Vol.. VII, No. 44.] PUBLISHED BY THEODORE H, CREMER, 170.140. The "JoURNAL" will be published every Wednesday morning, at two dollars a year, if paid IN ADVANCE, and if not paid within six months, two dollars and a half. No subscription received for a shorter per nod than six months, nor any paper discon tinued till all arrenrages 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 theti me an advertisement is to be continu ed, it will be kept in till ordered out, said c harged accordingly. porrnw. Published by Request. To my Sister. East thou learnt to love—bast thou learnt to love Another being thyself above ? Hast thou singled from earth's frail creatures one To rest thy trusting heart upon ? Bath he come to thee in.angels' gu;ze, And host thou learnt tO note—to prize His look, and voice, and fobtstep's sound, With a thrill unfelt for the rest around noth his tone speak gladness to Bidding each troubled thought r Is all around thee dark and dre, Unless his smiles and words arc Then, sister, bath thy heart in An idol's altar ; and the home Of all thy hopes and all thy fear: Is centred in thy future years. And thou hast freely given up Each feeling to one blissful hope. Each pure, high feeling, and each Whose priceless wealth has Beautiful confidant! hope on! Thy heaven is in the heart tl And inavhy own heart evel Its love Within his spirit s 1 And he who bath wooed, wit Thy heart from its childhood May he deepen that love is • smiled Around thy pathway, thou g. May he watch thy footsteps, rest; flay he shield thee from ill breast And till eye be closed, and by May he remember his holy ti From the U Death of ClO.l, BY JOHN Q. ADA' Sure, to the mansions of the blest, When infant innocence ascends, Some angel brighter than the rest The spotless spirit's flight attends. If. On wings of ecstacy they rise, Beyond where worlds material roll, ' ill some fair sister of the skies Receives the unpolluted soul. .. 111. lure, at the Almighty Father's hand, t ' . Nearest the throne of living light, The choirs of infant seraphs stand, And dazzling shine, where all are bright. IV. That unextinguisable beam, :} , With dust united at our birth, ed a more dim, discolored gleam, ,i The more it lingers upon earth. 'a V. if losed in the dark abode of clay, - The stream of glory faintly burns, Nor unobscured the lucid ray To its own native fount returns. VI. I,iit when the Lord of mortal breath "becrees his bounty to resume, And points the silent shaft of death, Whblr speeds the infant to the tomb,— VII. No passion fierce, no low desire ..Has quenched the radiance of the flames ; Back re Returns, ......_. —411.11111111C:hia Gazette daddy times to long e sky, ek, to and be coi matt -says {s. • .-- Al 4 : - • 't i c -4 $ . A rmac,imzdia.earmova. --------- - - Counsels to the 'Young. BY HORACE: GBEELY, Three millions of youth, between the ages of six and twenty-one, now rapidly coining forward, to take rank as the future husbands and fathers, legislators and divines, instructors and governors, politi clans and voters, capitalists and laborers, artizans and cultivators, of this vast country, whose destinies are even yet so faintly imagined, much less developed.— No one is so humble that he will not cer tainly exert an influence—it may be an Immense and imperishable influence on the happiness and elevation of his country and his race. The humblest cottage mai den, now toiling thankfully as the. house hold servant of some proud family by, whom she is regarded as nobody, may yet be the mother of a future President—or.' nobler still, of some unaspirim , but God directed man, who as a teacher of righ teousness, an ameliorator of human suf fering, a successful reprover of wrong, sensuality or selfishness, may leave his impress on the annals of the world as a lover and server of his race. Nearly all our now eminent men, politically—Jack son, Clay, Van Buren, etc., were nut merely of pour and humble parent.t4,e, bu; left orphans in early lite, and thus dapri ved of the support and counsel which seems must eminently necessary to sac, cess in the world's rugged ways. lu the higher walks of genuine useful• ness, the proportion of those enjoying no family influence or heredi who attain the loftiest emi great. Call to mind the <sines that occur to you of ished for ability, energy, or lofty achievements, and !e•ldurths df them will be burn _in obscurity and de- Ire is full of anecdotes illog ic encouraging truths: a sin• occurs to me whickl have recorded a Baptist meeting-house in Ver reon at its cohstt uction some •8 since a studious and exem- man was tor some lime em penter, who afterward id entered upon the he christian Ministry. a Jared Sparks, since American Review, of inous Writings, Sm., is one of the foremost and now scholar; d critics in America propul tant maxis agetnen t whic pr()pol wiser o do not full unit tillect on thousai struggling and know', their scope their pane! kki!hout r pandi ing a educatil —to ma, and I.atin have been 1 usgful men :e but tli contemporary brou:ht home tranaations, if they do not the originals lite enable you to enjt _ .4 e ,..e of a college education, tlo not neglect them --above all, do not inisimprove them. Hut if your lot be different, waste no time in idle repining, in humiliating beggary. The stern, self•respecting independence of your own soul is worth whole shelves of classicks. Al! men cannot and need not be college bred—not even those who are born to instruct and improve their kind. You can never be justly deemed ignorant, or your acquirements contemp tible, if you embrace and tally improve the opportunities which are fairly offered you. Avoid likewise the kindred and equally pernicious error that you must have a profession—must be a Clergyman, Lawyer, Doctor, or something of the sort --In order to be influential, useful, re spected—or, to state the case in its best aspect, that you may lead an intellectual life. Nothing of the kind is necessary— very far from it. If your tendencies are intellectual—if you love Knowledge, Wis dom, Virtue for themselves—you will grow in them, whether you earn your ) much row he "ONE COUNTRY, OA E CONSTITUTION, ONE DESTINY." HUNTINGDON, PENNSYVANIA, WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 9. 1842. bread by a profession, a trade, or by til ling the ground. Nay, it may be doubted whether the Fortner or Mechanic who de votes his leisure hours to intellectual pursuits from a pure love of them has not sonic advantage therein, over the profes sional man. He comes to his hook at evening with his head clear and his men tal appetite sharpened by the matinal las born, taxing lightly the spirit or braitt while the lawyer, who has been running over dry old books for pregetlents, the doctor, who has been racking his wits For a remedy adapted to some new motlitica-' tom of disease, or the divine who, immur ed in his closet, has been busy prepariniz Ins next sermon, may well approach the evening volume with senses„ jaded and palled. There are less men land perhaps fewer women, who do nut spud uselessly in sleep, or play, or frivolous employments, more time than would be required to ren der them at thirty well versed in Ilistory, Philosophy, Ethics, as well as Physical Sciences, &c, 111. Neither is an advantageous loca tion essential to the prosecution of enno bling studies, or to an intellectual life ; lia . this. point misapprehension is very, prevalent and very pernicious. A youth born in some rural or thinly ,:nitled dis trict, where books are f•tv and. unlit and the stratus of intellectual culture appa rently scanty, feels within him the stir• rings of a spirit of inquiry, a craving to acquire and to know aspirations for an intellectual condition• pre the dead level around him. At ehe jumps 4 , to the conclusion that . change of place is necessary to the satisfaction of his desires—that he must resort, if not to the university or the seminary, at least to the City or Village. Ile fancies he must alter his whole" manner of life—that a per sistance in manual labor is unsuited to, if not absolutely inconsistent with the aspi rations awakened within him—that he must become if not an author, a professor, a lawyer, at least a merchant or follower of some calling unlike that of his hollers. Wrapped in this delusion, he betakes himself to the City's dusty way, where sooner or later the. nista. and extent of his mistake breaks upon him. If he finds satisfactory employment and is prospered in the way of life which he prefers, the cares and demands of business almost constrain him to relinquish those pursuits for which he abandoned his more quiet and natural life. If he is less fortunate, anxieties for the morrow, a constant and difficult struggle for the means of credita ble subsistence, and to avoid becoming a burthen or detriment to others who have trusted or endeavored to sustain him, these crowd out of being the thought or the hop, of mental culture and advance• ment. Nay, more, arid are worse--in the tumultuous strife of business and money getting, whether suceesslul or otherwise, the very desire of intellectual elevation is too often stifled or greatly enfeebled, and that death of the soul ensues in which satisfaction of the physical tippente be comes the Min of life—the man is sunk in the capitalist or trailer, and the gathering lot shining dust made the great end 01 his 1 being. • 1 have often wor forth a few ia par nce and•encnur- who will heal ken a my own hn ibser% 7 atiun, but ibstance been by elder and 9. Still they '<nied their ripening in ns thousands iely, painfully ice For position defiance of But what shall the youth do who finds his means of intellectual culture inade quate to his wants ? I hesitate not to say that he should CREATE more and better just where he is. Not that I c ould have him reject any real opportunity or proffer of increased facilities which may open be fore him. I will not say that he shoulil not accept a university education, the means of studying for a profession, if such should come fairly in his way, and he se conded by his own inclination. But Ido insist that nothing of this sort la ESSEN TIAL to the great end he has or should have in view—namely, Self-Culture. To this end it is only needful that he should put forth fully the powers by which he is cur. rounded. Are the books within reach few and faulty ? let him purchase a few of the very best, and study Mein intently and thoroughly. lie who is truly acquain ted midi the writings of a very few oi• the • world's master spirits can never be deemed ignorant or undeveloped. To know inti mately the Bible, and Shakspeare, and the elemen's of History and the Physical Sciences, is to have imbibed the substance of all human knowledge, That knowl edge may be presented in a thousand va ried, graceful and attractive forms, and the variations may be highly agreeable and useful--nay, they ar•e so. !tut, though they may improve, refine and fertilize, (so to speak) they .10 HO: MAKE the M .N. If he has the elements within him, no tu• ture hint: of solitude can be lonely, or tiresome, or profitless. The mild moon and the calm high stars are companion ship and instruction, eloquent, of deep significance, and more impressive than the profoundest volumes. I hope that cannot be a few ex• But grant that greater or more varied means of culture than the individual's narrow means can supply are desirable, has he not still modes of procuring them? lb he a solitary, and our goodly land his Isle of Juan Fernandez? Are there not others all around him, it not already of kindred taxes and aspirations, at least in whom kiddred aspirations may ba awa i kened 1 ;liay he not gather arumd him in the rudest "township or vicinity sonic do zen or i n young men in whom the celestial spark, if not already glowing, may be kindled to warn-, th and radiance. And by flea union of these, may nut all keir mulualu wants be abundantly sup• plied And herein is found one of the perva ding advanta%Cs of the cause I would corn 'Aro a, aliened youth who has withdrawnlso'die seminary or the city may hav e se,mr‘tl his own advancement ; but he who 11**.rioniiined constant to his childhoon'Aititle, its duties and associates, will probably. 'hale attracted others to en ter with Min tlie true pathway of life. The good tftus . ticromplii.Led, time may not measureV Doubtless many a Village Lyceum, many ii township Library, owes its existence to the impulse given by some pour and humble youth inspired by the love 01 Knoo ledge awl of W IV. The great central truth which I would imp•ess on the minds of my readers is this—preMising a genuine energy and singleness of purpose—the circumstances are noihinz, the Man is all. We maybe (he slaves or toys of circumstances if we will ; must men perhaps are so; and to these all circumstances lire alike •1 --that is rendered so if not by rugged culty, then b 5 soft Temptation. But man who tiuly ruleth his own spirit,--and such there is ;inning us--readily defies all ma terial infli.ences, or bends them to his wia. Be Impel ul, be confident, then, 0 friend lt if thou has achieved this great conquest, Mill believe that all else shall follow in due season. From the Z inesville Glzette. From an zoopabl,shed l'our of Travels . _ _ tPutes.ii Visit to the Tomb of Wash• inatota. ny JOAN DILLON SMITH Sated with the dull routine of political debate, durimr, e lite sojourn in our Na tions! Metropolis, on a beautiful autum nal.day, I determined- to indulge a long entertained desire of visiting the spot, where lie entombed the hallowed dust of Washington. And accordingly, our par ty, which consisted of J. It. A. of the District of Columbia, and W. T. B. and lady of New York, and myself, embar ked on board of a steamboat for Alexan dria, about eight miles below ‘Vashineton city. We procured a coach at Alexandria, and travelled over a picturesque road for, nine or ten miles on the Western side of the Potomac river, amt/mired at the gate of the far-tam,,d :mum , vERNoN ! After, passing the main extras ce.of this renew nett enclosure of our American soil, we rode hall a mile through a shady grove which brought us to the family residence of tire father of his country. On view. itig this old mansion, with its antiquated cupola, piazza, balustratle,4s‘c., and par ticularly the time-worn steps, where the! illustrious owner °filmes stood in medita timi, or to extend a welcome hand to all, whether friend or stranger, whether opu lent or wretched, whether the lowliest or most gifted intellect, who sought shelter beneath his hospitable roof—Ave felt truly sensible of realizing our youthful pictorial impressions of this honored dwelling place of Columbia's favorite son. %%reentered the halls at the mansion, and were politely admitted into the various apartments of this patriotic shrine, which were once occupied by the good statesman and gallant chieftain, a Ito defended the land of the tree and the twine of the brave." ery thing in the rooms reminds one of olden tune:-=The Bastile•key presen ted to Washii.gton by Lafayette—the car ved Italian marble mantel -piece in the spacious ilmin.room—the heraldric en, blems of the Washington Lundy wrought above the oval mirrors—the famous enam elled Picther" likeness of Washington in a alit frame—the sacred paintings of the descent of our Saviour from the cross and the blessed Virgin—together with a numbor of superb portraits of members of the Washington family—all combined to make us feel that we were in the presence of him, who was '' first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his coun trymen." But, thought 1, he still dwells in the hearts of a free peoplel—His coun try, and his name even, are now gratefully adopted by millions of those who were ()nee destitute of a name and place among the nations at the earth :-.-110 left this hap py retreat to secure a home for the home less t.--But he departed from these cul tivated walks of life for the purpose of giving freedom, and restoring peace and pleiny to an oppressed and forlorn peo ple in the wilderness of a mighty land. We departed from the mansion of the living, and proceeded along a 'Winding pathway fur about two hundred yards in the direction of the river, in the midst of a *ale of scenery drooping in sorrow, arid withering in neglect, for the want of the original guardian spirit of the place, until we reached a cluster of oak and cedar, near the vaulted receptacle of Washing ton's remains. The original vault, in which.. Washington's dust first reposed, is situated under the shade of a small grove of forest trees, near the brow of a precipi tous bank of the silvery Potomac:— Small and unadorned, this humble sepul chre stood in a most romantic spot, and could be distinctly seen by voyagers pas sing up and down the river. About eight years ago, the ashes of the Father of his country were removed front that place, to one erected upon a spot, selected by him self, where the river is concealed from view. In the presence of a natural grove which shaded the distant tomb, and be neath the clear blue arch of Heaven, we instinctively took off our hats, before our ai rival at the obituary mansion of Mount Vernon, under an impulse of reverence, like that which prompts the soul of man, when he approaches the sanctuary of the living God with profound awe and vene ration. Our footsteps could not be heard by ourselves, for we advanced toward the iron gate-way of the new vault, more like winged spirits, than beings of mortality. Above the sable railing of the tomb, and upon a cornice of white marble, arc the following lines in golded letters :-- " WITHIN Tills ENCLOSURE. REST THE REMAINS. OF GENL. GEORGE WASIIiNGToN." Beneath a uglily finished roof of zinc, and in the centre of an open sepulchre, lappeared the bright marble SarCOMUS, which contains the embalmed body of our first Chief Magistrate. Upon its adamitn lean lid is sculptured the coat of Arms of the United States of America, together with this brief, but expressive epitaph, "WASHINGTON." On the right of Washington's tomb, rest the remains of his benign lady, in a corresponding Sarcophagus near the cen tre of the vault, bearing the following brief inscription : “MARTFIA, CONSORT OF WASHINGTON." Like weeping vigils, we arrayed our• selves in peace, before the ever during Sarcophagus, which Preserves Ulu relics of the greatest man, That aver freemen mourn'd since ume be gnu." The stillness of the tomb, broken only by the tears of a weeping few,—tears of heartfelt gratitude, which fell among the Au tu mnal leaves beneath our feet, like dew drops of patriotism, in commetnura lion of the glorious triumphs achieved for us and the our posterity by the energies, the intellect, the prudence, the bravery, of that hero of human liberty, now slum bering before us:— "Let each brehe be a sigh—each dew-drop a tear— Each wave be a whispering monitor near. To remind the sad shore of his story ; And darker, and setter, cud sadder the gloom, Of that evergreen mourner that bends o'er the tomb, Where Washington sleeps in his glory." Gretna Greenrria ge A species of marriage, so called firm its being usually celebrated at that place.— The following statement, which we have borrowed trom the Geographical Diction. ary, conveys so 101 l and accurate partic ulars of these far famed marriages, that we have taken the liberty of transferring it to our columns. The marriage ceremony merely a mounts to an admission before witnesses that certain persons are man and wife; such acknowledgement being sufficient, provided it be followed or preceded by cohabitation, according to the law of Scot. land, to constitute a valid marriage. A certificate to this effect being signed by the officiating priest, (who has never been above the rank of a tradesman,) and by two witnesses, the union, under the above condition, becomes indissoluble. The marriage service of the Church of England is sometimes read, in order to please the parties. The marriages of this sort cele brated at Gretna Green are estimated at between three hundred and tour hundred a year•; but as similar marriages are cele brated at Springfield, Annan, Coldstream, and other places attmg the border, their total number is said to anima to five hun dred a year: The parties are generally from England, and of the lowest ranks; though there are not a few instances of persons of the highest ranks, and even of Lord Chancellors, having bad recourse to the services of the soi dirint persons of Gretna Green. A trip to Gretna, or• the presence of a self-dubbed parson, is tint, however, at all necessary. Parttes cros sing the Scottish border, and declaring be fore witnesses that they are man and wife, are, under the previously mentioned con• ditions, married according to the law of Scotland. This law has been much ob jected to, but we are inclined to think EIVIroLE No. 350 with no and reason. It would, indeed, be no difficult matter to show that it is, on the whole, productive of numerous ad vantages. No where, perhaps, are there so few rash or improvident marriagei as in Scotland; and the retrospective effect of the existing law, or its influence in legitimising the children born before mar riage, is perhaps its moat valuable feature. But it is necessary to observe, t h at though legitimated in Scotland, children born pre viously to a Scotch marriage are not le gitimated in England, and do not succeed, except by special bequest, to heritable property in that part of the United King. dom. In all respects, however, Scotch marriages convey the same rights and privileges in England as Liglish marria ges. The practice began at Gretna Green about ninety years ago by a person named Paisley, a tobacconist, who died so lately as 1814. It is now carried on by various indeen each inn has its rival priest, in additon to others who carry 011 the business on their own account; and so far has competition reduced the Ices, that though large sums, (fotty or fifty pounds,) have been received, the solatium, in some instances, is now so low as halla crown. One of these functionaries, who breaks stones daily on the verge of Eng land, has the best chance of succeeding, fur he accosts every party as they pass, and tries to strike the best bargain.,' From the New York Sunday Mercury. short Patent Sermon. The following words by Mrs. Singour ney, will compose my text for this occa sion. Ali! what evails, with great power To wrest the trophies of an hour ; One moment write, with sparkling eye ; Our name on castle turrets high, And yield, the next, a broken trust, To earth, to ashes, and to dust. Mir IIEARER3 —lt makes a person's supper sit cold and heavy on his stunted), and sinks the thermometer of his spirits below zero, to reflect upon what we have all got to cone to .ust last; to think that when the strings of vitality are snapped. and life's contents spilled upon the ground, what a pretty mess we shall make of it! Earth amalgamated sit lb earth, dust man gled with dust, and ashes identified with ashes, compose the mound of mouldering mortality, in which tie purest vii toes and the filthiest of vices are compounded to. gather, without regard to the value of the one or the worthlessness of the other. It is melancholy, my friends, to meditate up on this paltry pile of dirt, from w hick we mortals were moulded, and to which we must finally return ; and it is fit that we should now and then sqoander a few thoughts on this subject in order that haughty pride may sometimes look dowu wards towards the tomb, and climbing Ambition measure the distance it hag to fall from the towering steeple of fame to the sepulchre that yawns at its base. Alt my dear friends: you have all got to conic the scratch at last. The grave is the common receptacle for all that wand' corruption which the soul is destined to drag about for a time, over the hills and the rocks, through the mud and the storms of a precarious existence ; and into this I repository tar the refuse of humanity you !must all be o unipeil, sooner or later, by that dirt cart of Death, which we so often have seen standing at the doors of tela• fives, friends and acquaintances ; and we know not how soon it may halt to receive a shovel full or two of 'lust that has once been alive our mansions. At the further extremity of life's wan• tiering vale, is a dark secluded spot, sur rounded by the drooping umbrage of the steeping willow and the mourning cypress, with small apertures to admit tx few cheer tog rays from the sun of immortality.— Here is written upon a slab of marble, and in legible characters, Death bed of Van ity amid the end of Ambition and at this forbidding spot every pour mortal must eventually be robbed of all he ever pos sessed, save that bright jewel of Hope v Inch he is permitted to carry with him into the kin;dom of everlasting glory.— What else,l ask, is corporeal proportion ;good for, when the soul, that preservative principle, has forsaken it forever? It is doomed to decay and return to its original dust; and dust, after all, is nothing more than oust—no matter how holy and sacred are the associations that connect it with that which is now living in cohabitation with mind and feeling. And I advise you, my friends, not to expend too much money, not to sacrifice a great amount of morality toe the sake of bodily appeal - once ; fur, depend upon it, there is soh. , thing in man, which like an oyster, is a great deal better than it looks to be ; and all the outward attractions you can be :now upon it will prove to be of no more value in the end than an application of gold to the shell of said oysters, What then, my friends, can human ex ertions avail 1 Nothing at all, 1 answer her the \s ant of an eeho.--The night dews of the grave are sure to take out all the
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