VoL. VII, No. B.]
PUBLISHED BY
THEODORE H. CREMER.
TERMS.
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Agents for the Journal.
Daniel Teague, Orbiaonia; David Blair
Esq. Shade Gap ; Benj. Lease, Shirleys
burs; Eliel Smith, Esq. Chilcottatown; Jas.
Entriken. jr. Coffee Run; Hugh Madden
Esq. Springfield; Dr. S. S. Dewey, Bir
mingham; Jas. Morrow, Union Furnace;
JohnSisler, Warrior Mark; James Davis,
Esq. West township ; D. H. Moore. Esq
Fran katown; Eph. Galbreath, Esq. Holli
daysburg; Henry Neff, illexandria; Aaron
Burns, Williamsburg; A. J. Stewart, Water
Street; Wm. Reed. Esq. Morris township;
Solomon Hamer, A eff's Mill; Jas. Dysart,
Mouth Spruce Creek; Wm. Murray, Esq.
Grayaville; John Crum, Manor Hill; Jas.
E. Stewart, Sinking Valley ;L. C . Kessler,
Mill Creek.
POETRY.
From Frazer's Magazine for October,
Old Friends.
"We took sweet counsel together."
Where have ye stroll'd ye friends of old,
Companions of my youth? (book,
Each walk, each nook, each dream, erch
Brings back the bitter truth ;
I call to mind, but cannot find
The forms I once loved well,
Where have ye Bed, ye vanished,
I ask, ye do not tell!
I search, I roam—abroad at home—
I seek each much loved spot;
My labor ends, but ye dear friends,
Like Rachel's babes, "are not:"
I ask the deep, if there ye sleep,
Like sea-nymphs in a shell,
And echoes sweet, my words repeat,—
But Ocean will not tell.
I ask the sky if there ye fly
With angels "bright and fair ;"
Each silver star, that shines afar,
If ye are singing there ;
I ask each stream, whose glancing beam
Makes glad each flowry dell ;
Each bit d,each wood, each crag,cach flood,
But none of these will tell!
I ask the crowd, so gay and loud.
If in its maze ye hide ;
The city's throng, which floats along,
If down its course ye glide :
From hallowed ground, the solemn sound
Of distant 1 . Passing bell,"
Attracts my mind, and then I find
The truth its tidings tell.
Friends of my youth, I know the truth.
No longer need I ask, •
My conscious heart, tho' keon the smart,
Tears off the selfish mask ;
The greedy tomb; in its dark womb,
Conceals your forms from sight,
And now all-blest ye are at " rest,"
In realms where frowns nu night !
'Tie sweet to dwell in hawthorn dell,
And rove the groves.among ;
To climb the mount, to haunt the fount,
And catch each warbler's song ;
To mark the grace of Nature's face,
In foliage, flower, or sod ;
lift oh! how great, how sweet their fate,
Who dwell with Nature's God!
'Tis sweet to while with friendly smile,
Life's troublous hours away ;
From earth appears !. a vale of tears,"
And hastens to decay.
But oh! to Heaven much more is given!
Eye hath not seen its glory!
The joy of saints no poet paints—
Ear bath not heard the story !
Old friends, and true! adieu—adieu—
'Twere sin to wish you here ;
In lore ye dwell, beyond the spell
Of earthly woe or fear ;
No mortal man your bliss may scan
'Mongst angels "bright and fair :—"
Then may I rise to yen blue skies,
And share your glory there.
A FARMER'S CUOICE.-A little house
.41,11 fill% a little land well ti/Pd, and a
tide wile good will'd.
T....::::- . !E JOURNAL.
MISCELLANEOUS.
From Graham's Magazine for Nov.
TILE KIMG 7 11.111111 E.
BY J. H. DANA
There is no scenery in England more
beautiful than that to be found in portions
of the New Forest. Huge gray old oaks,
gnarled, and twisted, and aspiring to hes,
yen; deep glens, overshadowed by cano
pies of leaves, through which the light but
faintly struggles; vast arcades, stretching
far away in the distance, and buried in
religious gloom ; wild wood roads, that
wind hither and thither among the giait
trees in fanciful contortions; and open,
sunny glades, intersected by sparkling
streamlets, waving with verdant grass, and
now and then disclosing a fairy cottage
nestled in the edge of the forest, are to
this day, the characteristics of this favorite
hunting ground of the conqueror and his
immediate successors. There is a solitude
about this old labyi inthine chase, which is
perfectly bewitching. You may travel
for miles in the more secluded parts of the
forest, without meeting a human being, or
seeing the smoke of a single cottage curl
ing among the foliage ; but on every side
you will behold trees growing in the wild
est luxuriance, and tread on a sward as
soft and thick as the richest velvet. You
will, for A space, hear nothing but the
sound of a nut rattling to the ground, or
the song of some wood bird down in a
'brake ; and then you will rouse the deer
from their retreat, a rustle will be heard
down in the under-growth, and you will
catch a sight of a noble herd, perchance,
as they go trotting away into the darker
Irecesses of the forest.
Such is the New Forest now, and such
it was eight centuries ago, on a bright
sunny morning, towards the end of sum
mer. The hour was still early, for the
dew yet sparkled on the grass, or pattered
down from the foliage as the wind stii red
among the forest branches. The scene
was one of the loveliest the chase afforded;
a . bright glade embosomed in the most
sdcot dopth of th. forest. Te whole of
this open space was carpette d with the
thickest and greenest pasture, varying in
hue, at every breath of the balmy wind
over the undulated surface. On one side,
the glade was bounded by a gentle eleva
tion, covered with stately oaks, whose
giant branches, spreading out far and wide
buried their trunks in the obscurity of a
constant twilight ; and on the other three
sides the ground either extended itself in
a plain, or sloped so gently oft, -that the
descent was nearly impreceptible. Thou
sands of wild flowers spangled the surface
of the glade, some flaunting proudly on
the air, and some modestly hiding under
the long grass, yet all sending forth the
most delicious perfume; while innumera
ble birds of every variety of plumage,
hopped from twig to twit, or skimmed
across the glade, filling the air with untold
harmonies; and high in the heaven, a sol
itary lark, lingering there long after his
fellows had departed, poured forth his lay
with such heart-calming, such liquid, har
mony, that a stranger, unaccustomed to
his fairy song, and unable to distinguish
his tiny form far up in the sunny ether,
might well have fancied those unrivalled
notes the breathings of an unseen cher
ubim.
Such was the scene on which there now
gazed two beings, both beautiful, but one
surpassingly so. The elder of the two
might have been one and thirty, and both
this lace and figure were moulded in the
t noblest style of manly beauty. His broad
brow, chiselled features, and commanding
port, bespoke him one born to rule, al
though the simple and somewhat mean
garb he wore argued that he was not rich
in this world's goods. The attire of his
companion was richer, but less gay, and
she wore the veil of a novice. Her face,
however, made up in symmetry and love
liness for whatever absence of ornament
there was in her dress, and indeed she
might have well challenged the world to
produce her rival. The fair delicate
skin through which the blue veins could
be seen meandering, the snowy brow
that seemed made for the temple of the
loveliest thoughts, the golden hair that lay
in wreathes upon the forehead, and the
blue eye whose azure depth seemed to
conceal mysteries as pure and capturing
as those of heaven, made up a counte
nance of overpowering beauty, even with
out that expression, so high and seraphic,
which beamed at every word, and threw
over each lineamant of - her face a loveli
ness almost divine. Her fivire was like
that of a sylph, yet full and rounded in
every limb ; and beneath her dress peeped
forth one of the most delicate feet that
ever trod the green sward. She was per
haps eighteen, though she might have been
younger. She sat now on a low bank, at
the very edge of the forrest, while her
companion reclined at her feet, holding
one of her tiny hands in his broad palm,
and gazing up into her eyes with a look of
the deepest, yet most respectful passion.
"ONE COUNTRY, 011 E CONSTITUTION, ONE DESTINY."
HUNTINGDON, PENNSYLVANIA, WEDNESDAY, MARCH 2, 1842
--,
Nor were the maiden's orbs averted from I
his gaze, fur ever and anon she would)
twine her fingers playfully yet half sadly
in his locks, and return his look with all a I
woman's tenderness.
" Yes, sweet one," said the hunter, as it
in continuing a conversation, "I have
sometimes, during our separation for the
last six long months, almost desponded,
especially when I heard how urgent my
brother was that you should wed his fa
vorite Wane:), and when I reflect that
your aunt, the good abbess Christianna,
was so hostile to my suit. But I did you
injustice, dear one, and thus," and he
kissed the hand of his companion again
and again, " I sue for pardon. God only
knows," he added in a sadder tune,
" whether I shall ever have my rights.—
They sneer at me now as a landless
prince, and that purse proud Surrey hath
no better name for me than Deer's foot,
because I am not always able to follow the
hunt with a steed. But so long as thou
art true to me, sweet Maud, these will be
as nothing; and the time may come when
we shall yet be happy."
" Fear not, Beauelerk," said the prin
cess; for it was Matilda of Scotland who
spoke, and lie whom she addressed was
the younger bon of the conquerer, the
penniless dependant of him. whom men
called the Red King, " fear not; all, as
you say, will ba well. I feel it, I know
it. Do you believe in presentiments, dear
Henry 7" and pushing aside her lever's
thick locks, she held her hand on his fore•
head, and looked with her sunny orbs full
into his eyes, as if she would playfully
read his very soul.
" Presentiments trouble me not much,
despite what the books say thereof," an•
swered the frank hunter, "I trust rather
to my scimeter and my good right arm,
though forsooth, they availed me little
when I was cooped in"St.Michael's Mount
by my two kingly and loving brothers.—
Aye: presentiments and phrophecies, and
such things, disturb me but little, or I
would e'en have consolation now, in all
my troubles, in calling to mind the words
of my . father ; the saintiassoilzie his mem
ory since dying, he said that I should be
h c ,,,„, Nina
ex
cel both Robert and WillfaniThriai'S.:::
power. By St. George, the riches had
best come soon, for I gave my last mark
away this morning. No, kind Mead,
I place but little faith in presentiments.
But you sigh. if it pains you that I
credit them not, why, then lam the must
devout believer in all England,",again lie
pressed that fair hand to his lips, "why do
you ask the question 7"
" Because," said the princess, blushing
at his eagerness," I have had a presenti
ment that we should yet be happy, and
that full soon. I know not how it is to
happen; but of this I am assured, we shall
live for brighter days. The abbess threat
ens me with the veil if I do not wed Surrey,
and even now forces me, in her presence,
to wear a tissue of horse hair; but though I
can as yet see no escape from the alterna
tive, I am not the less certain that it will
never be mine to choose. So now, des
pond no mbre, dear Beauclerk."
"Thanks, thanks, for your cheering ho
mily," said the young prince, laughing,
for her sanguine words had effected him
with unusual gaity. " I can hunt now
with some spirit. Little does Surrey think,
while he is getting ready for the chase,
and perhaps sneering at me as-s laggard
for not being up to set out with the rest,
that I have stolen out into the forest to
meet her for whom he would give the
whole of his broad lands."
What answer the princess might have
made tothis somewhat vain.glorious speech
we know not, but at this instant a party
appeared on the scene ; one, in the guise
of a knight, and somewhat advanced in
years, approached first, and said :
!, You must forgive ine, my dear lady, if
I urge you to go on horse back, The ab
bess knows your journey will have consu•
med but a
_day, and that
. you should have
arrived at Wilton last night, and I shall
have a hard task to excuse your protracted
stay without betraying you. The men-at
arms are drawn up but a little space off,
and, although they arc all my servitors, it
is best that they should know nothing to
reveal. The prince here will understand
me."
'I Assuredly, Sir John ; and if he they
call Beauclerk ever attains power lie will
not forget those who befriended the land
lass prince. I will bring up Maud in an
instant."
The knight bowed, and retreated into
the wood. A few parting words were
exchanzed between the lovers, a few tears
were shed by Maud, which were kissed off
her cheeks by the prince, and then, with
one long, last embrace, they tore them•
selves assunder, and in a few minutes the
princess had rejoined her train. Prince
llenry stood looking vacantly in the di
rection where she had disappeared, until
the sound of her beast's tramp had died
in the distant forest, when slowly mount
ing his steed, that had awaited its master in
a neighboring copse, he . entered one of the
forest roads, and proceeded leisurely on
wards. He had journeyed thus about half
an hour, when he heard a hunting horn
close by him, and directly he beheld ap
proaching the gallant array of his brother.
" Ha 1 . my good cousin Deer's foot, well
met;" said the Earl of Surrey; " we have
been looking for you. I told your friend
here, who swore you were yet abed, that
we should meet you afoot in the finest
before the day was over ; and thereon we
have laid a wager. I trove we have neither
won. It would be but fair to give you the
bet, would it not?" said the gay Earl with
a half concealed sneer, as he glanced from
his own rich suit to the prince's garb.
"You may both want yet, fair sirs, all
you can spare," answered the prince :
"but let us see who will be first in at the
death. You were always apt at that, my
lord," and he turned to the royal trea,
surer. .
"Ay, and shall maintain my reputation,
your highness," said Breteuil, recollecting
he addressed almost a beggar; "and if I
may judge by your steed, even against
yourself,"
" We shall see—we shall see," said the
prince. " I lay you a new steed, my lord,
I distance you to-day."
" Done," said the treasurer, laughing—
"you may throw away your horse. But
here is the king, and In!" and as he spoke
the horn announced that a stag had been
roused, "the game is afoot."
At the word the eager sportsmen gave
the spur to their steeds, and the cavalcade
swept gaily off in the chase.
Never had a more gallant array than
that which now followed the royal stag,
woke up the echoes of the forest. Knights
and squires, priests and pages, warriors
and ecclesiastics, princes and blood royal,
and high officers of state, pressed forward
in the chase, now scouring along the level
plain, now dashing away through the ar
cades of the forest, and now plunging
recklessly through the brake and dell, as
the hounds dogged the flight of the noble
animal into his once secure retreat: Yet
it is well worthy of note how compactly
the hunters kept around the king, none
venturing to outstrip him, and only a few
of the oldest maintaining an even rein
Olen oarin g
Breteuil passed and re-passed each other.
and at every recognition Henry would
gaily remind the treasurer of his wager.
At length, however, the pursuit became
more hot, the king gave rein to his steed
and pressed on, and in passing some
broken ground the party became separated,
and those who were younger of better
mounted than the rest swept on ahead.—
Among these was prince Henry, who,
though his steed was none of the best,
kept up not an ignoble pace, until at length
his arbalast caught against a tree, and he
was nearly thrown from his horse. lie
checked his steed at once, and recovered
his crossbow, but the string was broken,
rendering his weapon useless.
"Ha l my gallant prince," said the
treasurer, as he swept by "you can
scarcely hit your game now, even if you
keep on. I trow your steed is mine."
" A malison on the string," said the
prince bitterly ; " there is nothing left fcr
me except to sneak back to Winchester.
But, not I bethink me now there is a for
ester's hut somewhere nigh here. Ah!
yonder is its smoke curling over the tree
tops. I will hie me there, and get a new
string. If the stag turns at the dell be
low, he will head up this way, and I may
yet win my wager, for, the saints know, I
can ill afford to loose my only steed."
With these words the prince again gave
spurs to his horse, and was soon before
the forester's hut.
"Ho: there, within," he exclaimed;
"a string for the prince. Marry, old
mistress, have they never a keeper here
better than you?"
These words were addressed to an old,
woman who met him at the threshold of,
the hut as he dismounted, and who appear
ed to be the only human being inhabiting
the cabin. And she was one who might
well occasion the prince's exclamation of
surprise. Her skin was like that of a
corpse; her eyes were sunk deep into her
head ; her hair was grizzled and gray ; her
long, bony fingers might have been those
of a skeleton, and when she spoke, her
hollow, sepulchral tones made even the
courageous prince shudder. She seemed
to pay no regard to her visitor's inquiry
for a string, but fastening her basalisk•like
e 3 es upon him: she said or rather chaun
ted, in Norman. French, a rude lay, of
which the following is a translation :
"Hasty news to thee I bring,
Henry, thou art now a king ;
Mark the words, and keep them well,
Which to thee in Booth I toll,
And recall them in the hour,
Of thy _ royal state and power."
For the space of almost a minute after
she had ceased, the prince gazed speech
lessly on this novel being, awed alike by
her singular demeanor, and her sepulchral
eye. for were the words she sang with.
out effect on her hearer. It was a super
stitious age, and few men of his day were
less influenced by the supernatural than
Henry; but there was something in the
sybil's look which chilled his heart with
a strange feeling—half fear, half a • ....
He had not recovered from his surprise,
when a horseman rushed wildly up to the
hut, and the prince had scarcely recognis
zed one of his warmest friends, Beaumont,
when that gentleman breathlessly exclais
med :
The king is slain!—Tyrell's arrow
glanced from a bow and struck your royal
brother to his heart:"
The words of Beaumont acted on the
heart of the prince like the charm which
dissipates a spell. He started, as if aroused
from some strange dream—looked a mo
ment in wild surprise at his companion,
and gradually comprehending the strange
and sudden transition in his fortunes he
sprung with a bound into his saddle, and
plunging his rowels up to the !ice' in his
horse's side, exclaimed :
Then this is no place for me—follow
to Winchester, Beaumont; and now for a
crown and Maud!"
The next instant his horse's hoofs were
thundering scrim the stones, as he gallop•
ed furiously to the capitol.
History relates how he reached Win
chester, with his steed bathed in foam,
and, without slackening his pace, dashed
up to the door of the royal treasury a few
minutes in advance of Breteuil. History
also tells how the energy of the young
prince broke through the meshes of the
wily traitor, and secured for Beauclerk
the crown; but it does not add that, atter
the unwilling treasurer had surrendered
the keys of the regalia, his new master
said, hall laughingly and halt ironically,
to the haughty peer who had so often ne
glected him when only a prince--
Ah, my lord! did I not say I would
win the race? I trow your steed is mine!"
The discomfited Breteuil bit his lip and
was silent, but that night his best charger
was sent to the royal stables, while the
rest of the hunters who were now poaring
in fast from the chase, with the populace,
which at the news of the Red King's death
had begun to shout " King Henry;" gath
ered in crowds around the young monarch
4 1Nit ult . is tne Kihg La' wan
self, as he beheld the enthusiasm display
ed by his people, to say nothing of the old
sybil. "Ah! what will my sweet one
think when she hears this?"
Three months later and all the chivalry
of the realm was gathered in the church
at NVcstchester, while the populace with
out, thronged every avenue to that prince
ly cathedral. Never indeed had a prouder
assemblage met at any royal ceremonial.
The church blazed with jewels; nobles in
their robes of state; bishops and archbi
shops with mitre and crozier; countesses
whose beauty out-dazzled their diamonds;
knights and squires and pages of every
rank; burghers with their chains or gold;
men-et-arms enchased in steel; lialber
diers and archers; yeomen with quarter
stalls, and foresters with arbalasts ; men
of every situation of life, and bright ladies,
whose loveliness was beyond compare,
were gathered in the gorgeously ornamen
ted church, amid the waving of banners,
the sounds of music, the rustling of costly
robes, and the smoke of ascending in
cense, to gaze on the marriage of their
monarch to his fair and blushing bride.—
And there she stood before the altar in all
her virgin beauty, her fair blue eyes sufru•
sed with tears of joy, while her manly
ver stood at her side, the proudest cava
lier in all that bright array. And when
the archbishop ascended the pulpit, and
demanded if any one there objected to the
union, the whore audience shouted aloud,
" that the matter was rightly settled ;"
then again pealed forth the anthem, and
again the incense rose in clouds to the
fretted roof. The music ceased, the words
were said, the crown was placed on the
brow of the princess, and the hunter of the
forest, amid the acclamations of his peo
ple, pressed to his heart the Knee's Henn.
" Do you believe in presentiments now?'
said the young queen, half laughing, to
her royal husband, when they reached the
palace.
" I am a convert to your faith, whatever
it may be, sweet one. Nay! you shall
preach no sermon over my retraction, for
thus I toibid the homily," and the king
drew the blushing Maud towards him and
kindly kissed her.
Many an iron monarch has, since then,
sat on the English throne, and many a
fair princess has been led by her love.- to
the altar, but never has a happier or more
beautiful pair wore the regal crown in the
realm of our ancestors.
" Pa, nobody shan't put corsets on me,
shall they. , "
"No, my son, they shan't; but what
put that in your heal"
" Why, Mr. Green says as how it I kill
any more of his chickens, he'll give me the
tiarntlest ladle that ever was."—Perry
Eagle.
[Wuome No. 320.
A GRACEFUL DUN.—Said a pretty wo
man to a friend of ours a few (lays since,
'husband has made me a present of the
little bill that you owe him. Wasn't that
capital T Who could resist such a polite
invitation to pay up?
A WISE PROPOSITION.—It is proposed
in the Legislature of Indiana to lay a tat
on lawyers, doctors, old bachelors and old
maids.
The Picayune says.'if a man endeavors
to come the giraffe over me, am I to be
blamed for coming the hippopotamus over
him 7' Certainly not, Mr. Pic.
Temperance Convention.l
22ND FEIIWARr,
A Convention ofDeleg_ates from a num.
her of the It ashinglon Temperance Sca
thes of the county of Huntingdon, conve
ned at the Presbyterian church in the bo
rough of Huntingdon, on Tuesday, the
25.1r.d ult.—the anniversary of the immor
tal WASHINGTON.
The following persons were appointed
officers for the temporary organization of
the convention : James Walker, of Dub
lin township, President, Leonard G. Kes.
sler Secretary,
The convention being temporarily or
ganized, on motion,
Resolved, That the convention go in
Precession and escort the Alexandria del
egation to the church, which was accord
ingly done. Upon re-assembling in the
church, "The Farewell Address" of lia.
shington was road by ALEXANDER GWIN.
Esq. . _ _
A splendid banner (bearing the portrait
of Washington, and the motto " The good
of man our only aim,") having been pre.
pared by the Ladies of Huntingdon, was
presented to the society by T. P. CAMP.
BELL, Esq. in the name of and in behalf
of the ladies, in a brief but feeling ad.
dress, to which D. BLAI3, Esq. responded
in the name of the society, in an appropri.
ate manner.
On motion, the following named per
sons, being one from each delegation,
were appointed to nominate officers for
the permanent organization bf the con
re po. McMurtrie, William R.
ter, A. Sangree, J. G, Lightner, E. urn,..
sop, Jonathan Cree, John Porter, (Alex.)
H. Seeds, H. Foss, and J. Zentmire, to
report in the afternoon.
Adjourned to meet at 1 f o'clock, P. Us
o'clock, P. M.
Convention organized.
The committee appointed for the pur
pose in the forenoon reported the follow
ing persons to act as officers for the per
manent organization of the convention, to
wit;
ALEXANDER GWIN, Esq. President.
John Porter, W. D. Shaw, J. A. Camp
bell, Geo. Fee, W. Mills, J. Cree, T. T.
Cromwell, E. B. Orbison, John Westbrook
sen., W. R. Hampson, W. McCoy, H.
Knode, A. Sangree, 11, Foss, John Hum
baugh, Michael Green, Thomas Read, R.
Alexander, Benjamin Leas,— Vice Presi
dents.
M. McConnell, Leonard G. Kessler,
John G. Stewart, (Alex.) James G. Light.
ner,—Secretaries.
The officers having taken their seats,
the meeting was opened by prayer, by the
Rev. Mr. Keefer,
On motion, convention formed in pro-
cession in following order,
Chief-Marshall.
Music,
State Standard,
Vice Prcet., President, Vice Pres't.,
Vice Presidents, 3 deep,
Secretaries,
Executive Committee,
Members, 9. deep,
Banner,
Marshall,
Members,
Music,
Banner,
Orators and Reader,
Clergy,
Members,
Marshall,
and after passing through the principal
streets of the borough, returned to the
church. A .Eulogy on the Lifeand Cha
racter of Washington," was then deliver
ed by 'l'. P. CAMPBELL, Esq.
Music by the Band.
Letters from the following persons ha•
ving been received, were reed, viz ;
JOHN TYLER, PRESIDENT U.S.
HON. G. W. WOODWARD,
HON. B. A. BIDLACK,
HON. THADDEUS STEVENS,
REV. WILLIAM ANNAN,
HON. JUDGE HUNTINGDON,
JAMES H. RANEIN, ESQ.
JOHN WILLIAMSON, ESQ.
Sony "Lit(le wat ye wa's coming."
On motion of E, V. EVERDART, Esq. a
committee was appointed to draft a pre
amble and resolutions, expressive of tile
sense of the convention, on the Temper•
ance cause,