Huntingdon globe. ([Huntingdon, Pa.]) 1843-1856, June 04, 1856, Image 1
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' 12m. 1 square, hrevie?, .$3 00 .85 'OO 88 . 00 2 at • qc - 00 - B'oo 12 00 3 " ' • 7' 5%,. 10 00 15 00 4 ' ' 9 00' 14'00 23 00 5 .6i. • 15 00' 25 00 38 00 10 " ti • .25 00 '4O 00 • 60 00 • Er Professional and Business Cards not ex ceeding 6 lines, one year; - • - s4'so Executors' and Administrators' Notices, 1 .'75 Auditors' Notices, - - . 125 •• ' 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.