HUNTINGDON .JOVit 'i.:: :iii 7' .-..'''=, : • Wrioi.E No. 164.] TERXi OF Tll3 13711TINCMON :07.1111111. The "Journal" will LA published every Wednesday morning, at two dollars a year if paid IN ADVANCE., and if notpaid within sir. months, two dollars - and a half. Evefy person who obtains five subscribers and forwards price of Sobscription, shall be irmshed with a sixth, copy gratuttionsly for one rri , '"- -. l ; 4 4criptionreceived for a less period t,rionths, nor any paper discontihued j.„....-4Rearitget art paid. All commuhications must be addressedlo the Editor, post paid, or they will not be witended to. • Advertisments not exceeding one square trill he inserted three times for one dollar for every subsequent insertion, 25 ficents per quare will be charged:—if no detnite orderd. are given as to the time an adverisment is to ae continued, it will be kept in till ordeed; but. and charge accordingly. THE GARLAND• sweetest flowers enrich'd From various gardens cull'd with care." Lines on passing the grave of niy Si4ter. DF FLINT. On yonder shore, on yonder shore, Now ardert with the depth of shade, Beneath the white-armed sycamore. There is a little infant laid. Forgive this tear—a mother weeps— 'Tis there the faded flower sleeps. She sleeps alone, she sleepialone, And summer's forest o'er her wave; And sighing winds at autumn moan, Around the little,stranger's grave, A s though they ' murmured at the fate, Of one so lone and desolate. • • c In sounds that seem like Sorrow's own, Their funeral dirges faintly creep; Then deep'ning to an organ tont% In all their solemn cadence sweep. And pour, unheard, along the wild, Their desert anthemo'era She came, and passed,' "tati I 'forget', How we whose hearts had hailed her birth Ere three autumnal suns had set, Consigned her to her mother Earth; Joys and their memories pass away; But griefs are deeper ploughed than they. We laid her in a riarroW eell; We he..ped the soft mould on her breast; And parting teal's, like rain drops, fell Upon her lonely place of rest. May angels.gnard it—may they bless Her slumbers in the wilderness. . glie sleeps alone, she sleeps alfne; For, all unheard, on yonder shore, The sweeping flood. with torrent moan, At evening lifts its solemn roar, As, in one broad, eternal tide, The rolling waters onward glide. There is no marble monument, There is no stone with graven lie, To tell of love and virtue blent In one ;almost too good to die. We need no such uselesstface To point us to her resting place She sleeps alone, she sleeps alone; : But amidst the tears and April -showers, 3 he Genius of the Wild bath strown His germs cf fruit. his fairest ft:4m, And cast his robe of vernal blo ,m, Iu guardian fondness o'er the tomb. She sleeps alone, she sleeps alone; But yearly i her grave turf dressed, And still the summer vines are thrown, In annual Wreaths across her breast; And still the sighing autumn grieves, And strews the hallowed spot with leaves. Tim TEN cOMITANDDIENTSVERSIIPIED. 1. 1 am the Lord thy God—serve only me! 2. Before no idols how the impious knee 3. Use not my name in trifles nor in jest: 4. Dare not profane my sacred day of rest: S. Ever toparents due obedience pay, O. Thy fellow creature, man, thou shalt not slay: 7. In no adulterous commerce bear a part• 1. From stealing keep with care thy hand, • and heart: p. All false reports against thy neighbor hate; 10. And ne'er indulge a wish for his estate, Att OLD FROVEriII EXPIAINID. A fool does never change his mind'— And who can think it strange? i'he reason's clear—for fools my friends, Have not a mind to change. SELECT TALE, THE EMIG RA 4T WIXD THE ;UMW A FACT• • Anon'? twelve years ago a person of the name of M'Dougal, a native of Argy ie shire, who had emigrated to Upper Can 'a - few years before, wrote to his frie'rulsln Scotfand, giving an account of Ins forfunes in the new world, and among otherthingifailed. not to snake honorable and grateful. mention ofthe following truly romantis'incideht. - In a section of Ar .gyleshii e the story wai told iee'veri par. tor, Spence, and booth, by the sheperd on the hill, and the fisherman on the lake; and a military gentleman who happened to be nn the spot allergy after the news arrived, was so much struck with. the circumstance the he collected the partic ular's from head-quarters, and is ready to vouzli . for their accuracy. M'Dougil, on reaching Upper Canada, from anxiety to make the most of his scan ty capital, or some other motive, purchas ed a location where the price of land was merely nominal, in a country thinly peo pled, and on the extreme verge of civili zation. His first care was to construct and plant a cabin in the wild, and this task finished ha spent his whole time early and late, in the garden and the fields. By vigorous exertion and occasional as 'siatance, he brought a few acres of ground under crop, acquired a stock of cattle, `sheep slid' hogs, made additional inroads on the glade and the forest, and though his toils were hard, gradually and impercep tibly became in a rough way "well enough to live," as compared with the poverty he had (abandoned at home. His greatest discomforts were distance from neighbors the church, markets, and even the mitl; and along with these the suspension, or rather the enjoyment, after long intervals of time, of those endearing charities and friendly offices si hich lend such a charm to social His cattle pastured in the neighboring ffireit, /nail after a little training returned in the evening of their own accord particularly when they heard the well-known voce of their mas ter and his dog. On one occasion, M'- Diiugal had a melder of corn togrind, and as the distance was considerable, and the roads none of the smoothest, this impor tant part of Ms. duty could. only be per formed . by starting with the sun and re turning at toe going clown of the same. In his absence the care of the cattle develved . on his spouse, and as; they did not return at the usual hour, the. careful matron went out in quest of thein. Beyond its mere outskirts, the forest was to her ter ra incognitia in the most emphatic sense of the term, and with no compass or notch ed trees to guide her, it is not to be wondered at that site wandered long ; and wearily to very little purpose. Like Alps on Alps, tail trees rose on every side—a boundless con gutty of shade, & fatigued with the'Search, she deemed : it prudent to retrace tier stays while it was yet time. But this resoffition was much easier for med than executed; returriliti.Wasaedan gerous as "going o'er," and after Wander ing for hours, she sunk on the ground, her eyes swollen and filled .with tears, and her mind agitated almost to "distraction. But here she had not rested many min utes before she was startled by the sound of approaching footsteps, and anon an In dian hunter stood before her—"a stoic of woods, a man without a tear." Mrs. M'- Dougal knew that Indians lived at no great distance, but as she hail never seen a member of the tribe, (omne ignottnn pro , magnifico,) her first emotions were those of terror; quickening, it may be said, ev ery pulse, and yet palsying every limb. But the Indian's views were more compre hensive; constantly on the out-look in search of Alit quarry, and accustomed to make circuits comprising the superfices of many a Highland mountain and glen, he hiid observed without being observed himself; knew her home, recognised her person, comprehended her mishap, "ONE COUNTRY, ONE CONSTITUTION, ONE DESTINY." A. W. LIENEDICT : PiTBLASHER AND PROPRIETOR. HUNTINGDON, PENNSYLVANIA, WEDNESDAY DECEMBER 6,18 A •ned her errand, and immediately beckitn ed to her to rise and follow him. The unfortunate woman understood the sig nal, and obeyed it in as far as terror left her power; and after a lengthened sweep which added not a little to her previous fatigue, they arrived at the door of an In dian wigwam. Her conductor invited her to enter by signs; but this she sternly refused to do, dreading the consequences, and : preferring death in the open air to the tender, mercies of canibals within. Per ceiving her reluctance and scanning her feelings, the hospitable Indian darted into the wigwam and communed with his wife, who in a few minutes also appeared, and by certain signs and sympathies known only to females, calmed the strangers fears, and induced her to enter their lowly abode : ,, Venison was 'instantly prepared for supper, and Mrs. M'Dougal, though still alarmed at the novelty of liersitua tion, fqund the viands delicious, and had rarely, if ever, partaken of so savoury a! meal. Aware that she was wearied, the ~, rern „ •,,, o Indian vedfrom their place near the roof two beautiful deer-skina, and by stretching and fixing them across, divided the wigwam into two compartments. Mats were also spred . in bothi and next, the, stranger was gven to understand that the farther dormitory was-expressly inten ded for her accommodation. ' But here again her courage Wed her, and to the most pressing entreaties she replied by signs as well as she could, that she would prefer to sit and sleep by the fire.. This determination seemed to puzzled the In dian and his squaw sadly; often they look ed at one another, and conversed softly in their awn language, and at last the red took the white woman by the hand, led her to her couch, and became her bed-fel- j low. In the morning she awoke greatly refreshed, and was anxious to depart with "outfarther delay, but this the Indian ~..,. . y,:plit on, no ‘ account permit. Breakfast wasisrepitred:--- . another savoury,tind well cooked meal—and then the Indian accGin panied his guest and conducted her to the very spot where the cattle were gra zing. These he kindly. drove froin the wood, on the verge of which Mrs. M'Dou gal descried her. husband running about every where, hallooing; and seeking for her in a state of absolute :distraction. Great was his joy,' and great hie gratitude to her •liiilian benefactor, who was invited tO,the house and treated to the best the larder airorded, and presented on his de parture with a suit of clothes. • In about three, days he returned, and endeavuored by every while to induce Mr M'Dougal, to follow him into,the‘ forest, But this invitation the other positively de clipetf, . and thel'poor Indian went on his way obviously grieved and disappointed, But again he returned, and though words, were wanting. renewed his entreaties, but still vainly and without, effect; and then las a last desperate Oka, he hit upon an expedient which none save an Indian hun tel would have thought of. Mrs. M'D,ou gal had a nursling only a few months old; a fact the Indian failed not to notice— I and aftei,his pantomimic eloquence had been completely thrown away, he ap proached the cradle, sei7ed the child and darted out of thnhouse with the speed of an antelope. The alarmed parents in stantly followed, supplicating an!' impre cating at the tip of their voices; but the Indian's resolves were fixed as fate; and away he went, slow enough to encourage his puriuers. but still in the van by a good many paces, and far ,enough chieve the secret purpose l#e };ad formed; like the parent bird skimming the ground when she wishes to wile the enemy from \ter neat. Again and Again, Mr. M'Dou gal wished to continue the chase alone; but maternal anxiety baffled every remon strance, and this anxiety was if possible increased when she saw the painted say. age enter the wood, and steer,., as she thought, his course towards his own cabin in the hart of the wild. The Indian, how ever, was in no Ifficry. 'occasionally he cast a glance behind, poised the child al most like a father, threaded his way with admirable dexterity, and kept the swan- dling clothes so closely drawn around it, that not even the winds of heaven were permitted to visit it too roughly, It is, of course needless to go into all the details of .this singular journey, farther than to say, that the Indian at last called a halt on the margin of a -very beautiful prairie, teeming with the richest vegetation, and extending to several thousand acres. In a moment the child was restored to its parents, who, wondering what so strange ' a proceeding could mean, stood for some minutes panting for breath, & e I eing one another in silent and speechless astonish ment. The Indian ou the other hand, ap- 1 peered overjoyed at the success of his ma ' noeuvre, and never did a human being frisk about and gesticulate with greater animation. We. have read or heard of a professor of signs, and supposing such a character were wanted, the selection could not, or at least should not, be a matter of difficulty, so long as a remnant remains of the-aborigines of North America. All travellers agree in describing their gee. tures as highly dignified, eloquent, and in. telligent; and we have the authority of Mr M'Dougal for aaying, that the hero of the present strictly authentic tale, proved him self to be a perfect master of the art. The restoration of the child, the beauty and wide extent of the prairie. and variou s other circumotances combined, flatbed a cross our countryman's mind, operating conviction where jelaousy and distrust had lurked before; and as the Indian stood before him, his eyes beaming with benev olence and intelligence, his arms extended and, along with his body, thrown into th e most varied and speaking attitudes; lie be came more and more satisfied that his speech, if given in broken English, would have run very nearly as follows:—"You doubt Inciio; you think him treacherous ; you think him wish to steal the child. No, no; Indian has tribe and child ofhis own ; Indian knewyourlong tips; knea , you when you first-came, and saw you when you not see Indian; saw you poor but hard working man; .some white men bad, and hurt Indi an; you not bad; hurt no one, but work hard for your wife and child; saw you choose bad place; Indian pitied you; never make rich- there; saw your cattle far in forest; thought you come catch them; you • nut come; your wife come; Indian find her- faint and weary; Indian take her home; fcango in; think Indian- kill and eat her; no, no; -Indian lead her back; In dian meet you; very sad, - then very glad to .see her; you kind to Indian; give him meat, drink, and better clothes than your own; Indian grateful; wish you to come here,- not come; Indian go again; not come; Indian very sorry; take the child; no.; run fast; knowyou would follow child, Look round! plenty grouncl--,rieli. rich; Indian love the deer, and the birds and beast of the field; the chase make him strong; his father' loved • the chase; if In dian fat in, Indian farm here;look round! plenty of ground—rich, rich; many, many cattle feed here; trees not many on that side; make road in less than half a moon; Indians help- you ; come, come--Indi an. ya,r friend—come, live here." Mr . M'Dougal in a trice examined the soil, and immediately saw the propriety of the advice given by the untutored, but by no means unintelligent -or unobserving sav age—if savage, in• deference to custom; , lie must still be called. By a sort of tac tic agreement a day was fixed. for the re moval of the materials of our eountryntans cabin, goods, and chattels; and the - Indian true to his word, brought a detacinent of his tribe.to -assist in one of the most ro mantic ..flittings'' that ever was under taken, whether in the new or old world. Ina few days a-roomy loghouse was fash ioned, and a garden formed in a conve• nient section of the beautiful prairie, from, which the smoke was seen curling, and the woodpecker heard tapping at no great distance. Mr. M'Dougal was. greedy pleased with the change;.and no wondCr, seeing that he could almost bOiia i r of a bodyguard as bold as the bowisian of Rob in Hood. His Indian friend speeilly be came a sort of fosterbrother, and his tribe as faithful as th. most attached tail of gillies that ever surrounded a Highland chieftain. Even the stupid kine lOwed on finding themselves suddenly transported to a boundless range of the richest pas ture, & upto the date of the lasl adviees, were improving rapidly in condition, and increasing in numbers. The little garden was smiling likes r . Ose . in the desert; grass over-abundant, gradually giving way to thriving crops; and the kine so well satis lied with their gong, that herds and • closures were alike uni?eeded tri keen theta from the coin—The Indians con_ tinued friendly and faithful, occaisonally britiging• presents of venison and other game, and wee uniformly rewarded from the store of a dairy overflowing with milk, butter, and cheese. Attached as the red. man - was to his mode of life, he' was at length intlaceiL with his wife, to form part of the establishment in the ca pacity of grieve ; or.head Shepard —aduty . he undertook the more cheerfully, as it still left him opportunities of meeting and communing with his friends, and recon noitring the antlered denizens of the for est. Let us hope, therefore, that no un toward accident will occur to mar this beautiful picture of sylvan life; that the M'Dougal colony will wax stronger and stronger, till every section of the prairie is forced to yield tribute to the spide and the plough; and that future generations of the clan will be able to say for themselves and impress upon their children--. ..Happy they.nan whose highest care A few paternal acres bound; Content to breathe his native air In his own ground • read Whose herds with mirk, whose fields with Whose flocks supply him with attire; Whose trees in summer yield him shade, In winter fire. Thqs let me live Unseen, unknown, Thus unlamented let me die; Steal from the world, and not a stone Tel where I lie!" MISCELLANEOUS, I*art3 Spirit. The following extract from Washing ton's Farewell Address, is peculiarly ad apted to the present clay, when party spir it seems to govern all motives in the choice of the officers of the people. "Let me warn you, in the most solemn manner, against the hanefnl effects in the spirit of party generally-.. . "The spirit, unfortunately, is insepera ble from our nature, having its root in the strongest passions of the human mind• It exists under different shapes, in all governments more or less stifled, con trolled or repressed, but in those of the popular form it is seen in its greatest dark ness; and is truly their worst enemy. 'The alternate dominion of one faction over another, shapened by the open spirit of revenge, natural to party dissension, which in different ages and countries, has perpetrated the most horrid enormities, is itself a frightful despotism. But this leads at length to a more formal and per. raiment despotism. The disorders and miseries which result, generally incline in the mind of men to seek Security anti repose in the absolute. Power of an individ ual, and, sooner or later, therchiel of some prevailing fitCtion. more able or fortunate than his'ebinpanions, turns his,despotiSth to the' purpoSe of his own elevatien anti the ruin , :tf public "Without looking forward to an ex tremity of this kind, (which, nevertheless, ought not to be entirely out of sight,) the common and continued mischiefs of party are sufficient to make it the interest and duty of a wise people to discourage and restrain it, "It serves always to distract the public councils, and en feeble the public admim istration. It agitates the commonity with Its unfounded jealousies and false alarms; kindles the animosity of one against ano_ ther—ferments, occasionally, riot and in surrection. It opens the• door to foreign influence and corruption, which find a fa cilitated access to the Government itself, through the channels of party passions. [ Vol.. IY, No. 8 'Vitus the policy and will of one conntry . are subjoined to the policy and will of ,another. '.There Is an opinion, that parties, in free countries,.are useful checks upon the administration of the government, and serve to keep alive the spirit of liberty. This, within certain limit:, is probably true; and in governments of a monarchical cast, patriotism may look with indulgence if - not with favor upon the spirit of party. Bet in those of the popular character, in Governments purely elective; it is a spirit not to be encouraged. From their natu ral tendency, it is certain there will al ways be enough of that spirit for every salutary purpose. And there being, con stant danger of excess-, the efforts ought to be by the force of public opinion, to mitigate and assuage.it. A flee not to be. quenched, it demands a uniform vigilance to prevent its bursting into a flame, lest, instead of warning, it should consume." "Lor's Wira."--Mr. Colman, in Agricultural Address iast..week, illustra ted the folly of modern fashionable female eduCation, by an anecdote.—A young man who had for a long while remained in that useless state, designated by a "half pair of scissors," at last serio,usiy deter mined he would procure hint a wife. He got the "refusal" of one, who was beauti ful and fashionable, accomplished, and took her upon trial to his home. Soon learning that she knew nothing either how to darn a stocking or boil a potatoe or roast a bit of b.ief, he returned her to her father's house, as having been weigh. cd in the balance and found., wanting. suit was commenced by th:. good lady, but the husband alleged that she was not 'u =to the sample,' Ainq course the obli gation to retain the commodity was not binding. The jury inflicted a fine ofa few dollors, but he would have given a fortune rather than to be liberated from such an irksome engagement. `As .wsll might the farmer have the original Venus de Medicis placed in his kitchen,' said t!:e orator, 'as some of the modern fashiona ble Woman.—lndeed, continued he, 'it would be much better to have Lot's Wife standing there, for she might answer ocn useful purpose; size might salt his bacon. --ilorihampf on Courier. Popping the Question. "What a thing is acquaintance:" said a beautiful girl the other day to a friend of ours—‘.a year ags we had not seen each other—many seasons had Tolled its course, bringing hope, happiness, per. chance and sorrow to each, without the cognizance of the other, and new tec arc so in(bizate!" Our friend says she look ed • so lovely he could not help pressing j her delicate cheekhe asked her if he had aught to do with the happiness of her future.. „"You ,are in my dreams of the coming days," replied she; they are to be married at Christmas. We consider this one of the neatest "popping of the question" ever heard , Of, though, by the way, we think it ougl:t to have happen ed in leap year. ~~~ .11teMote A reverend clergyman of .Plidadel phia, while on a visit to abrother divine at Cape May, was invited to accompany his friend and others or, a fishing excur sion in a whale boat, When some dis • tance from the shore, they discovered a "devil fish,!' .and fastened to it with a whale iron which they hadwith them. The fish not liking sick sicking proof of at_ tachment from entire strangers, made off with great velocity, drawing the boat a' ter him, to the terror of. the Philadelphi an, TO &mat delight ofthe remainder of the party,—The Philadelphian could not resist asking his• friend the occasion of their mirth and received for answer, .that it was enough to make one laugh to see the Dcvil running away with a couple of ministers, Up flew the • De‘il in a rage Autl Bet Lwo lines t 4; fill 6;3 page,
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