lIMUNGDON JOURINAL.
BY JAMES CLARK :3
VOL. XI, NO. 46.
4 E4" CD UP MEI 6:30
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POETICAL.
For the Journal,
LINES.
Hall, meek-eyed Peace ! wher'er thy footstep. stray,
Contentment still attends thy devious way,
Or in the vales or on the mountain's strand,
And 'neat!' thy arm Pomona crowns the land,
Shakes her sweet blossoms from the scented trees,
Bids the wild perfume float upon the breeze,
The shoots to spring, the tender flowers to glow
In all the colors of the sky. drawn bow ;
Wealth, at thy touch, like wisdom's heavenly birth,
Springs forth matured, and from the teeming earth
Young Gladness smiles to view the rip'ning grain,
With russet mantle robe the bashful plain :
Shouts to behold the simple hamlet rise,
And blue smoke wreathing upward to the skies.
Parent of Plenty ! when, with sorrowing eye,
From cherished haunts thou art compelled to fly,
Who bears the brands, and o'er the scene afar
Invokes the presence of unsparing War;
The linstock waves, and wakes the sulph'rous roar,
'Until, affrighted, thou art seen no more,
Employed the strength thou nurtured for thy tan,
And nerves his homicidal arm—but man!
Yes, man prepares to point the cannon's breath,
Winged, as the simoom, with the shafts of Death,
And to the glad and peaceful earth impart
The desolation of his fiery heart.
In vain may Pity plead to him to spare,
Her voice finds no responsive token there;
In vain the harmless villager may fly,
In van may stand, his foemen to defy !
Red pours the volley ! on his native plain,
He sinks, unheard of, ne'er to rise again.
What! shall the warrior stay in 'mad career,
To lend to craven prayers a pliant ear,
Forsake the sword, for Justice' equal scale,
The prize of valor for some love-sick tale,
Weigh every act—preceptive morals read,
And live forgetful of a soldier's !need!
A soldier's weed 1 Aye, murder, burn, destroy,
Involve a world in strife—the bane of joy !
Be thou a demon, and delight in blood—
. Provide for death—his fill of human food.
Wrap towns in flames, go sear the earth's rich sod,
And desecrate the temple of thy God !
Traffic with life—ambitious to be great,
And hide thy crimes in ceremonial state—
Assume a crown, and prate of " right divine,"
And own no other will to guide but thine:
Then look to man to herald forth thy praise
. In tones of prose and panegyric lays;
-'And bid posterity inscribe thy name
in the high temple of ethereal Fame;
,Thy name! 'twill last beyond the enduring stone,
A beacon, flaming to lead others on;
To be as thou wer't, to mankind, or worse,
To ape thy deeds, and live thy fellow's curse;
And such is man ! a tyrant or a slave,
Inured to suffering, he's " ignobly brave,"
Resign. his person to a madman's will,
Whose freaks of humor either spare or kill:
Or, w rongly nurtured, runs the race of crime,
To wih an Immortality from TIME
HVNTINGDON, PA
MISCELLANEOUS.
THE TWO SAM DANA'S;
OR, TURNING OVER A NEW LEAF.
" Dad, I'm going to turn over a new
leaf next week," said Sam Dana, junior,
to his parental projector, Sam Dana,
senior—they were hoeing corn together
near the Dana family domicil, in the
town of Bow.
The two Sam Danas looked as near
alike as two peas, especially Sam, junior;
he looked a shade younger, otherwise he
:night have been taken for a chip of the
Old block, block and all. At the sound
of the other's voice, the elder Dana rest
ed his chin on the end of his hoe-handle,
and peered at his sturdy offspring, as if
doubtful of the meaning and intent of
the familiar words. Sam, junior, imme
diately fixed himself in a similar posi
tion, fixed his sharp hazel eyes on that
of his "clad," and went on. "Yes, dad,
I'm, going to turn over a new leaf.—
You've often told me to do it. Next
week, you know, Pm one and twenty,
out of my time, I'm oil: You see, dad,
I've worked on this patch of land ever
since I was born, and I calculate I've
been a smart boy—haven't I 1" (Sam,
senior, nodded his head.) " Well, if I
always stay here, I shall always be a
smart boy and nothing else. I want to
go round; I want to see the fashions; I
want to speculate ; I want to be some
body ; I want to put the dollars in my
pocket—darn it dad ; I want to go it, I
will go it—l'm off. I've made up my
mind, no use to say nothing, can't alter
me. Pm going, going, g-o-i-n-g, gone!
—the day my time is out, I'm g-o-n-e,
gone ! What do you say to that 1"
" Say 1-1 say you're a jackass !"
" Dad, I calculate you're mistaken."
" Well, perhaps you'll be sure to make
one of yourself, if you ain't."
"Dad, I calculate you'll find yourself
mistaken."
"I tell you, Sam, now that you'll be
sorry. I did just so when I was out of
my time ; I cleared out from home, and
before I had been gone for three weeks,
I was glad to get back again, and you'll
be in that same predicament in less than
a week, or I'm no judge of horseflesh."
"Dad, I've heard you say a thousand
times that every generation grows wiser!
now I calculate that I am one generation
wiser than you were at my age. I'm
going—no kind of use to talk agin it."
The dialogue closed ; they eyed each
other sharply for a moment ; the senior
Dana raised his chin from the end of his
hoe-handle, grasped it firmly, and re
newed his labor with the strength of two
men. Sam, junior, followed suit with'
none the less of energy in his manner,'
and side by side they continued at work
for an hour without a word spoken by
either, digging as if for dear life. The
elder Dana was evidently working him
self into a fever of passion ; at last he
came to a stand still, at the same moment
ejaculating a stentorian Sam !"
Sam came to a full stop, straightened
up with a no less emphatic " Dad !"
" What in thunder are you working so
fast for," demanded the senior, and at it
he went again still harder than before,
and after him went Sam, the younger, as
hard as lie could dig, and if the dinner
horn had not sounded a moment after,
they would have worked themselves out
of their boots. The moment they heard
the horn, the elder Dana shouldered his
hoe, and struck a bee line for the house.
Sam followed in the steps of his prede
cessor, filed into the shed, hung their
hoes in their proper places with military
precision—next into the wash-room,
washed their hands and faces with the
same silent emphasis that had distin
guished their hoeing for the last hour—
wiped, adjusted their hair, shot into the
dining-room, and down to the table they
sat face to face, and again they looked
fiercely at each other._
" YOu're a fool !" said Sam Dann.
"You're my dad!" said the other Sam.
" You're going to make a fool of your
self."
" I calculate not," quietly replied Sam.
" What's the matter now 1" asked
Mrs. Dann.
4 ‘ That boy, that boy's the matter,"
said her husband, in tones that told his
feelings were somewhat ruffled.
" Why, Sam, what have you been do•
ing _ _ _
'° Nothing, mother, only talking a lit ,
tle 1"
" Only talking 1 do you hear that 1
he says he's only talking—did you ever
hear anything like that 1"
" Well, dad, did I do anything else V'
" Do 1 did 1 you talked like a aol, Sam.
"Now, husband, do keep cool, and
tell me what the trouble is—you get so
wrathy if things don't go to suit you—
now what's the matter I"
" Ask Sam."
" Sam, what is the matter 1"
Z. "Ask dad."
" Well, I guess you had better cat
your dinners, and you'll feel better after
it," replied Mrs. Dana pettishly, puck
ering up her mouth and nose slightly,
perhaps contemptuously. . _
.. . .
Dinner disappeared wonderfully quick
—the elder Sam laid to it with great
strength and speed; the younger Sam
kept his eye on his author and strove to
keep pace with him in all his movements
—they finished together; they left the
house in precise order; they shouldered
their hoes as orderly as veterans ; they
re-commenced their labors in the field
at the same moment ; and together, for
near two hours, they toiled as if hoeing
for a wager—the silence was broken by
a sharp, quick " Sam !" from the elder
Dana, at the same instant coming to a
stop,_. .
"Well!" was the instant reply.
"Go to the tailor and got measured
for a freedom suit"—and at it they went
again; another half hour passed in si
lence, and then came again, " Sam !"
" Well," said the indivival.
"I'll give you $lOO to start with."
Another half hour passed ; they be
gan to slacken their speed.
" Sam 1"
"Well 1"
" What are you going to do V'
"Going peddling !"
They hoed a full hour at a moderate
pace.
" Sam V'
" W ell 1"
" I'll give you the red horse and
wagon." _ _
A. few minutes more of moderate hoe
ing, and the elder Dana " guessed" that
it was time to drive up the cattle, ro
Sans started for the pasture, and the fa
ther started for the house—the trouble
was all over.
CORRECT PRINCIPLES-SUPPORTED BY TRUTH.
HUNTINGDON, PA., DECEMBER 2, 1846.
Sam went to town for his freedom
suit—his old clothes were nicely mend
ed, washed and packed away in his
chest—•his mother and sisters were busy
all the remaining time of his minority,
" fixin' off Sam," and when the •day
came for him to leave home, all were
pleasant, and with a light heart he drove
off.
Sam was happy. After he had driv
en over the hill, he pulled up his horse
to have a talk to himself. Said he—
" I'm a man—Sam, you're a man; twen
ty-one yesterday—old horse, you're
mine—Sam owns you—old wagon, 1
own you—you're Sam's property—a
cool hundred in your pocket, Sam—a
chest full of clothes—(here he threw
open the lid)—twenty pairs of socks,
sixteen shirts, and lots of drawers—a
suit of new clothes, bright buttons, six
pairs of new boots, and what is this I—
two nice pies, some cheese, and a pound
cake—that's the gal's work. 1 own the
whole of this crowd—horse, wagon,
chest, contents and driver, ha, ho !" and
Sam laughed long and loud ; then he
helloed, shouted, laughed again, speech
ified to the old horse, talked to Sam,
drummed on his chest, crowed, barked,
cackled, imitated everything lie could
think of, by turns. Sam Dana was a
happy fellow—quite crazy with joy.
Sam drove on. An hour and a half
after he left his father's house, he hitch
ed his horse in front of the Melville
pottery. With the proprietor he bar
gained for a little load of earthen ware,
such as milk-pans, bean-pots, jugs, &c.
agreeing to settle for the load as soon
as he could turn it into cash, and then
take another on the same terms, and so
continue as long as the arrangement
should be agreeable to both parties.—
His load was soon selected, carefully
packed in his wagon, and away he
drove. After proceeding a few miles
over the country, Sam stopped his horse
and took a bird's-eye inventory of his
load, calculated his probable profits if
he had good luck, lunched off his mince
pies and cheese, and was just preparing
to mount and drive on to market, when
his horse took a sudden fright and start
ed off like a deer. Sam pursued, yell
ing "`Whoa," like a madman. The old
horse sheered off the side of the road,
and over went the wagon, down a steep,
rugged bank—the body parted from the
forward weels—chest and earthen ware
went helter-skelter in crashing, smash
ing confusion down the precipice. Sam
stopped a moment, gave a prolonged
whistle, and dashed after his horse as
fast as his legs could carry him. At
the end of an hour and a half's chase he
returned, and after considerable trouble
he succeeded in getting his wagon to
gether, gathered up his clothing which
had been disturbed in the general smash,
collected in a heap the fragments of his
load, and took a parting look at it, with
the consoling remark, that it was of no
use to cry for spilt milk. He then mount
ed his cart and drove off to a neighbor
ing tavern, where he put up for the night.
Next morning, in good season, Sam Dana
hitched his horse in front of the Melville
pottery, and made his way into the count
ing room.
" Well, Mr. Dana," said the proprie
tor, "have you turned your load so
quick 1"
" Yes, sir," said Sam, triumphantly,
"I have turned it, and 1 can turn fifty
loads more."
" Is it possible 1 Well, you shall have
just as many loads as you want."
" I guess I'll settle for the load I took
along yesterday," said Sam.
The bill was produced, Sam paid the
cash, and merely remarked that he
did'nt know as he should want any
more ware—wished the potter a good
day, mounted his chest, and drove in
the direction of Bow.
On arriving at his homestead, he un
harnessed his old horse, turned him out
to feed, lugged his chest up stairs to its
old place, rigged himself out in his
working suit, shouldered his hoc, made
for the cornfield and went to work. Sam
Dana, jr., is entirely cured of his stray
ing notions ; he says he got cured for
something less than fifty dollars, and he
intends in future to keep clear of all at
tacks of the troublesome complaint ; in
short, he means to spend his days in
the land where lie was brought up, free
and happy, turning the soil for a sure
return of profits and independent liveli
hood. Sam Dana is a sensible fellow;
and there are others who might as well
profit by his experience and example.
STRANGE BEDFELLOW.—At a ladies
temperance meeting not long since, one
of the members remarked that the Tem
perance cause had been a blessing to
her—" for," added she, "I slept with a
Barrel of Runs for ten years, but now,
since my husband signed the pledge, I
have a Man to sleep with. Then all the
spinsters laid their hands on their hearts,
and said—. !
MONTEREY.
We were not many—we who stood
Before the Iron steel that day—
Yet many a gallant spirit would
Give hull his years if he but could
Have been with us at Monterey.
Now here, now there, the shout is hailed
In deadly drifts of fiery 'Tray,
Yet not a single soldier quailed
,'hen wounded comrades round them wailed
Their dying shout at Monterey.
And on—still on our column kept
Through walls of flame its withering wly,
Where fell the dead, the living stept,
Still charging on the guns which swept
The slippery streets of Monterey.
The foe himself recoiled aghast,
When, striking wnero he strongest lay,
We swooped his flanking batteries past,
And braving full their murderous blast,
Storming home the towers of Monterey.
Our banners on those turrets wave,
And there our evening bugles play:
Where orange boughs above their grave
Keep green the memory of the bravo
Who fought and fell at Monterey.
We are not many—we who prised
Beside the brave who fell that day ;
But who of us have not confesed
He'd rather share their warrior rest,
Than not have been at Monterey.
STICK TO IT,
In Lunenberg county, Virginia, there
resided many years ago on Squire Col
lins, who was, as they termed it, a "fast
liver ;" and in his immediate neighbor
hood, one Jeff Green, who was a very
poor man. As the story runs, Jeff had
been pressed for the necessaries of life,
and borrowed meat from Squire Collins
and from all the neighbors, under the
promise that as soon as he killed his
hog, he would return the meat he had
borrowed of them. He had borrowed
more than a hog from the Squire, and
as much as two hogs from others. The
morning Jeff intended killing his hog
he went over to the Squire. "You know
the time has come around for me to kill
my hog, and I can't pay you all, so I
come, as I owe most of it to you, to
know what I mast do I"
Now the Squire possessed a good deal
of cunning, arid was not disposed to be
outdone—so he advised Jeff to kill his
hog and hang it up under the peach tree
in his yard—then get up about midnight
and take it away—next morning go round
to those he borrowed of, and tell them
that he killed and scalded his hog, hung
it up in his yard under the peach tree,
and that some person had come there
and stole the hog, and he had nothing to
pay them with. "Then," says the Squire,
" the people you borrowed meat from
will pity you and let you off, but mind,
Jeff, you must stick to what you say."
" I will, Squire," said Jeff. Jeff killed
the hog, scalded and hung it up under
the peach tree. The Squire had been
watching his movements, and was de
termined not to be a loser by Jeff—so
as soon as all was quiet, the Squire got
into the yard and carried off the hog.
The next morning Jeff called on the
Squire in great haste, and said—" Squire,
you know yesterday afternoon I killed
my hog, and after scalding him hung
him under the peach tree, and do you
think some person did'nt come and steal
him, sure enough."
" That's right," said, the Squire, "you
are doing very well. Mind, Jeff, and
stick to it."
" Yes," said Jeff, "but may I be hang
ed if they haint gone and stole the hog,
sure enough !"
"Excellent," said the Squire, "stick
to it, Jeff, and they will believe you—
stick to it, Jeff."
A Small Calculation.
Suppose a man drinks four glasses of
liquor a day at five cents a glass—in a
week he spends one dollar and forty cts.,
and in a year seventy-two dollars and
eighty cents. This will buy the follow
ing articles :
_ _
Four barrels of flour, say $24 00
Four pairs of boots, say 15 00
Forty pounds of butter, 10 00
One hundred pounds o beef, 8 00
A new hat,
A new satin vest,
A bonnet for wife,
Sweetmeats for children,
ff - y- In a neighboring State, the fol
lowing whimsical epitaph graces the
tomb-stone of a renowned dancing mus
ter:
Man's life is vapor,
And full of woes;
He cuts a caper, and
Down he goes.
A COLD PROSPECT.—Christmas day
falls on a Friday this year, and if we
are to have faith in an ancient ballad, a
hard winter may be expected. The
ballad runs thus:
"Yf Crystmas day on the Friday be,
The fyrstc of winter harde shall be,
With frosts and snowe, and with (lode,
But the Taste code thereof ys goode."
The Potato Pestilence.
Complaints have been made in Eng
land that the Archbishop of Canterbury
has established forms of prayer for food
for the people, while the votes of the
Bishops arc against the admission of
corn The pious Archbishop Whately
refuses to permit the prayers to be read.
Douglas Jerrold thus discourses of the
proceeding:
" When the soldiers of Charles V. had
sacked Rome, and imprisoned the Pope,
the Emperor ordered public prayers to
be offered up in all the churches of Mad
rid, beseeching the interposition of Heav
en on behalf of his holiness, though his
own sign manual, received by the com
mander of his forces, would have restor
ed the Pontiff to immediate liberty.—
This case has often been cited as an il
lustration of hypocrisy maximized. Per
haps it has a parallel in the conduct of
our own government of the present day,
who, through his Grace of Canterbury,
have directed that prayers should be of
fered up in the 14,490 parish churches
in England and Wales, that scarcity of
food may be averted, while they con
tinue a duty on the import of foreign '
corn. We need not make any comment
on this profane mockery—it will be sup
plied by the indignation of our read
ers." •
A Profane Swearer Nonplussed
We have the authority of the Knick
erbocker for the following:
"In Schoharie county there lives a
man whose addiction to swearing is
such that his name has become a by
word and reproach ; but by some inter
nal thermometer he so graduates his
oaths as to make them apply to the pe
culiar case in hand ; the greater the
mishap or cause for anger, the stronger
and more frequent his adjurations. His
business is that of a gatherer of ashes,
which he collects in small quantities
and transports in an ox-cart. Upon a
recent occasion, having, by dint of great
labor, succeeded in filling his vehicle,
he started for the nshery, which stands
at the brow of a steep hill ;
and it was
not until he reached the door, that he
noticed, winding its tortuous course
down the long declivity, a line of white
ashes, while something short of a peck
remained in the cart.
"'The dwellers by the way side and
they that tarried there,' had assembled in
great force, expecting an unusual ana
thema! display. Turning however to
the crowd, the unfortunate man heaved
a sigh, and simply remarked : Neigh
bors, it's no use; I can't do justice to the
subject !' "
The Horrors of War.
The following incident is given in a
letter, dated Monterey, October 7, ad
dressed to the Louisville Courier:
" While I was stationed with our left
wing in one of the forts, on the evening
of the 21st, I saw a Mexican woman bu
sily engaged in carrying bread and wa
ter to the wounded men of both armies.
I saw this ministering angel raise the
head of a wounded man, give him water
and food, and then carefully bind up his
ghastly wound with a handkerchief she
took from her own head. After having
exhausted her supplies, she went back
to her house to get more bread and water
for others. As she was returning on her
mission of mercy, to comfort other woun
ded persons, I heard the report of a gun,
and saw the poor innocent creature fall
dead ! I think it was an accidental shot
that struck her. I would not be willing
to believe otherwise. It made me sick
at heart, and turning from the scene, I
involuntarily raised my eyes towards
heaven, and thought, great God ! and is
this war ? Passing the spot the next
day, I saw her body still lying there,
with the bread by her side, and the bro
ken gourd, with a few drops of water
still in it—emblems of her errand.—
We hurried her, and while we were dig
ging her grave, cannon balls flew around
us like hail."
4 00
Judicial Dignity
5 00
The following conversation is said to I
have passed between a venerable old'
lady and a certain presiding judge in
. This learned functionary was
supported on his right and left by his
worthy associates, when Mrs. P. was
called to give evidence.
" Take off•your bonnet, madam."
" I had rather not, sir."
" Zounds and brimstone, madam, take
off your bonnet, I say."
" In public assemblies, sir,
women ge
nerally cover their heads. Such, I am
sure, is the custom elsewhere, and there
fore I will not take off my bonnet."
"Do you hear that, gentlemen 1 She
pretends to know more about these mat
ters than the judge himself! Had you
not, better, madam, come and take a scat
upon the bench 1"
"No, sir, thank you; for I think there ,
arc enough of old women there already."
5 00
1 80
$72 80
[EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR
WHOLE NO. 566.
THE NEW PLANET.
Mr. Wm. Lassael, in a letter to tho
London Times, states that he has dis•
covered, with his telescope, that Le Ve•
rier's newly discovered planet has a ring
and a satellite. With regard to the ring
he is not prepared positively to announce
its existence, though he feels sure of it;
but of the existence of a star, having
every aspect of a satellite, he says there
is not a shadow of doubt.
An English paper, speaking of this
new planet, says:
"The present distance of the new
planet, expressed in common measure,
is about 3,200,000,000 English miles
from the sun, and about 3,200,000,000
rfrom the earth. Its distance from Ura
! nus, whose motions it disturbs, is about
150,000,000 miles. Its diameter is es
timated at 50,000 miles. That of Ura
nus is about 35,000; of Jupiter 86,000 ;
of Saturn 79,000; of the earth 8,000.
Its cubic bulk is to that of the earth as
250 to 1. The new planet is the largest
in our system, except Jupiter and Saturn;
and since these two planets, as well as
Uranus, arc each attended by a train of
satellites, it is extremely probable that
the new planet will have a similar ac
companiment. We had the pleasure of
seeing the planet on Thursday night
from Colton Bill. It comes to the me
ridian a few minutes before nine, and is
within a short distance of Saturn. With
a power under 200, it is not distinguish
able from a fixed star."
It is thought the new planet will be
culled "Neptune."
A REMARKABLE CASE.-A remarkable
law suit, which has been pending two
years, in Russia, has just been decided
by the Emperor. A wealthy Russian
General was betrothed to the beautiful
daughter of a Polish nobleman, near
Warsaw, and obtained his consent to the
marriage. On the day fixed for the cer
emony, the bridegroom appeared, atten
ded by a captain and two officers, the
first disgbised as a priest, and the latter
as histritnesses and the unsuspecting
bride was married to her Russian lover
by this false priest. Two years after,
the general became tired of his wife,
and desired her to return to her father's
house, at the same time informing her
how she had been deceived. She, at
first, thought he was jesting, but her
cruel husband soon convinced her of the
fatal truth, and shut the door of his
house upon her. Her indignant father
immediately brought an action against
the general ; but, of course, lost it in all
the Courts against the Russian general,
till, at length, the sentence came before
the Emperor, who decided as follows:
As the general is not really married to
his wife, the marriage is null and void,
but as the wife has been most scandal
ously imposed upon, lie is dismissed with
the loss of his salary and his office, with
out having any claim to another appoint
ment. His whole property is given to
the lady whom he has so wantonly de
ceived, and he is not permitted even to
marry again.
GETTING 'EM MIXED.—We once heard
an old fellow, famous all over the coun
try for his tough yarns, telling what
heavy wheat he had seen in the State of
New York.
"My father," said he, "once had a
field of wheat the heads of which were
so close together, that the wild turkeyes,
when they came to eat it, could walk
round on the top of it anywhere."
We suggested that the turkeys must
have been small ones.
" No sir," continued he ; " they were
very large ones. I shot one of them one
day, and when I took hold of his legs to
carry him, his head dragged in the snow
behind me!"
"A curious country you must have
had, to have snow in harvest time !"
"'Well, I do declare," said he, looking
a little foolish, " I have got part of two
stories mixed."
Get out of the way, old Dan Tucker,
You're too late to come to supper,'
Has been changed, in the course of ad
vancing refinement, so as to read—
" Will the venerable Daniel Tucker,
Esq., have the goodness to withdraw for
a few minutes, as in consequence of his
late arrival, it will be wholly impossible
for him to take his evening refreshment
at the first table."
[D=. Mr. Jones was in the habit of get
ting occasionally somewhat " balmy,"
and one night he was discovered by a
neighbor leaning against the side of a
church for support. He hailed him with
—" Hallo, Jones, you look serious ; think
of joining the church I" "Well," repli
ed Jones, ".1 incline considerably that way
at present !"
AN EXTRAORDINARY MEDtoar.—Miss
Louisa West, a girl fifteen years of age,
at Georgetown, Kentucky, committed to
memory, accurately, the whole New
Testament in six weeks, at the same
time tending to her other domestic du
ties.