• • INGDON 4.• W tiouL No. 161.1 TERIVIS 01' TUN 4:7 I\ TT D°;l The ")ournal"will he published every Wednesday morning, at two dollars a year if paid IN ADVANCE, and if not paid within ix months, two dollars and a half. Every person who obtains five subscribers and forwards price of sobscription, shall be f trutshed with a sixth copy grattutiously for one yea:. Pio subscription received for a less period than si* months, nor atiy paper discontinued nal larrearages are paid. All counnullicat'.ons must be addressed to the Editor, post paid, or they will nut be iv 'tended to. Advertisments not exceeding one square teill be inserted three times for one dollar for every subsequent insertion, 25 fieen , s per quare will be charged:—if no detnite ordeed ere given as to the time an adverisment is to ae continued, it will he kept in till ordeed; but, and charge accordingly. THIE:i GARLAND. -"With sweetest flowers enrich'd From various gardens cull'd Nith care." FRODI THE PHILADELPHIA CHRONICLE, THE STRANGER, He came alone from his own bright land O'er the ocean, ever heaving; His cheek was pale and his eye was dim With a spirit inly grieving. What were his griefs? He told thetn not: He was ever sad and lonely; He seemed with the spirit* of the past I'o hold communma only. At times he would talk of other days In tones of thrilling sadness. Of hopes, of joys; of better years, While flashed the gleam of gladness: 'Twas bat a flash—'twas like a beam Of sunset brightly playlr.g Upon some tempest troubled stream, In gloom and darkness strafing. .Pay after day he grew more weak, Awe pale, and sad, and weary; ttalvernfdlike a 'lower drooping down In a lone waste Weak and dreray; Me stood like one besde his grave 'There tottering sad and lonely, That had but one more stop to but one more step —4IIC only. 'Twas then within that fearful hour There flashed a spirit brightly— It was not nue with a joyous heart And a footstep bouudir • :lightly, But one that had his wanderings— His loneliness—his feeling— Whose presence was athwart ltis heart Like spring o'er Winter stoalng. Tie rose as 'twere, then from the dead With health his cheek adorning, Such as with joy the eye may vie x When opes the rosy morning. He loved, and at Love's holy shrine Hope for awhile WLS beaming, Filling that lonely heart of his With a bright and joyous dreanling. Alas! that hope was but a gleam— A tint of day declining— A rainbow on the darken'd cloud— A star a moment shining, That vanished—left him nought but gloom That mock'd him when departed— That crush'd his feelings—blighted all: That left him b roken-hearted. Sl‘ow, weatil* the hour unite When the soul seems in (darkness leaping: In that dread abyss to we know not where : In that sleep forever sleeping. There stood no one by his lonely bed, No friend of youth was near him, Ah no! not even one was there In that parting hour to cheer him. They little know in his native land 'Clic cold sod is his pillow, 1 Where the long moss hangs from the eve►', Where droops the weeping willow [green They little know where lies at rest In that slumber broken never; In vain they'll look for him in—vain!: He sleeps with the dead torever. -.........-• HOW TO CHOOSE A WIFE. 'Coed Sir, if you'd show the best of your skill To pick a virtuous creature, Then pick such a wife as you love a life, Of a comely grace and feature. The noblest part let it it be her heart Without deceit or cunning; With a nimble wit, and all things fit, With a tongue that's never running! The nets of her head it must not be n En, Rut fair and brown as a berry; r 3fore-bead high. with a crystal eye, Her lips as red as a cherry.' From the Knickerbocker. THE BILUXDIRRER. Bang a few passages in the life if a shortsighted man. Oi all the evils to which mankind are subject, there is none snore pitiable in its victim, than an inordinary limitation of vision, I, also, am one of those unfortu nate individuals, whose nose is doomed to be •spectacle bestrid' during my mor tal existence, and who can discern no ob ject unless it be thrust into my very face. This, it may readily be imagined, is at all times disagreeable, but particularly so when the article in question is obnoxious to the senses. 0, ve bipeds of oculars unimpaired: --ye all-seeing gentry !--lit• tle do ye know of the thousand evils ithat daily accumulate upon our devoted heads and sometimes shouldersl Little do ye ken the numerous faux has that we of the limited vision are almost constautly being pushed into, to the imminent jeop ardy of our moral andyhisical senses, as men of feeling. My misfortunes commenced from in fancy: yea, from my veriest infancy— and have continued up to this day, with a frequency and regularity as astonishing as unfortunate. My mother had often told me, that when a baby I would make a dozen ineffectual attempts to gain helm breast; arid my first essays in the art of walking, having been memoralized by a 1 multiplicity of scates, occasiouel by vio lent contact with chairs, tables, and other at ticks of domestic usefulness, As a boy I was stilt,mgre ~aleigliping of comiscra lion. In fact my nrililirrtunes seemed to accumulate with my growth. The del cacies of the dinner-table were *variably appropriated by toy brothers add sisters, before I could be made conscious of thei4 presence; and ill failed to examine closo - evety particle upon the prongs of my fork, or in the concave of my spoon, I might-inadvertently swollow a red pepper for a sausage, or masticate a quantity of , horse-radish for as much sup or sagol cheese. My good old auntpiitying my 1 situation, resolved to bettor at, and fo r; this purpose purchased inc a pare of spec tacks, the first I had won. For a tune •1 got on very well, 'in the way of eating comfortable (lion ers.-5u rthts fortunel was I too good to last long. My affectionate' brothers and sisters contrived to abstract my glasses. In vain I replaced them—' they Were continually stclen. i was eV (cry day 'compelled to partake of what they, in the fulness of their stomachs, thought proper to leave me. In due season, I was ushered into the solar system of society: but I had not re volved a month upon my own axis, among planets and satellites of the beau idea, be fore they all complained that I passed them in their diurnal transits, without a smile or a bow of recognition; and unani mously concluded to eject me from their spere: I depreciated their displeasure, acknowledged the imperfection of my vis ion, and was again admitted in their cir cles, 1 now resolved to speak to every one I passed, 'and then,' thought 1, in the fondness of my imagination, 'there will be no mistake?' I put my resolution at once in practice, and for a while things went swimmingly on; but at length the same result was the consequence. "What have I done, nolo?" asked I of a friend; "what sin 1 again thrust without the pale of society?" "The reason is, simply," said he, gaz ing about to see that no one observed him speaking to so proscribed a being as I, 'that people are not willing to meet, on terms of sociability and equality, a man who clai ms the acquaintance of every loa fer, male or female, he may chance to meet. At Trinity Church, last Sunday, you offered your arm to a chamber-maid; and you were yesterday observed, by a party of ladies, in the act of making a profound bow to three of the most noto rious courtezans in town." "Good G—•d! " exclaimed 1, "is it pos sible?" These were not the Only bad effects of my politeness, A great six toot whisk erando charged me with the hedtous crime of insulting his sister, by speaking to her without the previous formality of an intro duction—and it was with the greatest dif ficulty tied I could persuade the fellow to refrain iron► horse-whipping me—a thing which he had fully resolved upon, and which nothing but my humble apologise awl labored explanations; joined to the entreaties of one or two of my personal blends, deterred l►iu► from putting into practice. JUSTUS. "Happier," thought I, 'far happier had I been born blind, for then I should at least have avoided the tissue of blunders into which I hourly stumbled. My life has been a continued series of getting in to scrapes in the worst way, and 'getting out of them the best way I could. Why am I coapled with such a destiny? 1 am one of the gentlest and most inoirensive of "ONE COUNTRY, ONE CONSTITUTION, ONE DESTINY." A. W. BENEDICT PUBLISHER AND PROPRIETOR. HUNTINGDON, IiENNSYLvANIA, WEDNESDAY NOVEMBER 14, 1813, mankind, and yet the sulkiest blackguard about town encounters not half the dif ficulties which fall to my Int. • Sucn were my musii.p; as I passed down Bri.adway—suck my reflections when my dog, as I thought, but alas. it was "nailer's— rushing between my legs and nearly tripped me up. Although nat uraly, or rather commonly, a goodnatureti man, I was not at that precise moment, as the reader may imagine, in the smooth, egt mood. The current dilly mind had been agitated by more than one circum stance that'day, and the little dog rende , ed me absolutely angry. With an excla mation of wrath, I gave this member of the canine race a kick, wh:ch sent him howling to the opposite side of the street. 'r;ate,' said a tall, swarthy, Frenchifi ed, ferocious looking personage, bowing until his mustachios brushed my nose, 'you ay, by—! kick my dog. What for you ay done dis for. eh?' • 'My dear sir exclaimed I, terribly dis cOmposed, .1 beg ten thousand pardons. I really thought it was my own dog.' 'Alt, you t'ought it was your dog, eh? Ah, sore, it is my leetle dhg dat you 'ave kick. 'Sir, lam exceedingly Imp I mistook him for my own dog, 1 assure you I thought it was my own dog at the tune." 'By Gar, sare, dey is not resemblance ter,Lite one dog is of de white, and de otte . nog is of de black :color. Beside, sare, de one 'av got de ear vet' wide; and de oiler ver short: de one 'av got de tail very much, and de oder 'av lust de tail ver indtklt. 'But, sir, I am short-sighted—my eyes I are impaired: I could not distinguish between the dogs' - I The foreigner looked steadily in my 'race for a moment; but perceiving nothing there Lut truth; his countenance became calm, and comparatively pleasant. .You 'av, den, Monsieur, de vision not very far, eh?' I assented. Ah ! den tiat is all the apology which I demand; and with a graceful adieu, he pas sed on. 'How fortunate for me,' soliloquized I, 'that ho was a Frenchman! Hard, he. been one of my own countrymen I should no doubt have hgured in the gutter.' Strange, strange people, these Americans They punish an of nce first, and inquire , into its case and effects afterwards. My 1 apology would have been laughed at by a yankee. They have generally so much in view themselves, that they cannot ap preciate the difficulties of One whose vision is not so extensive as their own. Alas! I sighed 1, pausing, and wiping the 'glasses of my spectacles, "who ever Oiled a near sighted mall?" It teas nearly sunset. The benches avenues of die Battery were thronged with human beings. The rich the poor, the young the old, the gay. the dignified, the ungainly and the beautiful—the chant; the artizav, the statesman and the philosopher—the near-sighted and the far sighted—all 'recreated themselves here, premeriading or sitting; thinking Or talk ing, as their several inclination promoted; for no matter how different the tastes and pursuits of man may be, they all coincide in the admiration of nature. .How glorious/ how magnifiCent!' ejacu lated a pale, middle-aged man, extending his right hand towards the Jersey shore, 'Von purple cloud, so chastely tipped with glowing silver, sails slowly and grace folly along; and lo! the topmost leaves .ofj all yonder forest, seem gilded anti bur- ! niched o'er a thousand times. 'That 'ere chap is eyther crazy; or, he's a poet,' said a loafer to a very disre putable looking individual, who accompa nied him. guess he's a poet, Sam,' said the other in reply; 'them 'ere fellows is always c rag e ' bay,' resumed the pale, middle. aged matt,. 'looks like a purple mirror, and yon fairy island so many emerald spots upon its surface. The monuments of tiian's industry, too, serve to glorify the scene: and nature and art stand hand-in hand, smiling complacently upon their splendid representatives.' Interested by the poetry of descrip tion, I looked forth upon this space of 1 beauty, but saw nothing except a dim conglomeration of hazy coloring. Never before had I experienced so painful a sense of misfortune. I grew dizzy and sick at heart—and wheeling shout, sought my way homeward, full of the bitterest reflections. An omnibus was just en the eve of departure; and mistaking the in sription of "Bowery and Battery" for "Broadway and Bleeker street," I jum ped in and was whirled some two miles and a half out of my proper way, before 1 was made acquainted with my ertor. I now resolved to adopt a new course. "Ant I not ," asked I of myself, "the author of many of my own misfortunes? Surely ,:my errors are chiefly caused by my impertinence and impetuosity. I a., too hasty. I will endeavor to be more moderate. I will examine beliire I pro• cued, and . remove tie d fliculties that may occur in my way. In a word I will be more discreet in all things' On the following day I dined wtth a friend, at one of the most fashionable hotels of the city, and Was for a while, as I thought, extremely lucky, having as yet made but one faux pas, which was merely the drinking of a glass of branuy fur as much w ne —a mistake, by the way, which Might have 6cent-red to almost any one. A tremendously stout gentlema, from Mississippi, was seated on my left. This individual had just clear;d his plate of a large quantity of roast beet; and was engaged in gazing ominously at a lobster, his rigjlt hand shut, in the mean time; resting on the table. Unfortunately fur in) self, at this particular juncture I hap pened to stand in need of a piece of bread and raising toy eyes in search of the ne• 'clksary article, I mistook his clenched fiselor a loaf. Taking up my fork very deliberately, I hitched up the sleeve of my coat, and plunged the sharp steel in strument into the fleshy part of the man's hand, With a noise between a . oar and a growl, the victim jumped upon his feet, knocking down the gentleman who sat next ?um, and upsetting a waiter who was hurrying along with a large supply of custards. I, of course, jumped up too, frightened, as may well be supposed; al most to death, and attempted to explain matters; scarcely had I opened my mouth for the purpose, when I Was - floored by a tremendous blow from the tunneled limb, directly in my face. No sooner had the avenger Anocked me down, than he un sheathed a huge glittering Bowie knire, and advanced to annihilate me together. Words cannot portray the horror of my emotions; I had seen the fellow carve a pig a few moments before, and had my self admirbd the denterity in the proceed ing: The company however, interfered be tween tilt Mississippian and my destruc. tion. 111 y friends made know the imper fection of my vision, and the man of the far west became satisfied. I was borne 1i bed, nearly senseless, add have not ye, recovered front the eilete of that adven ture, although my physician is one of the moat learned and efficient in the city. He is an Englishman, and when I releted to him the occurrence, he shook his head, saying: "Terrible-chaps, those fellows from Mississippi; 'orrible beings. Wonder he din't cut yclir 'ed ha'Aortlier." ;s We do not know what paper is entitled to the credit of the following sketch.— Thrre is a moral in it woich should not be lust. The Bride. A SKETCH. Emma had wheeled the sofa in front of the tire, and as Charles seated himself be side her, he was certainly a happy fellow. A'as, he had as yet i , nly drunk the bubbles on the cup. Emma looked lovely, for the glow of the warm coal tire had given a bloom to her usually pale cheek, which heightened the lustre of her dark eyes. But there came a shade of thought over Emma's brow, and her husband in stantly remarkel it. It is strange how soon husbands see clouds over their liege ladies' brows. It was the first Charles ever saw there, and it excited his tenderest inquiries. Was she unwelll— she wish for any thine—Emma hesi tated, she blushed and looked. Charles pressed to know what had cast such a shadow over her sirits. "1 tear you will think me very si L.y--bot Mary French has been sitting with me this afternoon." "Nut that, certainly," said Charles, sun.' ling.—"o: 1 do nut mean that, but you know we began to keep house nearly the same time, only they sent by Brent to New York for carpeting. Mary would have me walk down to !frees store this eve. ring with her, and he has brought two-- and they are such loves." Charles bit his lip--" Mary," she continued, "sail yeti were doing a first rate business, and she was sure you would never let that *dial' Wilton lay in the parlor; if you once saw that splendid Brussels; so rich and so cheap--only seventy-five dollars." Now, the "odious Wilton" had been selected by Charles' mother, and presen ted to them, and, the color deepened on his cheek, as his animated bride continu ed, "Suppose we walk down to Brent's and look at it, there are only two, and it seems a pity not to secure it." "Emma," said Charles, gravely, "you are mistaken if you suppose my business will justify extravagance. It will be useless to look at the carpet, as we have one which will answer very well, and it is perfectly new.:' _ , :s Einhia's vivacity died, and she sat awk wardly ;ticking her nails—Charles felt embarrassed—he drew out, his watch and put it hack—whisde s d—began to read some beautiful verses: Ills mice was well toned, and he tttoti entered into the spirit of the writer, and forgot his embar rassment; when looking into Emma's eyes, how lie wassurprised, instead of toe !glow of sympathetic feeling he expected to meet, to see heir head bent on her hand —evident displeto ore on her brow, and a tear trinkling slowly down her cheeks. Charles was a sensible young man; I wish there were more of them —and he reflected a moment before lie said, "Em ma, toy love, get your bonnet and cloak on and walk with me, if you plen3e."— Emma looked as if wipld i like to pout a little longer, but Chiges- nail, "come," with such serious gravity on his countenance, that Emma thought proper to accede, and nothing doubting but it was '.O purchase the carpet, to k his arm with a smile of triumph. They 'crossed several streets in the direction to Brent's, until they at last stood before the dour of a miserable tenement on a back street. "Where in the world are you taking mei" inquired Emma, shrinking back. Charles quietly led her forward, and lifting a latch, they stood in a little room, around thu grate of which three small children were hovering, closer and closer, as the cold wind swept through the crevices in the decayed walls. An emaciated being, whose shrunk features, sparkling eye, and flushrit cheek, spoke a death) , con , sumption, lay on a wretched low bed, the slight t overm. of which barely su ffi ced to keep her fr o:freezing, while a spectral. bate, whose black eyes looked unnatural ly large from its extreme thinness, was endeavoring to draw sustenance limn the dying mother. _ "Row are you Mrs. IVrighti" quietly inquired Charles. The woman feebly raised hcrulf en her arm, "Is that you' Mr. Weal 0, how glad I am you are come—your mother?"--"Has not been at home fur a month, and the lady who pro. raised to look aster you in her absence, only informed me to-day of your increas ed illness." "1 have been very ill," she faintly replied, sinking back on her straw bed. Emma drew near, she arrange ,i 1 thi il low nod the bed'elothes OVer the feeble sufferer, but her heart was too full to speak--Charles observe:: it, and felt ttt.- istied. pls that beautiful girl vor r bride l 1 heard you were married." es, and in my mother's absence she wilt ate you 'do not suffer." Bless you, Charles 'Nest—ble.,s you for a good son of a good nother; may your young ude deserve you—and that is wishing a good deal for her. ' - i/ou are very good to think of me," she said. looking at Emma, "and you are just married." . . . Chailes saw that Emma could not Spezk. and he hurried her home, pionti. sing to send the poor woman coal that night. The moment they reached home Emma burst into tears. "My dear Lin, ma," said Charles, soothingly, "1 hope I have nut given you too severe a shock. It is sometimes salutaly to loak on the mis cries ut others, that we may properly ap preciate our (),., a happiness. Here is a purse containing seventy• fi,e (tellers, you may spend it as you please." . • It is unnecessary to say, that the "odi ous tun kept its place, but the shiver ing children ul want were taught to ole.sis the name of Emma 1% eat, and it formed the last articulate raurinur on the lips of the . dying sullerei% From the Weekly Ledger. Self Reropeet. If a man would obtain the respect of others, or at least 01 those whose respect is valuable, he should respect himself. Modesty is a great virtue, but is not in compatible :with self respect. On the contrarvhe most modest are those who think too well of themselves, to forfeit their own good opinion by justly incur ring the censure of the worthy. Modes ty consists in abstaining from unfounded pretensions, and not in forbearing to urge just claims. Every man should be care -- In! of his rights; for, by maiming them to be trampled upon, he endangers the right of others; and he should remember that he is not an isolated being, but part of a whole, to whom he is bound by duty, as well as interest. "hence, self respect has a double foundation. We advise every young man to res. • pect himself at all times, whether iu busi ness or amusement. In business, let him respect himself by mildly, yet firmly maintaining his opinions, whenever he is conscious of being right. If he stand upon that basis, let him not yield to age, learning or authority. In every doubt ful case, or case which he has not fully in vestigated, a deference to the opinions ul 'those whose opportunities of knowledge have exceeded his own, is commendable. [ Vol.. IV, No. 5 But where conscience, titer diligent in: tinily, tells him that he is 1401, he com mits treason to himself and to truth, by yielding his own judgment to supetior age or learning. Ile must !lace some land marks, if he would not forever wander; and by rigidly observing them so long as his convictions remain, he will be teepee ted by the enlighlned, though they differ with him. tie - should respect himsell• never admitting inferiority which he does not feel. Some young men for fear of .being thought presumptuous, or from a desire to save the feelings of the igno rant, pretend to be ignorant also. This fear is not •Inodesty, but timidity; and this rtgard for others is not benevolent, but d*rit. An 'enlightened mind rimy. always 'instruct the ignorant, without wounding them with a tense of self iinapepent; and hence ignorance need not bit callitficletted, to avoid the imputa tiou•of,artiencp,:flence the admission of. intern:tray -wruch does not exist, is wrong, and therefore a departure from that self respect which forbids wrong. In business, one of the best modes by which a young man can respect himself, is to do nothin,g to forfeit the respect of the worthy. In all cases, besides his ureat moral landmarks, let him take for guides what he relieves to be the opinion of the worthy in similar cases. bet him try every case proposed by acknowlidged moral principles; and if he find alllfight there, let hint, to make assurance doubly sure, imajne these looking on, whom he knows to be deservedly esteemed for probity and intelligence; and then let him ask himself, "What will aught teen think? If I do so and so, mill they ap prove or condemn? If the latter, let nit abstain, and avoid occasion fur condem ning myself." In amusements, a young man respects himself by strictly regarding the laws of the land, and of propriety. For this purpose, he will abstain, ndt only from degrading pursuits but degrading compan ions. Vl hen we see a young man drink ing freely in a tavern or an oyster cellar, and becoming unduly tay, though not. in toxicated, we say that he dues cot respect himself; for thou it neither wit nor humor are censurable, they do not consist in ex- Icess of animal spirits, induced by nervous stimulants, W. hen we see a young man il k the third row of theatre, or entering or suing from a house of tioubtlui or vow ' nous reputation, or conversing with peo ple of notoriously bad character in streets and public walks, we say that heedoes not respect himself. When we seeye,utig men issuing froth drinking houses or the atres, and shouting or singing as they pass through the street, we say they do not . teSpect thLimsel vet. When we see young nicti congregated at street corners, indul , !ging in ribaldry and profanity, we say that they do not respect themselves. .1 When we see young men spading their time, and the money of themselves and I others, in gaming houses, we Say that they do not respect themselves. ‘MI hen wa see young men riding Out elf town on a party of pleasure, and in returning, shoe Wig, singing, swearing, and driving their spent horses at lull speed; With cruel dis regard to the *malt and the safety of street passengerst we say that they do not respect theniselvea. When we see young men congregating before church doors, to stare at woman coming out, we say that they do nut respect themselves, or the sex to which their mothers and sisters be long, FRUITS or COURTSITtr.—Ned Grimes wore a sad countenance. Ile was often asked what was the matter; but no satis factory answer was forthcoming. At length, a particular frrend obtained the following particulars of tim: "You know,' said Tied, "1 have been cowling Sally W. a long while; And so we had a great potion ofgctting married when that darned old Colonel --" "Go WI, Ned,' don't be a boy, what about Colonel---- 7""14 by you see, Sally said I'd better ask him; and so I did, as pulite as I knowed how." "Well, what reply did he make?" "Why he kinder hinted round!" What knit of hints did he throw . outg" "Why, he kinder hinted round as if I went wanted there'." "Well, Ne,6l, let us know what they were—what the colontl said, to ills-. turb your mind so?" "\Vhy, he sad—" "Said what?" "Why, he said it ha eatched me there again, he could cow hide me till I hadn't an inch of rive left on my back; darn his Oil pictev!" --- 4 . MAIUNG A GOOD TITLIte-4 very 'Cu riot's mode of trying Ilib title to land si practised in Hindoostan. Two hole s are dug in the disputed spot, in each of which the plaintdrand defendant's lawyers put one of their legs, and remain thuir till one of them is tired, or complain, of be , lug stung by insects, in which ruse his ' client is defeated. In this country, it is the client, and not the lawyer, who puts his foot into it,
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