HUNTINGDON JOURNAL.
VoL. IV, No. 45.)
TERMS
OF THE
LIVNTII\7O-DON
The "Journal" will be published every
rNednesday morning, at two dollars a year if
paid IN ADVANCE, and if not paid within
six months, two dollars and a half.
Every person who obtains five subscribers
and forwards price of subscription, shall be
►rmshed with a sixth copy gratintiously for
one year. _ . .
I , 4,;stOscription received tor a less period
:han six months, nor any paperdisconunued
untilarrearages are paid.
All communications mast be addressed to
the Editor, post paid, or they will not be
ateneled to.
Adverttsments not exceeding one square
will be inserted three times for one dollar for
every subsequent insertion, 25 ficents per
spare will be charged:—if no detnite orclerd
are given as to the time an adverisment is to
be continued, it will be kept in till ordeed
out, and charge accordingly.
THE GARLAND.
-"With sweetest flowers enrich'd
From various gardens cull'd with care."
Excellent! Mast excellent advice for the
.allies! Read it "Lass! and throw thy busk
away."
TIGHT LACING,
Tight lacihg!—bear it not!'
Lass! throw thy busk away—
Consumption fills it up
With sickness and decay;
Then shun the snare, sweet girl,
Lest it should be thy doom,
To close thine eyes upon the world
And find an early tomb.
The Anaconda's coil,
That stops its victim's breath,
When caught within its toils,
Is not a surer death;
Then shim the steel and cord,
If you would long survive,
'r' enjoy a pleasant world,
And all your friends, alive.
When like the damask rose
Your cheeks have native dye,
And every action shows
Youth's joy and buoyancy—
Should you then be so weak,
This badge of death to wear;
the rose will leave that cheek
'ro furrows of despair.
White as the driven snow
Your brow will then appear;
And every feature show
That cruel Death is near—
'Tis he alone that must
Relieve you from your pains,
And you return to dust,
Where Fashion never reigns.
Your form divinely fair
Will perish like the grass—
In anguish, friends must bear
You to the grave, sweet lass!
0! then, tight lacing shun!
And so preserve your life;
For when of age I come,
Iwant you for a wife.
"WHY DON'T YOU TAKE THE
PAPERS?"
Al GEORGE 11. WILLIS.
Why don't you take the papers,
They are "the life of my delight."
Except about election times,
And then I read for spite.
Subscribe, you cannot loose a cent,
Depend upo:i my word;
For cash thus spent is money lent
On interest to the Lord.
My grandad used to make his brags
01 living at a day,
When papers sold as cheap as raga,
And trust was took for pay.
My grandma when she had the blues,
Would thank her gracious stars,
That papers filled with wholesome news
Were scattered every WiIARS.
I knew two friends, as much alike
Air e'er you saw two stumps;
And no phrenologist could find
A difference in there bumps.
Each hada farm of equal worth,
A pretty wife to keep
ihree boys—three horses and a cow,
A dog and twenty sheep.
Dpe took the papers, and his life
Is happier than a king's;
Htschildren all can read and write,.
And talk of tten and. things,
HUNTINGDON, PENNSYLVANIA, WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 1839.
The other took no paper, and
While strolling through the wood,
A tree fell down upon his crown,
And killed him as it should.
Sad he been reading of the "news,"
Athome, like neighbor Jim,
L'll bet a cent that accident
Would not have happened him
Go then, and take the papers,
And pay to-day, nor pray delay,
And my word heard it is inferred,
You'd live till you are gray.
An old nowsmonger-friend of mine,
While dying from a cough,
Desired to hear the latest news,
While he was going off.
I took the paper, and I read
Of some new pills in force:
He bought a box—and is he dead?
No! hearty as a horse.
I knew a printer's debtor once,
Rack'd with a scorching fever,
Who swore to pay her bill next day,
If her uisease would leave her.
Next morning she was at her work,
Divested of her pain;
But did forget to pay her debt,
Till taken down again.
" Here Jesse, take these silver wheels,
Go pay the pi inter now!"
She spoke, she slept, and then awoke,
With health upon her brow.
Why don't you take the papers :
Nor from your printer's visage sneak,
Because you borrow of his boy,
A paper every week.
For he who takes the papers,
And pays his bill when due,
Can live at peace with God and man,
And with the printer tou.
J* rettant Ong.
JERUSALEM
The present city with its churches'
mosques, houses, gardens and fortifica
tions, lay extended immediately below,
and the eye took in, at a bird's view, eve
ry house and street, and almost every yard
of ground. The scene was certainly ve
ry unposing, and the appearance of the ci•
ty, with its domes and cupolas, and the
minarets of the mosques, is, from this
point of view, quite magnificent. The
first objects which strike the eye are two
magnificent mosques occupying the site
of Solomon's Teniple. The one on the
north is the celebrated mosque of Omar ;
that on the south is the Mosque El Aksa.
They are close to that portion of the city
walls which immediately borders in the
Mount of Olives, and with the courts, por
ticoes, and gardens attached to them,
they occupy a fourth part of the whole
place, and present a most imposing ap
pearance. The town rises sradually
above these, and the most prominent ob
ject beyond is the Church of the Holy
Sepulchre, with its two domes of striking
aspect; the one being white, and the other
almost black.
Here and there a lofty tower or a ta
pering minaret rises above the gloomy
stone houses of the,patives. Of these the
lofty tower or minaret said to be built on
the site of the house of Pilate, with its gal-
terms and Saracenic decorations, appear
most prominently to the eye, and the mi
narets of Ben Israel, of the Seraglio, and
the one said to be placed on the site
of Herod's palace. Most of the private
dwellings were covered with low domes,
anu my intelligent cicerones pointed out
to me the different churches and convents,
and a long range of stone buildings sur
rounded by small cupolas, which he said
was a college of dervishes. Altogether
the city, as seen from the summit of the
Mount of Olives, may be ranked as one of
the finest of Oriental cities in its external
aspect. A lung line of battlemented walls,
with their towers and gates, extends the
whole way round the town, and a few cy
presses and other trees throw up their lea
fy branches amid the porticoes and gates
of the mosques. Alter the surprise and
admirations which this prospect at first
naturally excites has subsided, the bare,
rocky, and desolate aspect of the sur
rounding country, and the solitude and si
lence of the city itself, most forcibly at
tract the attention. Neither in the streets
at the gateways, nor along the rocky
mule-track leading therefrom, is there
aught of life or animation. Some solita
ry woman with her water-pitcher, climb
ing the craggy eminence, or some slowly
moving pilgrims are alone seen. The eye
on a closer scrutiny discovers large tracts
of open and waste ground within the walls
and many a ruined house and dilapidated
building.
There is cone of the bustle and anima
tion ordinarily perceptible about a large
"ONE COUNTRY, ONE CONSTITUTION, ONE DESTINY."
A. W. BENEDICT PUBLISHER AND PROPRIETOR.
town. No moving crowds traverse the
public thoroughfares; the ear strives in
vain to catch the noise and hum of a large
city, for such it appears to be; all is
strangely and sadly silent. "The noise
of the whip, and the noise of the wheels,
'and of the panting horses, and of the
jumping chariots," are no longer heard in
'Jerusalem. If we search for some o
carri
an-e road or great public thoroughfare lead
ing from the province into the city we
shall discover nothing beyond a narrow
rocky mule-path winding along the valley,
anti among the opposite precipitous ele
vations. We sec no luxuriant foliage and
verdant gardens watered by running
streams, as at Napolous, Damascus arid
at many other places to the northward ;
but on all sides bare rocks rear their sharp
and craggy points, and a few wandering
zigzag paths lead between them.
Every where around the city is exten
ded a wild and solitary country, and to
the eastward the eye ranges over the sum
mits of bare arid elevations, and at last
rests on the lofty and majestic ridge of the
blue mountains bordering on the Dead
Sea. Here on the summit of the Mount
of Olives, we may legitimately indulge in
the varied associations and recollections
which the surrounding landscape is so
eminently calculated to draw forth. Here
undisturbed by the doubts which must in
vade every mind with regard to the inden.•
tity of the different sacred places pointed
out below, we can leisurely survey the
whole prospect, and take in at a glance
the theatre of the great events in Jewish
history, and all the interesting circum
stances attending the close of our Saviour's
life.
On that consecrated enclosure immed►.
ately beneath our feet, once stood the gor
geous temple of "the wisest of kings,"
and in place of the clear deep chant of the
muezzin, which is the only sacred music
now heard proceeding from the spot, once
issued the sublime sounds of praise and
thanksgivings to the one true God, which
accompanied the solemnities of the Jew
ish worship, when "the Levites, which
were the singers, bring arrayed in white
linen, having symbols, and psalteries and
harps, and with them an hundred and
twenty priests, sounding with trumpets,
were as ONE, of making one sound to be
heard in praising and thanking the Lord,
when they lifted up their voice with the
trumpets and cymbals, and instruments of
music, and praised the Lord, saying, For
he is good ; for his mercy endureth for
ever." [Metropolitan Magazine.
SOMNAMBULISM-WALKING IN
TO THE WRONG CHAMBER.
About two weeks since, a ~, ,e ntlemanly
looking fellow, calling himself Alexander
James, induced a gentleman of this city
with whom he had become somewhat ac
quainted, to introduce him to the Ex
change Hotel so that he might get lodg
ings there for one night, as he was locked
out, The gentleman consented, and as
mine host of the Exchange is rather par
ticular whom he acclutmodates, the gen
tleman went with Mr. James, and on his
recommendation was accommodated.—
The whole household save the watchful
porter, was sunk into slumber, when near
morning, Mr James, ready equiped, crept
softly from his room & feeliter cautiously a
bout, opened a door, listened and entered ;
"who's there I" asked a lodger starting
up. "I beg pardon, sir," said Mr. James,l
'1 thought this was the way down stairs.
Pleasant dreams to you." Slipping out
of that room, the erratic Mr. James seem.
ed to get still further astray, for he enter
ed another chamber and the inmate being
asleep, he just in a spirit of investigation,
felt the pockets of his pantaloons, and
knowing that a little learning is a danger
ous thing, he pursued his inquiries until
lie took a pocket book out of the pocket.
At this stage of his studies, the gen
tleman awoe, and demanded Mr.
James's business. Ile was too modest
to stand talking to a gentleman in his
chsabille, and therefore retired in histe,
and in his perturbation put the book
in his pocket and ran down stairs and
out of the house. The alarm was giv
en, but Mr. James had vanished. Cook,
Zell and Ridgely were applied to, and
from that time up to the present, their
search for the person had been unceasing.
The pocket book and papers it contained
were found in Water street, but a quanti•
ty of broken bank bills, the only money
that was in it, the thief had taken as his
share. No other trace of Mr. James
could be obtained until yesterday, when
one of the officers observed a person as
swering the description along Mer.
cer street, with a bundle under his arm.
Two of them followed hint through Light
street and Wine street into Charles, and
down Charles to a second hand clothing
store near Pratt street, which the person
'entered and was at the same instant arres
ted. At first Ile refused to accept the in
vitation of the officers to accompany them
but a little impressive force bets; used he
agreed to go. He was identified by sev
eral individuals as Mr. James, the inqui
sitive somnambulist, and he was sent to
walk by night or by day as best may suit
him, behind the bars of Fort Herring. A
green box coat and a black umbrella were
found in his posse.sion, and persons hav
ing lost such articles would do well to call
at the (Alice in Mercer street near Light,
and examine them. [Halt. Sun.
TVS LATEST CASE OF FORGETFUL
NESS.—The greatest piece of forgetful
ness we have ever heard of, recently oc
curred on one of the Western Canals.
Au emigrating Yankee, with his wife, child
and other "household plunder," was ma
king his way 'out west' on board a canal
boat. On arriving at the end of the canal
he moved his bed and bedding, chairs, ta
bles and pans, on board some other con
veyance, leaving his wife and child be
hind. He looked over everything to see
that all was right. Something was mis
sing. He scratched his head, hought the
matter over, but still could not make out
what he had left. Back to the boat he
went, and meeting the captain on the
wharf he inquired, say you, captin,
habit I left sumthin' aboard your boat?'
I 'Not that I know of; have you missed any
thing?' 'Yes, I du. I miss sum of any thing,
but I'm darn'd if I can make out what they
are: 'Have you looked over every thing?'
I 'Every bag and bundle—overhauled my
duds twist— know there's somethin' a mis
sin' jess as easy as nolhin', and here the
other craft is about startin', and I've got
to go of leave it. l'ts too darned bad
I snum it is.' 'well there's not a thing
on board the boat to my knowledge except
your wife and child' 'Them's um—they
are what 1 missed,' said the Yankee, jump
ing fur joy. 'Now who'd a thought it?
Here I was, pin' off and leavin' the old
woman and little Sally Ann behind ! I
'spect I should a missed um afore I got to
my jarney's end, but be condarned if
I could mike out what I left. 'I would
have been a good joke, wouldn't it, if I'd
gone clean out to the fur west and forgot
um entirely.' So saying the Yankee 'pack
ed oil,' with his wife and Sally Ann, re
joicing. There are a good many men
who would not mind leaving such trifles as
a wife and child behind, but this forgetful
Yankee was too honest. [Picayune.
A COMPASSIONATE MERCHANT.
'James,' said a merchant on Main street
to his clerk the other morning' 'go down
to Water street to Mr. - and tell
him his rent must be paid to-day; I can't
wait any longer, as he is already two guar
ters in arrear.'
The clerk obeyed the direction and
soon returned with great appealance of
mildness about the eyes. 'Mr.
wants to see you, sir, about that rent very
much.
The merchant happily was at leisure;
and went at once to visit the tenant.—
He found him extended upon a coarse
bed, in an insensible state, of a dangerous
malady. His wife was busy over a scan
ty fire, apparently preparing some simple
aliment for her sick husband. Three lit
tle children sat shiverins• ° in a corner. His
approach was unnoticed.
'Ma,° said one of the little urchins,
'when be you ageing to get breakfast.'
'Breakfast, my dear child, that is more
than I can tell.'
The merchant advanced,
'My good woman—my good woman--
, them—that is'-- and the worthy man felt
very much like choaking. He grasped
his pocket-book convulsively, and laid
some bills upon the table —he opened the
ddor and disappeared.
'James,' said he again to his clerk,.take
this order to Mr. --, and tell him to
have the provision delivered immediate
ly.'
The merchant felt much better than he
would have done if he had got the rent.
'!'here is something in a good action that
makes one's heart feel lighter: warmer;
better. We would publish the good man's
name, but we know he would not forgive
it, and we could not for all the world of
fend him%—Buffalonian.
It would afford us much gratification
to have the opportunity of recording nu
merous instances similar to the above.
e hope the day is not far distant when
the maxim of the apostle to the Gentiles
will be universally practised upon.
'Let the strong bear the burden of the
weak.' The pi ontise contained in the
Bible to the benevolent man are neither
few nor of small import. 'He who gives
to the pour lends to the Lord.' .There is
that trattereth and yet increases,' with
numerous other passages of a similar na
ture.
"Thou know'st that I love thee I" as
the cat said to the mouse.
"Don't run," as the fellow said ven he
gave the constable leg bail.
"Vot a devil of a SCRAPLiym in now,"
as the fish said to the voman who was rub.
bing down his back with a knife.
LOVING LOVE LETTER.
The following epistle from a damsel in
Illinois, to her "lovyer" in Pennsylvania,l
is warm enough to melt wax. Its tender,
touching, and transporting pathos must
have so effected "my sweet henry, my tut.
kle dove," that he must at once have ex
claimed, in the pathetic language of his
decry," "I must git marred, because I've
let it run on too long already I"
SUSPENDERiEtUaG, Away in 111-you- ,
noise, April the 2.th.
1,000; eight hundred & 30 rime.
My Deer Dere Henry; i imbrace this
present oporchoonity to let you knough
as how i am had a spell of the aigur, and i
hope these few lines nay find you enjoy
ing the same Blessin ! Why don't you
only rite 1 sweate line to your stifferin
Kathurn all about her purty sweet Henry.
Oh my sweet henry; my turkl dove; my
piging; my deer deare henry; how my soul
is longing for your sweet voice; think i
hear him singing yanky doodell as he
kums from his plow now. Mary Melden
has got a baba ! I Oh dear henry do cum
out and lets !git married. So no more at
present but reny , :ii your loving.
i Katharine an Tilden.
To my sweet henry.
P. S. Part Sekkund. Jeemes Baslett
has rained a Imo house, and Sally does
live so snug; but she fites him sometimes,
when he's a little Anthony over. My
sweet Henry leis us keep house, and if
you love me i wont whip you indeed, nor
wont look at nobody else, so i wont.
i)addy says as how i must git married be.
cause I've let it run o a too lyag already.
So no more at preserrt.
P. S. Part Thurd.
my pen is bad, my ink is pail,
my luv to you shall never fail ,
for henry is my own tru
My Lark. my Duck, my Turkle Duv
Su no more at present.
K. A. Tilden.
P. S. Part Fourth "He had a metein
in the blac smith shop last nite. Tickers
iz riz i wundar whi mi swete henry dont
CUM owt char and let me grip mi arms
rowntl hiz blessed boddy, so that t can
feal mi hart bete again hizzen it betes
' lyke a little trip harnur now henry of yu
dont cum owt pra for me. Sass iz skorce
owt char ekaopt squirels and kat fish and
korn mole and aich wegetables."
P. S. Noty Reny. Mother's dead, and
Robert has the fever. So no more at pres
ent from your luvving
Kathurn An:
To my dear henry over the Nallyganees
in the Pennsylveeny State.
AN INNOCENT TRICK WITH DE.
LICIOUS CONSEQUENCES,
The Cincinnati Sun tells a capital sto
ry of a young gentleman in that city, who
resorted to an innocent trick to get a kiss
all around from a couple of young ladies
he was waiting upon home from a fashion
able party. In Cincinnati, as well as
' here and 'elsewhere,' the girls have s a pret
ty and innocent custom of kissing each
other at bidding good night, and in fact
upon many other occasions. The gentle
man in question waited upon the young
ladies, two of the /west daughters that
ever bloomed among the Buckeyes, to
their father's residence. Knowing the
little parting ceremony was to be perform
ed, he watched his opportunity, and just
as their pretty lips were on their way to
meet each other, he poked his face in be
tween, receiving a delicious kiss on either
check, for his audacity or ingenuity. Oaly
think of it ! exclaims the Picayune, a dou
ble-barrelled shot from Cupid, and both fi
red at once ! We have half a mind to
make a regular business of seeing the girls
home, two at a time. Wouldn't it be de
lightful 'I
EXTRAORDINARY DISCOVERY
The Chronique de Paris relates the fol
lowing extraordinary scene as having ta
ken place at the Court of Assizes. A
youth oi about 19 was brought to trial for
having broke the window of a baker's shop
and stolen a two pound loaf:
The President. "Why did you steal
the loaf?
Prisoner. "1 was driven by hunger."
" Why did you not buy it 1"
"Because I had no money."
"But you have a gold riug on your fin
ger; why did you not sell it 7"
"I am a foundling; when I was taken
from the bank of a ditch, this ring was sus
andal from my neck by a silken cord,
I kept it ia the hope thereby discover
ing at least who were my parents; I can
not dispose of it."
The Procureur de Roil King's attorney ]
made a violent speech against the prison
er, who was found guilty, and sentenced
to imprisonment for five years. Imme
diately upon this, a woman more worn
down by poverty , than age, came forward
and made the following declaration:
[WnoLE No. 201.
"Gentlemen of the Jury: Twenty years
ago, a young woman was seduced by a
young man of the mine town, who, aftee'
deceiving, abandoned her. Poor and dia-:
tressed, she was obliged to leave her child !
to the care of Providence. The chihi
has since grown up, and the woman and
the seducer have grown older; the child
in poverty, the woman in misery, and her
seducer in prosperity. They are all three
now in court. The child is the unfeetb
nate prisoner whom you have just pro.
nounced guilty; the mother is myself; and
there sits the lather :" pointing to the Fro- .
cureur de Roi.
FREAKS OF WEALTH,
The wealth which now exists in An'
sterdam falls much short to what it was'
previous to the French Revolution,'er du
ring the period of Dutch commercial pre
eminence,- It is not long since strangers,
in visiting Artiste' darn, were shown the
spacious house of a merchant, who, after
lavishing much on furniture and painting
actually caused the floor of one of his a
partments to be laid with Spannish dollars
set on end. Whims equally ridOentotrx
for disposing of an overplus of wealth ap
pear to have bsen far from uncommon in
former times in Holland. A gentleman
of my acquaintance, passed through Arn
hem a few days ago, had his attention di
rected to an old fantastical looking dwel
ling, concerning which he gathered the
following historical reminiscence. The
original 0%, ner was a Jew, and he erected
the house out of pure revenge. His cof
fers were so well replenished, that he was
at a loss how to employ his superfluous'
cash, at last he hit upon a fanciful expedi
ent. He determined to make a pavement
'before his residence of large massive
plates of silver. and to Surround it with
an oroimental chain of the same costly
metal. Before carrying his plan into ef
fect, it behooved him to obtain the sane
tion of the authorities. These worthys,
however, void of sympathy, set their
fiace against a proposition which might
have compelled them to increase the
strength of the frown guard. Enraged
at their non-compliance, Moses deter
mined to punish them. He ordered his
dwelling, situated in the principal street,
immediately to be pulled down, and on it's
site erected the one now standing. It is'
literally covered with diabolical figures,
amounting it is said, to 365,000.—Chaise
ber' 3 Continental Tour.
FREEDOM OF OPINION,
• .• * "What barrier is there
against the universal despotism of public
()Onion in this country, abut individual
freedom 7 Who is to stand up here, but,
the possessor of that lofty independence
There is no king, sultan, no noble, no
privileged class; nobody else to stand a
gainst it. If you yield this point, if you
are forever making compromises, it all
men do this, if the entire policy of private;
life here is to escape opposition and re
proach, every thing will be swept beneath
the popular wave. —There will be no in
dividuality, no hardihood, no stern resolv,
no self subsistence, no fearless dignity,
no glorious manhood of mind, left among
us. The holy heritage of our fathers' vir
tues will be trodden under foot, by their
unworthy children. They feared not to
stand up against kings and noble, and par
liament and people, Better did they ac
count it, that their lonely bark should
sweep the wide sea in freedom; happier
were they, when their sail swelled to the
storm of winter, than to be slaves in pal
aces of ease. Sweeter to their ear was
the music of the gale, that shrieked in
their broken cordage, than the voice at
home that said "submit, and you shall
have rest." And when they reached this
wild shore, and built their altar,Land knelt
upon the frozen snow and flinty rock to
worship, they built that altar to freedom,
to individual freedom, to freedom of opin
ion; and their noble prayer was, that their
children might be thus free. Let their
sons remember the prayer of their extretn
ity, and the great bequest which their mag
nanimity has left us. .
I know of but one thing safe in the uni
verse, and that is truth, And I knoW of
but one way to truth for an individual
mind. and that is unfettered thought.
And I know bnt one path for the multi
tude to truth, and that is thought freely
expressed. Make of truth itself an altar
of slavery, and guard it about with a mys
terious shrine; bind thought as a victim
spun it; and let the passions of a prejudi
ced multitude minister fuel; and you sac
rifice upon the accursed altar, the hopes
of the world !
"Ven are you going to Texas !" as the
boy said to the man vot wanted to get
trusted at the printing office.
"The last link is broken that bound one
Ito TIME," as the convict said yen he es-
I called fretn his chains.