting Scene in a Western Lisg
It was nearly midnight of Saturday night
that a passenger came to Col. S- 7 -, re
questing him to go to the cabin of a settler,
some three miles down the river and see his
daughter, a girl of fourteen, who was sup
poSed to be dying...• Col. S--awoke me
and asked me to accompany him, and I con
sented, taking with me-a small package of
medicines which always carried in. the for
ests; but I soon learned there was no need of
these c -for her disease was past-etire.--
"She is a strange ehild," said _the_Colonel;
-‘,iher father is a strange man. They live to
gether on the bank bf the river. They came
here three yearn ago and no' one knows , w hence
or why.- ..He has no money and is a keen
shot..,The child.has been waistng away for a
year past. I have seen her ,often, and she
seems gifted with a marvelous intellect. She
seems sometimes to be the only, hope of her
father."
We had reached the but of the settler in
less than half an, hour, and entered it rever
ently.
The scene was one that cannot be easily
forgotten. There were looks and evidences
of luxury and taste lying on the- rude table
near the small window, and the bed furniture
on which the dying girl lay was as soft as the
covering of a sleeping queen. I was of course
startled, never having heard of these people
before; but knowing it to be no uncommon
thing for misanthropes to go into the woods
to live and .die, I was content to ask no ex
planations, more especially as the death hour
was evidently near.
She was a fair child, with masses of long ;
black hair lying over the pillow. Her eyes
were dark and piercing, and as they met mine
they started slightly, ut smiled and looked
upward. I spoke a few words to her father,
and turning to her, asked if she knew her
conditon.
"I know that my Redeemer lived)," said
she, in a voice whose melody was like the
sweetest tones of an ZEolian. You may ima
gine that her answer startled me, and with a
few words oflike import, I turned from her.
A 'half an hour after and she spoke in the
same melodious voice:
"Father, I am cold, lie down beside me."
And the uld man lay down by his dying child,
and she twined her' emaciated arms around
his neck, and, murmured in a dreamy voice,
"Dear father, dear father." .
"My child," said the old man, "doth the
flood seem deep to thee?"
"Nay father my soul is strong."
"Seest thou the opposite shore?" •
"I see it, father, and its banks are green
with immortal verdure." ,
"Hearest thou the voice of its inhabitants?"
"I hear them father, as the voices of angels,
falling from afar in the still and solemn night
time and they call me. Mother's voice, too,
father—oh, I heard it then!"
"Doth she speak to thee!"
'She speaketh in tones most heavenly?'
"Doth she smileV
"An angel smile! But lam cold—cold—
cold! Father, there's a mist in the room.
You'll be lonely. Is this death, father'!"
Going to Bed
Going to bed we have always considered
one of the most sober, serious and solemn
operations which a man can be engaged in
during the whole twenty-four hours. With
a young lady it is altogethera different thing.
When bed-time arrives, she trips up stairs
with a candle in her hand, and—if she had
pleasant company during the evening—with
some agreeable ideas in her head. The can
dle on the toilette, and her luxuriant hair is
speedily emancipated from the thraldom of
combs and pine. If she usually wears water
curls, or uses the "iron," her hair is brushed
carefully from her forehead and the whole
mass compactly secured;
if not, why then
her lovely tresses are soon hid in innumerable
bits of paper. This task accomplished, a
night-cap appears, perhaps edged with plain
muslin, or perhapi with heavy lace, which
hides all, save her own sweet countenance.—
As soon as she ties the strings, •probably she
takes a peep in the glass, and half blushes at
what she sees. The light is out—her fair
delicate form gently presses the couch—and
like a dear, innocent, lovely creature as she
is, she fallsgently into a sleep, with a sweet
smile on her still sweeter face. A. man, of
course. ' under the same circumstances, acts
quite differently. Every movement in his
chamber indicates the coarse, rough mould of
his sullen nature. When all is ready, he
snuffs out the candle with his fingers, like a
cannibal, and then jumps into the bed like a
savage. For a few moments he thinks of all
the peccadilloes he may have committed du
ring the day, vows a vow to amend soon,
groans, turns over, stretches himself, and
then all is silent, save the heavy groans-of the
slumberer.
WomArr.-- 7 An exchange says that "God in
tended alt women to be beautiful as much as
he did the roses and morning glories ; and
that he intended they should obey his laws,
and- cut indolence and corset strings, and in
dulge in freedom and fresh air. For a girl
to expect to be handsome with the action of
her lungs dependent upon the expansive na
ture of a cent's worth of tape, is as absurd as
to look for tulips in-a snow bank, or a full
grown.oak in a little flower pot."
WHERE IS THE DIFFERENCE ?-11 a gen
tleman tells you,"you lie," you knock him
down ; but if a ady says "Ah, now, you tell
stories," you smile and say pleasantly, "I
assure you, my dear, it is so."
11711 e. who is passionate and hasty is gen
erally honest. It is your old dissembling
hypocrite of whom you should beware.
There's no deception in a bull dog. It is on
ly the cur that sneaks up and bites y ou when
your back is turned.
A western editor wishes to know whether
the law recently enacted, against the carrying
of deadly weapons, apples to doctors, who
carry pills in their pockets.
Cabin.
LAWS OF FENNSYLVA.NIA—SES- I A,SUPPLEMENT •
SION OF 1856. t-
To.the acts providing for the enteritit,of sat
isfaction on judgments and reortgagei. ,
See. 1.. Be it'enacted, &c. That - . libreafter
in all cases where the amount diie on any
mortgage or judgment entered of record, td=
gether with the interest and cost, shall have
been paid to the legal holder or holders there
of, and the bond or note, judgment or mort
gage, together with the accompanying bonds,
(if any ) duly endorsed in the presence of twd
witnesses that the same are satisfied and dis
charged, shall be produced to the prothono
tary or recorder havinr , charge of the records
of such mortgages and judgmentsrespective
it'shall be the duty of such officer, for the
fee of seventy4ive cents in the case of a
mortgage, and twenty-five cents in the case
of a judgment, to enter satisfaction on• the
records of such liens, and to' file among the
papers in their respective offices the judg
ment, notes, bills, mortgages and' bonds re
spectively, which shall remain filed thereafter
tor the benefit of all parties interested therein.
Provided, That no such satisfaction shall be
entered until after a certificate from the Pres
ident Judge or the District Judge of the pro
per county allowing the same, which certifi
cate shall also be produced and filed with the
papers as aforesaid.
•
Approved April 9, 1856.
AN ACT
Supplemental to " An Act to enable joint ten
ants, --tenants in common, and adjoining
owners of mineral lands in this Common
wealth to manage and develope the same,"
approved the twenty-first day of April,
Anno Domini one thousand eight' hundred
and fifty-four.
• SECTION 1. Be it enacted, &c., That the
second proviso of the second section of " An
Act to enable joint tenants, tenants in com
mon, and adjoining owners of mineral lands
in this Comrrionwealth•to manage and devel
ope the same," approved the twenty-first day
of April, Anno Domini, one thousand eight
hundred and fifty-four is hereby repealed.—
And that companies now formed, or that mar
hereafter be formed. under the Act mentioned
in the foregoing section, be, and they are
hereby authorized, in addition to the rights
and privileges conferred by said Act, to en
gage in, and carry on the mining and prepa
ring for market, coal, hre 7 clay, and other
minerals found on or in their lands, manu
facturing the products of the same, selling or
conveying the same, and the products there
of to market.
Provided, That the liability of the stock
holders, created by said Act, shall extend to
include all debts contracted by them for work
and labor done or materials furnished for
opening, improving and preparing their lands
for mining purposes, and all debts contracted
by the said corporation in the business of
mining, selling and conveying to market:the
minerals on or in their said lanis.
Provided also, That such companies shall
make their returns, and pay the tax on divi
dends to which-the stock of such company
shall be liable under the existing laws of this
Commonwealth.
Provided, That the amount of the capital
stock shall not exceed five hundred thousand
dollars.
Provided, That none of the provisions of
this Act shall extend to Northumberland
county.
Approved April 9, 1856.
A SUPPLEMENT
To an act relating to the sale and conveyance
of real estate passed April eighteenth, one
thousand eight hundred and fifty-three.
Sec. 1. Be it enacted, &c. That in all cases
where sales of the real estate of lunatics have
been made under the act of the eighteenth of
April, one thousand eight hundred and fifty
three, entitled, "An Act relating to the sate
and conveyance of real estate, under a decree
of the Court of Common Pleas," the same
shall be valid and effectual notwithstanding
such real estate may have been derived by de
scent or will.
Approved April 21, 1856.
AN ACT
Relative to the charges of the courts.
Sec. 1. B'3 it enacted, &c., That the Presi
dent Judges of the several Courts of Common
Pleas of this Commonwealth, shall in every
cause tried before them respectively, upon
request of any party or attorney concerned
therein, reduce the whole opinion and charge
of the court as delivered to the jury, to wri
ting, at the time of the delivery of the same,
and shall forthwith file the same of record.
Approved April 15, 1856.
AN ACT
In relation to the appointment of collectors of
state and county taxes.
Sec. 1. Be it enacted, &c. That the county
commissioners of the several counties in this
commonwealth who have the power to appoint
collectors of state and county taxes, may do
so without being confined in their selection to
the persons whose names may be returned
by the assessors, anything in the act passed
the fifteenth day of April, eighteen hundred
and thirty-four,•entitled "An Act relating to
county rates and levies, and township rates
and levies," to the contrary notwithstanding.
Approved February 1, 1856.
AN ACT
Relative to the sheriffs of this Commonwealth.
Sec. 1. Be it enacted, &c. That the sheriffs
of the several counties of this Common wealth,
excepting the counties of Allegheny anti
Philadelphia, to whom are committed the
custody of prisoners, shall hereafter receive
such allowance for boarding said prisoners as
may be fixed by the courts of quarter sessions
of the respective counties, not exceeding
twenty-five cents per day for each prisoner,
any provision in any other act to the contra
ry notwithstanding.
Approved April 11, 1856.
A FURTHER SUPPLEMENT
Relating to special Courts.
Sec. 1. Be it enacted, &c. That whenever
a President Judge shall be a patty in any suit,
prosecution, or proceeding, shall be tried and
heard before the President Judge residing
nearest the place of such trial, who shall be
disinterested.
A SUPPLEMENT
To an act regulating banks approved April
sixteenth one. thousand eight hundred and
fifty.
Sec. I. Be it enacted, &c. That the provis
ions of article fifth, section tenth, of an act
regulating banks, approved the sixteenth day
of April, one thousand eight hundred and
fifty; and the 'supplement thereto approved
the 7th day of May 1855, be, and the same
are hereby extended to all the banks of this
Commonwealth.
Approved April 17, 1856.
AN ACT
Relating to Agricultural, Horticultural and
Floral exhibitions.
Sec. 1. Be it enacted, &c. That the provis
ions of the 4th section of an Act passed the
16th March, 1847, to restrain disorderly con
duct at religious meetings, be, and the same
are hereby extended to Agricultural, Horti- '
cultural and Floral exhibitions.
Approved April 4th, 1856..
VOL. 11, NO. I%
A Waif from the Past
We make the following extraet from , a
speech delivered by the Hon. James Buchan
an, at Greensburgh, Pa., on the 7th of Octo
ber; 1852, when the incipient Know Nothings
were known by the name of Native Ameri-
cans :
"From my soul I abhor the practice of
mingling up religion with politics. The doc
trine of all our Constitutions, both Federal
and State, is, that every man has an indefea
sable right to workship his God according to
the dictates of his- own conscience. He is
both a bigot and a tyrant, who would inter
fere with that sacred right. When a candi
date is before the people for office, the inqui
ry ought never to be made, what form of re
ligious faith he possesses, but only in the
language of Mr. Jefferson, "Is he honest, is
he capable V'
"Democratic Americans What a name
for a Native American party ! When all the
records of our past history prove that Ameri
can Democrats have ever opened wide their
arms to receive foreigners flying from oppres
sion in their native land, and have always
bestowed upon them the rights of American
citizens, after a brief period of residence in
this country. The Democratic party have
always gloried in this policy, and its fruits
have been to increase our population and our
power, with unexampled rapidity, and to fur
nish our country with vast numbers of icdus
trious, patriotic and useful citizens. Surely,'
the name of 'Democratic Americas' was an
unfortunate designation for the Native Amer
ican patty.
"The; Native American party, an 'Ameri
can excellence, and the glory of its founder-
ship, belongs to George Washington No,
fellow citizens, the American people will rise'
tip with one accord to vindicate the memory
of that illustrious man from such an imputa
tion. As long as the recent memory of our
countrymen, no such party could have ever
existed. The recollection of Montgomery,
Lafayette, De Kalb, Kosciusko, and a long
list of foreigners ; both officers and soldiers,-
who freely shed their blood to secure our ii•
berties, would have rendered such ingratitude
impossible. Our revolutionary army was
filled with the brave and patriotic natives of
their lands ; and George Washington was
their Commander in-Chief. Would he have
ever closed the door atrainst the admission of
foreigners to the rights of American citizens?
Let his acts speak for themselves. So early
as the 20th of March, 1790, General Wash
ington, as President of the United States, ap
proved the first law which ever passed Con
gress on this subject of naturalization ;and
this only required a residence of two years,.
previous to the adoption of a foreigner as an•
American citizen. On the 29th - of- January,:
1795, the term of residence was extended by-
Congress to five years, and thus it remained
throughout General Washington's adminis
tration, and until the accession of John Ad
ams to the Presidency. In his administra
tion, which will ever be known in history as •
the reign of terror, as the era of alien and
sedition laws, an Act was passed on the 18th
of June, 1798, which prohibited any foreign
er from being a citizen until after a residence
of fourteen years, and this is the law or else
perpetual exclusion, which General Scott pre
ferred, and which the Native American par- -
ty now desire to restore.
"The Presidential election.of 1800 secu
red the ascendency of the Democratic patty,
and undet the administration of Thomas Jef
ferson, its great apostle, on the 14th of April, •
1802, the term of residence previous to na
turalization, was restored to five years, what
it had been under General Washington. No, -
fellow citizens, the Father of his Country
was never a Native American. This 'Amer
ican excellence' belonged to him.
"The Fugitive Slave Law is all the South'
has obtained in this compromise of 1850. It
is a law founded both upon the letter and the
spirit of the Constitution, and a similar law .
has existed on our statute Books ever since
the administration of General Washington.
History teaches .us that but for the provisicni`
in favor of fugitive slaves, our present Con-'
stitution never would have existed. Think'-
ye that the South will ever tamely surrender'
the Fugitive Slave law to Northern lanaties'
and Abolitionists.
"Mar, is but the being of a summer's day,'
whilst principles are eternal. The genera-:
tions of mortals, one after the other, rise dad',
sink, and are forgotten ; but the princips'Of t -
Democracy, which we have inherited ft - • rrieitiri .
revolutionary fathers, will endure tq„ Blesti
mankind throughout all generations. Js . there,.
any true Democrat within the sound of lily.
voice—is there any Democrat throughout the'
broad limits of good and great old Democra
tic Pennsylvania, who will abandon these
sacred principles.
"AN ACT TO AMEND AN ACT."—To pick a
man up whom you haw knocked d** u.