; .r; jetfeirsmttmt 5 r I .JLi l J jy l; i The wholb art of Government consists in the art of being hosiest. Jefferson. STROUDSBURG, MONROE COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 1846. No. 2-3 . w: eat TERMS Two dollars per annum In advance Two dollar srd a quarter, half yearly and if not iv.iid before the end of m.b your, i no uuuars ana a nan. l nose wiio receive incir pipers bv a carrier or stage drivers employed by the proprie ty rs, will be charged 37 1--2 cts. per year, extra. .Vo papers discontinued until all arrearages are paid, except V the option of the Editors. 1C7 Advertisements not exceeding imp snnare (sixteen lines) will be iii-erted three weeks for one dollar: twenty-five cents U r fvcrv subsequent insertion : lanreroncs in proportion. A I J .rfal discount will be made to vcarly advertisers JOB FRIiVTIiVG 3Ia vins a general assortment of large, elegant, plain and orna mental Type, vre arc prepared to execute every description of 'Cards, Circulars, Bill Heads, IVotijs, Blank Receipts, JUSTICES, LEGAL AND OTHER PAMPHLETS, &c. Prin'vl with neatness and despatch, on reasonable teims AT THE OFFICE OF THE Jcf fersonian K.cpiillic:ti: . From the Vicksbnrg Whig. Political Portraits. CLAY. Me speaks ! and viewless chains Upon a Senate rest ; He ceases! look upon the names That jem a nation's breast. WEBSTER. The calm, unsounded deep Is emblem of his mind ; But roused, its heavy billows sweep, In grandeur unconfined. CALHOUN. A loom of curious make May weave a web of thought, And he who rends the shining1 warp, Alay in the wool be caught. J. Q. ADAMS. . Statesman and poet too! Philosopher in turn ; Link with the past! a nation sobn Shall sorrow o'er his urn. CRITTENDEN. Now with a giant's might He heaves the pond'rous thought Now pours the storm of eloquence With scathing lightnings fraught I DO O O BERRIEN. With temper calm and mild, And words of softened tone, He overturns his neighbor's cause And justifies his own. corwin. The polish'd shaft of wit , , Is quivering in the light; , 'Tis sped ! upon its shining track',-1 And havoc marks its' flight. 1 J. M. CLAYTON. The lightning's glare ma' turn The needle from the pole ; Who ever saw him swerve, Or bow to low control ? BENTON. Judgment and tack combin'd, A mind of knowledge vast, A walking book-case on its shelves The archives of the past. CASS. With neat and rounded phrase He tricks the shapeless thought ; Like hope of power, it charms to-day, To-morrow it is nought. ALLEN. Ye Gods ! defend my ears ! Bass-drums around me thron"! Through empty galleries leap and roll The notes of 44 Chinese Gotig j'' Spiteful. Some editor out west, who has probably got the mitten, vents his spleen in this way : Won't somebody marry a certain tidy old maid of this place ? For seven long years she his bren squirming and screwing along the pave ments, with a reasonable quantity of line dry goods hung upon her, in order to attract atton non : but some how or other the b'hoys won't 4 go it she can't make them love no how she can fix it. She frequently passes our office, and really gets along as nice as if she had St. Vitus' dance. Now won't home feller snatch her as a brand from the .burning ? We hope so bhe has lots of clothes.5 Seek not to reform every one's dial by your own watch, ' r'- - " Alu. Editor : Most of your readers are fa miliar with lhat quaint and sensible writer who styles himself Old Humphrey. I have been very much entertained and edified likewise by reading a book of his, entitled 41 Every day sights for every one to see," published by the American Sunday School Union. The thought occurred to me why not ask some of our pub lishers to furnish extracts from it to their read ers, at least occasionally. In looking over the book above named for some suitable article, j there were so many excellent ones, that the difllctilly was to make the selection ; so I con cluded to take the very first one, under the cap tion 44 On things that cost nothing," and if you and your readers do not agree with me in regarding it ery good, then my advice is read it again. A. B. On Tlsissgs tlsat Cost Hoiking. If you are in the habit of calling to mind your mercies, and of gratefully acknowledging them, you will not take it amiss lhat I should refresh your memory by adding to the long list a few that may have escaped your recollection. In a word, you will not object to my reminding you, and my own heart also, of some of the many good things we enjoy which cost us nothing. We pay, and in maiiy cases smartly too, for what we obtain from our fellow-creatures. I dare say lhat, whether your years have been few or many, you have never yet met with those who have offered to provide you with food, cloihing, or habitation, without payment. Such things are quite Out of the question, and this 1 say without the slightest reflection upon human ity. J he comlorts and conveniences, the bits and drops, we get from our fellow men ought to be requited. Not that there are no good Sa maritans in the world, ever ready to supply oil and wine to the afrlicted and destitute;' to con vey them, as it were, to some friendly inn; with a liberal hand to take out 44 twopence," or as much as may be required, to give to the host on such occasions, with a generous promise as to anv further outlay : but these are individual cases of kindness and peculiarity, and will not apply to mankind at large. As a general prin ciple, the commonest food, the coarsest raiment, and the meanest habitations of humanity, are charged to the uttermost farthing. We can reasonably expect valuable gifts from our hea venly Father alone. Hurried on by hourly occupations, and taken up with daily cares, we seldom look over the long catalogue of gracious gifts that God in his goodness has bestowed. Were we more fro quently to catechise ourselves than we do in these things ; were we to number up our past and present mercies, one by one, as schoolboys repeal their past les:ons, it would prove a most profitable employment. Let us call to mind a few of our bountifully besiowed blessings now. And first comes the grateful sense of our ex istence, the heatt-beating, pulse-throbbing con sciousness, that we are breathing creatures, en dued with life. We see, hear, smell, taste, and feel, and are thrillingly susceptible to what af fords us pleasure. We think, reason, expect, remember, and enjoy, and are sensible that thjs glowing and grateful consciousness of existence is the free gift of our heavenly Father. And then comes the elevating, the ennobling knowledge that we are not like the beasts lhat perish ; but that our Creator formed us in his own image, breaihed into us a spirit of life, a living soul that shall never die! What a gift is the gift of immortality ! The pyramids shall crumble, day by day: The everlasting hills shall fade away; But we shall live, though they in ruins sever, For ever and for ever and for ever ! Our gratuitous enjoyments are not only good, but many of them very delightful and even glo rious. We pay nothing; for fresh air, and the fresh water of the brook; nor for the blue vault of heaven, piled up day by day wiih snowy and golden clouds; yet these things are not on ly valuable, but inestimable. Ask the afflicted tenant of the sick chamber, or the wretched in mate of a gloomy jail, immured for years in his dreary prison-house; ask him whether the fresh air is a blessing of little value : why his very heart yearns for a breath of that which we par take of so freely and think of so lightly. Speak to the hectic patient, gasping under the domin-j ion of fever: or the heat-oppressed traveller in the 'sul'ry desert; speak to him of the fresh wa- ter of the brook ; nothing to him would be so delightful in the whole world as a draught of fresh water, to cool his parched throat, and fur ry tongue. When the blind they who were once blessed -with sight when they roll up wards their sightless balls, you may guess wbat they would give for a glance at that bright fir mament above therh which you and I regard with so little emotion. Sunrise and sunset cost us nothing, all glow ing arid glorious as they are. Colours that arc' only to be seen in the heavens, and brightness beyond description, are profusely spread, and we have sight to behold them, pulses to throb, hearts to beat, and minds to contemplaie with wonder, thankfulness, and joy. Rising and setting suns are common-place exhibitions to us, when, were there only one such exhibition to be witnessed in a century, multiplied mil lions, nay almost half the population of the globe, would behold it with rapture. Have you looked on the silvery moon, gliding thro' clouds of bewildering beauty, and gazed on the blue arch of heaven, spangled with glit tering worlds, till you have adored their al mighty Maker with increased admiration, love and joy ? If so, you must have felt that these things fill the mind with conceptions of immen sity, power, goodness, and glory ; and I need not tell you lhat we have them for nothing. Regard the vegetable world ! Why, every individual tree, bush, shrub and plant, is enough of itself, ay, more than enough, to impart a thrill of transport to him who feels that he has, in nature's God, a merciful Father and Almighty Friend. Look, then, at the unbounded liberal ity of our great Creator's vegetable gifts! The spreading oak, the towering elm, the goodly ash, and the romantic fir, challenge our admi ration. Nor can we gaze without some in crease of delight on the fair flower of the ches nut, the straight stem of the poplar, the silvery bark of the birch, or the drooping branches of the weeping willow. These things, and a thousand more such, we have for nothing. The balmy breeze, the scent of the new-made hay, the c'dour of the flowering fields, are ours without payment. Who ever paid a farthing Cnr iVia flnfTfiilll nf tllo rial." fir lhf urn rM in it nf, . ' . , f V. n . 1 v r I . I U .1 im.ntl'l.lili. r- I (i f If n t n I r . ' UiiJJJJ UIIUS, IliC M1U1 111UI lllg Ul U1UUI3 , the waving of butterflies' wings ; the joyous hum, and, if 1 can say it without irreverence, the incessant halleluiaof the insect world? Na ture is liberal, nay, prodigal, of her gifis ; her spacious halls are flung open; her goodliest ex hibitions are free, and her abundant banquets are "without money and without price." We give money, and time, and labour, for many things of little value ; but we never give either the one or the other for the cheerful sunbeam, and the grateful shower; the gray of the morn ing, the twilight of evening; the broad blaze of noonday, and the deep silence and darkness of the midnight hour ! The poorest of the poor have these, and they have them for nothing. There are among the vast, the mighty and terrible things of the earth, those that yield us a deep delight, and we have them without pay ment: the mountain towering to the skies, the fearful precipice, the rushing torrent, and the coming storm, are some of them. If you have stood in the war of elements, neither with apa thy nor affected sensibility, but with natural and strong emotion, holy awe, high-wrought admiration, adoring reverence, and delightful dread; you know what I mean by deep delight. There is a deep delight, a calm and fearful so lemnity in the darkened clouds; the flash lhat illumines heaven; the crash thai shakes the sol id earth; the wild sweep of the whirlwind, and the voice of the angry ocean: all these, clothed as they are with mysterious interest, cost us nothing. The freedom of thought, which no earthly power can control, is worth more than a hun dred Mcxicos, and yet it costs us not a farthing. Well may it be said, " My mind to me a kingdom is !" for there is no other kingdom like it under the sun; yet this, also, is a gift the free gift of an almighty Benefactor. It costs us nothing. The Holy Spirit, the means of grace, and the hope of glory, are freely given, and how much do they comprise! If you have ever truly en joyed the day of rest; if it has been a sabbath to your soul; if, burdened and bowed down, you have kneeled at the throne of "grace, and risen from your knees with1 an enfranchised heart, your soul magnifying the Lord, and your spirit rejoicing in God your Saviour ; if, perplexed and bewildered, you opened, with trembling hands, the Book of truth, and the Spirit of the Eternal, like a sunbeam, lias opened your eyes and enlightened your mind to see the" wondrous things of God's holy law, so that the crooked has been made straight to you, and' the rough places plain; if you have entered the house of God, panting after eternal life, as the hart pan teth afier the water-brooks, and a' message lias been sent you from the Lord by ihe mouth of his ministering servant, as it we're, taking a burden from your back, healing your wounds, binding up your broken bones, .satisfying your spiritual hunger, and leading you to the cross of Christ to rejoice you will truly thank God for these things, and not forget that they cost you nothing. These, though many, form but a small part of the good gifts we enjoy; for the things" which cost us nothing are numberless. But now comes the crowning question to you and to myself. How with such mercies, can we help magnify ing the Lord? How, with such abundant gifts, can we do less than live to his glory ? Alas ! our insensibility and ingratitude! Pressed into the Service. " Mr. Tar ?" said the Recorder yesterday morning, as if he was anxious to ascertain ivhptljpr t!lpr urrm nnv lrirlivirlnnl nf llmt noma , .e . , , , ... , J ,, , . ... , small observation of the person bearing such an odoriferous name. No one rose to the sum mons, but the Recorder seeing a police officer telegraphing a red faced weather beaten tar, in one end of the box, with hair enough around his face for at least a baker's dozen of stae boatswains, inquired what the man's name was. 44 John Hull, your honor," said the sailor, ri sing and slapping his tarpaulin down on the railing. 44 John Hull, your honor; and may I be introduced for the first time in my life to the bo'sins cat if Jack Hull was ever ashamed of his name in whatever port he was brought to an anchor Hull's a name, sir, as'll do lo stand by in the roughest sort of a gale, or the greatest calm that ever put old Bor'rs asleep." I 44 He told us his name was John Tar, last ; night, sir," said the officer. ft 44 Did your honor ever see such a spoony of e landlubber as that? Why he wouldn't know the difference 'twixt the figure-head of a seventy-four and the captain's clerk. Jack Tar ! you land lubber you. An' so I am a Jack Tar, and doesn't ever mean to sail under any other col ors as long as there's a vessel in the Navy with the old stars and stripes streamin' over her." 44 You're in the Navy, then ?" inquired the Recorder. 44 No, your honor, I'm out on it, although 1 keeps on the togs of the old Uncle Sam ; coz, as soon as ever I get out this ere snap, I'm go in' to make a straight wake and 'list for another cruise, and, maybe yet you'll hear of old Jack Hull as one of the chaps as fell in the attack on some of them ere Mexican ports in the Gulf. 'I hat's what I'm arter. I've been a wor&in' all my life, and now I wants to have a little amuse ment in the way o' baiterin' down that ere cas tie. or something o' that sort." 44 You've been at sea sometime, have you?" said the Recorder. 44 1 should say I had, your honor. The first thing I ever seed was the flash of a big gun in 1812, for I was born on the old Constituiion in the midst ol the action with the Gurriere. My father used to be called 4 old John' Lord bless him ! He was sent to Davy Jones's by a grape shot, an' 1 was christened 4 John Hull.' for the captain that was, the old commodore now Lord bless his old soul !" 44 But how came you here, John ? you shouldn't "be seen in such a place," said the Recorder. 44 Well sir," said Hull, looking down, 44 1 do feel just about as small as a middy that has been mastheaded ; but what's done can't be helped. You see, I'd taken a stiff allowance of grog aboard, and was beating and tacking about larboard and starboard, when I gin a lee lurch an' 1 fetched up agin a chap with a tar paulin on his nob. Whyllidn't you put your helm hard a-port V said I ; 4 do you think a first rale's going to look out for all such small craft as you ?' 4 None of your slang,' says he. ' Who the blue blazes are you I' says 1, for I won't altogether steady, your honor on my pins hadn't got my land legs on egzncily. 1 I'm a. watchnian,' said he. 'You are, are you?' sivs 1. 4 Well, if it's your watch you ought to triced up and hat'e a found dozen for not k(p in' out of ihe way.' Well, you see, one word foiched on another an1 I hauled off and' gin him a broadside, but on account o' the grog my guns wasn't heavy shotted ati they didn't crip ple the enemy; but he boarded me with' a bit of a handspike he had' in his hand and brought me a lick that made me see more, light's than were ever hoisted at the peaks of the craft aloft in the s,ky ; an' that's all as I recollect till I found myself up yonder there,- hard and fai among this set of scurvy craft alongside here in this chicken coop." 44 You intend to go to sea again ?" inquired the Re'corder. 44 Aye, aye, your honor; an' I'm only sorry as 1 ever left the old Human and Captain JackT for 1 expect when the Commodore wakes up m ihe Gulf he'll make up for lost time, an' as Guvineni's give 'em a touch of ihe old Merry blood, 1 want to let 'em have a small chance of old Hnll." 41 Well," said ihe Recorder, 44 1 suspect yow have been" punished enough for your frolic, and I shall let you go' this lime upon your paving your jail fees." " 14 Thank your honor," said the sailor, joyful ly, 44 1 shan't forget it ; and if you ever bear- III 1 I I . . jjoun nun nas tieen cut in two by a (Mexican shot, just think that mv last words will be a blessing on your head for letting rue die in de fence of my ship and country." The sailor paid his fees, and wanted every body to go out and take a horn ; but as nobody accepted hi generous offer, he threw down a quarter eagle, saying, 44 Give these poor miserable chaps some thing to drink there," poiming to the prisoners in the box, 44 and let me advue you, comrades, to leave oft' drinking and join the temperance societv, A Hardened Offender. A hardened of fender about being hung, the attendant clerv- ; man under the impression lhat he was a rei.e'u- tant sinner, thus addressed him In a few moments you will be in another and a belter world: T envv vnnr nlno.. " ' J J "" 44 Do you ?" said the fellow eagerly 44 hbw'U you swop situations ?" 44 You treat me worse than you do a haunch of venison,' said a clerk to his employer. 44 How so?" demanded the merchant in sur prise. 44 The venison is taken inio your fami ly," replied the clerk ; 44 1 never am." 44 Sup with the young ladies this evening, if you like," said the merchant, 44 they will cut you up worse than 1 do venison." A Coach under Sail. The New Orleans Bulletin gives the follow ing description of a novel vehicle in use on Galveston Beach, and in Texas, viz: a coach propelled by wind. The vehicle is constructed with four wheels, the front ones being much wider apart than those behind, and on ihem rests a body like lhat of an omnibus. In front is the mast, on which the mainsail is placedj and where the tongue of an ordinary carriago is, is a bowsprit for the jib. It is steered by an apparatus which directs the hind wheels. The beach on Galveston Island is as level as a floor, and hard almost as stone, and when there is a fair wind the carriage runs at rail-road speed. When the trade winds prevail the wind blowing then from Southeast, it runs from one end of the Island to the other and back with the utmost facility. 44 Quit spitting that nasty tobacker on the floor, Josh, or I'll lick you!' 41 Latuoiher, why don't you speak properly? You,hpuld have said, cease ejecting that ofienaivy aliva of the Virginia weed upon the promenade, or I shall administer to you a severe castigaiio'ti. That is proper ma. Ahem t Litile boys should be seen and not heard," as' the chap said when he couldn't recite his lesson. A kite was raised recently in Kentucky. much line was paid out, and it flew go high, thai Eomabody in the moon caught hold of t tail and pulled it down upon. at planet,. i- t v - -'
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers