~. Vox. VII, No. 32.1 PUBLISHED BY THEODORE H. CREMER. TERUEL The "JouttwAL" will be published every Wednesday morning, at two dollars a year, it paid IN ADVANCE, and if not paid within six months, two dollars and a half. No subscription received for a shorter pe• riod than six months, nor any paper discon tinued till all arrearages are paid. Advertisements not exceeding one square, will be inserted three times for one dollar, and for every subsequent insertion twenty five cents. If no definite orders are given as to the time an advertisement is to he continu id POETRY. Our Country. Our country!—'tisa glorious land [shore; With broad arms stretched from shore to The proud Pacific chafes her strand, She hears the dark Atlantic roar ; And.nurtur'd on her ample breast HoW many a goodly prospect lies In nature's wildest grandeur dress'd Enamelled with her loveliest dyes. Rich prairies deck'd with flowers of gold; Like sun-lit ocean roll afar ; Broad lakes her azure heavens behold, Reflecting clear each trembling star,a And mighty rivers, mountain born ; _ . . . . . , Go sweeping onward, dark and deep, Through forests where the bounding fawn Beneath their sheltering branches leap. And cradled 'mid her clustering hills, Sweet vales in di•eam-like beauty hide, Where love the air with music fills, And calm content and peace abide, For plenty here her fullness pours, In rich profusion n's, t 1 And sent to seise her generous stores, There prowls no tyrant's hireling band Great God! we thank thee for this home, This bounteous birthland of the free ; Where wanderers from afar may come, And breathe the air of liberty! Still may her flowers untrammelled spring, Her harvest ware, her cities rise ; And yet till Time shall fold his wing, Remain earth's loveliest paradise! 'Tis said that Absence Con quers Love. 'Tie said that absence conquers love! But, 0! believe it not ; I've tried, alas! its power to prove, But thou art not forgot. Lady, though‘ate has bid us part, Yet still thou art as dear, As fixed in this devoted heart As when I clasped thee here. I plunge into the busy crowd, And smile to hear thy name ; And yet, as if I thought aloud, They know me still the same. And when the wine-cup passes round; I toast some other fair— But when I ask my heart the sound. Thy name is echoed there. And when some other name I learn. And try to whisper love, Still will my heart to thee return, Like the returning dove. In vain! I never can forget, And would not be forgot ; For I must bear the same regret. What e'er may be my lot. E'en as the wounded bird will seek Its favorite bower to die, So, lady, I would hear thee speak, And yield my parting sigh. 'Tis said that absence conquers love! But, 0! believe it not ; t I've tried, alas! its power to prove, But thou art not forgot. A Safe Speculation. ' " Your wife is beautiful and young, But then her clapper! how't is bung Had I a wife with such a tongue, I'd pack her off to France, sir." "Pshaw! you're too much afraid of strife, Would you improve your present life, I'd have you marl y such a wife, I'm certain she would answer." Shall I have the pleasure of waltzing 1 with you, Madam'!" said a gentleman to a dishing married lady. Thank you sir, I hare hugging enough at home." THE JOUR ''' AL. lazoomL.A.Nmotro. - A Legend of Lite and Love. A very cheerless and fallacious doc trine is that which teaches to deny the I yielding to natures feelings, righteously directed, because the consequences may be trouble and grief, as well as satisfac tion and pleasure. The man who lives on from year to year, jealous of ever placing himself in a situation where the chances can possibly turn against him— ice, as it were, surrounding his heart, and his mind too scrupulously weighing in a balance the result of giving away to any .01 those propensities his Creator has plan ted in his heart—may be a philosopher, can never be a happy man. Upon the banks of a pleasant river stood a cottage, the residence of an an cient man whose limbs were feeble with the weight of years and of former sorrow. In his appetites easily gratified, like the simple race of people among whom he' lived, every want of existence was sup plied by a few fertile acres. These acres were tilled and to led by two brothers, grandsons of the olil man, and dwellers also in the cottage. The parents of the boys lay buried near by. Nathan, the elder, had hardly seen his twentieth summer. He was a beautiful youth. glossy hair clustered upon his head, and his cheeks were very brown from sun shine and open air. Thoagli the eyes of Nathan were soft and liquid, like a girl's, and his cheeks curled with a voluptuous swell, exercise and labor had developed his limbs irto noble and manly propor tions. The bands of hunters as they met sometimes to start off together after the game upon the neighboring hills, could hardly show one among their numbers' who in comeliness, strength, or activity, might compete with the youthful Nathan. Mark was but a year younger than his brother. He, too, had great beauty. In course of time the ancient sickened and knew he was to die. Before time ap proach of the fatal hour, he called before him the two youths and addressed them thus: deCeiiii.-1,VIT14,_!!1? children, is Kull of and sorrow and disappointment are the , fruits of intercourse with them. So wis- dom is wary. " And as the things of life are only shadows, passing like the darkness of a cloud, twine no bands of love about your hearts. For love ►s the ficklest of the things of lite. The object of our affection dies, and we thenceforth languish in agony; or perhaps the love we covet dies, and that is more painful yet. " It will never do to confide in any man. It is well to keep aloof from follies and iniquities of earth. Let there be no links between you and others. Let not any being control you through your depen dence upon him for a portion of your hap piness. This, my sons, I have learned by bitter experience, is the teachings of truth." Within a few short days afterwards, the old man was placed away in the marble tomb of his kindred, which was built on the shore. Now the injunction given to Nathan and his brothel—injunctions frequently impressed upon them before by the same monitorial voice—were pondered over by each youth in his inmost heart. They had always habitually respected their giandsire ; whatever came from his mouth, thefore, seemed as she words ot an oricle not to be gainsaid. Soon the path of Nathan chanced to be sundered from that of Mark. And the trees leaved out, and then the autulnn cast their foliage ; and in due course leaved out again and again, and many times again and the brothers met not yet. Two score years and ten! what change works over earth in such a space as two score years and ten! As the sun, an hour ere setting, cast long slanting shadows, to the eastward, two men withered, and with hair thin and snowy, came wearily up i from opposite directions, and stood together at a tomb built on a hill by the borders of a fair river. Why do they start, as each casts his diin eyes towards the face of the other? Why . do tears drop down their cheeks, and their frames tremble even more than with the feebleness of age? They are the long separated brethren, and they enfold them selves in one anothers arms. " And yet," said Mark, after a few moments, stepping back, and gazing ear nestly upon Ins companion's form and features, "and yet it wonders me that thou art my brother. There should be a brave and beautitul youth, with black curls upon his head, and not those pale emblems ot decay. And my brother should be straight and nimble—not bent and totter ing as thou." The speaker casts a second searching— a glance of discontent. " And I," rejoined Nathan, . I might require from nay brother, not such shriv. 1 shed limbs as 1 see, and instead of that "ONE COUNTRY, ONE CONSTITUTION, ONE DESTINY." HUNTINGDON, PENNSYLVANIA, WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 17, 1842 cracked voice, the full swelling music of a morning heart—but that halt a century is a fearful melter of comeliness and of strength ; for half a century it is, dear brother, since my hand touched thine, or my gaze rested upon thy face." Mark sighed ani answered not. Then, in a little while, they made in. quiries about what had befallen either during the time past. Seated upon the marble by which they had met, Maik briefly told his story. "I bethink me, brother, many, many years have indeed passed over since our grandsire, dying, left us to seek our for tunes amid a wicked and seductive world. " His last word, as thou doubtless dost remember, advised us against the snares that should beset our subsequent journeys. He portrayed the dangers which lie in the path of love; he impressed upon our minds the folly of placing confidence in human honor; and warned us to keep aloof from too close communion with our kind. Flu then died, but Isis instructions live, and have ever been present in my memory. "Dear Nathan, why should I conceal from you that at that time I loved. My simple soul, ungifted with the wisdom of our aged relative, had yielded to the deli.' cious folly, and the brown eyed Eva was my yOung heart's choice. 0 brother, even now, the feeble and withered thing I am, dim recollections, pleasant passages, come forth around me, like the joy of old dreams. A boy again, and in all the con fiding heart of a boy, I walked with Eva by the river's banks. And the gentle creature blushes at my protestations of love and leans her cheek upon my neck.— The regal sun goes down in the vet, and gazing upon the glory of the clouds that attend his setting, and while we look at their fantastic changes, a laugh sounds out, clear like a flute, and merry as the jingling of silver bells, It is the laugh of Eva." The eye of the old man glistened with unwonted brightness. He paused, sighed, the brightness faded away, and he went on with his narration. " As I said, the dying lesson of him outuuC terl tneir truth. I feared that if I again stood be side the maiden of my love, and looked upon her face, and listened to her words, the wholesome axioms might be blotted ' from my thought, so I determined to act • as became a man: from that hour I never have beheld the brown eyed Eva. " I went amid the world. Acting upon the wise principles which our aged friend taught us, I looked upon every thing with auspicious eyes. Alas! I found it but too true that iniquity and deceit are the ruling I spirit of men. Some called me cold, calculating, and unainiable ; but it was their own unwor thiness that made me appear so to their eyes. lam not—you know my brother —1 am not naturally, of proud and repul sive manner; but I was determed never to give my friendship merely to be blown off again, it might chance, as a feather by the wind ; nor interweave my course of life with those that very likely would draw all the advantage of connexion, and leave me no better than before. I engaged in traffic. Success atten ded ire. Enemies said that my good for tune was the result of chance, but I knew it the fruit of the judicious system of cau tion which governed tne in matters of business, as well as (Asocial intercourse. My brother, thus have I lived my life. Your' looks ask me if I have been happy. Dear brother, truth impels me to say, no. Yet assuredly, if few glittering pleasures ministered to me on my journey, equally lew were the disappointments, the hopes blighted, the truth betrayed, the faintings of the soul, caused by the defection of those in whom I had laid my treasures, " Ah, my brother, the world is full of misery I" The disciple of a wretched faith ceased his story, and there was a silence a while. Then Nathan spake: "In the early years," he said, I too loved a beautiful woman. Whether my heart was more frail than thine, or affection had gained a mightier power over me, 1 could not part from her 1 loved without the satisfaction of a farewell kiss, We met—l had resolved to stay but a moment —fur I had chalked out my future life af ter the fashion thou hest described thine. " How it was I know not, but the mo ment rolled on to hours; and still we stood with our arms around each other. " My brother, a maiden's tears washed my stern resolves away. The lure of a voice rolling quietly from between two soft lips, enticed me Iroin retneinberance of my grandsire's wisdom. I forgot his teachings, and married the woman I loved. " Ah! how sweetly sped the seasons ! We were blessed. True,--there came crossings and evils; but we wkhstood them all, and holding each otherny the hand, forgot that such a thing as sorrow remained in the world. "Children were born to us--brave boys and fair girls. Oh, Mark, Atli is a plea- sure —that swelling of tenderness for our offspring—which the rigorous doctrines of your course of life have withheld from you Like you, I engaged in trade. Va rious fortunes followed my path. I will not deny but that some in whom I thought virtue• was strong, proved cunning hypo critesi and worthy of no man's trust.— Yet there are many I have known, spot less as tar as humanity may be spotless. Thus to me life has been alternately dark and fair. Have [ lived happy?-- No, not completely ; it is never for mor tals so to be. But I can lay my hand up on my heart, and thank the Great Master, that the sunshine has been far oftener than the darkness of the clouds. " Dear brother, the world has misery— but it is a pleasant world still, and affords much joy to the dwellers!" As Nathan ceased, his brother looked up.in his lace, like a man unto , whom the simple truth had been for the first time revealed. W. Responsibilities of American Youth. The following extract from a discourse on "American Enterprise, or Christinity adap ted to the active powers of American Xouth by Mr. Albert Barnes, claims their serious consideration : But your country opens a wide field for all that is active and mighty in the talents of young men. This is the land for chris tian enterprise. Here mighty dangers are coming in like a flood. Here foreigners of all opinions seek an asylum. Here the nations of the world are already represen ted, in the oppressed of other people seek ing freedom, or in their outlaws seeking on our shores an asylum from justice.-- Here a vast continent is to be brought un der the influence of christian truth and christian freedom. Here the confederate forms of wickedness are to be broken up; the infilfel subdued by argument, not by dictation; the ignorant taught, the five intkiVitiit hi nn A l . ' I liefe public senti ment must foster all that is noble, all that is pure, all that is sacred. Here embat tled hosts are not to restrain a free people ; out colleges, our associations of benevo lence, our Sunday schools, our bibles, our ! sabbaths, our public press, must do what standing armies have vainly sought to do —preserve the constitution of a Iree peo ple. Here the christian religion, mild, expansive, free, is to shed its blessings on all the cities, towns and hamlets of our republic, or we are a ruined people. Here without being cramped or crippled in its energies, or pressed into an unnatural al liance with any system of state policy, or " wedded" -" like beauty to old age, For merest sake living with the dead," it may show its native power for blessing men. More than this. Our influence stretches across the ocean: our voice is on the waters : and the name of American sounds alarm in the ears of distant mon archs, and they become pale on their thrones when they look at us. Engrave it, young men, on your hearts, that this land is the only obstacle in the way of universal tyranny and oppression. Strike the sun of our christian freedom from the heavens, and all will be dark again, and dark for ages. One loud shout of triumph will go through all the abodes of despot ism, if we totter and fall. One universal yell will rend the heavens, if we become corrupt, and our christian light extinguish ed, and we sink in the common grave of republics. Who is to stand foremost in ',I this christian warfare? Who to urge on • the great principles that are to bless man kind? Who but the young men of this nation—strong in the day of their youth— entrusted with the last hopes of man. In this great arena of things you will be call ed to act. Will there be aught of meanness and degredation in summoning the vigorous powers of youth to the great business of virtue, of liberty, and of God; in forming the deep telt purpose, this night, to be Christian men, and to dare to face intein• perance, and misrule, and profaneness, and infidelity, and to go forth to meet the mighty powers of human crime I I plead first of all, that your hearts may be given to Jesus Christ to-nigh And then I spread nut before you ood and vast land—this hope of m this asylum of liberty—this pillar of the christian church, as a field wide enough for all your powers. I summon you to this great work in view of the riclest blessings ever conferred on man; ieview of the hopes and liberties of the world. CLOVER AND TIMOTHr,—A. preacher in the " far west" gave out his text, a cer. tiain chapter and verse of Clover. The deacon arose and told him it WAS Timothy. 0 yes," replied the divine, "it is Tim , othy. I knew it was some kind of grass. ..7)ts Wm aF DONE."-A mother was kneeling in the soft light of the dying day by the side of her suffering babe ; the deep, low-breathed accents of the father went up in supplication, as if to the very ear of the Eternal: 0: thou who didst weep* at the grave of Lazarus, and doot note every pulsation of the human heart, look down in thy mercy's sakes What ; ever else thou withholdest, give us the life of our sweet babel" " Amen !"' 'responded thp trembling voice of the heart-stricken mother, as she wiped away the cold sweat from his pale forehead. Oh! William I cannot give him up!" she added, " he is so lovely—and then he is our only one I Surely your pe tition will be granted." 'The unconscious infant lay motionless in its cradle; its little bosom heaved with the faint• breath of life, its tiny fingers were half hid beneath its golden riair, while the sweet smile that played round its fevered lips seemed to respond to the whispering of angels, as if they already welcomed thefreed spirit to the land of light, . "'The father and mother gazed upon it with an intensity that none but a parent's heart can feel. Gradually the smile re.- lazed—the hand fell down upon its bosom —the throbbing of the heart became more tranquil—a moisture difflised itself over the skin, and a sweet sleep fell upon it, clothing it with a mantle. Long and quietly it slumbered ; and when the eye opened and the lip moved, its cherub face seemed irradiated with un earthly intelligence and purity. Day af ter (lay, and bight after night the father and mother watched their boy, as lie was slowly restored to health and activity.-- God spared him, and he grew up in loveli ness, the pride of his parents. Pestilence stalked abroad--death laid low the young and the beautiful—still their child, as if by some talismanic apt ", was preserved, and the fond mother thanked God in her ; heart that he had lived to comfort her. melte et ieieWtlee innocence had given place to the intensity of remorse and the sternness of despair. The fair boy had grown to manhood. He had !gone forth into the world. He had min gled with the giddy throng that pursue the syren pleasure, till they find too late that. with her joy is but a name, and hope a phantom—that she leads to sorrow and to death. Her contaminating, withering in- Ifluence overmastered him, and he went !onward till the poisonous mildew of guilt settled on his soul and wasted his exist ence. "Let me curse God and diet" said the unhappy sufferer. " Oh I that thou had'st (lied in the c(!7n ness and sweetness of thy childhood !" murmured the self-accusing mother. Again the father knelt by the bedside of his son, and his voice was once more off ered up in prayer : " 0 Lord! whatsoever thou givest or withholdest, enable us to say sincerely—' Thy will be done!' " "Amen!" clearly articulated the mo ther, and the angel of death took the spirit of the hopeless to the bar of God. A RIMINISCENCE OF SIXTY YEARS, BY A. MIDSHIPMAN HOW SEVENTY-NINE YEARS ot.D.—ln my youthful days, on one of my passages from Philadelphia to Havre, in the sloop-of-war General Washingte Joshua Barney commander, we fell with his Majesty's ship Jupiter, of I guns, at the mouth of the British Ct nel, having under her convoy a fleet IL Barbadoes ; this'lnformation we had ft some of the vessels we spoke; co/ qucntly, we knew the vessel which veyed them was the Jupiter. We been out but sixteen days; this wa November, one th usand seven hunt and eighty-three. 'e soon ran al side the Jupiter. deck was cro , with passengers, it being so shortly• peace, both French and Americans. ' all brushed themselves up with the expc. tation of a little pleasant chat; but the commander of the Jupiter took up a sad' trumpet, and, with as few words as ble, inquired Where is that ship from ?" Barney replied, in a gentlemanlike man ner, " Sir.from Philadelphia." Here all conversation ceased. Commander Paul Jones, with a number of officers, cast their eyes on Barney, and smiled Well," said our commander, if he'll not dispo sed to speak, he shall hear—call up the music." Accordingly the band on board the vessel struck up Yankee-Doodle until we were lief their hearing. A TRurn.--Somebody has said 615.1 It is true. The man who wrote it thinks deep and strong. The deepest malice often vents it self in the lightest ridicule. He who is passionate and hasty is generally honest ; it is your cool dissembling hypoctite of whom you should beware." [Wnoir.s No. 344. A BEAUTY—ANECDOTE OF A RUNAWAT PAIR.— Lallv Warren is immensely tell and extremely beautiful ; she is now just nineteen, though she has been married two or three years. She is giddy, gay, chatty, good humored and a little affected ; she hazards all that occurs to her, seems to think the world at her feet, and is so young. and gay, and handsome, that she is not touch mistaken. She is in short, art inferior lady Honor's Pemberton ; some. ,thing beneath her in parts and understand ing, but strongly in that class of character. had no conversation with her myself; but her voice is loud and deep, and all she said was for the whole room. Take a trait or two, which I think will divert my daddy Crisp. Marriages being talked ro, " I'll tell you," cried she, "a story, that is, it shan't be a story, but a fact. A lady of my acquaintance, who had £50,000 fortune, ran away to Scotland with a gen tleman she liked vastly; she was a little doubtful'of Lim, and had a mind to try him; so when they stopped to dine, and change horses and all that, she said, 'Now as I have a greavitegard for you, as I dare say you have for me, I will tell you a se. cret; I have got no fortune at all, in re ality, but only £5OOO, for all the rest is a mere pretence ; but if you like the for ms - self, and not for my 'fortune, you won't mind tlat' So the gentleman said, Oh, I don't regard it at all, and you are the same charming angel that ever you was,' and all these sort of things that people say to one, and then went out to see about the chaise. So he did not come hack, but when dinner was ready the lady said, Pray where is her Lor, ma'am,' said they, ' why that gentleman has been gone ever so long.' So site came back by her self, and now she's married to somebody else,and has her £50,000 fortune all safe. —Diary and Letters of Mad. D' Attlay. INTERCOUTtfiII OF THE SEXES.--WllBt makes these men who associate habitually r'`whi are the women of France so universally admired and loved for their colloqual powerl— because they are in the habit of free, graceful and continual conversation with the other sex. Women in this way lose their frivolity ; their faculties awa ken; their delicacies and peculiarities un fold all their beauty and captivation in the spirit of intelleetual rivalry. And the men lose their pedantic, rude, declamato ry, or sullen manner. The coin of the understanding and the heart is interchan ged continually. Their asperities are rubbed off, their better materials polished and brightened, and their richness, like fine gold, is wrought into finer workman ship by the fingers of women, than it ever could by those of men. The iron and steel of character are hidden, like the harness and armor of a giant, in studs; and knots of gold and precious stones, when they are not wanted in actual war fare. . A FAMILY FAILING.—There was an old man once who had three sons, and the old !flan was in a large business, which kept on increasing until it got so large that the house could'nt hold it, the house burst, and the old man failed. Then the old man gut a larger house, washed his hands of the old debts, took in his eldest son and commenced all bright _ . ri, while carrying a hod in a building down town, was struck en his head by a salmon brick which fell from the scaffold ' nearly two stories high. " Look out up dare, how you throw your bricks," vocit; erated the hod carrier, " guess you want to kill dis nigger." What is most strange, is, that the man was not even stunned, and the brick was broken in two by cotn ling in contract with his head. A certain Datchman down town, speaks of a large house dat alwayah standsh right py de side of a little jailer tog."—Cres. City. • ADVICE , TO YOUNG MeN.--Never mar ry a young woman who is plow] of the bustle she makes. " Ma, I wish to undress." " Don't make use of that word, my child, it's 4la• icidedly vulgar; unAwsk."
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