n_IJI%'I!II%Eit II I ' • • •Ri .4. • z (t-Z, , tk.l IVIIOLE No. 165.1 TERMS OF THE 771\7111\701:D0N ZO7.7I'.I\TAL. '1 The "Journal" will be published every Wednesday morning, at two dollars a year if ):aid IN ADVANCE., and if not paid within ix months, two dollars and a half. Evet y person who obtains five subscribers and forwards price of subscription, shall he irntshed with a sixth copy grattutiously for lone year. subscription received for a less period than six months, nor any paper discontinued untilurrearages are paid. All commuhications must he addressed to the Editor, post paid, or they will not be vtitended to. Advertisinents not exceeding one square ball be inserted three times for one dollar for &very subsequent insertion, 25 ficents per s ptare'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• -"With sweetest flowers enrich'd From various gardens cull'd with care." From Blackwood's Magazine, Michand, in' his description of an Egyp tian funeral procession, which he met on his way to the cementary of Rosetta, says— " The procession we saw pass, stopped be fore certain houses, and sometimes receded a few steps. I was told that the dead stop ped thus before the doors of their triends, to bid them n last farewell, and before those of their enemies to effect a reconciliation be fore they parted forever." THE L - AST JOURNEY. Slowly, with measured trend, Onward we bear the dead To his long home: Short grows the homeward road, On which your mortal load, 0, grave! we come. Yet, yet—ah! hasten not Bear not the form We love Fast from our sight— Let the air breath on him, And the sun beam on him, Last looks of light. Rest ye, set down the bier, One he loved dwelleth here. Let the dead lie, A moment that door beside Wont to fly open wide Ere he drew nigh • Hearken!—he speaketh yet— Oh friend! wilt thou forget, (Friend more than brother!) How hand in hand we've gone', 'Heart with heart linked in one— MI to each other? “Oh, friend! I go from thee, Where the worm fasteth free, Darkly to dwell; Oiv'st thou no parting kiss? Pviend! is it come to this? Oh, friend, farewell!" TTplift your load again, 'rake up the mourning strain! Pour the deep wail! Lo! the expected one To his place he passeth on— Grave! bid him hail. Here dwells his mortal foe, Lay the departed low, Even at his gate. Will the dead sink again? Uttering proud boasts and vain, Last words of hate. T.o! the cold lips unclose: List, list, what sounds are those, . . _ _ Plaintive and low? "Oh, thou, mine enemy. Come forth and look on me, Ere hence Igo. "Curse not thy foeman now, Mark on his palid brow Whose seal is set, Pardoning I pass'd this way— Then wage not war with clay; Pardon—forget !" Now, now his labor's done! Now, now the goal is won; Oh, grave! Re come; Seal up this precious dust, Land of the good and just, Take the soul home. MISCELLANEOUS, ESTELLE; OR, "A REFORMED RARE MARES THE BEST HUSBAND," ILLUSTRATED. "Well sister," said Estelle, on the mor. ning of her wedding day, "in a few hours'' I shall be wedded to Morris. lam going to try the fearful experiment, as you are pleased to call it. If he proves to be a good husband, I shall have the satisfaction of triumphing over you; it he does not, my sad history will then serve as a bea con-light to warn others, not to shipwreck their happiness in the same manner; so yOU see I shall do my fair friends a ser vice in this way, it no other. Louise sighed as she saw her bright and happy sister so unconsciously sacrificing herself; but she only remarked that a few years would decide the question. In a few weeks Morris and his wife were settled in New York. For two years all was well with Estelle. Mor• ris was apparently a reformed man, and even Louise began to think that her fears would not be realized. His cveninss were spent in the society of his wife, and he began to feel a relish for domestic pleasure. At this period, one of his as sociates, who had just returned from a tour of Europe, called to revive old friendship. "Well, Fred," said he familiarly, "I admit your wife and your situation, and even your little babe looks like a cherub; but faith friend, you don't intend to bury yourself here, do you? How fare our old friends, P. and M.? You meet at our old haunts, I presume?" . "Indeed, I have not been there of late neither have I seen our old friends but once or twice for these two years." "Well, then, we will go and hunt them up this evening." That was a long evening for Estelle. The clock told the midnight hour before Morris returned, and when he saw her anxious countenance, his heart smote him but with a slight excuse, he quieted the fears of his too-confiding wife. From that evening must be dated the downfall of Morris. Estelle was too conscions of the change in her husband; but she ut tered not a word of reproach. "A cloud, slowly and heavily came o'er her: a cloud Of ills we mention not; enough to say 'Twas cold and clad in impenatrable gloom She saw its dark approach, and:saw her hopes; One after one, put on as nearer still It drew upon her soul; _but fainted not at first— Fainted not soon:" One night, as her husband returned home unusually late, Estelle etas struck with his haggard look and almost maniac laugh, whan he roughly said: " Well Es telle, now we are off for the west—l am' worth barely enough to buy us a log hut, and we aull go and hide ourselves in the prairies of Illinois. That Knowles has done the business for me to night. Oh! I wish I had shot him!" & he gnashed his teeth in his rage. Estel le was shocked, confounded and crushed; but she questioned him not, nor of one word of expostulation. With a sail heart, she packed her things, and in a week they were on their way to Illinois. Here, years of constant suffering awaited Estelle. Her friends, hearing of her des titute situation, sent her pecuniary aid; but what 'could bind up the wounds of that broken heart? Who could gather up those young affections again? 'When thus site lay, Forlorn of heart; withered and desolate As leaf of autumn, which the wolfish winds. Selecting from its falling sisters, chase Far from its native grove, to lifeless wastes Eternally. God passed in mercy by, His praise be ever new! and on her breath'd And bade her live." **M•*• a a * ♦ • * "Oh, ma, how I wish you had been at the meeting to-day; we had a new minis. ter. Ile looks so much like the miniature you have of uncle William, I wish you could see him. Old Margaret says he is to be our minister for a few months, till Mr. Gray has returned from his journey: for ma, he has gone to the east, to bring his wife and children here." "ONE COUNTRY, ONE CONSTITUTION, ONE DESTINY•" A. W. BENEDICT PUBL I SHER AND PROPRIETOR. HUNTINGDON, PENNSYLVANIA, WEDNESDAY DECEMBER 12, 1838 "Well, Louise, did you tell him you had a dying mother who wished to see him?'" "Ma, he was a stranger, and I dared not speck to him, but I asked old Marga ret's husband to do it, and he is coming her to-morrow." "Mother," said the same sweet-faced little girl next morning, "the minister is at the door, and wisned to know if I am the little girl whose n other wishes to see him; and there is another gentleman with him." "Ask them iii," said a feeble voice. Estelle, unaccustomed to the sight of sti angers, was abashed when the two gen tlemen entered her hut; but a slight flush came to her colerless face, as she eyed the stranger who first entered, and thought she had seen one who resembled him-- but before she had time for farther scru tiny, she found herself enclosed in the arms of her only brother. Neither could speak, but gushing tears more than words relieved their full hearts; but as she rec ognised the other stranger, who was no other than Edward Barnes, she swooned. William, dear William, have you come at length?" sobbed Estelle; "come to see your sister die; come to soothe her dying hours; come to father my loved Louise ? God has indeed answered my prayers! 0, William, it was a fearful cx periment, but it is all over!" ?Mani Lawrence was at college at the time of his sister's marriage, and was subsequently fitted for the ministry. He resolved, as soon as his studies were fin ished, to go, and take his sister back to her native village. But while he was preparing to start, news came that Estel le was no more, and that Morris was to sing about, an object of commisseration and disgust. Still he longed to go and learn more of his sistee's fate, and to take the little Louise home. his friend Ed ward Barnes accompanied him, with th e view of settling in the west. They had stopped to spend the Sabbath at a village about a mile from Estelle's house, entire ly unconscious of their affinity to her. Finding the minister of the place absent, lie propopused to preach the following day, which was gladly accepted. On Sur.day morning a little band collected in a building used as a church. Estelle had always met with this little band, but feeling her strength rapidly declining; she sent her little daughter to request the minister to visit ;her soon. The little Louise had her eyes riveted upon the preacher during all the service; and as he passed her, she tried to summon cour age to do her errand, but her heart 'failed. The next morning, William and his friend started for Estelle's abode, and on their way met an old man who made the request, they asked to be directed to her hut. But what was their surprise on hearing from the old man such an account of her, as induced them to believe that it was indeed their friend (over whose sup posed death they had often wept) they were now called to visit. They learned also, that Morris had, some months pre vious, in a fit of intoxication, committed suicide; and for nearly a year, that poor, destitute woman had lived with her lit tle daughter in extreme poverty. Wil liam tried to soothe her with the hope that she yet would be happy; that she would return with him, and in the midst of former friends, forget all her trials. But it was over with Estelle—Death had marked her for his victim. Crushed and broken hearted, she was even now on the shores of eternity "And even brother ," she would say, "were I able to endure the journey. I could never en dure the sight of my old home--of my injured sister. Oh, why did I not listen to her kind advice? No, brother, here I must die But even that thouk lit has lost half fits gloom, since I know that my Louise is provided with a home and friends." "Will you allow me to adopt your child as my own?" said Edward B. Estelle hesitated . It was the man whom she had injured. "I should rail cr ," said she, ..that she would be under the tuition of her aunt Louise. "Then will your wish to be gratified,' said William "Louise is the wife of Ed. ward Barnes—and you cannot confide your child to any with more assurance that she will receive all a mother's care and instruction ." The color went and came in poor Es telle's cheek at this intelligence; but after a moments struggle with her fee lings, she said, is as it should be; I dashed the cup of happiness from my lips, and I have been made to drink the cup of affliction to the very dregs. In a week from this time, Estelle Mor ris was a dweller in eternity. But she died not without hope. Her sufferings had led her to the fountain of consola— tion—a Saviour's love—and she realized the fulfilment of the promise, "A brhised reed will lie not break." * * In one of the neatest house in the vil lage of N—is seen a levelly girl who often with a look of sadness says, "Uncle Edward, how I wish my dear ma had lived to come here. Why did you not find us sooner I I wonder if you arc the same Edward Barnes that I have heard pa talk aboutl He told ma he supposed that she wished she had married Edward Barnes instead of him, and with a dreadful oath he left the house, saying that he would not be in the way any longer; and he never did come back—hut the next day four men brought him home. Oh, Uncle, I ca'inot tell you--it makes me tremble to think of it. Poor ins, was so ill that I thought she would have died, and that I should be left all alone!" Edward Barnes could not refrain from mingling his tears with those of his lit tle niece—nor can you lair readers—with hold your sympathy. But let none say or think, that, "a reformed rake makes ,the best husband," J EXJO 1' .1.1 D Tlll Ira .TCII. In somc of the country parts of Scot land, a custom prevails of young men gi ving their watches in trust to young wo man for whom they have declared thei r attachment. The watch is kept and car ried in the bosom of their fair one, until the anxious couple are united in the bands of wedlock, when, as a matter of course, the pledge of sincerity is delivered up to its original owner. This is imagined by country lasses to be an indefinitely bet ' ter plan for securing the fidelity of a sweet-heart, than that of breaking a six pence. A watch is a valuable and hog! ly Prized article. It is worth at least a cou ple of pounds; and the loss of that sum by an individual in a humble condition of life, is a very serious matter. Still, we believe there are cases in which the pro posed matchis abandoned forever; though doubtless this is only in cases of great fickleness, or when weighty reasons for desertion intervene. The following laughable incident regar • ding a watch so entrusted, occurred a few years ago. Jenny Symington, a well favored sprightly girl in a certain farm house in Galloway, had been entrusted with the watch for her sweet heart, Tam Holliday, a neighboring shepherd, and which she carried with scrupulous care in her bosom; hut even the most careful kept articles will sometimes disappesr, in spite of all the precautions considered neces sary to preserve them. Jenny, be it known, was esteemed a first rate hand at preparing potatoes for the family supper; none could excel her in serving them up, bested and mashed in a most tempting style. On one occasion. in harvest, when the kitchen was crowded with a number of shearers waiting for their evening meal, and while Jenny was busy beating a mess of potatoes, what (lid the unlucky watch do, but drop from her bosom, chain, seals, and all, into the pot among the potatoes; 'Jenny's head being turned away at the ' moment, she new nothing of the disaster, and therefore continued to beat on and on at her task. She certainly was a little surprised when she felt there was still a hard potatoe to beat, notwithstanding her previous diligence but thinking nothing of ",•4 ' - ...0.... ' :ie., .. ~c; , 'i , :'(, , 5 , : - • ~.4 , •'- m, , k.-. ' 2 0 • it, she continued to beat, occasionally gi ving the hard potatoe alias the watch, a good thump with the end of the bettle.--- At length she thought she had fairly completed the business; and so infusing a large jar of sweet milk into the mess, she stirred all together and placed the vessel ready for the attack of the hungry onion kers, Behold then the plot —a round gawsy tripod--planted in the middle of the floor., A circle was formed around it in a trice, and horn for horn the shearers began to stretch and strive. Many mouthfuls had not been taken, before certain queer looks begin to be manifested. "Devil's in the taffies," says one, "I think they've gut banes in them"—"Banes!" says another, '•they're the funniest banes ever I sass they're made o' broken glass and pieces o' brass; I'll sup na mair o' them! "--with that, another produced a silver watch case, all battered and useless from his ca pacious horn spoon and a universal strike among the suppers, immediately ensued. It was clear that a watch had been beaten up with the potatoes: so the good wife had nothing for it but to order the disgraced pot out of the way, and to place a basket of oatmeal cakes in its stead. What were poor Jenny's feelings du ring this strange denouement? On the first appearance of the fragments of the watch, she slipped her hand to her bosom, and soon found how matters stood. She had the fortitude, however, to show no sytnptoms of surprise; and although every one was wondering where the broken watch had come from, she did not disclose her knowledge of how it had found its way into the pot. As it had belonged to no , one in the house, the materials were not identified; and as Jenny was a young wo. ; Iman of great prudence end modes! y, and had never shown any one that she had al watch in her possession, no one teased her about it. In a short time the noise of the circumstances had died away, but not till it had gone over the neighborhood, that the family had found a watch in the pota. foe pot; and among others it came to the ears of the owner, Tam Holliday, who was highly pleased with the conduct o his beloved Jenny; for he thought that if she had cried or sobbed, and told to whom the watch belonged, it would have brought • ridicule on them both. Tam was, in short, delighted with the way the matter had been managed, and he thought the watch was well lost ; though it had been ten times the value, Whatever Tani's ideas were on the subject, Jenny felt conscious that it was her duty to replace the watch. Accor dingly, next time she met her lover, she allowed no time to elapse bofore she thus addressed him: "Nov, Tam, ye ken very wed how I have demolished your good silver watch, but it is needless to regret what cannot be helped. I shall pay yon for it, every farthing. The one half I will give you when I get my hallyear's wages at Mar. ti'mas, and the other half soon, as my brother is aw'n me three pounds, which he has promised to pay me afore the next Eastern's e'en lair." "My dear Jenny," said the young man, taking her kindly by the hand, "I beg you will say nothing about that ridiculous affair. I do not care a farthing for the loss of the watch; mair be token, I have gotten a rise in my wages !frae the new laird; for I mutt tell ye, I'm now appointed chief herd in the Ca's Hope. llowever, to take any pay, ment from you, to rob you of your hard won penny-fee, would be disgraceful. No no, I will take none of your• wages; but there is one thing I will take, if you are w illi ng , an d which; I hope, will make us baith happy for life," "And what may! that be, Tam, now that ye're turned grand head shephard?" "I will take," said he, "yourself: but mind I do not ask you as a recompense for a paltry watch; no, in my eyes, your worth is beyond all estimation. If you will but agree to be mine, let it be done freely; but whether you are married or not, from this time henceforth, the watch is never to be spo• ken of." [ Vol.. IV, No. 0. What followed may be easily imagined 'Pam and Jenny was married as soon as* the plenishing for the cottage at the Ca's Hope could be prepared; and at the wed ding the story of the watch and the pots toe pot was made the topic of moth hearty mirth among the assembled com pany. The last time we visited Jenny's cottage we reminded her of the transac tion. "Hosts" said she, "that's an old story now: the laird has been so wed plea sed we the gudeman that he has gien him a present o' that eight day clock there; it cost eight pounds in Jamie Lockie's, at the east port o' Dumfries, and there's no' . the like in a' the parish." PENN'A. LEGISLATURE From the liar. Inleligencer. Extra. Dec. 5 110 USE OF REIPRESEX LITIPE Yesterday was a day of intense excite ment and witnessed scenes truly disgrace ful to the Commonwealth. We shall at tempt a faithful sketch. At an early hour the Representative Ilall iwas crowded with members elect and spectators to the number of several hundred. It teas manifest that scenes new in our history would be enacted.— Philadelphia county seemed to have fur nished a goodly number of actors for the occasion, and sent them to Hari isburg. But our friends, the Democrats, like their fathers of old at the Boston tea-party, be haved with admirable coolness and firm. ness, determined to "ask nothing but what is clearly right, and submit to noth- ing wrong," It was given out that at eleven A. M., the House would convene. A few mo ments before the hour, Mr. Hill, of West : moreland, a Loco Foco, made a few re marks of a mild character, insisting on the spectators in the gallery to preserve order, and at 11 precisely he called the House to order, by moving that the Clerk of the former session, (Mr. F. R. Shuck,) act as Clerk in organizing, which was agreed to. The Secretary of the Com, monwealth was then introduced, and pre , sented, according to law, the sealed re ' turns which had been placed in his office. The Clerk then proceeded to open the packet and break the seals, when he read the returns from the city of Philadelphia, He next took the returns from the county of Philadelphia, and was preparing to read the legal returns, when Mr. Pray, who claims a seat from the county, moved that the reading of the returns furnished by the Secretary be, dispensed with and presented another return, which he said was attested by the hand and seal of Pro thonotary, and was therefore the proper one, and moved it to be read. Mr. T. S. Smith of the city, 'protested earnestly against receiving the returns of Mr. Pray, insisting that the Secretary of the commonwealth is the only legal than. net through which a return can reach the House, and that no vote or decision on the legality of any paper could be had till the House was organized the members from the city being the only ones whom we yet know officially to be members. Mr. M'Elwee, of Bedford, then arose and in his usual style harrangued the adi ence in the galleries, dealing largely in invective agaimt the Secretary. He was after some time, cnecked by Mr Shunk and Mr. Pray, when Mr. Hopkins of Washington. moved that both returns be read. No vote was taken on this motion but the clerk was allowed to proceed with the reading of both. The Clerk then went on to reading the returns . frotn the other counties of the commonwealth, which he did without any interruption. Mr, Stevens then rose and said, that as there would doubtless be difficulty in settling the vexed question, the members differing in their opinion as to the wode of settlement, he would make a preposition to all those who were disposed to proceed according to law, and who believed th e Secretary of the Commonwealth to be the only officer oc individual, authorised by the Constitution and laws to present re • turns to the House. And he hoped that
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