Newspaper Page Text
BY JAMES CLARK :]
VOL, XII, NO, 9,
' , CI 3 alb Em
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Philadelphia—Number 59 Pine street.
Baltimore—S. E. corner of Baltimore and Cal
New York—Number 160 Nassau street
Boston—Number 16 State street.
HOVER'S FIRST PREMIUM INK.
IN O. fi 7
North Third lifreet, Philadelphia.
HE celebrity of the INKS manufactured by the
subscriber, and the extensive sales consequent
upon the high reputation which they have attained
not only through the United States, but in the West
Indies and China, has induced him to make every
necessary arrangement to supply the vast demand
upon his establishment. He ie now prepared,
with every variety of Black, Blue and Red Inks,
Copying Ink, Indelible Ink, and Ink Powder, all
prepared under his own personal superintendence,
so that purchasers may depend upon its superior
HOVER'S ADAMANTINE CEMENT, a su
perior article for mending Gloss, China, Cabinet
Ware, &c., useful to every housekeeper, being a
white liquid, easily applied, and not affected by or
cO' Pamphlets containing the numerous testi
monials of men of science and others, will be fur.
niched to purchasers.
For sale at the Manufactory, NV holesale and Re
tail, No. 87 North Third Stidet, opposite Cherry
street, Philadelphia, by JOSEPH HOVER,
NEW GOODS CHEAPER THAN EVER!!
DR. WILLIAM SWOOPE
HAS just received, and now offers to the pub
lic, at his old stand in Main street, directly
opposite the residence of Mrs. Allison, as large a
FALL AND WINTER GOODS
as has ever been oared to the public in this place,
and at cheaper prices than any other store in the
His assortment isconiplete—having almost every
article in the line of business, among which are
Cheap Cloths, C assinetts, Flannels, Blan
kets, Coatings, Cloakings, Cash
meres, 4-c. 4.., at prices that
cannot fail to please.
0 3- The attention of the ladies Is particularly
invited to a large and beautiful selection of
which have been purchased with an eye single to
their taste. Call and examine, lied judge for
yourselves, and if we cannot please, we will be
pleased to see you.
ALso—A general assortment of Gro
ceries, Queen sware, Hardware,
Boots and Shoes, Hats,
Caps, &c. &c.
The highestprice paid for Country
Dr. S. would most respectfully tender his thanks
to his former customers, and hopes by prompt at
tention to business, and by selling a urns CHEAP- .
Jill than others, to secure an increase of public
patronage. [Huntingdon, Nov. 4-tf
DRUG. S ! DRUGS DRUGS 1
No. 40 .Me*rket Street, Phihula.
(AFFBEti for sale a large stock of Ft esh Drugs,
J Medicines and Bye Stufft, to which they call
the attention of Country Merchants and Dealers
visiting the city.
Coach, Cabinet, Japan, Black, and other Var.
niches, of a superior quality. Also, V% bite and
lied Lead, Window Glass, Paints and Oils--cheap
er than ever.
T. & are also proprietors of the Indian
Vegetable Balsam, celebrated throughout their own
and neighboring States as the best preparation for
the cure of Coughs, Colds, Asthma, &e. Money
refunded in tvaty instance where no benefit is re
ceived. [Philadelphia, jan27-6m
Sohn Scott, jr.,
A TORNEY AT LA W; fiuMingdon,
11. Has removed his office to the corner room of
Snare's Row," directly opposite Fisher & M'Mur
trie's store, where he will attend with promptness
and fidelity to all business with which he may be
entrusted in Huntingdon or tho adjoining counties.
Huntingdon Sept. 23, 1846.
A. W. Benedict,
ATTORNEY AT LAW, Huntingdon, Pa&—
Office at his old residence in Main street, a
few doors west of the old Court House. He will
attend to any business entrusted to hum in the sev
eral Courts of Huntingdon and adjoining counties.
S. Steel Blair,
ATTORNEY AT LAW, Hollidaysburg, Pa.,
Will attend attend to all business entrusted to
his care in Blair, Huntingdon and Indiana coon
Z. Sewell Stewart,
ATTORNEY AT LAW, Huntingdon, Pa.—
Office in Main street, five doors west of Mr
Buoy's jewelry establishment.
TUSTICE'S blanks of all kind. for Bale at this
1013-W 0 RK of all destriptione neatly executed
at tke Journal oMe..
From the National Era.
A HYMN OF THE DAY THAT IS
BY WILLIAM D. GALLAGHER
If the promise of the present
Be not a hollow cheat,
If true-hearted men and women
Prove faithful and discreet,
If none falter who are hoping,
And contending for the Right,
Then a time is surely coming,
As a day-beam from the
When the landless shall hate ihnthold,
In fee upon the soil,
And for his wife and little ones
Bend to his willing toil—
When the wanderer, no longer
In sorrow forced to roam,
Shall see around him spring and bloom
The blessed things of Home=—
When the poor and Willoived mother
Shall lit recompense obtain,
For her days and nights of toiling,
From the sordid man of gain—
When the brawny limbs of Labor,
And the hard and horny hand,
For their strivings. foi their doings,
Meet honor shall corinnand—
When suffering hearts, that struggle
In silence, and endure,
hall receive, unsought, the earnest
Ministrations of the pure—
When the master with his bondmen
For a price divides the soil,
And the slave, at last enfranchised,
Shall go singing to his toil—
When the bloody trade of the soldier
811811 lose its olden charm,
And the sickle-hand be honored more
non the sword and the red right arm—
When tolerance and truthfulness
Shall not he under ban,
And the fiercest foe and deadliest
Man knows, shall not be Men=
Be firm, and be united,
Ye who war against the wrong
Though neglected, though deserted,
In your purpose still Ire strong!
To the faith and hope that move ye
In the things ye dare and do,
Though the world rise up against ye,
Be resolute--he true!
THE OLD MAN OF TILE MOUNTAINS,
Far away among the rugged and al
most inaccessible retreats of the White
Mountains of New Hampshire, the at
tention of the way-farer is frequently di
rected to a huge pile of granite, which
towering loftily above its lesser
neighbors, from a gulf not less than one
thousand feet in . depth. With its bold,
broad forehead and imposing front, it
stands alone in the midst of that vast
wilderness, a stern and unbending mem
orial of the conquest of earth over dine.
Ages uncounted have rolled over it,
as the surees roll over the sands of the
fathomless sea, and the winds and the
lightnings have combined their powers,
and striven a thousand times in vain to
It is a monument commemorating
bloodshed and strife--that sternold peak !
and strangely enough, as if to give col
oring to the - Vague old Indian traditions
respecting it, it has been shaped in the
form of a gigantic head,
Years ago this portion of What are
now the Eastern States, was densely
populated by a number of powerful
tribes, among which the Wampanoags
and the Narragansetts were prominent.
It Ives a region almost entirely unknown
to the whites, and, save a few straggling 1
settlers, journeying from colony to col
the district over which the Old
Man of the Mountain now presides, was
known only to the Red Man, the panther
and the fox. It served as a kind of
boundary line between the hostile tribes,
and many and bloody were the struggles
which took place, when two parties of
hunters, belonging to different tribes, en
countered, by accident or intention, at
the foot of this lofty precipice.
But a time at length arrived, when the
spell which encircled this sacred ground
must be broken. Tracking the forest
one day in pursuit of game, a small party
of Wampang hunters suddenly encoun
tered an object which filled them with
mingled emotions of fear and surprise.
It occurred at it point where a moun
tain torrent had to all appearance once
rolled on its way towards the sea, but of
which nothing now remained save a bed
of dry hard sand,
This section of earth was deeply in
dented by two broad ruts, between which
Was clearly discernable the impression
of cloven feet, and to the right of the
ruts an oblong indention, Which; together
with the ruts, the unsophisticated chil
dren of the forest concluded to be the
traek of some strange animal, visiting
the country of the Wampanoags, in
search of prey.
Nor were they greatly deceived in
CORRECT PRINCII S LESUPPORTED BY TRUTH.
HUNTINGDON, PA., MARCH 3, 1841,
A hurried consultation being held,
they concluded to follow the "trail!" of
this singular visitant, and carefully ob
serving the signs by which this track
Watt designated as they passed along,
they came towards nightfall, in view of
an almost impenetrable copse, behind
which a roaring fire had just been kind
led. Another pause now occurred, and
a second consultation was held, which
resulted ih a determifiation to see still
more of the strange beast whose course
they had thus far followed.
In accordance with this resolve, the
little band, keeping close together as the
intricacies of the forest would permit,
stole cautiously towards the copse be
hind Which they supposed the unknown
animal had ensconced himself, and peer
ing cautiously through the interstices,
they beheld a sight which thrilled them
A group of stratip bsings , sihgtilarly
attired, with faces as white as the moon,
were gathered in a variety of attitudes
about a blazing fire ; one of them a slen
der and sylph-like figure, whose unearth
ly beauty exercised over the rugged na
tures of those stern breasts a miraculous
effect. In their superstitious awe, the
Rbd Meh übconstiously bowed iem
selves as if in the presence of a superior
divinity. They imagined that they had
stolen unawares upon a mystic meeting
of some celestial visitants from the
spheres, and with fear and trembling,
they continued to gaze silently upon the
scene before them.
The unsuspecting objects of this scru
tiny, meanwhile ; were engaged in the
discussion of an emigrant's meal—hav
ing here pitched their little encampment
for the night. Their only means of con
veyance, a large and heavy cart, stood
on one side of the little enclosure, and
Within it a mother with plaintive lullaby
was hushing to sleep her uttebaselous lit
tle one. The two oxen (whose cloven
feet had excited so much alarm in the
minds of the untutored sons of the for
est) Were quietly grazing a few yards
froth the firb, and four or five persons,
dressed in the negligent but picturesque
costume of foresters of that period, com
pleted the picture. One of these was
an elderly man of sinewy tnould,
dently the father of the family, gdthtrtd
immediately about him ; the remainder
consisted of young men, one of whom
partly supported in his arms a young
lady, the ashy paleness of'whose fea
tures betokened extreme sickness. The
whole consideration of the party seemed
enwarped in the welfare of this fragile
creature, and especially that of the
young man who appeared to officiate as
her protector ; for he watched every mo
tion of hers with an interest that was
second only to that manifested by him
who appeared to be her father.
" I have sad fears for poor Effie,"
said the latter, after a melancholy pause
of a few minutes; during which he had
been gazing earnestly upon the failing
figure of the maiden.
g , Her fragile form is ill calculated for
the hazardous life we lead, and I am
hourly in dread lest she may sink he
nna, h it."
The beautiful girl seemed to chtch
the last words of the speaker, and turn
ing slightly towards him, she murmur
" Nay, dearest father, you must not
let the welfare of your poor Effie retard
the great enterprise to which you have
devoted yourself. My life is but an atom
compared With your own and—= i " she
would have added another flame, but the
youth in whose arms she was reposing
caught her eye, and the glance spoke all
that her overflowing heart would have
Suddenly there was a crackling noise
among the hushes, and each one of the
little band seizing his weapon, sprang
to his feet.
" There are enemies near," said the
guide—an old weather-beaton hunter—
cocking his rifle as he spoke. "Old Jack
Armstrong can scent an Ingen, if he
came only within a mile of him. Stand
clear, boys, while I make an experi
The sharp, sudden report of a rifle,
awoke the echoes as he spoke, and a
yell of mingled terror and anguish told
how true had been his conjectures.
"I said it, boys ; Jack Armstrong
never missed his recknin' yet. Give
'em a -volley toiv ;'s crash went a dozen
polished barrels—another yell—a fall
among the leaves of some heavy body,
a slight shriek from Effie, and a triumph
laugh from the old hunter ! and silence
once more held sway.
At this juncture Armstrong proposed
to reconnoitre, and, taking with him se
veral of the most hardy your $: men, be ,
gun beating the surrounding bushes.
In a very few minutes they returned,
bearing between them a dusky figure,
who, notwithstanding he had been se.
verely wounded, was struggling fiercely
to release his hands fitini the *3- thee bf
which bound him.
"Just as I thought, boys," said the
Old hunter—" we've been watched by a
party of these red devils for more than
an hour; but our rifles have done for
some of them. Hallo ! I say," he cried,
striking the captive Indian upon the
back with a force which the other did
not seem too well pleased with—"what
tribe do you belong to V'
"Ugh!" was the only response of the
"Oh, can't talk our lingo, eh'?" said
the woodsman. " You're not as smart
as some of your brother red skins off
our way—they can bolt oaths like a
At this moment Effie slowly arose,
and taking from a vessel which stood at
the fire a cup full of milk, proffered it,
leaning on the arm of her lover, as she
did so, to the prostrate chieftan. The
latter eagerly drained the cup, and mut
tered a few Words in his own dialect—
"Let us not forget that he has feelifigt,
as acute as ours," said Effie to Arm
strong, while the savage swallowed the
The quiet reproof of the young girl
had the desired effect, and, instead of a
more violent proceeding, - whielt the old
hunter had contemplated, a rude bed of
leaves was provided for their apparently
insensible captive, and in a short time,
sentries having been disposed about, the
remainder of the little band of adven
turers addressed themselves to repose.
About midnight they were awakened'
by a thrilling shriek and the report of a
rifle. With a dread foreboding of the
truth, each started from his slumbers
and grasped his arms. But where was
Effie 1 and where the Indian captive 1
The whole was apparent in a moment
The savage companions of *the captiVe
had rettirfted in search of the bodies of
their fallen companions—had attacked
the drowsy sentries—liberated their
wounded comrade, atid were bearing the
young girl away from her father and
friends, with a rapidity which seemed
to set at defiance the mere thought of
But of en in this tryibg einergendy,
OW fortitude of the father and lover did
not desert them. Scarce a syllable was
uttered ; but leaving behind them seve
ral to take charge of the women, the
hardiest of the band sprang to a horse,
and were soon in the track of the fugi
The thundering of their horses' hoofs
through the tangled everglades, were
the only sound which escaped them.—
Each was engaged in stern communion
with his own thoughts, and there was
no leisure for idle words.
Hark ! a shout—distant it is true, but
yet distinct. Another ! Frank Chester
has out•galloped his companions, and
reining in his horse upon the brow of
the hill over which the road passes, ho
can fairly discern the fugitive party,
" Ride faster! ride faster ! We shall
overtake them yet !"
The Indians had gained the Old Man
of the Mountain. From his lofty sum
mit they could gaze far away over the
broad landscape, now growing momen
tarily clearer in the rays of the rising
They have mistaken their direction in
the darkness, and •finding only a preci
pice where they looked for a path, are
endeavoring to retrace their steps In tithe
to distahce their pursuers. Before they
can accomplish their object, however,
they are confronted by the very party
whom they wish to avoid.
" Let go the gal, your cursed copper
skin 1" shouts old Armstrong, discharg'
ing his pistol at her abducer, as the
words left his mouth.
The shot, owing to a motion of his'
own steed, miscarried, and the Indian's
horse staggered, reared and fell, but its
rider untouched, resigned the senseless
maiden to his companions, and closed
with Frank, Who had Just sprang to
wards him. The contest Was severe,
but the fire-arms of the whites proved
their safe-guard, and the savages—those
at least who reinained of theta—turned
and fled, leaving Eflie in the hands of
But Netnahasset—the chieftain to
wards whom Frank had directed his
rage, had grappled closely with the
youth, and was dragging him with irre
sistable force towards the Old Man of
One cry of anguish the youth uttered
as he felt himself passing the brink—
they toppled, reeled and disappeared to
The joy of the party can only be im
agined, when it was found that he had
been retarded in his dotvnwnrd course,
by a projecting branch of some wild
.hlant, while the savage, whose grasp
ad been confined to Frank's hunting
frock, fell headlong into the dizzy gulf,
bearing with hlin only a portion of the
young iflan's garment.
A flourishing settlement was afterA
wards established not far from this spot;
of which Frank eventually became Gov
ernor, the beautiful Effie Sherwood hav
ing ben, preiiously; duly , installed as
LAYING UP FOR CHILDREN,
Parental affection naturally inquires
what it can best do the ivelfure of
Its children in future years, and when
the bosom which now throbs with love,
to its offspring shall be etild in death.—
Many plans are laid, and maiiy ddyg
and hours of anxious solicitude are spent
in contriving ways and means of render
ing children prosperous and happy in
future life. But parents aro not always
wise in the provisions which they seek
to make for their children ; nor do they
always seek direction and counsel from
God in this matter. The best inheri
tance for children, beyond all contradic
tion, is true piety toward God—the sal
utary truths and principles of the gos•
pel, laid up in the hearts of children—a
good education--good virtuous habits—
unbending principles of good moral eon•
duct—the love of God and hope of Im
mortality. This is the best inheritance
for children, and which all parents should
be most anxious to ldy up for their chit•
Many an unwise parent labors hard,
and lives sparirigly ell his life, for the
purpose of leaving enough to give his
children a start in the world, as it is
called. Setting a young man afloat with
money left him by his relatives, is like
tying Madders under the arms of orld
who cannot swim ; ten chances to one
he will lose his bladders and go to the
bottom. Teach him to swim and he
will never heed the bladders.
Give your children a sound education.
See td it that his morals arc pure, his
mind cultivated, and his whole nature
made subservient to the laws which go
vern man, and you have given what will
be of more value than the wealth of the
Indies. You have given him a start
which no misfortune can deprive him of.
The earlier yott wad hitn to depend tip
oh his oivii resources ; and the blessing
of God, the better.
"A NIP OF SLING."
" Give us a nip of sling," said a young
catechumen in the school of rum drink
ing, as he stepped up to the bar of a vil
lage groggery, "give us a nip of sling,"
to wash down the " teetotal" lecture we
have just been hearing!
"Nip of sling," thought I, as I walk
ed away; musing and trying to analyze
the cognomen—how appropriate !
I. "Sling, as a veilb, means to throw
or cast out. And so, thought I, his
" sling " will soon " brow" the rem
nant of his money to the winds) if he
has a family, it will "throw" them
2-1 nto wretchedness, and
3—Upon the town.
It will probably " sling" himself
4—lnto the ditch.
6—lnto a drunkard's grave, and
7—lnto a miserable eternity.
11. "Sling," as a noun, means,
I—Something to "throw with," and
2—Something to "hang in."
If my analysis of the verb is correct,
then the first definition is true; and
when the judge, the jury, the hangman,
and the gallows came rushing into my
mind, surely, thought I, there is more
truth than fiction in its second defini•
And there is the gratifying Word
" nip." This means to bite," "to
blast," and "to pinch." The first agrees
with Solomon's desaription of intoxica ,
ting drinks t "It biteth like a serpent,
and stingeth like an adder." It blasteth
the fondest hopes of parents ; wife, and
children ; and how often has the drunk
ard, as he stood upon the hangman's
scallbld, pointed to the "nip and sling,"
as the procuring cause of his awful and
final "nip in the sling."
Ca- " There are various keys," said
a young man to another, " such as sub
key, bul-key and ris-key, but the only
key to your heart is Su-key."
"It may be so," replied the other;
but I defy anything to reach your heart
Hear the outpourings of en hon.
est heart in regret for the dilapidated
condition of his unmentionables :
Farewell I farewell! old trousaloons,
Long time we've stuck together—
Variety of scenes gone through,
And braved all sorts of weather !
" Don't be in a hurry," as the
young rascal said, when his father
threatened to flog him.
rEDITOR AND PROPRIETOR
WHOLE NO. 579.
OR “THE BITER BITTEN."
, 4 You knew Bob Waddam; I reckon,“
said Uneld IVlitte:
" Not thtit I recollect," I replied.
" Well; Bob was ah amazin' hand at
tradin' horses, and generally come out
ahead, too; I never knew him Nally,
girdled acid in the underbrush but once."
" How was thtit; UncleMiyel".
"Why, you see, Bob hail just been
getting a grey horse in some of hie
deals, that was just about as nice a
horse to look at as ever put his nose
through the rack sticks. He was a hu
irian lookin' horse and nothin shorter.
Ho was always lookin' for stars, and
carried his tail like the national flag on
the 4th of July. But he would'nt work
• ,- - - Ite was above it. He'd almost stop
when he'd tee his shadow follow in' him,
for fear he might be drawing it. Now,
then, says Bob, some individual is bound
to be picked up: So makin' an excuse
that Grays shoes wanted fixin', he sent
him to the blacksmith's, and bartieesed
up his other horses; hitched on to a
wagon load of stone, and drove down to
Sam Hewett's tavern. Here he stopped
before the door, and unharnessed him in
his place. Bob went in atid tntik a drink ;
and waited around until some man would
come along who wanted to speculate. He
hadn't been waitin' long, when he seen
some feller comin' up the road like all
possessed, his horses under a full run,
while he was swill' the bit, and holler.
in' we! we! with all his might and main:
He managed to stop 'em after he got of
little by Sam Hewett's, and turnin' 'em
round, he come up a slappin' his hands,
and cussin s that sorrel boss.' 'He's
never ready to stup l ' says he,
ain't; and tho' he's the best boss evef
owned, yet blast my eyes if 1 don't get
shut of him.';
Well, just then out comes Bob and
mounted his wagon jest as if he was go ,
ing to drive off, When says he—
" Hallo, stranger, perhaps you'd like
to deal with me for a steady one I"
"Shy, yes," says the stranger, "I
would like something a little more quiet
than that go , ahead snapdragon rascal
So Bob fie looked at the sorrel, and
found hitn a fine, square built animal,
his eye full of fire, and every muscle in
" Well," says Bob, "a few words doed
for me. There's my gray—here's your
sorrel. What's your proposition 1"
"Now, you're talking," says the strand
ger, examining the gray, as he stood
hitched to the load of stone. I'll give
you sorrel, and the best forty dollar
cloak in my wagon for your gray."
" Done " said Bob, "just unhitch."
Neither of them had edited t'other
any questions ; 'cause neither of them
wanted to answer at►y, The horses
were exchanged. Bob had got his
cloak, and the stranger got into hie
wagon, took up his lines, and bidding
'em good day ; was about to start, when
gray put a stop to it, and wouldn't budge
a hair. In vain, did the stranger whip
and coax—not an inch could he get.—
There sat Bob, laughing in his sleeve ;
almost ready to burst, to see how the
stranger was trying to start and couldn't.
Not a word did the stranger say, how ,
ever ; but after he had got tired ; and
had given up trying any more, he came
and sat down oh the horse block.
Bob thought he might as well be go•
ing ; so picking up his ribbons—. go
along," says he: The sorrel turned his
head and looked back at hint, as much
as to say " don't you wish I would !"
but didn't stir a hoof, In vain Bob
coaxed and patted. Sorrel was thar,
and he wasn't anywhere else !
" Well, I reckon it's my turn to laugh
now," said the stranger ; " I 'spose
you'll cull again when you come to
never mind," says Bob. "Sor ,
rel will go, else you couldn't have got
here with him."
" Oh yes," says the stranger * " you
can start him, if you'll only bring some
shavings, and kindle a fire under him as
I did." And then he laughed again,
and when I came away they were play
ing a game of Old Sledge, to see who
should take them both.
" Ah, my good fellow, where havd
you been for a week back 1' ;
"For For a WEAK BACK 1 l'in not troubled
With a weak back, I thank you."
"No, no, I mean where have you been
so long back 1"
" LONG BACK ! don't call me long back,
you scoundrel !"
ID' Why is a volunteer like a cha
tneleonl Because when he enlists he
is green, and the next time you see him
he is blue.
lt)" Hope, a mistress whom we still
love and believe, though such as often
deceived us, because we cannot be hap.
py without her.