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.