HUNTINGDON JOURNAL. 4".. r ,t \ TERMS ALE Na 176. j OF Tilt IirCITTINOZON :0711,11.A.L. The "Journal" will be published every Wednesday morning, at two dollars a year if paid IN ADVANCE, and if not paid within sixmenths, two dollars and a half. lively person who obtains five subscribers and forwards price of subscription, shall be famished with a sixth copy grattutiously for one year. it a subscription received for a less period than six months, nor any paperdiscontinued anti I arrearages are paid. All commuhications must be addressed to rthe Editor, post paid, or they will not be *headed to. Advertisments not exceeding one square ball be inserted three times for one dollar for every subsequent insertion, 25 ficents per square will be charged:—if no detnite orderd ire given as to the time an adverisment is to •s continued, it will be kept in till ordced; but, and charge accordingly. COMMON SCHOOLS. [Circular.] .1111ARRISBURG, FEBRUARY 11, 1839 ..The Commissioners of Huntingdon Co , I .GIDITLEDIENt—By the fifth paragraph of the tenth section ot the act to consolidate and amend the several acts relative to a general system of education by common schools, passed the 13th June, 1836, the Superintendent of Commoa Schools is direc ted annually, in the month of February, to transmit to the commissioners of each coun ty, a statement of the amount every district therein that has, and every district that has not adopted the Common School 'system, may be entitled to receive out of the annual appropriation of two hundred thousand dol lars, and the commissioners shill immedi ately cause such statement to be published three times, in one or more newspapers grin ted in said county, ..By the third section to the supplement to the above recited act, passed on the 12th day of April, 1838, it is thus provided, "Steno?: 3. It shall be the duty of the commissioners of each county in the State, triennially, to ascertain with the assistance of the respective assessors, the exact num ber of the resident taXible citizens of each Common School district in their several counties, and to certify the same under their hands and seal of office, to the Sup2rinten dent of Common Schools, who is hereby di rected to adopt the number of taxables, thus certified to him, as the basis of distribution of the State appropriation; the said certifi cates to be prepared and transmitted on or before the first day ot April in every third year, commencing with the first day of April eighteen hundred and thirty—nine: Provi ded, That if the commissioners of any coon ty shall neglect to forward such certificates, on or before said day, the Superintendent may, in that case, adopt the number of tax ables set forth in the next preceding certifi catepr return. _ 'You perceive that there will be some dif icolty this year, in carrying, into effect these provisions, as the enumeration to be retur ned on the first of April, is to be the basis of distribution, while the Superintendent is to furnish the statement of the amount to which each district is entitled in the month of February. "It is impossible, at this time, to coulee. ture the proportion of the two hundred thous and dollars, to which each district will be entitled. hen the number of taxables is ascertained by the enumeration to he return ed on the first of April next, the proportion will be reduced according to the increase of the taxables. As the main'object of furnish frig this statement in the unman of February, is to give notice to the districts of the amount of tax they are required to assess in order to entitle them to the Sate appropriation; airdl as the reduction in this sum, arising from the additional number of taxables, will not be peat, it is considered that a publication of the statement furnished to you by the Su perintendent, in February, 1838, will sub stantially comply with the law. You will, therefore, re-publish that statement during the present month, for the information of the districts, and inform them that it contains the amount, to which they are entitled, of the twa thousand dollars for the present year. "I am constrained to urge upon you the necessity . of furnishing the exact lumber of taxables in each of the districts in your cows ty, agreeable to the above recited section, as soon as practicable, and not to delay the master longer than the Ist April. You per keive, by the concluding part of the section, that if this \ return isnot made in time, the taxables in the preceeding return are to be adopted, by which your county will be de prived, for the year, of the State appropria tion to the additional taxab'es in the respec tive districts, granted by the eleventh sec tion of the act of 12th Ap ril, _ 1138, which makes the amount of the State uppropria thin equal to one dollar for each taxable cit ises,"- FR. R. SHUNK Superintendent of Schools." In compliance with the foregoing instruc• Lions, the following statement of the amount due the sevniol School Districts of Hunting don county, for the cosistox SCHOOL year 3139, is again published as the basis of dis tribution of State appropriation to the districts for the school year 1890, and which will form the data, upon which the Districts roust assess their respective schooltax, for the ensuing year. VIZ: Alleg - - heny - 8140,49 Antes - - - 191,63 Barrett - - 281,52 Crom well - - - 136,60 Dublin - 99,70 Franklin .- - 165;13 Frankstown- 250,45 • Henderson - - - 168,32 Huntingdon , - 161,85 Hopewell - - - 121,711 Morris - 216,881 Porter - a - 162.50 Shirley - - 138,54 Springfield - - 127,54 . 'fell - - 117,18 Tyrone - - - 142,43 Union - - - 231,12 Walker - 100,35 W. Mark- - 211,05 West - - 244,07 Woodbur - y 574,85 Hollidaysburg - - 192,93 The several assessors within the county of Huntingdon, lire reggired to make out their assessments with a correct return of the whole number of taxables in each coststox scnoot, district, and return the same to the Commissioners office in the borongh of Hun tingdon, on Friday the 29th day of March next, that the commissioners may be ena bled to carry into t Met the act of the Gzn eral Assembly recited nn the foregoinc cir cular. The personal attendance of each of the Assessors at that time will be necessary Attest, J. ARMITAGE CM. Comm's. office, Tluntingdon February 18th, 1829. Mr. BenneWs Lenore. WA sniNcroN, 3rd Feb. 1839. The two Portraits—Picture of Democracy —Picture of diristocracy. Look on this picture—then on that.—Hamlet. Alter floating about in Pennsylvania Avenue for an hour this morning , I, at last resolved to break a promise 1 had made to a friend, and instead of visiting his church, I could not resist the desire of again viii • ling St. John's Church in President Squ:lre, and again taking another look at the.manners, ways, demeanor, and taste of the Great Democrat of the nation—l mean Martin Van Buren—non the Presi- ' dent, and more than monarch, of nearly twcr,ty cf intelligent, rational, and sensible beings. I accordingly bent my way westward, up the Pennsylvania Avenue, towards the church in question. As proceeded on my way, the noble porticoes of the White House, glittering in the morning sun, almost dazzled mine eyes with their effulgence and splendor. The noble lineaments of that building are ' far mote imposing and classical than those of Windsor Castle, the royal residence of England's Queen. Yet the former are purely democratic, while the latter pre. seats nothing that is not horrible to a true republican. In point of taste, producing similar grandeur, the White House on thi. Potomac, is even superior to the chateau de Tuilliertes, the royal residence if the King of the French. The latter is more extensive and contains more apartments, bat by no means has it the same classical appearance. Wandering along in this direction, t sometimes musing over the rise and fall of empires, sometimes the fall and rise of politicians...—now catching the seams of the glorious sun, then the sparkling eye of a pretty girl—l reached the fashiona ble square, mounted the fashionable brick step—entered the fashionable church, and asked of the fashionable sexton, if he could accommodate me with a seat in an empty pew. "Certainly." said lie. The service had already began—half the con gregation had assembled, and the rest, in cluding his Excellency, were piobablv hull dressed, and would reach the church in I ime to hear the last paragraph of the sermon, the last prayer, the collect, and the closing anthem. Here it is a settled axiom in fashionable life, that no person, having any regard for their reputation or standing. in the beau monde, must enter church till half the ser vice is concluded. Why? There is an exquisite pleasure in disturbing the con gregation m the very midst of their reli gious outporings, which no one seems to understand so well, or to enjoy so much, as his Excellency Martin Van Buren. During the former presidencies, Mr. Ad sins and General Jackson, both went to church at the same hour which other peo• plc go. They had not reached the high point of philosophy and civilization to which his present Highness has done. All the morning services and half the sermon were through when his Excellen cy made his appearance. A little hustle took place on Ins entrance, among the strangers front foreign parts, and the Athenians from New York. A slig ht pause was made in the services of the dav —but whether the sun stood still in hi; journey up the blue firmament of heaven, I do not positively know, for I had no means of inspecting the dial at the time. When the Queen of England, or the King of France go to perform their devotions, they always make a point to enter when the prayers begin—at least so I found them to do when I last visited those coon-, trio. "ONE COUNTRY, ONE CONSTITUTION, ONE DESTINY." A% W. BENEDICT PUBLISHER AND PROPRIETOR. HUNTINGDON, PENNSYLVANIA, WEDNESDAY FEBRUARY 27, 1839 At last his Excellency was seated—a very important point in the movements of the day. His pew is in the right central aisle, in a good position to see and to be seen. The rest of the congregation was com posed of the secretaries, high officers of the government, with their wives, daught ers, neices, and other attaches. Some were pretty, some silly, some ordinary, some pious, some vain, some proud, and some lowly minded. In the Episcopal service there is as much movement, such as rising, standing and kneeling, as there is in my own belov ed church—the Catholic—to whom I pay $BO a year for a pew. During these movements, the congregation were vari ously occupied. Some, I suppose were thinking of their sins--some of their beaux --some of the psalm—some of the elec tions—and some of their new bonnets and feathers. As to the President, I should think, judging from the wrinkles in his brow, that he was deeply thinking, some times on the "sober second thoughts of the people—sometimes on his cabbage garden at Kinderhook—sometimes on the cut of his coat, and the peculiar contour of his elegant silvered whiskers. After the prayer and anthem, the con gregation rose and slowly departed. I went out with the crowd of young men, and lounged round the corners with the loungers, attaches, politicians, office-see kers, saints, sinners, and other loafers front parts unknown. In a short time his Excellency made his appearance with a lady on his ann. Over his shoulders hung a very splendid blue Spanish cloak. On his appearance, up drove a very splendid carriage, drawn by two beautiful blood horses, their heads and tails lull of a great deal more of intellect, passion, fee ling, and sublimity than the owner. It was a fine study for me, who am some thing of a painter, to mark the splendor and grace of the horses, and the calm, a es' on es s, almost silly expression of their master. I have no doubt but it was two such animals that the Emperor Nero or Caligula—l forget which—elevated to the Senatorial dignity. But, to return—the carriage of his Ex cellency was the most superb thing I have yet seen. It was of a dark olive hue, with ornaments elegantly disposed, shi ning as bright as burnished gold. When I was in Paris, I saw Louis Philippe fre quently drive out to Neuilly, and back to the Tuilleries—when I was in London I saw the Queen as frequently drive from I Buckingham Palace round Hyde Park— when I was at Il indsor, I have also seen the same royal persona g e driving from the Castle to the Chapel. I have seen all these, yet 1 must say, that the carriage and horses—the ordinary equipage of the chief democrat of this land of locoloco equality, is far more elegant, superb, and splendid than either of the oilier great and royal personages. The servant dash ed up the steps, nged at the door—jum ped up behind, and away rolled the head of the republican party, with an air and a style, that can equal and surpass that of any crowned head in Europe. All the other carriages and the greater part of the company, hail left the scene before I recovered from the deep reverie into which I had been flung by the events of the morning. What a bubble is politics! --what a bubble is democracy! what a bubble is man !--what a pitiful bubble is a politician! but, oh! what a beautiful bubble is woman/ These were the thoughts that filled my mind. I saw some fair ones near me that I had a slight acquaintance with, but avoided them; for I was not in the mood of gallantry; and when you are not in the mood, what a foolish but endea ring thing an amiable and lively woman is. I was more disposed to weep—to weep bitterly at the folly of human nature —or laugh- -yes, laugh loud at the maniac mad ness of mankind. I wandered along the street perfectly at random, like an isolated soul drifted down the great tide of eternity. This, said 1 to myself, is, then, a specimen of democracy--regular, out-and-out demo cracy— or that democracy of which we hear so mho in the porter houses of New York, and the beer cellars of Philadelphia. If this is democracy—and that pompous nothing of a man the chief democrat, 1 wish, I pray I could have a glimpse of ar istocracy—a single peep at one of these horrible aristocrats who have struck with horror this sensitive, unhappy country for the last ten years with the pains of the cholera itself. Heaven seemed to hear my prayer, for I soon stumbled by accident upon the ve ry object of which / was in search. I passed the Treasury buildings, retur ned down the Avenue, and again reached the Hotel. I went to the bar, and inqui. red for the New York mail. There was none. 'As I turned round from the bar, I met a tall, plait► looking man, past the meridian of life—with a somewhat large mouth•—s slight turn up in his nose—.s calm, yet keen, piercing, brilliant eye— and one of those foreheads of such ample dimensions as indicate the breath of the soul within. He went up to the bar, took a pinch of snuff; nodded to one or two persons as he passed, and then quietly walked towards the door. Here he en countered an old gentleman, whom he ac costed thus:— "Any news to dayl" "Nothing," replied the other, "that I have heard." "h ho is that person who has just gone out?" asked a young gentleman of me. I looked at the querist. "That person," said I, "is a very atro cious character—he is the greatest as isto crat of this country." The young man looked at me incredu lously. "You may believe or not as you please," said I, "but ►t is nevertheless too true. That person is Henry Clay of Kentucky. He has just walked from church, and is now walking to his lodgings, as you or I would du, Wahout blue and gold carriage, blood horses, or livery servants. Ile is the most fearful and dangerous aristocrat that this country ever produced. lie walks on his own legs and goes to church as socc as the bell ceases ringing. Pray you avoid his example, tf you are not also an aristocrat." The young man stared. _ “As or nurse own poor self, I intend to be a democrat and a lepublican as fast as I can. I must get me a splendid carriage, covered with blue and burnished gold, and drawn b) two blood horses, worth 33000—and always go to church wheruthe service is half over. That's being a dem ocrat.” kkith this I retired to my apartment; ate a bad dinner, badly served up; wrote this bad letter; and mean to drink a gen tle glass of whiskey toddy, and the;, go to sleep away another night of the weary pilgrimage of human "Oh! virtue" said the young Brutus, "what a phantom art thou:" "Oh liberty" said the beautiful Madame Roland, "what deeds have been done in thy name." "Oh! honor," said fat Sir John Falstall, "what mitre wind art thou!" Oh! democracy!" say I, •'what a greater bubble art thou than Roman virtue, French liberty, or English honor, all put together, made in to one dose, and labelled on the back— this is Martin Van Buren—a pure demo crat, of Kinderhock—stand out of the way of his splendid equipage and blood horses. Hope and Memory. A little babe lay in the cradle, & t-lope came and kissed it. ft hen its nurse gave It a cake, Hope promised another to-mor row; and when its young sister brought it a Hower, over which it clapped its hands and crowed, Hope told of bright ones, which it would gather itself. The babe grew to a child, and another friend came and kissed it. Her name was Memory. She said, - .Look behold thee, and tell me what thou seest." The child answered, "1 see a little book." And Memory said, "1 will teach thee how to get honey from the book, that will be sweet to thee when thou art old-" The child became a youth. Once when he went to his bed, - Hope and Memory stood by the pillow. Hope snug a melo dious song, and said, "follow nse, and eve ry morning thou shalt wake with a smile, as sweet as the pretty lay I sung thee." But Memory said, "Hope, is there any need that we should contmd7 He shall be . ‘ mine as well as thine. And we shall be to him as sisters all his life long." So he kissed Hope and Memory, as he was beloved of them both. fl bile he slept peacefully, they sat silently by his side, weaving rainbow tissues into streams. Mien he awoke, they came with the lark to bid good morning, and he gave a hand to each. He became a man. Every day Hope guided him to his labor, and every night he supped with Memory at the table of Knowledge. But at length Age 'found him and tut n ed his temples gray. To his eye the world seemed altered. Memory sat by his elbow chair like an old and tried friend He looked at her seriously and said, "Hast thou not lost something that I en• trusted thee?" And she answered, "I fear so; for the lock of my casket is worn. Sometimes I am weary and sleepy, and 'lime purloins my key. But the gems that thou didst give me when life was new—l can account for all—see how bright they are!' While they thus sadly conversed, Hop, put forth a sing that she had worn, fold ed . under her garment, and tried its strength in a heavenward flight. The old man laid down to die, and his soul went forth from the body, the angels took it. And Memory walked with it through the pie of heaven. But Hope lay down at its threshold and gently expi red, as a rose giveth out its last odors. tier parting sigh was like the music of a serapri's harp. She breathed it into a glorious form, and said, "Immortal hap piness! I bring thee a soul that I have led through the world. It is now thine, Jesus hath redeemed it."—.Mra, Sigour. Swearing: The most prevalent vice in the commu nity is profane swearing. Go where you will, except into church or a lady's draw ing -room & your ears are sure to be saluted with its sounds. Old and voting, high & low, all indulge in it; just as though there were not decent, respectable, inoffensive words enough in our language to express all our wants and emotions ..vithout a draft upon the black vocabulary of profanity. Some people, to be sure, have a very • odd way of swearing, and others a very Irefined one; but swearing in any style, is a • heathenism. It was no part of our lan guage originally, our primative language originally, Our primeval language was ta ken front the whispering of nature's self; pure, harmonious, peace-inspiring. It should never be outraged by conversation al oaths, and we t list those who have ac quired the habit; a habit which lots same hng devilish in it: will take our advice, & "r4orin it altogether." You can't think how touch better you will look and feel. Picayune. 11•111•=1... Ml•nlair,* There are seasons when a Christian's distinguishing character is hidden from Irian. A Christian merchant on Change is not called to show any difference in his mere exterior carriage from another mer chant. He gives a reasonable answer if lie is asked a question. He does not fan atically intrude religion into every sen tence he utters. He does not suppose his religion to be inconsistant with the com mon interchange of civ;lity. He is alTable and courteous. He can ask the news of the day, and take tip any topic olconver sation. But is he. therefore, not different from other men? He is like another mer chant in mere exterior circumstances, which is leastin God's regard; but, in his taste ! his views! his sience! his hopes! his happiness: he is as different from those around him as light is from darkness. 'He watts for the coining of our Lord Jesus ] . Christ,' who never passes perhaps through the thoughts of those he talks with, but to . be neglected and despised: Atheism - WHAT IT LEADS TO.-It 1 is stated in the Delaware Journal, that William Carver, the bosom friend of; Thomas Paine, in who,e house that great I infidel breathed his last; and for a long t time a leader among the Fanny Irrlght 1 Agrarians of Now York, was found on , Tuesday last in the streets of that city, i begging. from door to door, in a state of! utter destitution. He is new in his B.ld year. His agrarian and infidel associates, would, it seems, have permitted him to perish in the streets. They would putt down all above them; but they take no thought of the poor and feeble below their line of worldly prosperity. This is the true modern agrarianism. And in the case of Carver, there is afforded an elo quent illustration of the results of evil principles and evil associations. The Journal also states that .when Carver was brought to the Almshouse, he ( begged hard for liberty for a few days on ly, that he might celebrate the birth day of Paine, but being refused, he attempted to kill the person who had him in charge, and also endeavored to cut his own throat. He was however left out and furnished with decent clothes to attend the celebra tion, at which the wretched old sinner trebling on the brink of the grave, made a speech full of atheism and blasphemy. Fortunately he was secured, and is now where his bodily vants will be well cared for. Such are the pitiable excesses of `moral guilt, and extremes of destitution, to which men may be betrayed or reduced, Iwhose vision of the future is bounded by the horrizon of this lower earth.-11al. Patriot. Iteligion "He is a bad eitiLni." said Napoleon, "who undermines the religious faith of his COUlliq. All !nay not. kei lisps, be , lubs:antiaby good; but re! tain it is, that all come in aid of the government power, and are the essential basis of morality, In the absence of rcligioo, I can discover no inducement to be virt sous. 1 desire to iive and die in :nine; n is inure ul to me, than the hideous spectacle of old man dying like a dog I', "Mere is the hoe?" said agentleman to his negro. "Wal de harrow." Where is the harrow?,' Wid de hoe." "And where are they both?" "T 3 by boph er; good do you want to create el, fun wid poor nigger Jill mornin7" [ You IV, No. 20. THE VETERAN'S DRATE-BED.—On the 16th of February, 1813, I went to take a last farewell of our old brother officer, Captain Gale.. He had been mortally wounded in the fi,g ht the day before, and he still lay with life, bat without hope. I found him in the corner of an old ruined house, the doors were oft their hinges, and the windows stuffed with straw and paper to exclude the air. He was stretched up on his old camp bed, covered with his cloak and blankets, and in the hands of the dying veteran was a Bible, from which he slowly raised his eyes as i entered. "Ah! Cadell," said he languidly, "se you are come to see the old soldie r die! I take it kinaiy of you." “You have done your duty, Gale,” I said, much moved, and taking my pooi7 friend's ham!. trust we may all rens der as good an account as you can when it .comes to our turn." trust I have done my d'uty,'• he re plied. "Flom the days of Abercrombie and Egypt to the present moment, I have followed the banners of the Slashers, through fair and foul, and aow--" a tear filled the old soldier's eye—"l have seea them for the last ttine: "It is the will of Gear' "I know it, and I do not repine," he continued; "and it is a mercy to me that my pain is light, and my coustieues free from stain." My poor friend was obliged to pause Once or twice, in consequence of the loud cries of a Portuguese officer who occupied another corner of the large desolate apart ment. lie was in the same situation as :moor Gale, but the conduct of the two 'men was widely different. The Pertly. Iguese was loudly bewailing the absente of a confessor, and begging those around to save him, who could render bin► no help; and then followed a fit of convulsive sob- Wog and tears. in the interval of one ef one of these paroxysms, Gale raised his feeble voice. "Are you not ashamed," he said, in Portuguese, "are you nut ashamed, as a soldier, to lie there screaming like a sick wonan? You Portuguese have often fol lowed the example of British soldiers in the held; now learn how a British soldier can die—one who has faithfully served his God. his king, and his country. At this moment our bugles sounded for the advance. "'There— they are going —the brave boys!" uttered my dying comrade, whose strength was ebbing thst. "Fm this time they march without me. Farewell, my gallant comrades ! I shall see you no more. You will remember your old captan, Ca dell," he added in a faint but earnest tone. "Do you think you could raise me to yon der window?" With his srvant's assistance I Lore him to the window, and from thence he gazed at the troops then on their march. He watched them without speaktng till the last gli-min of their bayonets disap pared, and then, as if exhausted, fell back in my arms. I strove to raise hint —it was of no avail. The old soldier was FNALES AS Tr,Actium—Hon. Tfix.- LIAM H. SEwAitu, Govern:l. of New York, ranks high as a politician and statesman, but holds a still more enviable rank among the best scholars, thinkers and writers in our country. The following eloquent and just tribute to the peculiar merits and qualifications of women is from his pen: "He it secios to me is a dull observer, who is not convinced, that they are equal— ly qualified with the other sex, for the study of the magnificcut creation around us, and equally entitled to the happiness to be derived Iroin its pursuits; and still more blind is he, who has not learned that it was the intention of the Creator to commit to them a higher and greater por tion of responsibility in the tfincation of youth of both sexes. They are the nstur al glia.clian of die young,. Their abstrac tion from the engrossing cares of life af fords them leisure both to acquire and communicate knowledge. From them the Noun:olore willingly re ceive it, because the severity of discipline is relieved with great tenderness and af fection, while their more quick apprehen sion, enduring patience, expansive benev olence, higher purity, more delicate taste, and elevated literal feelings qualify them for excellence in all departments of learn ing except perhaps the exact sciences. If this be true, how many a repu!sive, bigot ed and indolent professor will, in the gen eral improvement of education, be compel. led to resign his claim to modest, assidu ous and affectionate woman? And how many conceited pretenders who may wield the rod in our common schools, without the knowledge of human nature requisite fur its discreet exercise, too indolent to improve and too proud to discharge their responsible duties, will be driven to seek substinence elsewhere"
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