Newspaper Page Text
HUNTI - )GDO - \ 01-011'NA__L
BY JAMES CLARK
VOL XII, NO. 34.
to be alive any where in the country
now-a-days. Seeing such awful accounts
about 'cm in the Union paper all the
time, I inquired all the way along 1
through New England, whore they used ;
to be the thickest, and I couldn't get
track of one ; and when I asked the '
folks if there was any federalists any
in them quarters, they all stared j
at me and said they didn't know what ,
kind•of critters they was. When I got
to Downingville 1 asked uncle Joshua
about it. He said in his younger days
there used to be considerable ninny of
'cm about, but they wasn't thought to be
dangerous, for they never was nr , ch
ginen to fighting. But he sn; ' '•,. ,••• -
ed they'd nll . 1 .01 r, . '
hadn't (Nip , . a .
years. So now. , -- ~ .
it they are so tine, , :,i r. i;.l,•i ,/,'..
POETICAL, paper all the time I
___ At that he gave me a very knowing
kind of a look, and lowered his voice
[From the New York Mirrorr) down almost to a whisper; and says he,
AUTUMN. Major, I'll tell you how that is. When
The flowers begin to fade, and soon Mr. Ritchie was a young man he used
The leaves will sear aid fall--
to fight a good deal with the federslists,
For paler grows the summer croon
That glimmers through the hall. and took a good deal of pride in it ; and
, now the fancies and scenes of his youth
And darker clouds arb floating past nll seem to come back fresh to his mind,
'rue golden-tinted sky,
And colder sweeps the fitful blast, and he can't think or talk about any
Like sullen spirits, by. thing else. You know that's often times
HOW brief and fragile is their lot, , the way with old people. As he always
'rhose Might and fragile things,
i used to have the name of a smart fighter
Which yester were, to-day are not, ! I give him the command of the news-
Like dreams with rapid wings. . I paper battery here to defend my admin-
It scarcely seems an hour bath flown ; istration. But 'twas as great a mistake
Since Spring was here in bloom; 1 as 'twas when I sent Taylor into Mex-
Yet, half at' summer's glory strewn, ico ; I didn't know my man.
Lies mouldering fur the tomb. No matter what forces was gathering
list flowers and leaves revive again to overthrow my administration, Mr.
, When spring anew appeals ; Ritchie somehow didn't seem to see 'em;
And only man, mid grief and pain, no matter how hard they fired at me,
Has no renewing years.
lie didn't seem to hear it ; and when I
Each Spring and E:ummer with their light, called to him to fire back, he would
Each Autumn darkly chill,
rouse up and touch off a few squibs
Each Winter with its robe of white,
But makes nix fruiter still. with about as good aim as the boys
take when they fire crackers on the 4th
God grime there is a gentle Spring,
A golden ummer-time,
i of July, and did about as much exectt-
Where we shall have an angers wing, i tion. At last I found out a way that I
And live in childhood's, prime. CLARA. could make the old veteran fight like a
- - • • ----- Aii - sakz, 'Furl; and hold on like a bull-dog. It was
• 111‘ 4 Clili I kNEOUS '
1. Ll _.I A ..1.. by giving hint a notion at any time that
. he was fighting with federalists. Since
• I made that discovery he's been more
ANOTHER LETTER FROM , help to me. Whenever I see an enemy
MAJOR JACK DOWNING. entrenching himself around me, and
ON TUE R.OAD TO Tim waa,Aug. —, 'VT. bringing up his batteries to fire into my
Mr. GALES & SEATON : administration, all I have to do is to
:try Dear old Friend.; :—I spose you'll ' whisper in Ritchie's car and say, " Mr.
be amazingly disapinted to find I'm Ritchie, the air smells of federalism ;
you may depend upon it there is feder
away off here, pushin on to the seat of
rusts abroad somewhere." In a minute,
war, and didn't call to see you when I
conic through Washington. But you you've no idea with what fury the old
nuisent blame ins for it, for 1 eould'nt gentleman flies round, and mounts his
help it ; the President would'nt let me , heaviest guns, mid sets his paper battery
in a roar. His shots fly right and left,
call ; he said I was getting quite too
thick with you, writing letters to you and sometimes knocks down friends as
and all that. And when he spoke about well as foes. To be sure they don't
, the letters, he looked kind of
red,and make a very great impression upon the
ishowed considerable spunk. enemy; but then there's this advantage
_Says he, Major Downing, I have putt in it : if he don't kill or beat off the
enemy, he keeps the administration so
a good deal of confidence in you as a
- friend of my administration; and if you perfectly covered up with smoke that
are a friend to it, you must let Gales & the enemy can't see half the time where
Seaton alone; keep out of their way, .to fight at us. On the whole, Mr. Rit
chie is a valuable man to my adminis
and have noddle to do with them; they
are dangerous mischief-making fellers, t ration notwithstanding all his mistakes
; eternally peckin at my administration, and blunders.
all weathers. Let me try to keep things Just then the door opened, and who
should come in but Mr. Ritchie himself.
ever so snug, and lay my plans ever so .
deep, they are sure to dig them all up, ' As lie opened the door he ketched the
lug them into the Intelligeneer,
an d , sound of the two last words the Presi
' blaze 'em all over the country. Con- , dent was saying.
found their pieturs, they are the most I "Mistakes and blunders !" says Mr.
blesome customers an administration Ritchie ; 'what, have you got something
trl ; they've come pretty near
more of Scott and Taylor's blundering
. ..., toe two or three times. So, in Mexico?
• • ~' .
sty friend, I warn you not to I Nothing more to-day, says the Pres
.. ~ . .1. with Gales and Seaton. ; ident. I was only telling Major Down
tl',ing how their blunders there have come
• ~, says I, Colonel, you know 1 ant
. pretty near ruining the country, and
It mend to you and your administration
HOW it is absolutely necessary to get
as much as I ever was to the old Gineral
the staff out of their hands somehow or
and his administration ; and I shall ,
other before they quite finish the job.—
stand by you and do every thing I can ,
to help you out of this scrape you've: I'm going now to try one more plan, Mr.
got into about the war. But I don't Ritchie ; but be careful that you don't
know as that need make me break with I say anything about it in the Union, • '
Gales and Seaton. We've been old
, blow it all gyp. I t : •
The n HUNTINGDON JOURNAL" will bo
puplished hereafter at the following rates, viz:
mi. 75 a year, if paid in advance; $2.00 if
mug the year. and $2.50 if not paid un-
P• expiration of the year. The above
, dhered to in all cases.
• .tion taken fur less than six months,
.per discontinued until all arrearages are
Itt, wiles. at the option of the publisher.
To Clubs of six, or more, who pay in ad
vance, the Journal will be lent at 111.50 per
copy for one year; and any one who will send us
that number of names accompanied with the money
shall receive the Journal ono year for his Trouble.
Any Firms.' IMPS not exceeding one square,
will be inserted three times for $1 00, and for every
subsequent insertion 25 cents. If no dellinite or
ders are given as to the time an advertisement is
to he continued, it will be kept in till ordered out
and charged accordingly.
•friends so long, it would be kind of hard Col. ilen• •
for me to give 'cm up now ; and 1 don't and ( '"s• •
hardly think they are quite so bad us . sew 6 - • • •
you think fur. They may not mean to Scott has ,I •.. • .
410 you so much hurt when they put agoing to send Map,- Dowun,
these things into their paper, an d on ly I regular Chaplain, but us a sort of watch
put them in cause they think folks want I upon them, you know, to work round
to know what's goin on. Mr. Ritchie and do the business up before anybody
• Fometimes puts things into his paper knows it. He isn't to go to Scott nor
that folks think don't do you no good. Taylor, nor have anything to do with
The President gave two or three hard 'em, but to work his way into Mexico,
alums upon his cud of tobacco, and says and go right to Santa Anna, and knock
he, Yes, Major, that's too trite, it must up a bargain with him. I don't care
be confessed; and it annoys me beyond what he gives. The fact is, Mr. Ritchie,
the country needs peace, and I'll have
All patience. But then I have to forgive
It and overlook it, because Mr. Ritchie ponce,cost what it will.
don't mean it. The old gentleman is An excellent idea, says Mr. Ritchie;
iilways sorry for it, and always willing an excellent plan, sir. I'm for ponce at
tb take it back. And then he's such a all hazards, if it is to be found anywhere
ta a old feller to fight the federalists, I in Mexico—that is, if we can get hold
Onn't have a heart to scold at hint much lof it before Scott and Taylor does.—
about his mistakes and blunders. And I think Major Downing is just the
• Well, says I, Colonel, being you've man for it—a true staunch democratic
wooed federalists, I want to know if republican ; and whatever he does will
any of them animals is really supposed go for the lenclit of the Administration.
[CORRECT PRINCIPLES-SUPPORTER BY TRUTH.]
HUNTINGDON, PA., AUGUST 24, 1847.
Now the country's shins arc aching
pretty bad with the war, and if we can
fix up a good smooth peace right off,
and not let Scott and Taylor have any
hand in it, who knows, Mr. President,
but it might make our Administration
so popular, that you and I might both
be elected to serve another four years !
But when is the Major to start 1
Right off to-night, says the President,
or rather in the morning before daylight,
before any body in Washington finds
out that he has got back from Downing
ville. 1 have forbid his calling at the
Intelligencer office, and I don't want
they should find out or mistrust that lie
, 'ern here. If they should get wind
ement, they should be sure
~.una constitutional difficulty
:,e way, and try to make a bad botch
0, ihe business.
The President shot the into his room,
and charged me not to leave the house,
while he sent for Mr. Buchanan and Mr.
Marcy to fix up my private instructions.
\V kilo he was gone, .Ur. Ritchie fixed
me up a nice little bundle of private in
structions, too, on his own hook, mod
died, he said, on the Virginia Resolu
tions of '9B. Presently the President'
came back with my budget all ready,
and give me my instructions ' and
my pockets with rations, and told me
how to draw whenever I wanted money; 1
and before daylight I was ofr a good
piece on the road to the war.
To-day I met a man going on to carry
letters to the Government from General
Scott's side of the war, and I made him
stop a little while to take this letter to
you ; for I was afraid you might begin
to think I was dead. lie says Scott is
quite wrathy about the Trist business,
, and wants to push right on and take the
1 City of Mexico, but Mr. Trist is dispo
sed to wait and see if lie can't make a
bargain with Santa Anna's men. I shall
push along as fast as I can, and get into
the city of Mexico if possible before
Scott does, and if I only get hold of
Santa Anna, 1 have no doubt I shall
make a trade.
I don't know yet whether 1 shall take
Scott's road or Taylor's road to go to
the city of Mexico; it will depend a
little on the news I get by the way.--
Two or three times when I have been
stopping to rest I have been looking over
my private instructions.—They are fust
rate, especially Mr. Ritchie's.
I remain your old friend, and the Pres
ident's private Embasseder,
MAJOR JACK DOWNING.
PR ESE R VING EGGS. - This is the sea
son to put up a store of eggs, against
" time and need." There are various
modes of preserving them. Lime-water
has been found to answer well. Mr. H.
A. Parsons, of Buffalo, informs us that
he has been successful in preserving
them with salt. He takes large stone
jars, or tight kegs, and packs the eggs
on t , :e small end, first putting in a layer
of salt, and then a layer of eggs, taking
care that the eggs do not touch the keg
or jar. In this way the vessel is filled
to near the top, when it is carefully cov
ered over and placed in a cool, dark
place. Mr. P. has kept them in this
way, perfectly good for three years. It
is important that the eggs should be new,
not more than ten days old, when put
up, if it is intented to keep them a great
SPEAKING ILL OF A NEIGHBOR.- Never
place confidence in a person who makes
it a practice to run down his neighbor
and his neighbor's goods, because he is
in the same line of buisness. There are
those who are so destitute of moral prin
ciple—so mean and selfish that they can
not endure the thought of the prosperity
of their neighbors and when they are out
of certian articles which they know
their neighbors have in abundance, they
do not hesitate to tell the purchaser he
cannot obt lin in the town what he is in
. S,.ch a course may answer
• but eventually results
‘4 the liar. When the chit
!are found out, their eusto-
• . „ endually leave theta, believing
if they lie in one ease they will in
another—and not only lie but cheat also.
The most dangersous men to deal with
are those of this description. You never
hear the truly upright man speak ill of
another. With double dealings and dis
simulation he is an entire stranger.
A GOOD ONE.—Two grave members of
the 13nr encountered a dead pig on the
sibe-walk, and soon after encountered the
Coroner; whereupon one of them remark
ed to him that his services were required
to sit upon the body.
"Do you make the suggestion," in
quired the Coroner, "that you may pock
et the juryman's fees
"Olt no, interrupted the third party;
"H. could not serve, for the law pre
cludes the relatives of the derea3ed from
upon the jury."
[l•'or the Huntingdon Journal.]
OT Sell AV' 11.
Fox a number of years it has been I
generally believed, and settled as a mat
ter of fact, by antiquaries and scientific ,
.that the custom of wearing long
hair, yclepd (that is uncut—Die.) soap
locks, originated in the following man
ner : They trace it back to a fellow who
was convicted for stealing sheep, (no
doubt a disciple of Shakspeare,) and was
condemned to have his ears cut off for
the offence. And they say this fellow to
hide his disgrace, as well as cover the
disfigured auricular organs, permitted
his hair to grow very long; and then,
changing his calling a little, he set up
for a dandy. Strange to sag many adopt
ed the fashion, and long hair became the
6 bon ton.'—This story is but the modi
fication of the true version, which is af
ter this manner :—This custom had its
origin no doubt during the time of the
terrible persecutions under the bigoted
Land. Frynne was the man, who, wor
thy even of a better cause, became the
unconscious originator of this nice fash
ion. "We would not have a sheep ex
tractor for our pattern, would we !" No,
we look to the Martyr Prynne, who died
with fortitude for his Religion !'' Ban
croft throws light on this long obscured
point, and speaks thus,—" Four years
after Prynne had been punished for a
publication, he was a second time ar
raigned for a like offence. I thought,
said Lord Finch, that Prynne had lost
his ears already ; but, added he, exam
ining the prisoner, " there is something
left yet ;" and an officer of the Court
removing the hair displayed the mutila
ted organs."—Tradition varying and
changing from time, and prejudice
brought down the former story.—Like
all others of importance, this is a vexed
subject. And if the too precise and ex
clusive Antiquary should think our so
lution of the mystery, not to savour
enough of the shadowy and musty an
tique, we would offer for his meditations
a tradition, (from the very oldest sys
tem of Mythology now extant,) viz:
Apollo and Pun had a content together,
To try which could conquer in singing;
And Phrygia'a King, though as fickle as weather,
Determined to judge of the winning.
King Midas the victory ascribed unto Pon,
IA 'lnch Apollo, so much did harrass
That he stretched out the cars or the poor, simple
To the very extent of en ass.
M ides tried to conceal the disgrace with his hair,
But he found that hie barber must know it;
So he got him topromise, by threat and by prayer,
That to no one on Earth he should show it.
So weighty a matter the harbor soon found
Was not easy fa hint to contain,
Then n deep and round hale he dug in the
Where the secret might safely remain.
He put down his mouth and whispered these
"King Midas has got Ass' ears."
And coveted it up from man, beast or birds,
Then in this manner banished his fears.
But tall, slender seeds grew out of the hole,
Which in every breeze that did puss,
Would move and utter a sorrowful dolo
"King Midas bath the ears of an Ass."
As a matter of course in this age of
freedom of conscience and opinion, each
person can decide for himself. Further
comment is unnecessary.--Documenta
111 THE CUSSED THING.—The
New Haven Register gives the follow
inl• account of an incident on the New
Haven and Hartford Road, soon after it
went into operation. The train stopped
at Meridan to wood up, and a fidgety
gentleman, who was probably for the
first time in his life, in a railroad car,
and who held on to his seat with both
hands, from the moment the cars left
lartford, looking as though he expect
.l every moment to be shook out of the
window, suddenly stepped nut on the
platform, and took a rapid look at the
locomotive. "Anything the matter 1"
inquired a wag who had greatly enjoy
ed the countryman's perturbation. "Any
thing the matter ! I should think there
was something the matter, if you ever
noticed It ! Why they've stopped right
in the middle or the road, and pa'n't
hitched the cussed thing ! 'Spose an' it
should start hey 1" A roar of laugh
ter from the passengers in no wise alter
ed the man's views of the superior safe
ty of his position, "in case the cussed
thing should start."
13SR OF CORN.--A Yankee passing
through the Miami valley, made his in
quiry of a young farmer, who had just
been replenishing the inner man with a
drop of consolation-- " 1 say, mister,
what is the staple product of this ' ere
section of country!" "Corn, sir," was
the reply—"corn; . we raise here seventy
bushels to the acre, and manufacture et—
hic—into whiskey, to say nothing—hic—
of wh at is wasted for bread."
TWO NEIGHBORS AND TILE HENS.
BY 11. C. WRIGIIT,
A man in New Jersey told me the fol
lowing circumstances respecting himself
and one of his neighbors:
" I once owned a large flock of hens.
I generally kept them shut up; but, one
spring I concluded to let them run in my
yard, after 1 had clipt their wings so
that they could nut fly. One day, when
I came home to dinner, I learned that
one of my neighbors had been there,
full of wrath, to let me know that my '
liens had been in his garden, and that
he had killed several of•them, and
thrown them over into my yard. was
greatly enraged that he had killed my
beautiful hens, that I valued so much.—
I determined at once to be revenged—
to sue him, or in sonic way to get re
dress. I sat down and ate my dinner as
calmly as I could. By the time 1 had
finished my meal, I had become more I
cool, and thought perhaps it was not 1 ,
best to fight with my neighbor about
hens, and thereby make hint my bitter, '
lasting enemy. I concluded to try an- •
other way being sure that it would be
"After dinner I went over to my
neighbor's. He was in his garden. 11
went out and found him in pursuit of
one of my hens, trying to kill it. 1 ac
costed him. H ei turned upon me, his
face inflamed with wrath, and broke
out in great fury—
" You have abused me. I will kill all
your hens, if 1 can get at them. I never
was so abused. My garden is ruined."
"'I am very sorry for it,' said 1. '1
did not wish to injure you, and I now
see that I made a great mistake in let
ting out my hens. I ask your forgive
ness, and ant willing to pay you six
times the damage.'"
"The man seemed confounded. Ile
did not know what to make of it. lie
' looked up at the sky—then down to the
earth—then at his neighbor—then at his
club—and then at the poor lien he had
been pursuing, and said nothing."
"'Tell toe now,' said 1, what is the
damage, and I will pay you six fold; and
my hens shall trouble you no more. 1
will leave it entirely to you to say what
I shall do. I cannot afrord to lose the ,
love and good will of my neighbors, and ;
quarrel with them, for liens, or anything
"'l'm a great fool,' said the neighbor.
'The damage is not worth talking about ;
and I have more need to compensate you
than you ni‘, and to ask your forgive
ness than you mitie.' " •
Problem for Newspaper Dealers.
It is a common remark that "figures
won't lie." This may be true, in one
sense ; but we witnessed an instance, at
a railroad depot, the other day, in which
a newspaper dealer declared that figures
didn't exactly tell the truth at all events.
" What do you ask for your papers'!"
said a wag to a tittle curly headed news
Four cents a-piece, sir," replied the
• • • •
" Well," said the wag, "I'll take one;
here is a five cent piece ; give me one
The boy took the money and returned
the paper and one cent.
"But what du ask fur two papers'!"
inquired the joker.
" Six cents," said the boy.
" Well," said the joker, " I have giv
en you live cents—now here is one more,
that makes six--g ive inc another paper. -
The little boy looked confused—ha I f
pulled out the second paper—then re
turned it, and exclaimed, "No you don't!
You can't come the double wher over
this child that way,"
" Why, what's the matter ?" said the
wag; "I have given you six cents, and I
want two papers."
"Yes, said the boy, with his brain ev
idently in a snarl, "but one cent wit's
" True," said the wag, "but you gave
it me for change, and then 'twas mine,
"In course it was," said the boy,
"but I gin two cents a.piece for these
papers, and how can 1 sell them for one
and make money I don't like your
kind of cypherin', mister—so jilt give
me back my paper, and take your money,
and &gin again."
The wag consented, and the little
newsboy soon got his lingers straight-
ened out so ho could understand them
but we saw him a few minutes after
. wards, sitting down en a curb-stone,
with a cent in one hand and a five cent
piece in the other trying to puzzle out
how it was that the matt had bothered
him so.—lleity Crier.]
[1: - i'^ The Boston Time; says :—Our liten;ry Jeremy Diddler lia" d "bled"
bakers have so far improved the size of 11 , 3.1 y dear sir," said Gas, who happened
their bread, that a child cannot swallow to be present, "that is nothing—it is only
a ten cent loaf entire without danger 'another illustration of the triumph of
• of choking. wind over utllfer."
EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR
WHOLE NO. 604.
\Vallleiglt's Trial for Sleeping.in Meeting
Justice Winslow.-117eat do you know
about Wudleigh's sleeping in meeting?
Witness.—l know all about it; 'taint
no secret, I guess.
Justice.---Then tell us all about it ;
that's just what we want to know.
Witness--( Scratching his head.)--
" ell, the long and the short of it is,
John Wadleigh is a hard working man;
that is, he works mighty hard doing no
thing ; and that's the hardest work there
is done. It will make a feller sleep
quicker than poppy-leaves. So it stands
to reason that Wadleigh would 'laterally
be a very sleepy sort of person. Well,
the weather is sometimes naternlly con
siderable warm, and Parson Moody's
sarmons is sometimes rather heavy
"Stop, stop!" said Justice Winslow.
"No reflections upon Parson Moody;
that is not what you were called hers
Witness.--I don't cast no reflections
on Parson Moody. I was only telling
what 1 knew about John Wadleigh's
sleeping in meeting; and its my opin.
ion, especially in warm weather ; that
sarmous that are heavplike, and two
hours long, naterally have a tendency--
"Stop, stop! I say," said Squire
Winslow ; " if you repeat any of these
reflections on Parson Moody again, I'll
commit you to the cage fur contempt of
Witness.---I don't cast no reflections
on Parson Moody. I was only telling
what 1 know about John \Vudleigh's
sleeping in meeting.
Squire Winslow.---Well, go on and
tall us all about that. You went% called
here to testify about Parson Moody.
Wfitness.—That's what I'm trying to
do, if you wonldn't heep putting me out.
And it's my opinion, in warm weather,
folks is considerably; apt to sleep in
meeting ; especially when the attrition—
' I mean especially where they get pretty
tired. I know I find it pretty hard work
to get by seventhly and eighthly in the
sarmon myself; but if 1 once get by
there, I generally get into a kind of a
waking train again, and make out to
weather it. But it isn't so with Wad
: leigh ; I've generally noticed that if he
begins to gape nt the seventhly and
eighthly, it's a gone goose with him be
fore he gets through tenthly,
and he has
to look out for another prop for his head
somewhere, for his neck isn't stiff
enough to hold it up. And from tenthly
up to sixteenthly he's as dead as a door
nail, till the amen brings the people up
to prayers, and Wadleigh comes up
with a jerk, just like opening a jack-
frj -- -AN OLD TOPER, in the last stage
of dropsey, was told by his physicion
that nothing would save him but being
"tapped." His son, a witty little shaver,
objeted to the operation, saying :
"Daddy, don't submit to it, for you know
there was never anything 'tapped' in
our house 'that lasted more than
Treason to Discuss the War.
In a speech before the anti-war meet-.
ing, in Panetta Hall, Theodore Parker
" Treason, is it I—treason to discuss
a war which the government made, and
which the people. are made to pay fort
If it be treason to speak against the war,
what was it to make the war—to ask for
. 50,000 men, and $50,000,000 for the
war 1 Why, if the people cannot dis
cus the war they have got to light and
pay for, who under Heaven can I Whose
business is it, if it is not yours and
mine I—lf my country is in the wrong,
and I know it, and hold my peace, then
I am guilty of treason—moral treason.
Why a wrong, it is the only threshold
of ruin. I would not have my country
take the next step. Treason, is it, to
' show that this war is wrong and wick
ed 1 Why, what if George 111, any
time front '73 to 'S3, had gone down to
Parliament, and told them it was treason
to discuss the war then waging against
these colonies 1 What do you think
the Commons would have said', What
I would the Lords say 1 Why, that king,
foolish as 'he was would have been lucky
if he had not learned that there was a
joint in his neck, and, still' as he bore
him, that the people knew how to find
"I don't believe in killing kings, or
any other men; but I do say, in a time
when the nation was not in danger, that
no British King, for two hundred years,.
would have dared to call it treason to.
discuss the war—its cause, its progress,
or its termination!"
A publisher waslately.relatinghow