H UNTING DON JOURNAL.
Wz[oLE No. 187.]
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OF THE
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THE GARLAND.
sweetest flowers enrich'd
From various gardens cull'd with care."
From the N. Y. Weekly Whig.
AUNT BECKY.
Aunt Becky led a single life—
That is she ne'er became a wife:
But always lived a sad old maid,
Folks often wondered why she chose
To pluck the thorn and leave the rose;
(Or rather said it to perplex her,
Asthat was just the thing to vex her,)
But here's the truth, Aunt Becky would
Have married if she only could,
With love het heart did often burn,
But no one sent their lo , e in turn;
She longed in vain to tatse the honey,
That flowed from bliAsful matrimony;
For none, excepting Billy Snooks,
flared meet her very ugly looks;
Nor even he his visits paid,
Unless to bor:ow, chat; or trade.
Aunt Becky's nose looked queer enough—
\ little snub, and up to snuff;
Ani then she had a head of hair
Whose red locks ihrne so bright and fair
hot many a self conceited fop
~; :tve her the name of Sorrel top.
/ter eyes were grey—her teeth were white
But only two e'er came in sight;
ler skin was of the saffron dye
Vith which Aurora tints the sky;
in short when she was in her prime ;
lay twenty-five—and at the time
When she enjoyed her happiest hour—
',he looked juts like a rank sunflower!
owned a snug and peaceful cot—
a cow, and garden spot,
ltesides a distant tract of laud.
Fit emblem of her dreary fate,
Ts such a dry unfruitful state.
The hens and chickens, great and small,
'stun always at her morning call;
- For every fowl he had a namel
° Ild each one auswerd tc the same,
A % Long-legs, Short-legs. Duck legs creeper
lid Rumplcss, Croptail, L Sweeper,
things were straight, out door and in,
Ind neat and tidy as a pin,
Ilse pewter cups were kept as bright
As stars that shine in cloudless night;
nd o'er the nicely sanded room,
C 'twas a glorious sight to see
Trifles arranged so tr stefully!
A fly-trap from the ceiling swung;
And here and their red pcpers hung.
',round the glass was neatly twi •ed
;laper of white and blue combined.
A Dream book lay upon the shelf,
Likewise the Ilistory of an Elf,
Fgrshe believed in dreams and witches:
In fact, she often found the stitches
Of her late knitting work let down,
When e'er the rascal came to town.
Aunt Becky kept a dog and cat—
talklto this and then to that.
Upbraid them when inclined to fight,
And told them not to scratch and bite,
For 'twas a naughty thing to see
I:itt ens and puppies disagree.
l'he way Aunt Becky drank Souchong
Was sad to constitution strong;
I've known her sip two gallons up—
Chen tell her fortune from the cup,
And finish off' by steeping o'er
The leaves that tad been steeped before.
s
She's gone, poor creature! she is dead.
And wild weeds grew above her head;
No lover bends his knee and weeps
Upon the grave where virtue sleeps;
And not a stone is raised to show
That Becky rests in peace below
he moaning wind and distant surge
Nightly repeat n mournful dirge,
While gathering therns and thistles wave
Their branches o'er her lonely grave,
And memory ought to cause a smart
Of sorrow in each falling heart;
Since she was not my Aunt alone,
But unto one and all was known,
As 'Old Aunt Becky Underhill
That lives down in Timbzrville.':
Ittioretlantotto.
THE FAITH OF WOMAN,
HT Tll E AUTIIOII OF "THF. HROTHERS."--
"caomwELL," Sze.
"Two things there be on earth that ne'er
forget—
A woman! and a dog!—where once their
love is set!" OLD Ms.
It was the morning alter the extermi
nation fight of Hastings. The banner
blessed of the Roman pontiff streamed on
the tainted air, from the same hillock
whence the Dragon standard of the Sax
ons had shone unconquered to the sun of
yester-even! Hard by was pitched the
proud pavilion of the conqueror, who,
after the tremendous strife and perilous
labors of the preceding day, reposed him
self in fearless and untroubled confidence
upon the field of his renown; secure in
the possession of the land, which he was
destined to transmit to his posterity, for
many hundred years, by the red title of
the sword. To the defeated Saxons,
morning, however, brought but a renewal
of those miseries, which, having yester
day commenced with the first victory of
their Norman lords, were never to con
clude nor even to relax, until the complete
amalgamation of the rival races should
leave no Normans to torment, no Saxons
to endure; all being merged at last into
one general name of English, and by their
union, giving origin to the most powerful,
and brave, and intellectual people the
world has ever looked upon, since the ex
tinction of Rome's freedom. At the time
of which we are now speaking, nothing
was thought of by the victors, save how to
rivet most securely on the necks of the
unhappy natives, their yoke of iron--no
thing by the poor subjugated Saxons, but
how to escape for the moment the unrelen
ting massacre, which was urged far and
wide, by the remorseless conquerors,
throughout the devastated country. NVith
the defeat of qarold's lost, all national
hope of freedom was at once lost to Eng
land—though to a man, the English popu
lation were brave and loyal, and devoted
to their country's rights--the want of
leaders—all having perished side by side
on that disastrous field— of combination,
without which, myriads are but dust in the
scale against the force of one united
handful—rendered them quite unworthy
of any serious fears, and even of consids
eration to the blood-thirsty barons of the
invading army. Over the whole expanse
of level country, which might be seen
Irons the slight elevation whereon was
pitched the camp of William, on every
side migh': he descried small parties of the
Norman horse, driving in with their bloody
lances, as if they were mere cattle, the
unhappy captives; a few of whom th,y
now began to spare, not troth the sligni
est sentiment of mercy, but literaily that
their arms we..c: with ihe t:ftilc of
slaying, although their hearts were yet
insatiate of It must be taken now
into consitleratodi by those who listen
with dismay %%ender to theoccounts of
pitiless !.stieb,i , y, of indiscriminating
slaughter on the part of men, whom they
have hitherto been taught to look upon as
brave, indeed, as lions in the field, but
not partaking of the lion's nature after
thefield was won,not only that the seeds of
enmity had long been sown between those'
rival people, but that the deadly crop of
hatred had grown up, watered abundantly
by tears and blood of either, and lastly,
that the fierce fanaticism of religious per
secution was added to the natural rancor
of a war waged for the ends of conquest
or extermination. The Saxon nation,
from the king downward to the meanest
sert, who fought beneath his banner, or
buckled on the arms of liberty, were all
involved under the common bar of. the
pope's interdict —they were accursed by
God, and handed over by his holy church
to the kind mercies of the secular arm!
and, therefore, though but yesterday they
were a powerful and united nation, to-day
they were but a vile horde of scattered
outlaws, whom any man might slay where
ever he should find them, whether in arms
or otherwise, amenable for blood neither
to any moral jurisdiction, nor even to the
ultimate tribunal to which all must sub
mit hereafter, unless deprived of their ap
peal, like these poor fugitives, by excom
munication from the pare of Christianity.
For thirty miles around the Norman camp,
pillars of smoke by day, continually
streaming upward to the polluted heaven,
and the red glare of nightly conflagration
told fatally the doom of many a happy
horns! Neither the castle nor the cottage
might preserve their male inhabitants
"ONE COUNTRY, ONE CONSTITUTION, ONE DESTINY."
A. W. BENIP.DICT PUBVSIIFIR AND PROPRIETOR.
HUNTINGDON, PENNSYLVANIA, WEDNESDAY, MAY 22,'1839.
irom the sword's edge, the females from
more barbarous persecution! Neither the
sacred hearth of hospitality, nor the mote
sacred altars of God's churches might
protect the miserable fugitives—neither
the mail-shirt of the man-at-arms, nor
the monk's frock of serge availed against
the thrust of the fierce Norman spear.
All was dismay and havoc, such as the
land wherein those horrors were enacted,
has never witnessed since, through many
a fid lowing age.
High noon approached, and in the con
queror's tent a gorgeous feast was spread
—the red wine flowed profusely, and song
and minstrelsy arose with their heart
soothing tones, to which the feeble groans
of dying wretches bore a dread borthen,
from the plain whereon they still lay
strugglingin their great agonies, too sore
)),maimed to live, too strong, as yet, to
die. But, ever and anon, their wail wax
ed feebler and less frequent; for many a
plunderer was on foot, licensed to ply his
odious calling in the full light of day; rea
ping his first, if not his richest booty,
from the dead bodies of their slaughtered
foemen. 11l fared the wretches, who lay
411;re, untended by the hand of love or
mercy—"scorched by the deai.h-thirst,
and writhing in vain "— but worse fared
they, who sowed a sign of life to the re
lentless robbers of the dead—for then the
dagger—falsely called that of mercy, was
the dispenser of immediate immortality.
The conqueror sat at his triumphant board,
and barons drank his health. "First En
glish monarch, of the pure blood of Nor
mandy." "King by the right of the
sword's edge," "Great, glorious, and
sublime!"—yet was not his heart soften
ed, nor was his bitter hate toward the un
happy prince who hail so often ridden by
his side in war, and feasted at the same
board with him in peace, relinquished or
abated. Even while the feast was at the
highest--while every heart was jocund and
sublime, a trembling messenger approach
ed, craving on bended knee permission to
address the conqueror and King—for so
he was already schooled by brief but hard
experience to style the devastator of his
country.
"Speak out, Dog Saxon," cried the fe
rocious prince—"but since thou must
speak, see that thy speech be brief, and
thou would'st keep thy tongue uneropped
thereafter!"
"Great Duke, and mighty," replied the li
trembling envoy, "I bear you greeting
from Elgitha, herewhile the noble wife of
Godwin, the queenly mother of our late
mor arch—now, as she bade me style her,
the humblest of your suppliants and
slaves. Of your great nobleness and met ,
cy, mighty king, - she sues you, that you
will grant her the poor leave to search
amid the heaps of those our Saxon dead,
that her three sons may at least lie in
consecrated earth; so may God send you
peace and glory here, and everlasting
happiness hereafter:"
"Hear to the Saxon slave !•' William
exclaimed, turning as if in wonder to•
wards his nobles, "hear to the Saxon
slave, that dares to speak of consecrated
earth, and of interment for the accursed
body of that most peiThirrd excomitmni•
sated liar! Hence! tell the mother of the
1!e;a1 dog, wham you have dared in style
pod. King, that for the interdicted and
a :,7111' led dead, the sand, of th,, sea slime
are but tna good a sepulcher!"
' "'"
"She bade me pruifer humbly to your
acceptance, the weight of Harold's body
in bore faintly gasped forth the.
terrified and cringing messenger, "so you
would grant her that permission!"
"Proffer u z,old what gold? or whose?
Know, villian, all the . gold throughout
this conquered realm, is ours! Hence,
dog and outcast, hence' nor presume e'er
again to come, insulting us by proffering,
as a boon to our acceptance, that which we
own already, by the most indefeasible and
ancient right of conquest! Said I not
well, knights, vavasoars, and nobles?"
"Well! well! and nobly," answered
they, one and all. "The land is ours—
and all that therein is—their dwellings,
their demesnes, their wealth, whether of
gold, or silver, or of cattle —yea! they
themselves are ours, themselves, their
sons, their daughters, and their wives;
our portion and inheritance, to be our
slaves fur ever!"
"Begone! you have heard our answer."
exclaimed the Duke, spurning him with
his foot, "and hark ye, arbalastmen and
archers, if any Saxon more approach us
on like errand, see if his coat of skin be
proof against the quarrel of the shaft."
And once again the feast went on—and
louder rang the revelry, and faster flew
the wine-cup round the tumultuous board.
All day the banquet lasted, even till the
dews of heaven fell on that fatal field,
watered sufficiently, already, by the ,ich
gore of many. a noble heart. An day
the banquet lasted, and far was it prolong
ed into the watches of the night, when,
rising with the wine-cup in his hand, "No
bles and barons," cried the Duke; 'friends,
comrades, conquerors—bear witness to
my vow! Ilere, on these heights or Ha-
sings, and more especially upon yon
mound and hillock, when God gave to us
our high victory, and where our last foe
fell; There will I raise an abbey to His
eternal praise and glory; richly endowed
it shall be, from the first fruits of our land.
BATTLE, it shall be called, to send the
memory of this, the great and singular
achievement of our race, to tar posterity;
and by the splendor of our God, wine
shall be plentier among the monks of Bat
tle, than water in the noblest and the rich
est cloister else, search the world over.
1 his do I swear; so may God aid, who
bath thus far assisted us for our renown,
and will nut now deny his help, when it
be asked for his own glory."
The second day dawned on the place
of horror, and not a Saxon had presumed
since the intolerant message of the Duke,
to come to look upon his dead. But now
the ground was needed, whereon to lay
the hrst stone of the abbey, William had
vowed to God. The ground was needed;
and moreover, the foul steam, from the
human shambles, was pestilential on the
winds of heaven; and now by trumpet
sound, and proclamation through the land,
the Saxons were called firth, on pain of
death, to come and seek their (lead, lest
the health of the conqueror should suffer
from the pollution they themselves had
wrought. Scarce had the blast sounded,
and the glad tidings been announced once
only, ere from their miserable shelters,
where they had herded with the wild beasts
of the forest, from wood, morass, and ca
vern, happy, if they might escape the
Norman spear, forth crept the relics of
that persecuted race. Old men and ma
trons, with hoary heads, and steps that
tottered no less from the effect of terror,
than of age; maidens, and youths, and in
fants, too happy to obtain permission to
search amid those festering heaps, dab
bling their hands in the corrupt and pesti
lential gore which filled each nook and
hollow of the dinted soil, so they might
bear away, and water with their tears,
and yield to consecrated ground the relics
of those brave ones, once loved so fondly,
and now so bitterly lamented. It was to
ward the of turmoil of that same day, when
a long train was seen approaching, with
crucifix, and cross, and censer, the monks
of Waltham Abbaye—coming to offer
homage for themselves, and for their ten
antry and vassals, to bin, whom they ac
knowledge as their king; expressing their
submission to the high will of the Nor
man pontiff, justified, as they said, and
proved by the assertion of God's judoes
ment upon the Hill of Hastings. H ighly
delighted by this absolute submission, the
first he had received from any English
tongue, the conqueror received the monks
' with courtesy and favor, granted them
high immunities, and promising them free .
protection, and the unquestioned tenor of
their broad denies' es, for ever. Nay! af
ter he had answered their address, he de-1
tained two of their number, men of intel
ligence, as with his wonted quickness of
perception he instantly discovered, from
whom to derive information as to the na
ture of his new-acquired country, and
newly conquered subjects. Osgad and
Ailric, the deputed messengers from the
respected principal of their community,
had yet a further and higher object than
to tender their submission to the conque
ror. Their orders were at all and every
risk, to gait) permission to consign time
corpse of their late King and founder, to
the earth, previously denied them. And
soon. emboldened by the courtesy and
kindness of the much-dreaded Norman,
they kok courage to approach the subject,
knowing it interdicted even on pain of
death; and to their wonder and delight, it
was unhesitatingly granted. Throughout
the whole of the third day, succeeding
that unparaleled defeat and slaughter,
those old men might be seen toiling among
the naked carcases, disfigured, maimed,
and festering in the sun toiling to find the
object of their devoted veneration. But
vain were all their labors—vain was their
search, even when they called in the aid
of his most intimate attendants, ay, of
the mother that had borne him! The
corpses of his brethren, Imeofwyn and
Gurth, were soon discovered, but not one
eye, even of those who had most dearly
loved him, could not distinguish the mai
med features of the King. At last, when
hope itself was now almost extinct—some
one named Edith, the Swan-necked. She
had been the mistress, years ere he had
been, or dreamed of being King, to the
brave son of Godwin. She had beloved
him in her youth, with that one, single
minded, constant, never-ending lave,
which but few, even of her devoted sex,
can feel, and that but once, and for one
cherished object. Deserted and dishon
ored, when he she loved was elevated to
the throne, she had not ceased from her
true adoration, but quitting her now joy
less home, had shared her heart between
her memories and her God, in the seques
tered cloisters of the nuners of Croyland.
, More days elapsed, ere she could reach
the fatal spot, and the increased corrup
tion denied the smallest hope of his dis
covery; yet, from the inoini:nt when the
mission was named to her, she expressed
her full and confident conviction that she
could recognise that loved one, so long as
but one hair remained on that head she
hail once so cherished. It was night when
she arrived on the fatal field, and by the
light of torches, once more they set out
on•their awful duty. "Show me the spot,'
she said, "where the last warrior fell,"
and she was led to the place where had
been found the corpses of his gallant bre
thren, and with an instinct that nothing
could deceive, she went straight to the
corpse of Harold—it had been turned to
and fro many times, by these who sought
►t. His mother had looked on it, and
pronounced it not her son's, but that de
voted heart knew it at once and broke.—
Whom rank, and wealth, and honors had
divided, defeat and death made one;—
and the same grave contained the cold
remains of Ed:th the Swan-necked, and
the last scion of the Saxon Kings of En-
AN ANECDOTE IN POINT.
Extract from a , Speech of Mr Underwood
On a motion for an inqury into the de
falcations of Public (Veers.
The conduct of the late and present admi
nistrations in respect to Watkins, and
the host of defaulters, reminds me of an
occurrence in the far west. I tell the
story, sut conceal the names of the party.
Pity shields them from presentation to pu
lic scorn.
An old man was always extolling his
own virtues, and decrying those of other
people, and who was above all conceal
ment, according to his repeated avowals,
was passing his way home after running
the noblest buck in the forest, by a corn
field of a neighbor remotely situated from
the dwelling house. His suns and dogs
were along, much fatigued by the recent
chase. The old man discovered in the
field a single hog—a runt— engaged in
breaking down the tstalks and eating the
corn. He immediately swore by " the E
ternal," that he never could witness such
a sight without feeling the greatest indig
nation against the guilty brute, and he in
stantly ordered his son to set the dogs on,
declaring at the moment, that if the tore
him to pieces it would be a good thing, in
asmuch that by such means the neighbour
hood might get clear of a bail breed of
hogs. The boy obeyed, and the dog re
luctantly engaged in the less noble work
and being the more furious and savage in
consequence of fatigue, mangled the ani
mal until his life was in danger. The
youth not wholly destitute of compassion,
even towards a hog, at length seized and
threw him over the fence, and called oft
the dogs. The old man said it was useless
to go around the the fence and stop the
holes, as lie was certain the lesson would
effectually teach the hog never to er.tcr a
gain. So they went on house without re
pairing the fence, taking care however, to
'sass by the owner of the field to let him
know how kind and neighborly they bad
been in turning out the hog. Not long af
terward, the ofd man, Isis son, and dogs
were going by the same field, and in it, in
stead of one, they discovered a large gang
of hogs of all sizes, variously engaged.
Some were breaking down the stalks and
cracking the corn with voracious appe
tites; some appareatly surfeited, were
moping at the heels of those stimulated by
hunger, and a goodly number had husks
and fodder in their mouths, some frisking,
and others deliberately marching to the
pannels of the fence, to make themselves
plesaist beds with the spoils. As the oki
man saw what was_ going on a distance, he
said to his son, " Now my boy the dogs
shall have sport." Indeed, the prospect
of a continual uproar! fighting, and coin
minglement of shouting, yelping and
squalling in a neighbor's cornfield, was a
scene by no means agreeable to the old
man's taste. He therefore mounted the
fence with alacrity, intending to post him
self and witness the feats of his son and
the dogs while 'sitting on a rail' But he
no sooner straddled the rider than his as
pect changed suddenly. He turned to
his son who 'vas climbing up after him and
said, 'shy these are our hogs.' The boy
gazed in silence a moment, sod then with
an arch look, replied, 'as I live, 'tis true;
but I reckon though 1 must dog them a
little:' The old man took a second sober
thought,' and after a minute's gaze, he
said, 'perhaps, my son, it would have been
better for the owner of the corn, it we
had stopped the hole the other day. We
broke doe n a good deal of corn, and did
mischief in getting out a single runt with
dogs, and we shall not leave a stalk stand
ing if we serve all my gang that way. I
know too, your mammy will not like it ;
for I have often heard her say she could
not bear to make souse out hogs' ears
that had been torn by the dogs. I will
therefore, take the dogs off, and leave you
to tole the hogs out as peaceably as you
can.' The boy ventured to ask, 'what
will the owner of the corn say, if he finds
out that we did not treat our hogs like
[ V 0 1 .,. IV, No3l
those of other people? The old man put
his finger upon his lip, gave his son a sig
nificant look and departed with the dogs in
silence. But unfortunately for his repu
tation, he had not more than got out of
sight of the field, when the owner on his
way to it, met him. Their conversation
was very brief, as the old man said he was
in a hurry. His son was found in the field
toiling and coaxing the hogs to the gap.
The circumstances were so plain that the
owner of the corn ever told the story as I
have related it, and no one deubted its
-uth.
ABSURDITIES
To attempt to borrow money on the plea
of extreme poverty. To lose money at
playa rid then fly into passion about it. To
ask the publisher of a new periodict.l how
many copies he sells per week. To ask
a wine merchant the age of his wine. To
make yourself generally disagreeable, and
wonder that no body visits you unless they
gain some palpable advantage fly it. To
act drunk and complain the next morning
of a head ache. To spend your earnings
in liquor, and wonder that you are ragged.
To judge of peoples piety by their attend
ance at church. To make your servants
tell lies for you, and then get angry when
they tell lies for themselves. To ask oth
ers to keep your secrets, when you can't
keep them yourself. To expect to make
a poor man pay a debt by putting him to
jail.
Tux aunt err.—A noble lord a short
time ago applied to a pawn-broker to lend
him one thousand guineas on his wife's
jewels, for which he had paid four thous•
and. 'Take the articles to pieces,' said
his lordship, 'number the stones, and put
false ones in their'place, my.lady will net
distinguish them.' 'Your are too late, my
lord,' said the pawnbroker, 'your lady has
stolen a march upon you; these stones are
false, I bought the diamonds of her lady
ship a twelvemonth ago.'
immemems.,
ThE HANGMAN AND JUDGE,
"Did your lordship never attend a kill
ing time at the Old Bailey? If not, pray
favor me with your company, not on the
gallows, but standing in the street, amidst
a crowd that always assemble when I am
at work for you and the Sheriffs. Per
haps it [will add to the zest if you coma
when I have a young woman to stiffen
supplied by yourself. Will the fluttering:
of her petticoats as she swings in the air
produce a pleasant sound in your ears,
my learned master? Fail not to watch
the people; the men, women, and child
' red--good, bad, and indifferent, ho have
gathered to behold the sacred majesty of
the law. You will see such flashing of
eyes and grinding of teeth, you will hear
sighs and groans, and words of rage, and
hatred, with curses on yourself and me;
and then laughter, such as it is, clan un
natural kind, that they will make you
start; jests on the dead, that will make
you sick! You will feel, no, why should
you feel any more than your faithful jou
neynten. We shall go to our breakfast?'
with good appetites; and a firm conviction
that every hanging-bout changes my snea
king pilferers into savage robbers, fit for
murder.
A few years ago I - was called out of
town to hang a little boy with malice afore
thought. If guilty he must have been in
the habit of going to executions. Ten
thousand came to dabble in the poor crea
ture's blood, That was the youngest fel
-1 low creature I eve! handled in the way of
business; a beautiful child he was toe,
as you may have seen by the papers, with
a straight nose, large blue eyes, and gold
en hair, I have do kart, no feelings; who
has in our calling? But those who came
to see me strangle that tender youngster
have hearts and feelings as we once had.
Mace! no, had: for what they saw was fit
to make them as hard as your servant, or
his master.
They saw that steiling, lifted fainting,
on the gallows; his a oothe cheek of the
color of wood ashes, his little limbs trem
ling, and his bosom heaving a sigh, as if
his body and soul were parting without any
help. This was a downright murder; for
there was scarce any life to take out of
him. When 1 began to pull the cap over
' his baby-lace he pressed his small hands
together (his arms, you know, were cord
ed fast to his body) and gave me a beseech
ing look, just as a calf will lick the but
cher's hand. But cattle do not speak;
this creature muttered, " pray, sir, don't
hui t me." My dear,' answered I, 'you
should have spoken to my master, I'm on
ly the
,journeyman and must do as I am
bid.' I'his made him cry, which seemed
a relief to him, and I do think I should
have cried myself; if I had not heard the
crowd shout, "poor lamb! shame—mur
der!" ",Quick," said the sheriff. 'Ready'
said I . T he Rev. gentleman gave me the .
wink, the drop fell- -one kick, and he
swayed to and fro, dead as the feelings of
the Chistian people of England.
The crowd dispersed, some sweating,