VoL. VII, No. 25.]
PUBLISHED DY
THEODORE H. CREMER.
Tnnue.
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POETRY.
The Stars of Night.
Whence are your glorious goings forth,
Ye children of the sky,
In whose bright silence seems the power
Of all eternity ?
Tor time bath let his shadow fall
O'er many an ancient light;
But ye walk above in brightness still—
Oh, glorious stars of night!
The vestal lamp in Grecian fame
Hath faded long ago ;
On Persia's hill the worshipped flame
Hath lost its ancient glow :
And long the heaven-sent fire is gone,
With Salem's temple bright;
But ye watch o'er wandering Israel yet,
Oh, changeless stars of night!
Long have ye looked upon the earth,
O'er vale and mountain brow ;
Ye saw the ancient cities rise,
And gild the ruins now :
Ye beam upon the cottage home,
The conqueror's path of might,
And shed your light alike on all,
Oh, priceless stars of night!
But where are they who learned from you
The fates of coming time,
Ere yet the pyramids arose
Amid the desert clime ?
Yet still in wilds and deserts far,
Ye bless the watcher's sight,
And shitie where bark tenth ncvcr two.,
Oh, lovely stars of night!
Much have ye seen of human tears,
Of human hope and love ;
And fearful deeds of darkness too,
Ye witnesses above!
Say, will that blackening record live
Forever in your sight ;
Watching for judgment on the earth,
Oh, sleepless stars of night!
Yet glorious was your song that rose
With the fresh morning's dawn,
And still amid our summer sky
Its echo lingers on ;
Though ye have shone on many a grave,
Since Eden's early blight,
Ye tell of hope and glory still,
Oh, deathless stars of night!
Machine Poetry.
WHAT I LOVE.
I love to see a flock of sheep
All feeding on the mountain ;
I love to see a drunkard drink
From out the living fountain :
At first upon his knees lie gets,
And then he sticks his nose in,
But soon he slips, end then, ker-souse,
Isis head and shoulders cots in.
I love to see, with all my heart,
The tun shine while 'tis raining ;
I love to see a row kicked up
At a militia training;
I love to see a table watched
By civil, careful waiters;
I love to see them fotch along
The biggest kind of taters.
I love to see th' industrious bees
All busy making honey ;
I love to see a man contrive
All ways to lay up money ;
I love to see a lot of chaps
Engaged in midnight revel ;
I love to see them let out loose,
And go it like the devil!
I love to hear old women talk—
They do some lofty talking ;
I love to see defaulters walk—
They do some tallish walking :
I love to hear at dead of night
A glorious caterwaleing,
And 0, I love to hear at church
A lot of babies squalling.
I love to see two colored gents
Call one another "niggers,"
I love to see the ladies run,
They cut sucj► curious figures!
1 love my Betsey more than all—
I love her, Oh, most dearly!
I love to hug and kiss her—Oh,
It makes me feel so queerly!
SrooNs, 0. C.,
THE JOURNAL.
ItICCELLANEOUO.
ESTELLE :
Or, "Reformed Rakes make
the best Ilusbands37-.4llus
trated.
NO FICTION
" ESTELLE, what can you be thinking
about? you have set a full hour in the
same posture, with your head reclining on
your hand, looking not at all like my jo
vial sister. Come, now, I think it will
require no prophet's vision to divine the
current of your thoughts. Tell me, Es
telle, arc you not this moment asking your
heart if it can yield its affection to Mor
ris 1"
" Dear Louise, I am far from thinking
you possessed of the power of prescience,
but for once you lidve sugested right."
" Well, Estelle, what is the result of
your meditations -for I should think they
had been sufficiently lengthy to have ter
minated in resolves. I hope—"
" Nay, Louise, no more . lectures, I am
wearied with your preaching. It is not
more than a week since I sat, with all due
reverence, at your ladyship's feet, and
listened to a discourse full two hours long.
You failed, then, with all your login to
convince me, and I presume you have no
more powerful or convincing reasons to
offer now. Indeed Louise, lam resolved
at present not to discourage the attentions
of so accomplished a man as Morris; so
do dismiss that lengthy phiz, and appear
more cheertuL"
"'This, then, is your conclusion. I had
hoped that my dear sister was beginning
to iew this important subject in its true
light."
" Yes : in its true light, I do, sis—for I
half believe the old adage, ' a reformed
rake makes the best husband.' The grand
secret is how to reform him, and I am wil-
ling to make the experiment; for to teli
you the truth, Louise, Morris is coming
this evening to receive his answer whether
your wayward sister will become his bride
or not; and he declares forsooth, that if I
say to him nay, he will turn recluse, and
society will never know Frederick Morris
again."
netelle..-1117 sister ,u,)
—you will not sacrifice yourself! Have
you forgotten the engagement to Edward
Barnes? Can you blot from your heart
all his devotedness ? Can you bestow
your hand upon another, when you are al
ready affianced to him? Believe me, if
you do, you will never have peace of mind
again—God's blessing will not rest upon
you. ,,
"Oh, Louise, as to my engagement to
Edward 8., you know it is a mere child's
affair. I have always told him when he
found any one that he could love better, I
would release him."
"And did he allow you the same privis
lege ?"
" Oh, no, he is self-confident, he suppo
ses my heart is inaccessible to all mankind
but his own dear self. But to be serious,
Louise, I wonder he could not have pla
ced his affection upon you instead of me.
lie is so learned, so dignified, and so mo
ralizing, that I wonder he should fancy
me, who loves nothing better than to' trip
the light fantastic toe' in the ' merry
dance,' or read the' last novel.' But Ido
not fear for him ; he will soon find another I
better calculated than myself to make him
happy, and it requires no prophet's vision
to divine who that one will be. Ah, ha—l
that blush, Louise!"
"Estelle, hush! I will not listen to your
levity longer. You wrong yourself—you
wrong him to whom you have plighted
your love."
"Well, Louise, I will be serious, and
now what is the sum total of your objec
tions to Morris? You can't but acknowl.
edge that he is very accomplished, and a
perfect Adonis. There is not a young la
dy of all my acquaintance who does not
think herself a fortunate girl to be the ob
ject of his affections—and even you my
demure sister, I believe pure jealousy is
the cause of your dislike. But come—his
faults! what are they?"
"Estelle, you know them; 1 have told
you, and others have warned you. Is he
not a professional gambler and have not
even you, blinded as you are, seen him
when there was an unwonted flush upon
his countenance, and an unnatural excite
ment ot spirits ?"
" ell, allowing all that to be true,
(though the last charge I do think is false,)
think you not his love for me will deter
him from doing any thing that will make
me unhappy? Louise, you know little of
his devotedness."
"Estelle! Este'.le! that is the rock on
which thousands split ; shun it, I beseech
you. Oh, could we call back the spirits
of those who have been drawn into this
maelstroom by that deluded hope, could
we ask them what induced them so un
worthily to give away their hearts, they
would answer, with the hope of a refor
mation."
" Wel!, Louise, I do not wish you to
"ONE COUNTRY, ONE CONSTITUTION, ONE DESTINY."
HUNTINGDON, PENNSYLVANIA, WEDNESDAY, JUNE 29, 1842.
conjure up the spirits of the departed to
favor your cause—l can support mine by
living testimony, I will refer you to our
dear father. I have been told he was a
wild youth, and was addicted to gambling;
but you know, Louise, he is one of the very
beseof father s ?'
"Estelle, it becomes me not to speak of
the failings of our father; but never till
the death of our sainted mother, has our
father been what you now see him to be,'
and sister if this evening is to decide your
fate, I have an errand to you from our dy
ing mother."
From our mother! what can it mean?"
Listen, and I will tell you : you know
that she was long ill—that she bore all her
suffering with meekness; and you must
have been only a casual observer, if you
have not witnessed her hours of sadness,
even when she was well. I have seen her
gaze on us with a look of untold affection,
while tears streamed down her pale cheeks,
and I have often wondered at her emotion
A few weeks previous to her death, she
called me to her side and gave me this
manuscript. She said it had her in
tention to carry the secret of her sorrows
to the grave ; but with the hope that it
might benefit us she entrusted it to me, as
the eldest, with a strict injunction not to
reveal it even to you, unless I saw you
about to take a step in life, which would
cause unavailing repentance. And now-,
Estelle, I have closed. In these papqq
you will learn your mother's history, and
her last counsel: if these will not move
you, no argument of mine can." '
For once the gay Estelle looked sad, and
sat down with a throbbing heart to peruse
the manuscript, but she had hardly time to
finish it, before a servant announced Mor
ris. Louise could have wished him anni-
Misted, for he seemed to possess a serpent's
fascination over Estelle, and to drive from
her mind all sober thought. That evening
Morris urged his suit with so much appa
rent earnestness, and made such oaths of
eternal constancy, that he won the consent
of fair Estelle to become his bride in a few
weeks.
Louise and Estelle Lawrence were the
daughters of Mr. Lawrence, a lawyer of
some celebrity and great wealth, in a beau
were young. Although possessed of every
attraction to make a home a paradise, Mrs.
L. failed to secure the company of her
husband. The gambling table and wine
cup possessed more attractions for him
than his lovely wife, whose affectionate
heart withered away with the conscious
ness of unrequitted love. After her death,
Mr. L. seemed an altered man; he for
sook all his vices, and tried by his sfStc
tion for his daughters to atone for his ne
glect of their mother. These sisters were
as opposite in their characters as the anti
podes. Louise possessed all those quell.
ties of mind which are the result of virtu•
ous principles, and that intuitive discrimi
nation of character which so few of our sex
have the credit of possessing, but which is
, so requisite to distinguish the really vir
tuous from those who " steal the livery of
the court of heaven to serve the devil in."
Estelle was a sunny girl—no cloud dim
med her vision—all was joy and gaiety
with her. She was sure to laugh the loud
est when others looked the saddest; but
she had a most affectionate heart, and
manners so bland and winning, that she
was welcomed wherever she went. She
had spent some time in New York, and
there became acquainted with Morris, a
gentleman who she often said was the
" beau ideal," of her her fancy. He had
by his insinuating address and handsome
' face, won the confiding heart of Estelle,
and he was now on a visit to N. to obtain
her consent for their immediate union.—
Louise had never liked Morris, and had
often tried to reason with her infatuated
sister, but with little success. Mr. L.
never hinted his objections, if he had them;
and his wife (tor, unhappily, for his second
wife he chosen a young lady, was but a
little the senior of his daughters, and from
whose tyranny the high minded Estelle
longed to be free,) favored Estelle's mar
riage with Morris. Jealous alike of her
beauty and accomplishments, and the
place she held in her father's heart, she
wished her away. But Estelle could not
consent to become the bride of Morris
without some terrible conflicts with her
heart and conscience; for he to whom she
was already plighted, now (ignorant that
his heart's best treasure was about to be
torn from him,) was pursuing his studies
in the State of Maine. Vacation was at
hand, and Edward Barnes was expected
home in a short time. Estelle knew this;
she knew all his worth; his undying love
for her, and sometimes would relent, and
wish she had never seen the fascinating
Morris. Morris was well aware that his
hold upon her affections was not strong,
for he had more than once found her weep•
ing with letters in her hand, which he sup
posed were from Edward ;—for this rea
son he hastened the performance of the
ceremony which would make her his for
ever.
" Well, sister," said Estelle, on the
morning of her wedding day, "in a few
hours I shall be wedded to Morris. lam
I going to try the fearful experiment, as you
are pleased to call it. It he proves to be a
good husband, I shall have the satisfaction
of triumphing over you ; if he does not,
then my history will serve as a beacon
light to warn others not to shipwreck their
happiness in the same manner ;—so you
see I shall do my far friends a service in
this way, if no other."
Louise sighed as she saw her bright and
happy sister so unconsciously sacrificing
herself; but she only remarked that a few
years would decide the question.
In a few weeks, Morris with his wife,
were settled in New York. For two
years all was well with Estelle. Morris
was apparently a reformed man, and even
Louise began to think her fears would not
be realized. his evenings were spent in
the society of his wife, and he began to
feel a relish for domestic pleasures. At
this period, one of his old associates, who
had just returned from a tour in Europe,
called to congratulate him, and to revive
old friendship.
Well, Fred;" said he familiarly, I ad
mire your wife and situation, and even
yOur little babe looks like a cherub, but
faith, friend, you don't intend to bury
yourself here, tic, you? How fare our old
friends P. and M? you meet at our old
haunts I presume"
"Indeed I have not been there of late,
neither have I seen our old friends but
once or twice these two years."
"'Well, then we will go and hunt them
up this evening."
That was along evening for Estelle.—
The clock told the midnight hour before
Morris returned, and when he saw her
anxious countenance, his heart smote him,
but whit a slight excuse he quieted the
fears of his too confiding wife. From that
evening must be dated the downfall of
Morris. Estelle was conscious of the
change in her husband. but she uttered
I
' not a word of reproach.
" A cloud slowly and heavily came over her;
a cloud
Of ills, ',re mention not, enough to say,
irlwas cr,ld and dead impenetrable gloom,
She saw its dark nnnroarh and saw he,
One slut one, put out as nearer still
It drew her soul, but tainted not at first ;
Fainted not soon."
One night as her husband returned home
unusually late, Estelle was struck with
his haggard look and almost maniac laugh
when he roughly said, " well Estelle, now
we are off for the west—l am worth bare•
ly enough to buy us a log hut, and we
will go and hide ourselves in the prairies
of Illinois. That—Knowles has done
the work for me to night;—Oh! I wish I
had shot him l" and he gnashed his teeth
in rage. Estelle was shocked, confound
ed and crushed ; but she questioned him
not, nor offered one word of expostulation.
With a sad heart she packed her things,
and in a week they were on their way to
Illinois. Here years of constant suffer
ing awaited Estelle. Her friends hearing
of her destitute situation sent her pecu
niary aid; but what could bind up the
wounds of that broken heart? Who could
gather up those young affections again?
" When thus she lay,
Forlorn of heart, withered and desolate,
As leaf of autumn, when the wolfish winds,
Selecting from its falling sisters, chase
Far from its native grove, to lifeless wastes
And leave it there alone, to be forgotten
Eternally. God passed in mercy by,
His praise be ever new! and on her breathed,
And bade her live!"
"Oh Ma, how I wish you had been a
the meeting to day; we had a new minis
ter. He looked so tinmh like the minia
ture you have of uncle William, I wish
you could see him. Old Margaret says
he is to be our minister for a few months,
till Mr. Gray has returned from his jour
ney—for Ma, he has gone to the east to
bring his wife and children here."
" Well, Louise, did you tell him you
had a dying mother who wished to see
him."
" Ma, he was a stranger, and I dare not
speak to him ; but I asked old Margaret's
husband to do it, and he is coining here
to-morrow."
" Mother" said the same sweet-faced
little girl the next morning," the minister
is at the door, and wishes to know if I am
the little girl whose mother wished to see
him; and there is another gentleman with
him."
" Ask them in," said a feeble voice.
Estelle, unaccustomed to the sight of
strangers, was abashed when the two gen
tlemen entered her hut ; but a slight flush
came to her colorless face as She eyer'
the stranger who first entered, and thought
she had seen one who resembled him—
but before she had time for further scruti
ny, she found herself encircled in the arms
of her only brother. Neither could speak,
but gushing tears more than words re
lieved their full hearts; but when she re
cognised the other stranger, who was no
either than Edward Barnes, she swooned.
" William, dear William, have you
come at length?" sobbed Estelle; " come
to see your sister die : come to sooth her
dying hours; come to my beloved Louise?
God has indeed answered my prayersl—
Oh William, it was a fearful experiment,
but it is all over:"
William Lawrence, who was at college
at the time of his sister's marriage, and
who subsequently fitted for the ministry,
resolved as soon as Ills studies were fin-
fished, to go and take his sister back to her
native village. But while he was prepar
ing to start, news came that Estelle was
no more, and that Morris was roving
.a
bout, an object of commiseration and dis
gust. Still he longed to go
and learn
more of his sister's fate, and to take the
little Louise home. His friend Edward
Barnes accompanied him, with a view of
settling in the west. They had stopped
to spend the Sabbath at a village about a
mile from Estelle's house, entirely uncon
scious of their affinity to her. Finding
the minister of the place absent, lie pro-
posed to preach the following day, which
was gladly accepted. On Sunday morns
ing, a little band collected in a building
used as a church. Estelle had always
met with this little band, but feeling her
strength rapidly declning, she sent her
little daughter to request the minister to
visit her. The little Louise had her eyes
rivited upon the preacher during all the
service ; and as he passed her, she tried
to summon courage to her errand, but her
heart failed her. The next morning,
liam and his'friend started for Estelle's
abode ; and on their way, encountering
the old man who had made the request,
they asked to be directed to her hut. But
what was their surprise on hearing from
the old man such an account of her as in
duced
them to believe that it was indeed
their friend (over whose supposed death
they had often wept) they were now call
ed to visit. They learned, also, that Mor
ris had some months previous, in a fit of
,intoxication,
intoxication, committed suicide; and for
nearly a year that poor destitute woman
had lived with her little daughter in ex.
treme poverty. William tried to sooth
her with the hope that she would yet be
happy; that she would return with him,
Qin*: inrinme.r bi;e.-
telle—death had marked her for its vie
' tim ! Crushed and broken hearted, she
was even now on the shore of eternity.—
" And even brother," she would say, were
I able to endure the journey, I never could
' endure the sight of my old home--of my
injured sister. Ohl why did I not listen
to her kind advice? No, brother, here I
must die: But even that thought has
last half its gloom, since I know my Lou
ise is provided with home and friends."
" Will you allow me to adopt your
child as my own?" said Edward B.
Estelle hesitated. It was the man she
had slighted and injured. " I should fu
ller," said she, that she would be ,under
de tuition of her aunt Louise." "Then
will your wish be gratified," said William.
" Louise is the wile of Edward Barnes—
and you can confide your child to none
with inure assurance that she will receive
all a mother's care and instruction." The
color went and came in poor Estelle's
check at this intelligence, but after a mo
ment's struggle with her feelings." " T is
as it should be," said she, " I dashed the
cup of happiness from my lips, and I have
been made to drain the cup of affliction to
the very dress."
In a week from this time, Estelle Mor
ris was a dweller in eternity. But she
died not without hope. Her sufferings
hail led her to the fountain of consolation
a Saviour's love,—anil she realized the
fulfilment of the premise, "A bruised
reed He will not break."
In one of the neatest houses in the vil
lage of N—, is seen a lovely girl, who
often with a look of sadness says, " Uncle
Edward, how I wish my dear Ma had
lived to come here, why did you not find
us sooner? I wonder if you are the same
Edward B. I heard Papa talk about? He
told Ma he supposed she wished she had
married Edward Barnes instead of him,
and with a dreadful oath he left the house,
saying he would be in the way no longer;
and he never did come back—but the next
day four men brought him * ** *
Oh Uncle I cannot tell you, it makes me
tremble to think of it. Poor Ma was so
ill, I thought she would have died, and I
should be left alone."
Edward B. could not refrain from
tPuu
glittg his tears with those of his little niece
—nor can you, fair readers withhold your
sympathy. But let none say or think,
that a " reformed rake makes the best
husband." MARV.
_ _
A recent philosopher discloses a meth
od to avoid being dunned? 4'lloo—howl
--how?" we hear every body asking.—
Never run in debt!
is Please exchange," as the printer said
when he offered his heart to a nice little
[WnoLE No. 337.
1 A GEm.--We never read the following
without feeling 20 per cent improved by it:
"Two neighbors met, one of them was
exceedingly rich, and the other in molt
; rate circumstances. The latter began to
congratulate the former on his great pos-
sessions, and the happiness which• he must
enjoy, and ended in contrasting it with
his own condition.
" My friend," said the rich man. a will
you allow me to ask you one question?"
" Certainly, sir."
Would you be willing to take my pro
perty and take the t,hole care of it for
your boarding and clothing?"
" No, jndeed,"
" Well, that's all I get."
PATRIOTIC. -" Feller Sogers," sail a
newly elected lieutenant of Militia, away
down in Maine. "I'm alfired obleeged
to you for this shove up in the ranks you
have given me. Fellow Sogers, I'm not a
gain to forget your kindness soon—not by
a darn'd sight: and I tell you what it is , ;
I'll stick to my post like pitch to a pine
board, so long as there's peace ; but as I
go in for rotation in office, if we should
come to blows with the Britishers, I'll be
darn'd if I dont resign right oft, and give
every feller a fair shake for fame and glos
Iry, and all that ere."
" Tom," said an impudent wag to a
conceited fop, " I know a beautiful crea
tors who wishes to make your acquain
tance." _ .
" Demned glad to hear it—fine girl—
struck with my appearance, 1 suppose,
" Yes--very much so. She thinks
you'd make a capital playmate for her
poodle dog."
COOL TBIPUDENCE:-.We were told yes
terday of a piece of the coolest and most
audacious nonsense that ever was played
oftsince the days when Tom Kin.. ' worri
ed poor old Monsieur Tonson. A chap
sadly in want of amusement, as he strolled
out of the St. Charles bar-room at mid
night, during last week, was suddenly
moved by a brilliant conception. lie
~,,..il,,,,Litn A n.tiL Aral- anny he came across.
away with a vigor and fury that alarmed
the whole neighborhood. Up went a sec
ond story la indow—a head was popped
out and in again—and down instantly to
the door came a man in his night-&ear
shivering between fright and the chilly
evening. The man was speechless when
he opened the door to so alarming a sum
mons, and stared in mute inquiry upon
our hero. There they stood for some se
conds, when the audacious disturber of the
night coolly inquired of the man in the
night cap—
Well now, my friend, what the d—l
do you want?"
• Any body about there at that time may
have heard a street door slain to, and have
seen a chap walk oft whistling
" Oft in the stilly night!"
GRAMMATICAL.--" What !at you-a stu
dies so early Miss Angelina!" said the
foppish, frippery Damon Darlington, as he
entered the boudoir of a lady acquaintance
living in St.-street yesterday ; and,
crossing over the carpeted floor to the sofa
en which she sat, he added " aught what
is that attracts your attention? Bulwar's
last, Lanoni, I have no doubt."
"No, sir," said Angelina, coolly : " I
am studying my grammar."
Awh, capital, glorious!" said Damon
rubbing his kid-glove-cased hands in af
fected rapture. " New commence, my
dear, and conjugate for me the verb .1 to
love."
" No, sir," said the spirited Angelina,
" but 1 will decline the pronoun you ;"
and walking into the neat room she rang
the bell, and when the negro sell t at.
tended the summons, she ordered him to
conduct Mr. Damon Darlington to the hall
door.
The negro instantly obeyed the com
mands of his young, mistress, and but a
few minutes elapsed ere the accomplished
Mr. Darlington was an illustration of the
preter•perfect tense of the verb " to go"
--he was gone!
" My dear friend, that woman lus been
talking about you so, again ! She has
been telling the awlullest lies you ever
heard ; why, she railed away about 3 o:a
for a whole hour!"
"
And you heard it all, did you?"
y es. 4
Well, after this, just bear in mind
that it takes two to make a slander ; one
to tell it, and one to listen to it."
Pa, do they plow the prisoners up al
Sing-Sing?" "No, my son, what made
you ask that question?" " Cause it says
here that one 01 their faces was furrowed."
" Go to bed, Sammy, go to bed, and don't
go out of the house, somebody might steal
yott. - --/ro , City.
[Picayune.