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"