Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, May 08, 1844, Image 1
~, ~' !- HUNTING 0 _ • Ni AL. Debotte to Central Kittellltacntr, aTruertir4ing,Votitito, Utteraturr, ploralit», Art% Aden rm„lErisulturr„Sistutientent, tzt., %7c3Da. ay. THEODORE H. CREMER, Rr.§' The "Jona v.t I." will he published every Wed nesday morninl., at S 2 00 a year. if paid in advance, and if not paid within six months, S 2 50. No subscripim received for a shorter period than six months, nor any paper discontinued till all ar :Tamps are paid. A Ivertise-nents not exceeding one square, will be ins3rte.l three times for $1 00, and for every subse qti rat insertion 25 cents. If no definite orders are givsn as to the time an advertisement is to be continu ed, it will be itept in till ordered out, and charged ac cordingly, Oa 130:1T.7.7. The Last Good 33ye. Farewell ! Farewell is often heard, From the lips of those who port; 'Tis a whispered tone, 'tis a gentle word, But it springs not from the heart. It may nerve for the lover's lay. To be sung 'neath a summer's sky ; But give me the lips that say, The honest words, ' , Good Bye." Adieu! Adieu! may greet the ear, In the guise of courtly speech; But when we leave the kind and dear, 'Tis not tvhat the soul would teach. Wheneer we grasp the hand of those, We would have forever sigh, The flame of friendship burns and glows In the warm, frank words, " Good Bye!" The mother, sending forth her child To meet with cares and strife, Breathes through her tears, her doubts and fears For the loved one's future life. No cold " Adieu," no " Farewell" lives Within her choking sigh, But the deepest sob of anguish gives, "God bless thee boy—Good bye!" Go. watch the pale and dying one, When the glance has lost ita beam; When the brow is cold as the marble stone, And the world a passing dream; And the latest pressure of the hand, The look of the closing eye, Yield what the heart must understand-- A long, a last "Good Bye V' The Deathless Smile. I saw one in her madenhood From whom the lifo had fled, And yet so lovely was her face It seemed she was not dead ! Her eye-lids as in bleep were cloned, Her brow wan white like snow ; A smile still lingered on her cheeks, As if 'twas loath to go! And it may be a smile so sweet, So quiet end serene, Was never on the healthy brow Of living maiden seen. Perchance the wondrous bliss which buret Upon her raptured mind' When first she woke in glory's courts, Now left its trace behind. Her end was peace. I thought that they Who loved her should not greive, For these last words they heard her say, "My spirit, Lord, receive !" And when tlry laid her in the earth Her cheek atilt held the bloom; That smile so sweet the gentle maid Bore with her to the tomb Would it he strange if brighter tints Upon the blossoms crept Which grew above the sacred spot Whore that meets maiden slept? Gethsemane. BY WILLIAM B. TAPPAN, 'Tie Midnight--and on Olive's brow The cleric dimmed that lately shone; 'Tie Midnight—in the garden now, The suffering Saviour prays alone. 'Tis Midnight—and from all removed, Immanuel wrestlei, lone with fear; E'en the disciple that he loved Heeds not his Master's grief and team. 'Tie Midnight—and for °•here guilt The man of Sorrows weeps in blood; Yet IL. that oath in anguish knelt, Is not foraaken by hie God. "fis Midnight—from the heavenly plains, Is borne the song that angels know ; Unheard by Mortals ale the strains That sweetly soothe the Baviour's wo. The *olden Edged Cloud, BY JOIEPII T. GURNEY. A dark cloud was akirtinj the breadth of the sea, A hewn on the brow of the West; And nature was shrouded with sadness to me, As it sank in the Ocean to rear But the Sun that was wrapped in a mantle of woo, Its radiance begins to unfold; And the veil that was dark'ning the billow below, la fringed and embroidered with gold. This scene is the token of mental relief, While it charms and refreshes the sight, It bids me believe that the cloud of my grief, Wit!soon wear a border of light. The gilding of hope, and the beaming of love, Vietorious o'er sorrows and fears ; Are heralds of mercy from Heaven above, To illumine this Valley of Tears. TZIFiCZ:a:a.9.Z7MOT.7O. A REVOLUTIONARY RELIC. The following eloquent revolutionary sermon, preached on the 10th Sept.l777, the eve of the bat tle of Brandywine, by the Rev. Jacob Prout, to a large portion of the American soldiers, in the pres ence of General Washingtom . and General Wayne, and others of the continental army, was recently discovered among some old papers of Major John Jacob Schocftnyer, an officer of the llevolution. It should be perused by every lover of patriotism. REVOLUTIONARY SERMON, "They that take the sword shall perish by the sword." Soldiers and Countrymen : We have met this evening perhaps for the last time. We have shared the toil of the march, the peril of the fight, the dismay of the retreat—alike we have endured cold and hunger, the contumely of the internal foe, and outrage of the foreign oppressor. We have sat; night after night, beside the same camp fire, shared the same rough soldiers' fare, we have together heard the roll of the reveille, which called us to du ty, or the beat of the tattoo, which gave the signal for the hardy sleep of the soldier, with the earth for his bed, the knapsack for his pillow. And now, soldiers and brethren, we have met in the peaceful valley, on the eve of battle, while the sunlight is dying away behind yonder heights, the sunlight that to-morrow morn, will glimmer on scenes of blood. We have met, amid the whiten ing tents of our encampment; in times of terror and gloom, have we gathered together—God grant it may not be for the last time. It is a solemn moment. Brethren, does not the solemn voice of nature seem to echo the sympathies of the hour? The flag of our country droops hea vily from yonder staff, the breeze hag died away along the green plain of Chadtra Ford—the plain that spreads before us, glistening in sun light—the heights of the Brandywine arise gloomy and grand beyond the waters of yonder stream, and all nature hold a pause of solemn silence, on the eve of the uproar, of the bloodshed and strife of to-morrow. .‘ They that take the sword shall perish by the sword." And have they not token the sword? Let the desolate plain, the blood-soddened valley, the burned farm house, blackening in the sun the cachet villages and the rava t ^,e•' the whitening bones of the butchered farmer, strewn along the fields of his homestead, answer— let the starving mother, with the babe clinging to the withered brea3t, that can afford no sustenance, let her answer, with the death-rattle mingling with the murmuring tones, that mark the last struggle for life—let the dying mother and her babe answer! It was but a day past, and our land slept in the light of peace. War was not here—wrong was not here. Fraud, and wo, and misery, and want, dwelt not among us. From the eternal solitude of the green woods, arose the blue smoke of the settler's cabin, and golden fields of corn looked forth from amid the waste of the wilderness, and the glad mu sic of human voices awoko the silence of the forest. Now ! God of mercy, behold the change !—Under the shadow of a pretext, under the sanctity of the name of God, invoking the Redeemer to their aid, do these foreign hirelings slay our people! They throng our towns, they darken our pinins, and now they encompass our posts on the lonely plain of Chadd's Ford. "They that take the sword shall perish by the sword." Brethren, think me not unworthy of belief, when I tell you that the doom of the British is near.— Think Jae not vain, when I tell you that beyOnd the cloud that now enshrouds us, I see gathering thick and fast the darker cloud and blacker sham of a Divine Retribution. Thoy may conquer us on to-morrow ! Might and wrong may prevail, and we may be driven from this field—but tho hour of God's own vengeance will come ! Aye, in the vast solitude of eternal space, if in the heart of the boundless universe, there throbs the being of an awful God, quich to avenge, and sure to punish guilt, then will the man, George of Bruns wick, culled King, feel in his brain and in his heart, the vengeance of the Eternal Jehovah! A blight will be upon his life—a withered brain, an accursed intellect; a bight will he upon his children, and on his people. Great God! how dread the punish ment! A crowded populace, peopling the dram towns where the man of money thrives, while the laborer starves; want striding among the people in all the forms of terror ; as ignorant and God-defying priest hood chuckling over the miserie. of millions; a proud and merciless nubility adding wrong to wrong, and heaping insult upon robbery and fraud; royalty corrupt to the very heart; aristrocracy rotten to the core; crime and want linked band in hand, and tempting men to deeds of wo and death—thcso are a part of the doom and the retribution that shall come upon the English throne and the Englielt people! Boldiers—l look around upon your familiar facos with a strange intereit! To-morrow morning we will oil go forth to battle—for need I tell you that your unworthy miuistor will march with you, invoking God's aid ite the fight I--we will march forth to bat tle ! Need I exhort you to fight the good fight, to light for your homesteads, and for your wives anti children I My friends, I might urge you to fight by the gall• 2,DZDa:"-7 0 LPEII. O E3 O t2E:l4.' ing memories of D ritish wrong! Walton—l might tell you of your father butchered in the silence of midnight on the plains of Trenton ; I might picture his pray hairs dabbled in blood; I might ring his death-shriek in your ears. Shelinire I might tell you of a mother butchered, and a sister outraged— the lonely farm-house, the night assault, the roof in flames, the shouts of the troopers, as they despatch ed their victim, the cries for mercy, the pleading of of innocence for pity. I might paint this all again, in the terrible colours of the vivid reality, if I thought your courage needed such wild excitement. But I know you aro strong in the might of the Lord. You will go forth to batttle on the morrow with light hearts and determined spirits, though the solemn duty—the duty of avenging the dead—may rest heavy on your souls. And in the hour of battle, when all around is darkness, lit by the lurid eatmon"glare, and the pier cing musket flash, when the wounded strew the ground and the dead litter your path, then remember soldiers, that God is with you. The eternal God fights for yoil—ho rides on the battle cloud, he sweeps onward with the march of the hurricane charge--God, the Awful and Infinite, fights for you, and you will triumph. 41 They that that take the sword shall perish by the sword." You have taken the sword, but not in thesphit of wrong and ravage. You have taken the sword fur your home; for your wives, for your little ones. You have taken the sword for truth, for justice and right, and to you the promise is, Do of good cheer, for your foes have taken the sword in defi ance of all that man holds dear, in blasphemy of God—they shall perish by the mord. And now, brethren and soldiers, I bid you all faewell. Many dos may fill in the fight of to-mor row---God rest the souls of the fallen—many of us may live to tell the story of the tight of to-morrow, and in the metnory of all will ever rest and linger the quiet scene of this autumnal night. Solemn twilight advances over the valley; the woods 'on the opposite heights fling their long sha dows over the green of the Meadow---around us are the tents of the continental host, the suppressed bus tle of the camp, the hurried tramp of the soldiers to and fro among the tents, the stillness and silence that marks the eve of battle. When we meet again, may the long shadows of twilight be flung over a peaceful land. God in Heaven great it. PRAYER OF THE RE VOL UTIoN Great Father, we bow before thee. We in voke thy blessing, we deprecate thy wrath; we re turn thee thanks for the past, we ask thy aid for the future. Jar we are in times of trouble, oh ! Lord, and sore beset by foes, merciless and unpity ing ; the sword gleams over our land, slid the dust of the soil is dampened with the blood of our neijll - and friends. • Oh ! God of mercy, we pray thy blessing on the American arms. Make the man of our hearts strong in thy wisdom; bless, we beseech with re newed life and strength, our hope, and Thy instal ment, even Genie 1s :Tom--shower 'Abs counsels on the honorable, the Continental Con gress; visit the tents of our host, comfort the sol dier it his wounds and afflictions, nerve hint fur the tight, prepare him for the hour of death. • And in the hour a defeat, oh! God of Hosts, do thou he our stay, and in the hour of triumph ho thou our guide. Teach us to ho merciful. Though the memory of galling wrongs ho at our hearts, kLockin;; f admittance, that they may fill us with desires of revenge, yet let ua, oh ! Lord spare the vanquished though they never spared ua, in their hour of.butelp ery and blood-shed. And, in the hour of death, do thou guide us into the abode prepared for the bleat; so shall we return thanks unto thee, through Christ our Redeemer,--the rnosein •roc c.tusc=Amer► FLOWERS AND Stine as.—Why does not every iady who can afford it, have a geranium or souse other flower in her window? It is very cheap—its chjapness is next to nothing, if you raise it front seed; or from a slip; and it is n beauty and a com panion. It gives an air of cheerfulnes4 and quiet loveliness to all around, and is ever an evidence of a relined taste and pure heart. It was the remark • of Leigh Hunt, that it sweetens the air, rejoices the eye, links you wills nature, and is something to love. And if it cannot love you in return, it can not utter a hateful thing, oven if you neglect it; for, though it is all beauty, it has no vanity ; and such being the case, and Ining as it does, purely to do good and afford you pleasure, how will you be able to neglect it? We receive in imagination the scent of these good.matured leaves, which allowed you to carry off their perfume on your Mtge.; for good natured they ore, in that respect,—above all other plants, and fitted for the hospitality of our room. The very feel of the leaf has it household warmth its it--something analogous to clothing and comfort. A Mare:tar ll iLL.--- , lle you ever go to milita ry balls?' inquired a young Miss of an tared vete ran. 'No, my darling,' was the reply, I do not like them; I lost my le; by one eau!' At the word 'leg the lady fainted. Tho happiness or unhappiness of life depend+ moro on little circumstances or interests of the heart, than ono event, apparently of the greatest impor tance. (j Dow Jr's., Patant Sermon—ilea fourth Fag. The following Lecture is given to the public in compliance with the wish ex , pressed in the annexed note: GEouc; TAYLOR, Esq., Sir-- Having listened with much pleasure and interest to the Lecture you delivered sonic timesinee upon the "ReTo.dbibly q f Mc Liq aye Seller,"—and feeling assured that great good can but result front its publication, together with an ardent interest in that cause, which we think your Lecture in so highly calculated to promote, we respectfully ask you to favor us with a copy for publication. Knowing the deep and abiding interest you not only manifest but feel in thin cause, we trust you will comply with our request. A. K. CORNY N, JAMES STEEL, W. P. ORI3ISON, W. ORBISON, E. V. EVERHART, D. AVAIURTRIE. A. W. BENEDIUT, S. MILES GREEN, THE RESPONSIBILITY OF TOE a...) u t , c, If any ono here possessed all the wealth of this town,—the town and all its wealth,—and were doomed to a solitary occupation of the possession, no other human being within, or permitted to come within, one thousand miles of it, it is not easy to conceive how he could be enveloped in circumstances of more utter poverty and destitution. Nay, if this continent, with all its almost infinite re sources,—all the improvements with which industry and science, ministering to the requirements of social life, have enriched and adorned it, and all the millions of treasure it contains, were his, and, standing "solitary and alone" in thy centre of his vast possrs3ions,ho could boast, " I am monarch of all I survey, My right there is "lox]: to dispute'!-. though thus surrounded with abundance to make a great nation rich, he might envy the let of Lazarus begging crumbs. The poverty that begs from door to door, would be gladly received for his millions ;—the meanest hut ever tenanted, even among a race of semi-savage men, for his ten thousand empty edifices, in all their gloomy splendour ;—the cell of a prison, where 110 could only see the hand that fed him in thesiekly rays falling upon him through a sky-light only catch the distant din of civilized life through it walls, for the unrestrained range of the continent;—the most abject and degrading vassalage to Jew or Took, for the sceptre of his wide dominion. Every non, in other largrourp, is immediately and entirely dependant upon those almond Ilion. No one is independent. In the wise mrangement of Providence, MI Men ret for no one can live, or enjoy the comfort and advantages of ciailivcd life, wilbout Me aid and Ges'stanee qt . °Tumuli Front this mutual dependence of one upon another, of each upon all, results necessarily a responsibility of paery man to his neighbour, °l each of its members to the entire community, for the contribution of his ;Igen cy in that general assistance and protection, without which 110 enmontinity could possibly exist, or any ono enjoy its benefits. Without supposing the existence of an implied contract entered into upon this reasonable comoidetteion, . at the formation of society ;—independent of the ties of sympathy and brother 'hood, resulting front our relation as childien of common parents, and members of one great Nuttily,—end of the plain teachings of Divine revelation,—man's duly to k..'s ne.:4•hbour is written in legible characters upon every phase of hu man sociel—felt in every contact with it. It it proclaimed with the utmost distinctness by the voice °Freese!' ; urged by every impulse of humanity; enfor ced by necessity'. Look around you a moment, and tell noe what eating, what regular pursuit of man, we. as n community, could spare. Which of what are called "the learned professions" I--what one of the various mechanical pursuits? Try the oNyeriment of dismissing from the public service, and dispensing with, ono tale: souther of the various lawful callings of nnon—tof the professional man, the farmer, the printer. the merchant, the weaver, tailor, halter, tat. tier, shoemaker, and on to the lust on the long list, and before you would be able to nay, AM INDEVENDENT, I LIVE UPON MY OWN RESOURCES. IEO OWE NO II tree ott n ESP.'S! neer To UTE ens," you would find yourself inhabiting a wi T wan t , or roving the wilderness in moccasins, and feeding upon dried fish and jerked venison! Every blessing we have, limn that peaceful security which encircles 1114 when we lie down and when we rise up—nay, front the means of developing and improving the mind, and storing it with useful knowledge, and of opening to the vision of the immortal soul its eternal destiny', down to the mere codvenienee of a road to mill, is conferred upon us through the instrtomen tolity of social aid. Every one receives benefits from society : every one Owen it duties: no one fills his place and discharges the responsibility incident to his social relation, who does not contribute somethirgr, in return, to the general welfare. No one is just ijinble in pursuing a business which does not, in, one degree, subserne the public weal. How few are there of such pursuits! When wo look abroad upon the farms and work-shops, the store-houses and manufac tories, upon every scene of active industry, and examine carefully the employ ments of the community, we find them ell moving and working together, like accurately adjusted parts of a piece of intricate machinery, far the prosperity and well being of the whole,—with one prominent and almost solitary exception— TIIE BUSINESS OF THE LIQUOR SELLER ! Every other regular call ing, with, perhaps, this one exception, does its part. The hengman, even, per fortits a necessary office. But who can point out one benefit which the too..loess of the liquor-seller, as such, confers upon the emit: nullity, in return fur the benefits and blessing it confers upon hint I Who can point cut the good it does I Who is there to stand up tool say it does ANY The business of the liquor-seller, to say the very least of it, oprds no rent benefits taany. V s iew- Mg it in the utmost charity. and in the most favoursble light, anti keeping in the back-ground, out of sight. all the inexpressible evil it works, it alone, of all other ell lin a followed amongst us, cheats society entirety of its dues—foils, utterly and always, to "render unto Caesar the things that are Cresar's." Society protects him: hut lie aids .t, by his lousiness, in extending protection to his fellow-1 ambers; or, if lon does, it is the protection the wolf gives the lanai! It feeds him;—anal it bites its hand! The useful callings of his fellow-numbers pro vide hint and his family with every necessary, every delicacy and convenience; and he glees them.—what nooses ! He makes no return. He is a delinquent in every duty. He is u eviler in society'—a mere pauper upon it bounty. If the community were to withdraw front hint, and leave him alone, he worth, starve; while his remove' from their midst, would be but the removal of a public charge, and would be hailed by thousands, with heart-felt sincerity, and in the purest benevolence, as a public blessing. 1. Here commences the liquor-seller's responsibility. It has a deeper (Minds lien than the abuse of an honest traffic by exorbitant enaction, without ren dering any reasonable equivalent in „ value." His Tot Ana, topanited from all its consequences, is, ix evert, a contravention of the fundamental laws of society ; a practical " repudiation" of the first obligation of man to his H ow , man.—of the citizen to the community,—of tho patriott of his country. IT is or NO REAL lIENEVIT TO ANY. If this were all, society might cancel his obligations, and release him from his responsibility. If he would caret nothing else, it might bid him reach out a more grasping hand, and take a yet. larger share, a Benjamin's pref., from that cosumen stock to which Iris business contributes nothing. But this is not all. Oh, that it were I It is but the beginning of his responsibility—hut a Bather to the ponderous loud with which he burdens the community, its suppor ting the idlers and paupers his busineNa makes. H. He not only tails to add to the common stork himself, but substracts largely front it. He not only does nothing for the public good, but prevents others from doing any thing—and robs the country of 'licit services, and but diens it wills their support, also. Mr own business is net merely tt. sties its dregs others into dissolute itileneaa, end seduces them front employment, whi c h are rat io ; which, unlike his own, the community cannot dispegsc with. It rEAEE4, ill truth, TO Sc a aver a Etis, When it erases to tempt - men from their lawful busi ness to his Isar— fo.ms their ellices and shops to his bar-room; to snake them idle, and drunken, and worthless—loungers and drunkards, if not paupers rind vagabond's. It ceases to yield him protit, the very moment it ceases to im poverish ;there, and rob the community ;--to clothe his children in silks and broadcloth, whets it erases to clothe the children of others its rugs ;—to support his family, when it ceases to beggar the families of others' Nothing could h e ! more evident. Every man has the witness of los reason, the testimony of his senses, that thi,, is true. Every one knows that the business of tire liquor-seller ! thus degrades rnultiliules from their apl•rupriale pests of useful.as in the corn- ! nmti ty—dissipatee t he skill, energy; eapaci ty. Mad industry, as !shit they are under obligators to employ for the public good. into dissolute idleness, and renders them yet more weeds's:ss than himself. All know• thin; for every neighbourhood has its examples—its scores of them. Eeu•h can form entire estimate of their immense stgregate multitude, loon the number he con count within n littlecircle around bhuself; and every one, capable of thinking, can furor some hunt hien of the innnense injury thus done to the counnunity.—the extent to which it is thus robbed end plundered of what is more essential to its we 11-tscisig than gold and silver,—by endeavouring to enswer te himself the question, „ what would that community be,—what benefits mid blessings would it confer s —what sympathy, shelter, and protection would it afford to any who might seek en asylum, and and a refuge in its bosom, if ALL its members were as entirely useless, as recreant and faithless to the obligations they owe to others, a. TILE sieron-smten, and this multitude of his half ruined victims?" And, descending one step lower in search of the inflictions of his useless business upon the social body, we see rags, and ignorance. and poverty, and squalidness, marking his tiack, and scattered broad-coat over the laud. They rise up into view wherever we turn our eyes.— They accompany liquor-selling as a part of its horrid retinue--of its trophies. Where it works, they are produced. They are its legitimate offspring—its cer tain and spontaneous fruit,. Oh, let each picture to himself the deplorable con dition of the community, if they were the furniture of every house, the inheri tance of every family, and prepare himself to sit in judgment between the liquor-seller and his country ! But to all these, he &tilde a heavy burden of rtetioripeeperism. Not content in withholding limo society its just claim upon liimself,—with inducing multi tudes of others to repudiate its fundamental laws, and defraud it of its just dues—with covering yet others of its members with poverty and rags —he set des this more nearly finished specimen of his sinecure trade, his actual pbuvers, upon "every ward, borough, and township!" ft is a truth, well known, that an amount equal to 1, if not a greater proportion, of the pauperism which con tinually taxes the cotmfry, is produced by liquor-selling. Let any one examine the private history of thole for otiose support he is taxed; end he will find t last at leant that proportion of them, have been reduced to that Filtration, by the direct or indirect agency of the liquor-seller: and that, but for him and his tei siness, they would in all probability be useful members of society, supporting themselves, and aiding, in the support of the very few whom miefortune might else have trade the proper objects of public bounty; And now, the community, aroused by injuries and burdens increased beyond the power of further endurance, front the lethargy in which it has been bound, fixes its eye steadily and sternly upon the liquor-seller, and calls him to accoun tability. And what can he answer Ile cannot deny the charge; for he j knows that it is true. He knows ha his ha art that his business is of rte benefit to sny. Ho knows that if liquor-selling land never cursed the land, the evils enumerated would not make it groan. lie knows this. All know it. To . deny it, would ho to deny what every ono knows, and, if candid, must acknowl edge to be true. lie cannot deny the charge. He would not dare to adduce,. in this scrutiny, his certificate of "heave reputable citizens.," though judicially endorsed, that what he has done was for "TIitiACCOMIIIIMATION or Tura reside!" exeuse then, what justification does he plead? With what argument will he justiliy his conduct to his own conscience, and before his accusers?-- Will he deny his obligations to his fallow-men, and to his country ? Will he pretend that lie h is u leers' right, while lie enjoys the public assistance and's, lei lien, to !ensue a business which contributes nothing, in return, to the public witare, even if that business did not return evil for good 1 And, if ho has not, I has he a right to absolve others from that obligation ; and make others idle and worthless I Will lie pretend that he has a right to make paupers, and tax the useful indt.stiy of the country with their support? Will he chum the right to live upon the labour, to rise upon the rant) of others? Or, will he say, in &Here ; gard of every obligst'en of duty,every impulse of gratitude, patriotism, and ha , annuity," thus I make a livelihood: it is my way of supporting my family ; cannut be accountable for the COW efitlelleeB of my business." Thia, indeed, is all lie can .y ; but let him reflect, before he ventures to mouth a plea so palpably ! and utterly basalt as. Let him not ruddy hazard a sup upon this last rotten plank. Let him take care! If the lawfulness or propriety of any business be judge? of only by the profit it yields to those who pursue it, there is no system !of robbery and extortion which this plea would not justify. It would justify; equally with himself, the slave-speculator—the usurer—the cheat--the gambler —the utterer of spurioue money—the highway-matt. He con neither deny, nor escape from the consequences of his business. And, let him know that the community, awake and determined, will hold him, before the bar of public opin- I jam where he is already arraigned, to a strict and severe accountability ! , Ita t object is not vengeance, but self-defence—self-preservation. It calls hot for res titution ; for that it knows he cannot make. It stands ready, on the contrary, to confer free forgiveness, unconditional pardon for the Fast, if ho would only desist from further injury in the future. And, if he rejects terms so reasonable, Ise gracious, let hint prepare to bear, unpitied, its ri,eliteous eondemnution i But he must answer to more serious charges. Those already considered, heady as they ere, dwindle into insignificance, in comparison with others to which he is equally obnoxious. Although no ono has a right to disregard the obligations, which he owes to the social body, without whew aid he could not live, and still less to make a trade of robbing the public of tho time slid toil of ethers, fitted by capacity, education, and habit, for usefulness, the active energies of the nation would still, perhaps, he able to carry it forward, in its onward march of prosperity, with the whole army of liquor-sellers, and the loungers, and paupers, and vagabonds they make, hanging to its skirts, end pressing it down. Poverty and ',every. in theinselvee considered, are not the worst of evils. The despised and afflicted beggar, spurned from the rich man's gate, to a participation with dogs in the crumbs that fall from his table, may he soon borne by angels, high above earth's keenest sorrows, to Abraham's bosom ! II lonest poverty,—poverty unstained by guilt,—may live a life of harmless res ignation, if not of usefulness, anal die with "hope of bliss beyond the grave." If the liquontrado spread abroad only such poverty, it, too, could be borne. 111. 'The liquor-seller is arraigned on the higher charge of flooding the land with crime. breathing upon it a moral pestilence, blightingthe enjoyment of its prosperity and destroying its peace. Most of, the feuds which rend it—of the crimes which agitate and distract it, and fill it with fear, and cover it with dia. grace,—are traced to a comtnon source in the grog-shop, where the liquor seller is stationed, holding the tund controlling the desolating tide. When his business is brisk, the sluices open wide, and the fiery torrent, Ile Is, from the crater of a vi lean°, burst. rapidly anal wildly, consuming what it touches, land withering anal blighting fitr beyond the touch of its waves. When his 1 sinees is doll, the remain is narrowed, and the area of the moral wefts) proper- I tionably ciacumseiibed. Crime and its consequences ebb arid flow, rise and fall; with alit' fluctuations in his undo. When he is most busy dealing out the mul -1 ning and demoralizing liquid, the courts are most busy trying violators of tho law amd disturbera of the peace. When the bar rooms are constantly crowded with customers, the prier,ns are tilled with convicts. When the liquor- seller's business is everywhere patronized and profitable, his country mourns, land weeps, anal bleeds. When prosperity in his trade brings joy to his home, and gladness to his heart, it fills many a home with anguish, and leaves in many u heart ‘• an netting void tho world can never fill." What a trade ! Yet such, in truth, it is !-- In the years 1834-5, when the number of taverns in this county averaged 74, the criminal prosecutions averaged 76 in each year-76 bills of indictment or suretiea of the peace; brought inte this room; in the I years 1841--2--3, the taverns averaged 42, and the public prosecutions 46 end then anal now, here and elsewhere. at least of the criminal prosecutions had and have their origin in fie se establishments for " the accommodation of the public." Examine the records of this court. and of every other court, and yeti will find something approaching this nice proportion between registereil grog shops and recorded crime. I have examined here;—go you and look, and see whether I speak the truth. And, having done so, ask the judges—ask the erns cars of the court—ask all who have been its constant attendants anal the partici pants in its business.—and they will all bear united testimony, that of the entries and misdemeanors which have thus been the subjects of investigation in court, and which have rent, and agitated, and taxed, and disgraced the county, and filled it with lamentation and mourning,"—of all that make up the black catalogue from the moat trivial misdemeanor to murder,—have resulted, directly or indirectly, from the cursed traffic in intoxicating liquors. Oh, it is true, that crime keeps even pace with the liaaor.seller's business!—true, Tare; and every man knows it ! Let our "landlords" come here and read this history of their doings in the docket of the court of Quarter Swede.: Let them compare the list of taverns with the list of indictments ! Let them examine, too; the re cord obituurice in the inquests qt' the coroner;, and ask, tui they read of one af ter another whose disfigured corpse had been picked up from the earth, and res. cued from the birds and wild beasts,--whose work was that ? And oh, if such et idence carries no conviction to their minds, no disquietude to their breasts. let it at least remind them of that record with which they may not sport! But why go tO records far evidence? Why- seek higher testimony than that of the senses Every eye has setel--every ear heard,--every member of the body politic felt, the awful truth. All know from personal observation that alinoet every affray, riot. assault and battery, or mob, that is ever breaking the public peace, and spreading Menu, and tenor, and insecurity. and devastation, and bleed-shed, through the community, is but the spirit of the grog-thop acted out in its reckless fury. 4.Plieee crimes are seldom witnessed when the liquor-seller is not abroad. They are the first fruits of inebit Mon. the commodity of hia traffic. The extreme poverty, idleness, ignorance, and depravity, which give birth to almost every other species of mildie crime which is continually mingling bitter ness arid sorrow in the cup of peblic happiness, poisoning the enjoynients of the community, and etinging its vitals, loop nut nisei' it front the saute Pandora's box. Let limineselling prover and Jilinw itself universally as-to throw its virus, and breath its demoralizing breath ilea every home, and who need be informed that the whole land would be converted into a Pandimenium l Let liquor-selling wane and waste until its blighting influence be no longer known, and who need be told that the whole land, relieved from this plague end parent of plagues, would rise and glow in the beauty, revel iu the peace, and joy in the innocence. of a comparative Eden! Huntingdon, April 19, 1844, - -".,d,naacmacE) ZE'Scc). -k(Me3B. ;r4INCITAION NEXT WET,.