I
Vol.. VII, No. 9.]
PUBLISILED BY
THEODORE H. CREMER.
VIIRIZEI.
The "JovaNA►." will be published every
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if paid IN ADVANCE, and if not paid
within six months, two dollars and a half.
No subscription received for a shorter pe•
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tinued till all arrearages are paid.
Advertisements not exceeding dne square,
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and for every subsequent insertion twenty
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charged accordingly.
Jlgents for the Journal.
Daniel Teague, Orbisonia; David Blair
Esq. Shade Gap ; Benj. Lease, Shirleys
b urg; Eliel Smith, Esq. Chilcottstown; Jas.
Entriken. jr. Coffee Run; Hugh Madden,
Esq. Springfield; Dr. S. S. Dewey, Bir-1
mingham; Jas. Morrow, Union Furnace;
JohnSisler, IParrior Mark; James Davis,
Esq. West township ; D. H. Moore. Esq.
Fran kstown; Eph. Galbreath, Esq. Holli
daysburg; Henry Neff, Alexandria; Aaron
Burns, Williamsburg; A. J. Stewart, Water
Street; Wm. Reed. Esq. Morris township;
Solomon Hamer, AeffPo Mill; Jas. Dysart,
Mouth Spruce Creek; Wm. Murray, Esq.
Graysville; John Crum, Manor Hill; Jas.
E. Stewart, Sinking Valley ; L. C . Kessler,
Mill Creek.
POETRY.
Oh, Let Me Weep.
BY JULIET H. LEWIS.
“She had borne unkindness coldly, and to
those who knew her not she appeared desti
tute of sensibility : but on being addressed
kindly by one whom she loved, she burst in
to tears."—Old Tale.
On! let me weep, and chide me not—
Bear with me in my grief !
Long will it be ere I shall know
Again such sweet relief.
Thy tones of melting tenderness
Fell strangely on my soul,
And stirred the waters of my heart
Beyond my weak control.
I, all unmoved, have borne neglect,
And deemed grief's fountains sealed,
But feelings, scorn could never move,
Thy tenderness revealed.
The clouds, In their fierce wrath may burs'
Above the desert jand,
And leave no trace of fallen showers
Upon the burning sand.
But let the breeze move o'er the waste,
Where late the storm did lower,
And sands, that mocked the raging rain,
Will own the zephyr's power.
And thus, I calmly could have borne
Unkindness, e'en from thee!
But oh ; my heart is all unschooled
To love, or sympathy
Oli check not, then, the long pent drops,
But let them flow the while;
Better to shed the heart-felt tear,
Than wear the mirthless smile.
MISCELLANEOUS.
The Plaint.
And where is he !—not by her side
Whose every want he, loved to tend—
Not o'er those vallies wandering wide
Where sweetly lost, he oft would wend!
That form he loved, he marks no more,
Those scenes admired, no more shall see
Those scenes are lovely as before,
And she is fair—but where is he?
At the close of a tranquil day in the au ,
tumn of 18—, I ascended the gentle emi
nence which overlooks the town of W—
situated in one of the most delightlu
• regions of Pennsylvania. I accepted an
invitation from my travelling companion,
an artist—to accompany him on a ploasant
tour in search of health, which a residence
in the city during the intense heat of
summer, had a little impaired. My friend
gazed with all the admiration of a painter
upon the prospect which lay spread out
before us. The mountains which envi
roned the town, rose distinct in the dis
tance, and a delicate blue haze, like the
fairest tints of a finished picture, had
gathered over their irregular undulations,
and as they lay reposing in the mellow
light which attends the gorgeous setting
of an autumn sun.
The village beneath our feet was sir•
passingly neat and beautiful. Pretty
white buildings with pleasent enclosures,
were scattered along the broad street,
here and there a mansion, indicating by
its outward resemblance of the village
is t splendor, the superior condition of its
_...- occupants. We alighted at the village
THE JOVRNAL.
inn, and on the following morning my
friend exhibited specimens of his art to
the citizens who chanced to drop in, and
to whom our host had imparted the infor
mation that an artest had arrived. Before
noon, the intelligence was generally diffu•
sed, and many a village beauty gazed
upon the painter's effort with beaming
eyes, and a heart that beat joyfully in the
anticipation of seeing familiar faces trans
ferred to the canvass. Before we retired
to rest at night, we arranged our plan for
a stay of two months in the delightful
borough of W-. Our books were
taken from our trunks, and our drawing,
fishing and hunting materials placed in
order for future service.
I was a privi!eged visitor to my friend's
appartments, whilst he was engaged in his
avocations. I had some conversational
powers and was considered not inadequate
to the task of engaging the attention and
keeping alive the spirits of the subjects.
This employment became at last to be
peculiarly delightful. I look back now,
with a memory chastened and mellowed
by the lapse of time upon the sweet and
ingenuous faces, and lair forms and bright
eyes, which beguiled away the happiest
hours of a not uneventful life.
One afternoon, I had been busying my
self with a new and interesting work, and
had neglected until a late hour, my usual
visit to the artist's room. NVhen 1 en ,
tered, a very lively little girl ran towards
me, and taking hold of my hand, looking
up innocently into my face, exclaiming
with childish eagerness, " Pa is going to
buy a. new picture, and l am going to have
one, and so is my little brother."l led the
happy child to the window, where my
friend was engaged in his art. A young
gentleman was sitting by the window, a
bold light falling upon his countenance,
and a gentle autumn wind was dallying
with his dark hair. A fair form leaned
over his chair, and a small white hand
was adjusting his truant curls. The form
of that lady was surpassingly beautiful.
soon became acquainted, and during my
stay, the mansion of the Greys was my
principal resort, and marking the true
enjoyment of that happy family constitu
ted the purest source of my enjoyment.
' Two short years arms learn% W ,
during which time the pleasing remem
brance of its residents had often come
across soy memory, it fell to my lot to
take iutoit my route to the valley of
Wyoming. My first inquiry at the tavern
was for the Grey family, the happy. circle
where I had passed so many pleasing mo
ments. I was answered with a sigh and
a shrug by the village landlord. Alas!
said the publican, I am afraid you will
find them with but a remnant of their fur•
mer happiness. I was informed that the
Greys had removed, and now occupied a
low roofed cottage directly over the way.
I lost no time in crossing over to the
dwelling. As my hand rested on the
little gate, I heard contention within.—
There was a voice of insolent command,
and subdued tones of tender and earnest
entreaty. I entered the apartment, and '
was confronted by a countenance red and
bloated, and grossly disfigured, apparently
by the exercise of recent violent passion.
" What do you want?" said the loan,
and walking towards me, lie gazed at my
features with the lack-lustre eye of a ma
niac. "What do you want in my house?"
" You do not remember me," said 1, as
his lineaments flashed upon me, "You
have forgotten the travelling artist and
his companion."
Grey reeled to a chair—" Ay, yes—had
our pictures taken, my wife and children;
oh, yes, is it you I I will tell theni." He
arose to leave the room, but leaned in in
decision on an old chest of drawers. He
called to the family to tome in, as they
had friends there.
While he was brawling out these almost
unintelligible commands, a door opened
from an adjoining apartment, and his wife
entered. Her little girl followed, with
eyes red with weeping. She shrunk from
her degraded father, with a concealed
dread. But for her mother, alas I hardly
recognized her. is Dry sorrow had drank
her blood," an unnatural paleness lingered
on her wasted features, and an unearthly
glare beamed in her yet undimmed eye.
She looked the yen picture of despair.
Grey "begged to be excused," as lie
passed with tottering steps from the room.
referred to former times, their change of
residence, &c. The poor abused wife,
told me in a few words with what an aw
ful calamity that tinnily had been visited.
Intemperance had been there. The hus
band, the father, in two short years 'had
become a confirmed drunkard. Affliction
hail gathered upon a happy circle, and
unmixed sorrow had been poured upon the
innocent.
' I could hear no more. The contrast
between our first and second meeting kept
crowding spun my memory; I felt that in
continuing the conversation, I must be
imparting and receiving pain. I kissed
the little girl, and as I opened the door to
retire thrl light fell upon the Family
Group, through the green gauze with
"ONE COUNTRY, ONE CONSTITUTION, ONE DESTINY."
NGDON, PENNSYLVANIA, WEDNESDAY, MARCH 9,
HUNT
which it was enveloped. There were the
same curls which had been bodied forth
by the artist, the same speaking eyes, 1
which after inebriety had rendered dim
and expressionless. There, too, were the
beautiful mother and child. And as I
looked upon the pictured group, and then
upon the attenuate being before me,
whose hand clasped with all the mother's
fondness, the opening bud in her arms;
whom poverty arid sorrow awaited, my
heart melted, and woman as I was, the
tear rose unbidden to my cheek, and I
passed the threshold with at, aching heart.
This is no fancy sketch. It is. alas!
too true, as one, at least, will testify, if
ever this hasty tale should meet his eye.
It may be, that in his wanderings, the
friend of my youth may see this record of
early scenes, and recognize it, as readily
as he would a portrait from his own fea.
tures.— Vermont Statesman.
The stars.
How often have I gazed upon them and
said, " What are they!" In childhood I
thought them glittering gems, like the
bright things of earth, and was delighted
to see them sparkling in the heavens ; and
even since, how often have I looked upon
them with feelings of deep but undefined
curiosity.
. . .
Though philosophy sublimely reasoned
that they are worlds, and form a part of
the material creation, yet in the poetry of
my feelings, I have imagined they were
the wandering spirits of an ethereal world
--the bright inhabitants of a region more
glorious than our own. I have queried if
they were not the arbiters of our fate—
the good or evil genii that presided at our
nativity, and that still watch over and con
trol the events of our life.
The hoary astronomer of olden time, in
his midnight reveries, felt the mysterious
influence of these living fires, and yielded
his soul to the belief of their magic power.
In the darkness of a mind, into which the
pure light of Christianity had not shined,
he would fain have defied the hosts of
heaven, and called them gods which were
no gods; and the poet in all time,
even he who signs the blessed light of the
Gospel day, has first caught the divine
mukoc, caau ICU Ores
of fancy glow and burn within him, while
contemplating the varying beauty of the
stars. The ancients, in the depth of their
poetical imagination, listened to the music
of the spheres ; and the ear of the pious
modern, whose imagination is not less vi
vid in the conception, with more truth
and reason, nightly hears the chorus of the
steller lights in harmonious measures re
peating :
"The Hand that made us is divine:"
Myriads of years have rolled away
since first that star beamed forth its bright
ness. The " orb now o'er me quivering,"
was one of the radiant band that hymned
the birth of this fair creation. Adam,
happy in paradise, saw it set, a bright
gen• in the coronet of the skies. Noah,
from the world of waters, looked out upon
it, and was gladdened by its peaceful ray.
From the plains of Bethlehem the shepards
described it, when summoned from their
midnight watch, they hastened to behold
and adore the infant Saviour.
Poetry.
Poetry, in its true sense, is not a thing
to be printed on paper or bound in books.
Its seat is not in cramped manuscripts, or
gilded volumes, but in the deep heart of
,man. The most glowing numbers, which
the poet may use to convey to others a
sense of what he feels, will not find a re
' sponse in every breast. Words that burn
will not always kindle thoughts that
breathe. The deaf seroent will not re
gard the voice of the charmer, charm he
never so wisely. The dim eye may be.
turned towards a scene instinct with
beauty, yet there is the same dull blank
every where. So, poetry is a sealed book
to that reader who feels no sympathy with
the writer. The string when touched
may make the sweetest music, but can
waken a responsive note in none but those
that chord with it. Let a man approach
any production with a mind bustling with
prejudices on all sides, and he will surely
he blind to its merits. Let him even be
indifferent, but unable to appreciate the
views of the author or partake of his feel
' ings, and there is little likelihood that he
will do him justice. Where, however, a
sympathy exists, the case is far different,
and every line comes home to the reader
with power. The rude peasant will feel
his breast expand and his pulse quicken at
the sound of the most artless ballad of his
native land, when all the splendor of By
ron and the organ tones of Milton would
fall powerless on his ear.
A HEAVY LOAD.—The New York Me
chanic has an account of a little boy who
lately walked nearly a mile, carrying, on
his shoulder an iron article which weighs
twelve ftundred pounds ! Don't start,
reader—it was "u pair of patent sled
yards!"
Starring.
We have stars in abundance, foreign
and domestic ; theatrical, poetical and
literary, a host that outnumbers the prom
ised increase of Isreal. Tragedy, corn.
edy, music and dancing, to the utter
astonishment of us natives. It is a matter
of wonder which the head or the heels will
gain the ascendency. It is questionable
whether it may not be necessary to mark
our worthy citizens, like merchandise,
" this side up, with care," for fear that
. -
they will soon assume attitudes too pre
posterous for their own safety, or for the
convenience of their neighbours; com.
pared to which, gallopading and tarantali.
sing would be as nothing. The one hour
system was the star of the last Congress,
and a pity it is, that it had nct been enga
ged permanently; it would have paid off
their mileage, and saved to their constitu.
ents a world of windy nonsense. "Think
twice before you speak once," is a prov
erb that they wot not of; and it would be
well, if the worthy chaplain they have
selected should, occasionally, take it for
his text. The starring system, in Con
gress, has become altogether too prevalent;
especially fur political purposes. Wkat
cares your thorough-going politician about
exchanges tariff, or beneficial laws, if they
stand in the way of his ambition 1 Ile
would trami,le upon the most sacred rights
of his country, to gain his object, with the
cry, of " patriotism" on their lips. Hon
esty eschews such stars. Give us those
luminaries that are beneficial to mankind,
and an honor to themselves. Such is the
learned blacksmith, and other lecturers
at our institutions. Dickens our Dickens
(lor he belongs to the world,) is soon to
be a star among us • we shall feel proud
to grasp his honest hand. Sherman, who
makes the lozenges that " children cry
after" is here ; and Chapman—not the
crowing Chapman of the West--but one
that might well crow ; him of 102 W illiam
street, the inventor of the Magic Razor
Strop, an article that men run after, and
ladies lament that they have not beards,
that they might enjoy the pleasure of
using it. L. CHAPMAN, if he be not a
star of the first magnitude, lie certainly
r, opt l reascn to crow over the success
oi Ins iviagic ztrop.
OrkIiAORDINARY PIIENOMENA:--WC
are not much given to the marvellous, and
we will not be much surprised if some of
our readers doubt the truth of the fol
lowing, but we can assure them that it is
true, every word of it. There is a Miss
in this city, resident of an adjoining
country, about 13 years of age, from whose
thumb there bave appeared, for some
weeks past, divers hairs, bristles, &c.,
sonic of them as long as twenty-six in
ches, and others shorter. This was the
story we heard a day or two since, and we
laughed at the wonderful credulity of our
informant. It is, however true; for we
have seen the young lady, and have wit
nessed the growth of the hair. There is
nothing extraordinary in the appearance
of the thumb, and she says the growing of
the hair gives no uneasiness whatever.—
The hair comes out of the inner side of the
thumb, sometimes from under the nail;
generally, however, from the ball. Some
of the hair is as soft as that of the head,
and some as tough as bristles, varying in
color, size and 'clop). The growth is
very rapid, and when it is removed from
the thumb. it leaves no impression what
ever in the part from which it springs.—
We are intoimed by Dr. Gibeny, who re
sides in the same town with the young
lady, that on Sunday last thirty appeared
during the day. A number of scientific
gentlemen have examined the thumb and
the hair, bat are utterly at a loss to ac
count for the phenomenon.—Lexington
latelligencer.
RtGIFFS OF WOMAN.—The following
petition was received with a roar of laugh
ter, by the Massachusetts Legislature, a
few days since :
To Ike Honorable Senate and House of
Representatives of Mass. :
Whereas, That law which requires obe
diencel on the part of the wile, in the
marriage covenant, if indeed there ever
was such an enactment in any part of the
world, is a violation of the, natural and
inalienable right of every human being :
Therefore, if there is such a statute of this
CoMmonwealth, I pray your bodies to
repeal it as being contrary to the princi
ples of Christianity and Republicanism.
ABIGAIL 11. FOLSOM.
When we look abroad and contemplate
the laboring classes of Europe, and En
gland in particular—that boasted Isle
where a Howard once arose—we are
shocked and sickened at the picture of
human misery, poverty, and degradation,
that is presented. We feel indignant at
the iniquitous and aristocratic system of
government, that can foster such a deplo
rable state of things; that without attemp
ting to releave the burthens of the poor,
still add to their oppressiveness, as if in
very mockery of their despair.
842
A FRENCH GM'S AFFECTION.—A
French girl in writing to her father, now
in this country, says :—" would that Co
lumbus had never discovered America,
since it keeps you so long absent."
Such affection is too pure to be accom
panied with so hard a wish. But .dear
little innocent, the thought of an absent
parent may, for the time being, have over
come her better judgment. Would that she
could meet him upon the unstained land
of Columbia. We know her heart would
beat in unison with his, and with the spirit
of American freedom.— Peoples Organ.
SURE SIGN OF RAIN.-" Good mordin'
Simon, how do you do, mighty nice wed
der dis arta-noon—tink it's gawn to rain
afore shortly!"
" Why, de rack is, Peter, I do link him
look werry werlderish. I always obsarve
dat when de sun rises werry early, and
go down again 'lore he gits up, dat it's a
monstus sartin sign that we groan to hab
rain after soon."
Presentation of the Banner,
To the It ashington Temperance Society
of the Borough of Hunungdon, at their
Convention held on the 22nd ult,
The following are the speeches of
Messrs. Campbell and Blair, on the pre
sentation and reception of the banner pre
pared by the ladies of Huntingdon, for the
Washingtonian society of this Borough,
and presented on the 22nd of February.
Mr, Campbell, on behalf of the ladies,
addressed the society as follows
WASI.IINGTONIANS,
The office has been
conferred upon me by your " MOTHERS,
WIVES, AND SISTERS," of presenting to you
a BANNER, prepared by their joint la
bors, bearing the likeness of Ithn, whose
name you have taken upon you in the rom
ral warfare you ale now waging against
intemperance.
They desire you, by this public mani
festation of their feelings, to be assured,
that their hearts and souls are with you in
the glorious enterprize. By the holy ties
you to press onward in your career of
charity, until all shall be redeemed from
the shackles of that tyranny, that has dess
plated so many firesides, and drawn
floods of scalding tears from so many of
their sex. By the moving memories of
your nourished childhood—by the pure
affections that have united you with them
—by the anxious solicitude of a sister's
love—never let the pledge be soiled by
the earth, until the monster that has de
stroyed its myriad of victims, be banished
from your midst forever. The triumphs
you have already achieved have made glad
thousinds of hearts, and banished a thou
sand cares. They ask you, by the vener.
• ated name you bear, and on this, the day
of his nativity, whose eyes seem to look
approvingly rrom the canvass, where the
artist has imitated life, to advance it over
all the powers of• the enemy, until it is
planted triumphantly on the topmost wall
of his citadel,
It is nut with the idle wish that this
ensign may be courteously received by
you from the fair hands of the givers, as a
gorgeous present; or that vanity and pride
may be gratified in the pageantry of its
presentation, that they have thus publicly
made yem the objects of their generous
bounty--but with the fond hope, rather,
which their abiding friendship has sugges
ted, that it may add a new stimulus to
your worthy zeal, if, during the progress
of the conflict, it should for one moment
pause. They desire you, if any should
grow weary and faint by the warside, to
show him this emblem, and bid him follow
you along. In the far future, when those
of you who are now young, shall have
blossomed with years, and those who are
the fathers in your ranks, shall have de
parted from earth; they hope that the
memory of your triumphs under it, will
be registered in the deep gratitude of your
children. This gift which they make, they
wish you to consider as a lasting memori
al, that their prayers are often lifted up to
Heaven, for your success. And they will
be amply recompensed for all the sincere
interest they have felt for you, and in your
cause, if, in any way, they be instrument.,
al in contributing to hasten the approach
of that joyful nuMnium that shall fall
upon mankind, when intemperance shall
be heard of no more.
It is to you, Washingtonians, they look
for this final victory. In your labors—
and untiring philanthropy—and indomit
able perseverance of zeal, their hopes are
centered with the most unfaultering con
fidence. Let not those hopes, so fondly
cherished, built upon the strong and tan
bible evidence of an already rescued host,
e blasted in the hour of their morning
sunshine. Advance this glorious banner,
wrought by their fair fingers, with a strong
arm into the pure breezes of Heaven, ON
WARD, and ONWARD, until it shall be
proudly uplifted, over renovated mankind;
[WHOLE No. 321.
over fathers, husbands, and brothers, re
claimed.
NV ashingt onians I in the name of your
mothers, wives, and sisters, I present it to
you, as a token of their unchanging regard
—their sympathy in your labors—a free , .
will offering of their unfailing friendship.
As he concluded his address, Mr.
Campbell presented the banner to Mr.
Blair, who received it on behalf of the so
ciety, and responded as follows:--
I,lures,
The Washington Society of
,Intingdon accept your banner, and ask
'at you in return will receive their thanks
for sO valuable a present. Duly sensible
of the honor it confers upon us, and grate
ful for the favor, we have nothing to offer
you foryour kindness but the homage of
our hearts. The gilt is worthy of the giv
ers, and the cause in which it is given is
worthy of both,—shall it ever be said, the
Washingtonians of Huntingdon have pro
ved unworthy of either? No, brothers, I
trust it never shall. If the knights of
ancient chivalry entered the list of the
tilt and tournament, and with a bold heart,
horse to horse, & lance to lance, contended
for the smiles of the fair or the guerden of
beauty, may not we congratulate our
selves that in more enlightened days, and
in a less dangerous but more noble con
test, our efforts have this day been re
warded by a more distinguished favor
than ever lady fair conferred on valiant
knight. Who would not be a Washingto
nian, when we receive such tokens of
friendship as this, from those whose
friendship is so pure, so lasting and sin
cere ? —and what Washingtonian would
ever falter or fail with that bright emblem
before him 7
As a manifestation of the interest felt
by the Ladies in the progress of our socie
ty, this banner is doubly dear to us. It
nerves our arm, it _ steels our sword."--
Without your kind sympathy our course
would indeed be rugged and dreary ; with
&tit your aid our efforts would be of little
avail. In this, as in all the other great
schemes of benevolence, that characterize
the century in which we live, woman is
once we must ascribe much of the success
that has crowned these projects for the
amelioration of the condition of fallen
- man. That influence we are happy to feel
this day in our cause. It comes to us not
as the great and strong wind, or the earth
quake, or the lire, but like the still small
voice. It falls around 139 like the gentle
dews of Heaven, unheard and unseen only
in its effects* ' moistening and fertilizing
the hard and bitter soil of man's heart.--
A cloud by day, and a pillar of lire by
night to lead us through the wilderness of
this world to the shores of a happy Canaan
on the other side of the Jordan of death.
And of all the modern schemes of philan
thropy, the Temperance cause is peculiar
ly calculated to enlist the sympathy of the
mothers, the wives, the sisters and datigh.
Ors of our land. For who, of all the hu
man family, have suffered or may suffer
so much from the ravages of intemperance
as they ? how many mothers have been
left childless, how many wives have been
left widows, how many sisters have been
left without a brother, how many daught
ers have been left oi phans, by this devour.
ing monster! What untold miseries—how
many sleepless nights and patient watch
logs, what anxious forebodings, what fear
and sorrow and shame, and dead sickness
of the heart, has it not thrown around the
lot of many of your sex! And if in the
progress of our society we have rejoiced
over the reformation of many a poor un
fortunate drunkard, that joy was greatly ,
enhanced by the consideration that his re
turn to a sober life would spread happi
ness around the family fireside, and carry ,
gladness to the hearts of his wile and chil
dren.
Ladies--the banner you have given us
shall be raised aloft as the ensign of our
regiment; while our eye rests upon the
likeness of the immortal .Washington,
whose great name our society is proud to
wear, our hearts will swell with new en
ergies in the battle. Nit► your prayers
in our behalf, with your smiles upon our
efforts, and your banner over our heads,
we feel our resolutions strengthend and
invigorated, and our hearts stimulated to
press onward to the work that yet lies be.
fore us. And high above our host shall
your banner ever float, that all may see
and follow where it leads. In moments
of doubt it will cheer the deipondent--
in moments of danger it will rally the
courage of the faint—in the hour of trial
it will be our watchword; and when the
battle is fought and won, we will gather
around it and recount our victories, and
sing our songs of triumph. Unsullied as
the hearts that gave it, we will then take
that banner and plant it third in rank of
the victorious flags of freedom ; first the
standard of the cross, next shall wave the
stripes and stars of our country's ensign.
and next to that shall float the Nashing
. ton banner