VOL. VI, No. 12.] ZZ =VIC OF THE HUNTINGDON JOURNAL. The" 101111.1,IAL" will be published every Wednesday morning, at two dollars a year, d 1)(1,1 IN ADV ANCE, and if not paid with in six months, two dollars and a half. Every person who obtains five subscribers, sad forwards price of subscription, shall he Punished with a sixth copy gratuitously for one year. No subscription received for a less period than six months, nor any paper discontmued until ali arrearages are paid. 17. 11 communications must be addressed to ,ho I?. litor, POST PAID, or they will not be attended to. Mvet tisements not exceeding one square, will he inserted three times for one dollar, and for every subsequent insertion, twenty five cents per square will be charged. If no definite orders arc given as to the time an advertisement is to be continued, it will be kept in till ordered out, and charged accor dingly. AGENTS YOR The liuntinstdon Journal. Daniel Teague, Orbieonia; David Blair, Esq. Shade Gap; Benjamin Lease, Shirleya burg; Eliel Smith. Esq. Chiteottra9sun; Jas. Entriken, jr. Crffre Pun; Hugh Madden, Esq. Springfield; Dr. S. S. Dewey, Bir mingham; James Marrow, Union Furnace; John Sister, Warrior Mark; James Davis, Esq. West toumehip ; D. H. Moore, Esq. Frankatown; Epa. Gilbreath, Esq. liollt daysburo.:: Henry Neff, Alexandria; Aaron Barns, Wclliamoburg; A. J. Stewart, Hitter Street; Wm. Reed, Esq. Morin township; Sol•nnon Halter, Arjr Mill; James Dysart, /Knuth Spruce Creek; %Vim. Mu...aty, Grayaville; John Crum, Manor Hill; Jas. E Stewart, Sinking Valley; L. C. Kess:er, Mill Creek. ORPHANS' COURT SALE. WN pursuance of an order of the Or. phans' Court of Huntingdon county, will be exposed to sale by public vendue or outcry, on the premises, on Monday the nth day of March next, the following described real estate, late the property of Benjamin Cornelius, tlec'd. to wit—A certain lot or parcel of land situate in Cromwell township, in said county, ml. joining another lot of said tlec'd. and the Black Log mountain; containing two acres and one quarter, more or kss, with a small tannery and a two story dwelling house thereon erected. Terms of Sale:—Ode half of the pur chase money to be paid on the contirma tiou of the sale, and the residue in one year thereafter with interest, to be secu red by the bond and mortgage ul the pur chaser. By the Cow t, JOHN REED, Clerk, Attendance will be given at the time and place ofsale by the undersigned, Ad mmistrators of the said dec'd. JOSEPII CORNELIUS, Adm . GEORGE CORNELIUS, 8 February 10,1841. ATIPITCE• TIE business at the Juniata Rolling Mill, Huntingdon County Pa., al . - ter.the Ist of January 1841, will be con ducted by Samuel Hatfield, John flat ten', and Samuel Hatfield jr., under the name of Samuel 'field ,Fons; and 1119 solicit the attenention of the public to their superior article of Bailer Sheet, Flue and Tank Iron. C.IR dILES AND BAR IRON OF ALL SIZES made 'out of the best Juniata Blooms Which will be furnished on as aceommu• slating terms as heretofore, and they at Ate same time thankful for past patronage Samuel Hatfield, John Hatfield, Samuel Hatfield jr. _Juniata nulling Mill, Huntingdon County, Pa. Jan. Ist 1841. 8 ROCKDALE FOUNDRY. MHZ subscribers would respectfully in form the citizens of Huntingdon and the adjoining counties, that they have repaired and newly fitted up the Rockdale Foundry, .on Clover Creek, two miles from 'Williams- • burg, where they are now prepared to exe cute all orders in their line, of the best ma terials nod workmanship, and with prompt ness and despatch. They will keep constantly on Land stoves of every description, such as - • - :Cooking, Ten Plate, Pallor Coal and Wood Stoves: Ploughs, Anvils, Hammers, Hollow-ware, and every kind of castings necessary for forges, mills, or machinery of any descrip wagonboxes of all descriptions, &c., which can be had on as good terms as they .pan be had at any otoer foundry in the comi ty to. state. Remember the Rockdale Fowl thy. STgPIII;I4SI be 4.IArNEDY. 3+lokirY 1, 1841' • JOUR AL „st, .., 0 O f4- 74 y V10 PObTRY. From the Christian Journal. THE FATHER TO HIS MOTHER• LESS CHILDREN. Come gather closer to my side, My little smitten Hock— And I will ttll of him who brought Pure water from the Rock ; Who boldly led God's people forth From Egypt's wrath and guile , — And once a cradled babe did float All helpless on the Nile. You're weary, precious ones, your eyes Are wandering far and wide,— Think yc of her who knew so well Your tender thoughts to guide? Who could to W isdom's sacred lore Your fixed attention claim— Oh! never from your hearts erase That blessed mother's name, rris time to sing your evening hymn— My youngest infant clove ; Come press the velvet cheek to mine, And learn the lay of love. My sheltering arms can clasp you all, My poor deserted chi ong ; Cling as you used to cling to her, Who sings the Angel's song. Begin, sweet birds, the accustomed strain— Come warble loud and clear— Alas! alas! you're weeping all, You're sobbing in my ear. Good night—go say the prayer she taught, Beside your little bed ; The lips that used to bless you there, Arc silent with the dead. A Father's hand your course may guide, Am id the thorns of life-- His care protect these shrinking plants, That dreac the storms of strife; But who upon your infant hearts, Shall like that mother write? Who touch the springs that ride the soul?— Dear mourning babes, goad night! Distinctions in Society , There are many persons who affect to hold mechanics, and indeed operatives generally, without regard to their moral or intellectual characters, in superlative contempt. These persons, too, call them selves republicans and democrats, and pro less to acknowledge no other distinction' but merit and morality, yet we find them creating the same distinctions in society, and upholding the same causes which char acterize the society of the most aristo• • eratic governments, where no such pro fessions are made, and instead of merit, intellect, good breeding and decency be: l ing the standard qualities which ought to elevate a man to the best society in the laud, we find ignorance, dandyism and i dleness, generally combined with money, predominating, and the man who can boast of the largest share of these 'very desire- We accomplishments, usurps the place which virtue, morality and intellect should o...eupy. e find many of our young men gene . .. rally known by the term who have sprung from honest and indus trious ancestors, who by their honesty and industry have acquired a competency, spending the earning of their forefathers in idleness and dissipation, and boasting of their !illustrious ancestry, who were perhaps plain farmers or tradesmen, and applying epithets as 'vulgar mechanics,' 'low people,' and such like, to persons whose abilities and merits are equal if not superior to their own; and affecting to de spise those very employments which their ancestors were glad to cherish, and but for the profits arising therefrom, they would have remained in that obscurity which their birth alone would place them. This perverted notion of the respecta bility of occupations, which has been de rived from the false distinctions of mon• archies, where mechanical professions are -- - -- - menial, pi evades the while land, and is becoming an evil of the first magnitude. It is mischievous in the highest degree— inconsisteat with the spirit of our institu tions, and the only way to cure the evil is to go to the root of it, and show such per sons as imagine they will increase the re spectability of their families by making their sons lawyers, doctors, or merchants, that it is sheer delusion, for 'the highest point of respectability is honest industry' and that mechanics, as a prolession, is ab 'respectable' as law, physic or commerce. JOHN SPVOLASS. "l'm lost in grief," as the fly said when it was drowned in a tear, "ONE COUNTRY, ONE CONSTITUTION, Offll . DESTINY." A. W. BENEDICT PUBLISHER AND PROPRIETOR. HUNTINGDON, PENNSYLVANIA, WEDNESDAY, MARCH 3, 1841 "THE TWO COATS./' William Cox, whose essays have done more than those of any one other individ ual to give character to the 'New York Mirror," has lately given an essay under the abive title, in which a philosophical German in England tries the world under very different auspices--at first in a spruce coat; afterwards in a shabby one. We adventures are barely amusing; but the conclusion is of a character "tua true to make a jest of." "Spent and breathless, I threw myself into a chair.—My landlady stood gazing upon me apparently deprived of utterance by the excess of her amazement. In or der to appease the good woman's anxious curiosity, 1 collected my remaining facul ties, and detailed to her as briefly as pos sible, the fatigues, insults, vexatious, and persecutions I had undergone in the course of the ill-fated day, expecting, as a matter of course, a large return of won. der and sorrowful sympathy. To my ut ter astonishment, Lowever, my narrative appeared to create but little surprise; but, gazing at me more intently than ever, my Landlady set down the candle, lifted tin her hands and exclaimed, 'thy la: sir! what else could you expect! YOU HAVE I BEEN OUT ALL DAY MITE TOUR OLD I COAT ON !V "Instantly, and for the first time that day, I looked at the sleeves. It was e ven so, The mystery was solved—the truth revealed. An old black coat—old when I went on shipboard, and which had been worn, torn, and soiled on the pas sage, until it had sunk one hundred tie. grees below respectability—had been brought on shore and laid in my bed-room by an over-careful German servant. On this eventful morning I had, somehow or other, found my way into it; and, deeply immersed in the Kantian system until a late, hour had, without farther .thought, started op di proceeded to pay my visits with this piece of si.a and degredation on niyback! It was plain now why I was a scoundrel, a vagabond, and a .•'aspected pi,kpocket. I said not a word, but wish ing my landlady goodnight, went to bed awl sfe.pt. . . "IV lien I awoke the next morning there hung the coat. My determination on the preceding evening had been to have it destroyed--burnt—rent into fragments and scattered to the winds of heaven! ,but A sadder and a wiser mare I rose the morrow morn.' "'Welcome, old friend P said I, as took it up; '1 have seen deeper into the heart of things-1 have learned more of the mysteries 01 civilization and of men and men's ways by v earing thee one day, than years of superfine cloth and silken prosperity might I are taught toe' I spread it out on the tattle. It appeared a mere old ,coat no longer. It became a map of moral geography in my eyes, whereon were laid down all the sins and vices of society. What a want of princi ple the two holes in the elbows denoted! —What atrocities lurked in the rent in the skirts! and what manifold shames and infamies lay clustered upon the wornout collar! Theu the utter lack of refinement and intelligence evinced by the bare seems of the back! while the smaller spots and bald places, scattered plenti fully over the surface, admirably typified the minor faults and follies of humanity. But yesterday, it was in toy eyes a piece of old, useless cloth; to-day it seemed to me of greater potency than Prospero's wand, and endowed with more miracu lous powers of transformation. Hang this coat, thought I, upon the back of Tel ent, and Talent forthwith degenerates to Mediocrity; transfer it to Mediocrity, and Mediocrity immediately sinks to something below contempt. Clothe Hut mor ;n it, and Humor becomes coarse• ness; put it on Wit, and Wit is Wit no longer, but straightway takes the name of forwardness, insolence. and impertinence. flow would a delicate flight of fancy now be neutralized by that threadbare cull; and what a world of playful satire would the uncovered buttons annihilate! How pointless (continued I, pursuing my vein of speculation) would fall jests from the unfortunate proprietor of this, which pro ceeded from the wearer of nue of its un impeachable brethren would 'sets the ta ble in a roar,' and shake the sides of res • ptctful and admiring listners with extin guishable laughter. Let even Genius him self throw oft his mantle, and cover him self with this, and his must ethereal flights would straightway be considered but as the ravings of insanity, and his most pro found thoughts but as the mysticisms of dulness. Or, if were possible, let Steaks. peare be forgotten, and send Genius in this garment, with Hamlet in his pocket to the manager, and oft! the exquisite crit icism he would have to endure! the un checked rudeness; the mock civility—the paltry condescension he would have to bear! How would such a coat obscure the divinity el the thoughts and heighten the improbability of the plot; and how the insolent laugh , the small witticism, midi the superficial sneer circulate round the green-room! by even the sodden-head ed supernumeraries would feel privileged to, twit Genius in such a vestment; and back h• would come, unrecompensed, with Hamlet in his pocket, to bear as lie best might, 'The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The insolence of office, and the spurns Which patient merit from the unworthy takes,' ...There is more in this than nature,' said I, 'if Philosophy could find it out;' and grateful as I felt for the lesson I had received, never did I go forth again, du ring my resipence in London, without in ' slinctively glancing at the habiliments in which I had bestowed myself, being well assured by experience, that the man is lit tle—the coat is much." From the N. 0. Picayune. A LEAP YEAR STORY. POPPING ¶'H QUESTION. 'But why don't you get married?' said a bouncing girl, with a laughing eye, to a smooth-faced innocent li.okinw youth who blushed up to the eyes at the question. , Well, I—' said the youth, stopping short with a gasp; and fixing his eyes upon vacancy with a puzzled and foolish ex pres.don. 'Well, go on, you what?' said the fair cross-questioner, almost imperceptibly in clining nearer the young man. 'Now just tell the right straight out, you what?' 'Why, I-011, pshaw, I dont know!' 'You do, I say you do know, come I want to know.' 'O, I can't tell you'— 'I say you can. Why you know I'll never mention it, and you may tell me of course, you know, for havn't I always been your friendl' 'Well, you have, I know' replied the be leae,,,bered youth. 'And I'm sure I always thought you liked me,' went on the maiden in tender and mellow accents. .0, I do, upon my word— yes indeed, I do Al aria,' said the unsophisticated youth, very warmly, and he found that Maria had unconsciously placed her band in his open palm. Then there was a silence. 'And then—well, John?' said Maria, dronning her eyes on the ground. 'Eh! Oi l —well?' said John dropping his eyes and Maria's hand the same moment.] 'l'm pretty sure you loved somebody,. John; in fact,' said Maria, assuming again the tone of railery, 'I know you're in love ' and John why don't you tell me all about it at once?' .1f ell, l'— .ff eV, 1 !—O, you silly mortal, what is there to be afraid off' .011, it aint because I'm afraid of any thing at all, and I'll—well now Maria, I'll tell you.' 'Well now, John?' 'Eli?' Yes.' 'I am in love!—now don's tell—you wont will your said John, violently siez.• I ing Maria by the hand, and looking in her face with a most implorin , " , expression. 'Why of course you know, John I'll never breathe a word of it; you know I wont, don't you Johnl"l'llis was spoken l in a mellow whisper, and the cherry lips of Maria were so near John's ear when he spoke, had he turned his head to look at her there might have occured an exceed ingly dangerous collision. 'Well, Maria,' said Juhn, 'l've told you now, 1 have always thought a good deal of you, and—' 'Yes, John.' .1 am sure you would do any thing for me that you could'— ' Yes, John, you know I would.' ' Well, I thought so, and you don't know how long 1 wanted to talk to yuu about it.' 'I declare, John I—you might have told me long ago if you wanted, for I'm sure I never was angry with you in my lite' 'No, you wasn't; and I have often telt a great mind to, but--' 'lt's not to late now 3 ou know, John' 'Well, Maria, do you think I'm toe young get marriedl' 'lndeed I do not, John; I know it would be a good thing for you too, for every body says the sooner young people are married the better, when they are prudent and inclined to love one another.' 'That's just what I think ; and now Maria, I do want to get married, and if you will just--' 'lndeed I will John, for you know I was always partial to you, and live said so often behind your back.' 'Well, I declare I've all along thought you might object, and that's the reason I've been always afraid to ask you.' Object! no, I'd die first; you may ask of me iust any thing you please' 'And you will grant it?' 'I will.' 'Theo, Maria, I want you to pop the question for me to Mary Sullivan, for—' What!' 'Do you love Mary Sullivan?' 'O, indeed I do with all my heart!' 'I always thought you was a fool.' 'nil' 'I say you're a fool, and you'd better go home your mother wants you—you—you —stupid!' exclaimed the mortified Maria in a shrill treble, and she gave poor John a slap on the cheek sent him reeling. It was noonday, and John declares he saw myriads of stars flashing all around him, more than ever he saw before in the night time. Poor Maria 'Never told her love, But let concealment like a worm i' the bud, Prey on her damask cheek.' MIRROR, Thus, alas, how often are the germs of: young affection cast away! For it is but too true, as David Crocket beautifully ex presses it,_ _ .The course of true love never did run smcotli!' INCIDENTS OF THE BATTLE OF BLIN KER HILL. DEATH AND CHARACTER OF WARREN. 1 BY A. 11. EVERETT. During the progress of this famous bat tle, which took place June 17th. 1775, a little incident occurred, in which General Putnam, and Major Small of the British army, were the parties concerned, and which throws over the various horrors of the scene a momentary gleam of kindness and chivalry. These two officers were ' personally known to each other, and had, in fact, while serving in the former wars against the French, contracted a close, friendship. After the fire from the American works' had taken effect, Major Small, like his commander, remained almost alone upon the field. His companions in arms had been all swept away, and standing thus apart, he became immediately, from the brilliancy of his dress, a conspicuous mark for the redoubt. They had already pointed their unerring rifles at his heart. and the delay of another minute would probably have stopped its pulses for ever. At this moment General Putnam recog i nixed his friend, and perceiving the im- I minent danger in which he was placed, ;sprang upon the parapet, and threw him self before the levelled rifles. "Spare that officer, my gallant comrades," said the noble-minded veteran, "we are friends; we are brothers; do you not re member how we rushed into each other's arms, at the meeting for the exchange of prisoners?" This appeal, urged in the well known voice of a favorite old chief was successful, and Major Small retired unmolested from the field. General arren had come upon the field, as he said, to learn the art of war from a veteran soldier He had offered to take Col Prescott's orders; but his des. Aerate courage would hardly permit him immediately to retire. It was not without extreme reluctance, and at the very latest moment, that he quitted the redoubt; and he was slowly retreating from it, being still a few rods distant only, when the British had obtained lull possession. His person was of course in imminent danger. At this critical moment, Major Small, whose Lfe had been save in a similar e mergency by Gen Putnam, attempted to require the service by rendering one of a like character to Warren. lie called out to him by name from the redoubt, and begged him to surrender. at the same time ordering the men around him to suspend their tire. Warren turned his head, as it he recognised the voice, but the effect was too late. While his face was dirPc- ted towards the works, a ball struck him on the forehead, and inflicted a wound which was instantly fatal. Had it been the lortuno of Warren to live out the usual term of existence, he would probably have passed with distinc tion through a high career of usefulness and glory. His great powers, no longer limited to the sphere of a single province, would have directed the councils, or led the armies, of a vast confederate empire. We should have seen him like his conten► poraries and fellow patriots, Washington, Adams, and Jefferson, sustaining the high est magistracie at home, or securing the rights and interests of his country in her most important embassies abroad; and, at length, in declining age, illuminating like them, the whole social sphere, with the mild splendor of a lung and peaceful re tirement. This destiny was reserved for them—for others. To Warren, distinguished as he was, among the bravest , wisest, and best of the patriotic hand, was assigned, in the inscrutable decrees of Providence, the crown of early martyrdom. It becomes not human frailty to murmur at the will . ._ WitoLE No. 272. of Heaven; and however painful may bar the first emotions excited in the mind by the sudden and premature eclipse of so much talent and virtue, it may, perhaps, well be doubted, whether by any course of active service, in a civil and military department, General Warren could have rendered more essential benefit to the country, or to the causes of liberty through out the world, than by the single act of heroic self devotion which closed his existence. The blood of martys has been in all ages, the nourishing rain of religion and liberty. There are many among the patriots and heron of the Revolutionary war, whose names are connected with a great num ber of important transactions; whose bi ography, correspondence, and writings,. fill more pages; and whose names will oc cupy a large space iii general history; but there is hardly one whose example will ex ercise a more insp.ring and elevating in fluence upon his countrymen and the world, than that of the brave, blooming, generous, self devoted martyr of Bun% ker's The contemplation of such a charicter is the noLlest spectacle which the moral world affords. It is declared by the poet, to be a spectacle worthy of the Gods. It awakens, with ten fold force, the purify , ing emotions of admiration and tender ness, which are represented as the legiti mate objects of tragedy. A death like that of F arren, is, in fact, tie most affeeting and impressive cataotro phe that can ever occur in the eplendid tragedy which is constantly going on a round us —far more imposing and interes ting. fur those who can enjoy it, than any of the mimic wonders of the drama—the real action of life. The ennobling and softening influence of such events ►s not confined to contemporaries and country.- men. The friends of liberty, from all countries, and throughout all time, as they kneel upon the spot that was moistened by the blood of Warren, will find their batter feelings strengthened by the influ ence of the place, and will gather from it a virtue in some degree allied to his own. A Virtuous Mao. Dining the war in Geri:l:l7;r, the cap tain of a troop of cavalry was ordered out on a foraging party. lie marched at the head of nti troop to the quarter as signed him, a solitary vale, uncultivated, and nearly covered with wood. In the middle of it stood a small cottage—the residence of a poor man, one of the Dio ravian brethren. On perceiving the hut, the captain knocked at the door•, N hen-the aged, pious son of poverty niade his ap pearance. His beard and locks were sil vered by old age, while his countenance bespoke that inward peace which the world cannot give ear take away. "Father," said the officer, "show me a field, so that I can set my troopers fora , g . 7 1 will presently, if you will fellow me," replied the old man. - . After leaving the valley, about a quar ter of an hour's march, they found a fine field of barley. "There is the very thing we want," said the captain. "'lave patience for a few minutes," re. plied his guide, "and you shall be satis fied." They went on, about the distance of a quarter of a league farther, when they arrived at another field of barley. The troopers dismounted, cut down the grain. bound it up, and re -mounted while the guide looked on. When they were about to depart, the officer said: "Father, you hare given yourself un necessary trouble in coming so far ; the field we first saw was much better than thig P. "Very true, sir," replied the good old man, "bat it was not mine." This stroke (says the author very just• Iv), goes directly to the heart. I defy an atheist to produce any thing to be com pared to it. Surely he who does not feel his heart warmed by such an example of exalted virtue, has not yet acquired the first principle of moral taste. To Careful Daddies, "Young ladies will fall ►n love, and the worst of it is, they will take as an object some man that Pa does not like. This is a growing evil, but it must, to some ex tent, be endured. One word to Papas—if you wish your daughter not to love Mr. --., praise him to tie skies, invite him to your house—let Miss Julia see him as much as possible, and our word ti►r it, in a week she will yawn when he comes in. Take the opposite course to make her love, and be sure that neither mamma or married sister interfere by "speaking a good word." Woman, in their adoles cent. state, are obstinate and self willed, and though it may be "yes papa," and "no papa," do not believe a word of it. We know them, and why should we not? —we have been years finding them out, Plat
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