HINTI)GDO'N JOURNAL, Itetioteli to emeriti. iintetttgente, abberttotitg, Votttico, ILtterature, ViXoratttg, Art% ticitreo, Marttulturc, antuocincitt, Szt., Scr. dtl4Cl. PUBLISHED BY THEODORE H. CREMER. L = 4 Cliwa. , - 01 , ,GZS. The "Joon NAL " will be published every Wed liestlay morning, at '3 2 00 a year, if paid in advance, and if not paid within six months, $2 50. Nu subscription received for a shorter period than nix months, nor any paper discontinued till all ar rearas'es are paid. Advertisinuents not exceeding one square, will be inserted three times for $1 00, and for every subse quent insertion 25 cents. If no definite orders are given an to the time an advertisement is to be continu ed, it will be kept in till ordered out, and charged ac cordingly. PICTURE OF HEALTII.—HeaIth is charactvrised in an individual by the ab sence f all pain, suffering or affection in any part of his body by the free and regu lar exercise of all his functions without any exception. They consist in having a good appetite at meal times, an easy digestion, free evacuations, without looseness or cos tiveness at least once in every twenty-four hours, and without heat, dryness, or burning at the passage ; the free issue of water with out acrimony or burning, and without a red dish sediment which is always a sign of a present or an approachingpain ; quiet sleep without agitation or troublesome dreams ; no taste of bile or other bad taste in the mouth upon rising in the morning ; no sour ness or disagreeable rising of the stomach ; a clean tongue ; a sweet breath ; no itching, pimples or spots on the skin ; no piles ; no burning heat upon any part of the body ; no excessive thirst when unexposed to tuber or other known cause ; no interruption to any natural evacuation, nor pain at their period ical return. Where the state of the system does not harmonize with the above picture of health, it is of the greatest importance that no time be lost in sending for a doctor, or in the use of foolish remedies too often the result of speculation ; instead of this course let a dose of Brandreth's Pills be taken, which wilt not deceive, but will at once restore health to the organ or part that requires it. All who wish to preserve their hea!th, all who are determined to defend their life against the encroachments of disease which might send them prematurely to the grave, will, without hesitation, have recourse to the Brandreth Pills, when the state of the sys tem does not harmonize with the above pic ture of herilth. Those who live in a country where conta gions (mother diseases prevail, should often think of this true picture of health, and ob r. himself with particular attention, in e. siT% . cieliper aotocciertiflOy. Ths wise anti ghtly directed will foitiow this advice--the -unwise are left totheif own destruction. DOrandreth's Pins\ are for sale by the follotwityg Agents in this county. Wm. Stewart, Huntingdon. _ Mlarlanq, Gpriiml<cci, - Hollidaysburg. & N. CresswilleVVetersburg. Moore & Swoopls, Alexandria. Hartmito & Smith, Minor Hill. Thomas M. Owens, Birmingham. A. Patterson, Williamsburg. r t .. The above are the only authoriged agents in Huntingdon county. Sept. 11, 1844.-6 m. '}'SUDDEN DEATH, APOPLEXY, BURST , iNG OF VESSELS, Ste. —Wright's Indian Ve getable Pills are certain to prevent the at hove dreadful consequences, because they purge from the body those morbid humors which, when floatirg in the general circu lation, are the cause of a determination or rush of blood to the head, a pressure upon the brain, and other dreadful results,— From two to six of said Indian Vegetable Pills, taken every night, on going to bed, will in a short time so completely cleanse the body from every thing that is opposed to health that sudden death, apoplexy, bursting of blood vessels, or indeed any mal ady, will be in a manner impossible. Wright's Vegetable Indian Pills also aid and improve digeston, and purify the blood and therefore give health and vigor to the whole frame, as well as drive disease of every name from the body. Beware of Counterfeits.—The public are cautioned against the many spurious medi ones which in order to deceive are made in outward appearance, closely to resem ( ble the above wonderful Pills. OBSERVE.—Purchase only of the adver tised agents, or at the office of the Gener al Depot, No. 169 Race street, Philadel phia, and he particular to ask for WRIGHT' Indian Vegetable Pills. The geiiinne medicines can he obtained at the store of Wm. Stewart, Huntingdon. $4 REWARD ---Strayed or stolen from the subscriber living in Huntingdon, about the first of August last, a large red and white cow, with small crumpled horns, a good deal of white along the back, red sides and neck, spotted legs, and 5 years old ; sup posed to have calved some time in the be ginning of August. The above reward will be given if said cow and calf are brought to the subscriber, or for the cow only. THOMAS C. MASSEY, Huntingdon, Oct. 2. 1844. AUDITOR'S NOTICE.--Take notice, that the undersigned auditor, appointed by the Orphans' Court of Huntingdon county, to audit and adjust the administration ac count of Eliza Firmer, late Eliza Port, sur viving administratrix of the estate of Chris tian Port, late of Walker township, deed., to which exceptions have been filed, will for that purpose attend at the office of David Blair, Esq., in Huntingdon, on Friday, the Bth day of November next, at 1 o'clock, P. M., when and where all persons interested may attend. JACOB' MILLER, Oct. 16, 1844-4 t. Auditor. BLANK DEEDS, of an improved form, for sale at this office. Mao BLANK PETITIONS FOR N.HTURALIZATION. L,.CTLSZ:3'CMII.U) I:gck.)'QrLo.l:cua z2EE34C.4a. POETRY. From the Western Literary Journal, for Nov. Truth and Freedom. 137 WILLIAM D. GALLAGHER. "He is the F EIMAN whom the TRUTH makes free, And all are slaves beside."—Cowper. For the TRUTH, then, let us battle, WhatsoeVer fate betide: Long the boast that we are FREEMENj We have made and publish wide. Ho who has the truth and keeps it, Keeps what not to him belohgs, But performs a selfish action, That his fellow mortal wrongs. He who seeks the Truth, and tremblei At the dangers he must brave, Is not fit to bo a Freeman :.-- He, at least, is but a slave. Ho who hears the Truth, nfid placed Its high promptings under ban, Loud may boast of all that's manly, But can never be a me, Friend, this simple lay who readest, Bo not thou like either them,— But to Truth give utmost freedom, And the tide it raises, stem. Bold in speech, and bold in action, Be forever !--Time will test, Of the free-soul'd and the slavish, Which fulfills life's mission best. Be thou like the noble Roman-- Scorn the threat that bids thee fear; Speak!—no matter what betide thee; Let them strike, but make them hear! Be thou like the first Apostles— Bo thou like heroic Paul, If a free thought seek expression, Speak it boldly !—speak it all! Face thine enemies --accusers; Scorn the prison, rack, or rod! And, if thou has; Ta UT/I to utter, Speak ! and leave the rest to God. • IvIIEICML:a.A.NEOUO. A LOVE STORY; ONE I'm INCLINED 19 Believe, Late one night in June two gentlemen arriverat the Villa Hotel of the Baths of Lucca. They stepped from the low britz ka in which they travelled, and leaving a servant to make arrangements for their lodging, linked arms and strolled up the road toward the banks of the Lima. The moon was chequered at the moment with the poised leaf of the tree-top, and as it passed from her face, she rose and stood alone in the steel blue of the unclouded heavens—a luminous and tremulous plate of gold. And you know how beautiful must have been the night—a June night in Italy, with a moon at the full ! A lady, with a servant following her at a little distance, passed the travellers on the bridge of the Lima. She dropped her veil and went by in silence. But the Freyherr felt the arm of his friend trem ble within his own. " Do you know her, then?" asked Von Leisten: By the thrill in my veins we have met before," said Clay ; but whether this involuntary sensation was pleasurable or painful, I have not yet dicided. There are none 1 care to meet—none who can be here." He added the last few words after a moment's pause, and sadly. They walked in silence to the base of the mountain, busy each w*.th such color ing as the moonlight threw on their thu'ts, but neiher of them was happy. Clay was humane and a lover of nature —a poet, that is to say—and, in a world so beautiful, could never be a prey of dis gust; but he was satisfied with the com mon emotions of life. His heart, forever overflowing; had filled many a cup with love, but with strange tenacity he turned back forever to the first. He was weary of the beginnings of love—weary of its probations and changes. He had passed that period when inconsistency was tempt ing. lie longed, now, for an affection that would continue into another world—holy and pure enough to pass a gate guarded by angels. And his first love—reckless ly as he had thrown it away—was now the thirst of I► is existence. It was two o'clock that night. The moon lay broad upon the southern balco nies of the hotel, and every casement was open to its luminous and fragrant still ness. Clay and the Freyherr Von Leisten, each in his apartment; were awake, un- willing to lose the luxuary of the night. And there was one other under that root, waking, with her eyes fixed on the moon. As Clay leaned his head on his hand ; and looked outward to the sky, his heart began to be troubled. There was a point in the path of the 'noon's rays where his spirit turned back. There Was an influ ence abroad in the dissolving moonlight around him which resistlessly awakened the past—the sealed, but unforgotten past. He knew not whether it was fear or hope --pain or pleasure. He called, through the open window, to Von Lenten. The Freyherr, like himself, and like all who have outlived the effervescence of life, was enamoured of the night. A moment of unfathomable moonlight was dearer to him than hours disenchanted with the sun. He, too, had been looking outward and upward--but with no trouble at his heart. " The night was inconceivably sweet," he said, as lie entered, " and your voice called in my thought and sense from the intoxication of a revel. What would you, my friend 7" "I am restless, Von Loisten ! There is some one near us whose glances cross mine on the moonlight, and agitate and perplex me. Yet there is but one on earth deep enough in the life-blood of my being to move me thus—even were she here And thels not here !" His voice trembled and softened, and the last word was scarcely audidle on his closing lips, for the Freyherr had passed his hands over him while he spoke, and ho had fallen into the trance of the spirit world. • Clay and Von Leisten had retired from the active passions of life together; and had met and mingled at that moment cf void and thirst when each supplied the want of the other. The Freyherr was a German noble; of a character passionate ly poetic: mul of singular acquirement in the mystic fields of knowledge. Teo wealthy to need labor, and too proud to submit his thoughts or his attainments to the criticism or judgment of the world, he lavished on his own life, and on those linked to him in friendship, the strange powers he had acquired, and the prodigal OM ;low of his daily thought and feeling. Clay was superior, perhaps, in genius, and necessity had driven him to develdpe the type of his inner-soul, and leave its im. press on the time; but he was-inferior to Von Leisten on the power of will, and he lay in his control like a child in its mo ther's. Four years they had passed to.. gether—much of it in the acluded castle of Von Leisten, busied with the occult studies to which the Fryherr *as secretly devoted—but travelling down to Italy to meet the luxurious summer, and dividing their lives between the enjoyment of na ture, and the ideal world they had un locked. Von Leisten had lost, Ly death the human altar on which his heart could alone burn the incence dl' love, and Clay had flung aside in en hour of intoxicated passion the pure affection in which his happiness was sealeti—and both were desolate. But in the world of the past, Von Leisten, though more irrevocably lone, was more tranquilly blest. Th e Freyherr released the entranced spirit of his friend, and bade him follow bad: the rays of the moon to the source l i of his agitation. smile crept slowly over the sleeper's In an apartment flooded with thesilver lustre of the night, reclined, in an inva. lid's chair, propped with pillows, a wo man of singular, though most fragile beauty. Books and music lay strewn around, and a lamp, subdued to the tone of the moonlight by an orb of alabaster, burned beside her. She lay bathing her blue eyes in the round chalice of the moon. A profusion of brown ringlets fell over the white dress that enveloped her, and her oval cheek lay supported on the palm of her hand, and her bright red lips were parted. The pure yet passion ate spell of that soft night possessed her. Over her leaned the disembodied spirit of bin• who had once loved her—praying to God that his soul might be so purified as to mingle untarryingly, unrepulsively, in hallowed harmony with her's. And presently he felt the coming of angels to wards him, breathing into the deepest abysses of his existence a tearful and purifying sadness. And with a trembling aspiration of grateful humility to his Maker, he stooped to her forehead, and with his impalpable lips impressed upon its snowy tablet a hiss. It seemed to Eve Gore a thought of the past that brought the blood suddenly to her cheek. She started from her reclining position, and, removing the obscuring shade from her lamp, arose and crossed her hands tupon her wrists and paced tkoughtfully to and fro. Her lips mur mured inarticulately. But the thought, painfully though it came, changed unac countably to a melar.choly sweetneas,and, subduing her lamp again, she resumed her stentifast gaz:! upon the moon. Earnest knelt beside her, and with his invisible brow bowed upon her hand, pour ed forth in the voiceless language ai the soul, his memories of the past, his hope, his repentence, his pure and passionate adoration at the present hour. And thinking she had been in a sweet dream, yet wondering at its truthfulness and power, Eve wept, silently and long. As the morning touched the East, slumber weighed upon her moistened eyelids, and kneeling by her bedside she murmured her gratitude to God . fcr a heart relieved of a burthen long borne, and so went peacefully to her sleep. * * * It was in the following year in the beginning of May. The gay world of England was congregated in London, and at the entertainments of noble houses there were many beautiful women and many marked men. The Freyherr Von. Leisten, after years of absence, • had ap. peaved again, his mysterious and undeni able superiority of men and influence • again yielded to, as before, and again to his feet the homage and defer enceSif the crowd he tad moved among. To Uis inscrutable power the game of so• ciety was easy, and he walked where he would through its barriers of form. He stood one night looking on at a dance. A lady of a noble air was near him, and both were watching 016 move ments of the loveliest woman present, a creature of radient health, apparently, about twenty-three, and of matchless fascination of person and manner. Von Leisten turned to the lady near him to en quire name, but his attention was arrested by the resemblance between her and the object of his admiring curiosity, and she was silent. The Lady had bowed before he with drew his gaze, however. think we have met before P' she said ; but at the next instant a slight flush of displeasure came to her cheek, and she seemed regretting that she had spoken. " Pardon me :" said Von Leisten, but if the question be not rude•—do yen remember where 1" She hesitated a moment. "I have recalled it since I have spo ken," she continued, " but, as the remem brance of the person who accompanied you always gives me pain, I would have willingly unsaid it. One evening of lust year, crossing the bridge of the Lima— you were walking withllr. Clay. Pardon me—but though I left Lucca with my daughter on the following morning, and saw you no more, the association, or your appearance, had imprinted the circum stance on my mind." "And is that Eve Gore ?" said Von Leisten musingly, gazing on the beautiful creature now gliding with light step to her mother's side. But the Freyherr's heart was gone to h►s friend. As the burst of the waltz broke in upon the closing of the quadrille, he of fered his hand to the fair girl, and as they moved round with the entrancing music, he murmured in her ear, He who came to you in the moonlight of Italy will be with you again, if you are alone, at the rising of to•r.ight's late moon. Believe the voice that then speaks to you ?" It was with implacable determination that Mrs. Gore refused, to the entreaties of Von Leisten, a renewal of Clay's ac• quaintance with her daughter. Resent ment for the apparent recklessness with which he had once sacrificed her maiden love for an nnawful passion— scornful un belief of any change of its characte'r— distrust of the future tendency of the powers of his genius—all mingled together in a hostility against persuasion. She had expressed this with all the positiveness of language v hen her daughter entered the rosin. 1t was the morning after the ball, and she had risen late. But though sub , clued and pensive in her air, Von Leisten saw at a glance that she was happy. '• Can you bring him to me?" said Eve, letting her hand remain in Von Leisten's, and bending her deep blue eyes inquiring ly on his. And with no argument but tears and caresses, and an unexplained assurance of her conviction of the repentant purity and love of him to whOm her heart was once given, the confiding and strong.hear ted girl bent, at last, the stern will that forbade her happiness. Her mother un clasped the slight arms .hon her neck, and gave her band in silent consent to Von Leisten. The Freyherr stood a moment with his eyes fixed on the ground. The color fled from his cheeks, and his brow moistened. "I have called him I" said lie will 'do here !" An hour elapsed, and Clay entered the house. He had risen From a bed of sick ness, and came, pale in terror--:or the spirit summons was powerful. But Von Leisten welcomed him at the door with a smile, and withdrew the mother from the room ; and left Ernest alone with his Fu ture bride—the nrst union save in spirit, after years of separation. MicaVoggin's Lettor. The folloil:ing letter is taken from the Danvers (Mass.) %'hig ; which introducea it with the following remarks : IMPORTANT LETTER ! 1 !—We make nu apolog for presenting the fol lcwMg letter to our readers, and only say it was not stolen and was not "picked up in the mud." If Patrick will call upon us, we will expiain the manner in which - we came by it to his entire satisfaction. Letter from APatrick McNoggin in Dan vers, America—to Micl4ael O'Flanagan, ICelmore, Ireland. MICHAEL T. 7 DEARY :—The top o' the morning to you Michael, and can't you pick up your little bit things, and be af ther coming over to this blessed counthry ; and bring Swaney, and Bridget, and the twins, and Patrick, and little Michael, and the other twins, and the baby, and the rest of 'em ? And if you'll be afther coming, you can live on the best of par aties, that can be had for the diggin, and then you can have coffee and paraties in the morning, and paraties and tay at night, and mate and paraties for dinner seven (lays in the week besides Fridays, when you know the Praste won't let us have any mate. Its a land o'liberty, Mi chael, and we want the sons of the Grane Isle to come over and help us to make a Praisident—and whats that Patrick ? says you. I'll tell you Michael. It's the man that rules the Yankees, and gives the offices to the Irishmen. I want you to come this blessed month, and help us choose Jemmy O'Poke for Praisident and he's as guile an Irishman as any of us, only he wasn't burn in his own native counthry. It's he that was spa ker of the House, when they wouldn't let him spake at all. Now, when you come over here Michael, my honey, and the big-bellied man from the Custom House tells you to hurrah for Young Bakery, he manes Jemmy O'Poke, that's the son of Zakiel O'Poke, his grand father. But afther all, Jemmy aint the son of his own father, he's the darlin child of Ould Hakery Jackson, and Ould Ha kery's mother, you know, was an Irishman. I tell you Mike, this is a great counthry, where you can dig on the rail-road in summer, and live in the Workhouse all winter, for nothing at all, and no tint to pay. The Americans have got a great ugly thing here, they call the Tariff, but what it is, it puzzles the likeso' me to tell ye. They say it's a great fence across the har bors, and all round America. to keep of everything the Yankees can make their• `cga7Uacazillaa 3clD. 440,(Z)C1D,- selves. So you see, Michael, it makes the Americans have all their own work to do, and, what is worst of all, they get all the money for dojo' it. Now Mike. that's what I calls dialing. it makes 'em live In their nate houses, and wear their good clothes, and ate their coffee and tay, and drink their mate and Para- aties, and go to their heretick churches— and aint that downright dialing all the good Catholics in Kilmore. Now Michael We're a nice cobbler, and no mither's son in Kilmore can bate you in making a brogue, or tapping a shoe— and, supposin you wants to Make fifty brogues, for me and Rory O'Scroggin, and the rest of us thats diggin on the Danvers railroad. Don't ye just go to Kilkenny, and buy your leather of Tom. my d'Hide, the tanner, and don't ye git Benny Mcßlubber to carry it? And don't you go to Deoblin and git your lasts, snd your tools, and your pegs, and your lining skins, and binding skins?— And don't you cut out your brogues, and then git Billy Dnon and Sawney co . rffia that's glad to get tenpence a day, to maku 'em up? And then, don't you git M'Adze, the carpenter, to make a nate box to put 'em in, and don't you mark it On the top in this way : To Patrick Mc No <4in this side up, VROM KILMORE, IRELAND, TO PATRICK in AMERICA, Danvers 50 Brogues fro; Michael O'Flawagan. And then Michael, don't you sind it to me, and I and Rory, and the rest of us git our brogues for 50 cents, instead of giving Misthet• Manning, and Mr. Dane, the Yankee brogue makers, a Dollar?-- No we don't Michael. And why says you. Wait a bit and I'll tell you, says I. This great lubberly Tariff sticks up his fence in Boston harbor, and stops your nice box of brogues, and tells Pathrick M'Noggin, (and that's me) and Rory, and the rest of us, you can't have your brogues until you pay Uncle Sam enough money to make 'em cost more than Mis titer Manning's and Alisther Dane's Yan kee brogues do." Now I ask you, Michael, aint Chas cha teing you ? And don't it chate Billy Doon, and Sawney o'Toole, that made the brogues And doesn't it chate Totnmy M'Hide, the Tanner, and Benny M'Bub bler, the Currier And isn't it chateing the Duoblin folks that made the lasts, and the tools; and the peg ? And aint it chateing the farmer that sells the paraties, and the carpenter, Al'Adte, who made the bbx, and the Prasie you confess to, and the Docther that cured Sawney O'- Toole's ninth child of the typhus fever. I say, Mike, don't you in Ireland, and England, and Germany, and France, and all about there, want good houses and mate and lay, as well as the Yankees 1-- And aint the men that makes brogues in Kilinore every bit as good as Misther Manning, and Misther Dane, and the men that's doin' their work? And can't them live in mud houses, and ate paraties with out any salt, as well as Billy Doon and Sawney O'Toole Then come over and vote fur Young llakery, that's for the Re pale of the Tariff. Rtpule lis the word in America, as well as Ould Ireland. From Yours, PATHRICK M'NOGGIN P. S. I'm done now, Michael, and send this by the good stainer Hibernia, and hope you'll get it before she gets there.— The Yankees are going to have another kind al a stainer, that aint no stainer at all, but it sends tethers by thunder and lightning, so Michael, can't I send you a tether before it is writ, and get an answer before I sind it. PATIIRICK. Powder Mill Explosion, One of the mills belonging to the Haz ard Powder Company, in Enfield, Mass., containing about six hundred pounds of powder, was blown up on the 16th inst.,— There were three men in the mill at the time, viz ; Nelson McClester, Gilbert M. Durree and William Prickett, who were so badly injured that death was the con sequence. Millerism is rampant again in New York, Boston nod Miladylphia.
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