BY JAS, CLARK.
speech of A. R. CORNED), Esq.
The following is an abstract of a speech re
cently delivered in the House of Representatives,
by A. K. Coar vs, Esq., to which we alluded
in our last. The resolution relative to the un
it:raid bills" in the hands of the Governor, be
ing under consideration, Mr. CORNYN rose and
Mr. SPEAKER : Nothing, Sir, but an
imperative sense of duty, growing out
of what I conceive to be a sense of jus
tice to the Governor of this Common
wealth, induces me to trespass further
upon the already exhausted patience of
this House ; but the direction this de
bate has taken, leaves me no other al
turnative, but an abandonment of duty
on the one hand, or a brief expression
of my views on the other.
The remarks already made and the
course taken by certain gentlemen;
while examining the question, are well
calculated to place the present Execu
tive in a false position before the peo
ple, when the truth of the case is, as 1
apprehend it, he occupies the only posi
tion consistent with the constitution and
laws, and he stands on this question
just where any man should stand, who,
is elisions to do what is right, and avoid
whet is wrong. The Gentlemen on the
other side ask him to do—what '1 To
discharge the Executive functions of
this government I Yes ! and the Leg
islative and Judicial also! They ask
him by their arguments, as I shall en
deavor to show before I take my seat,
to unite in his person the whole power
of this Government . .
Now what are the facts in the easel
In the first place, it is said there are cer
tain lawn before hini, which are laws to
all intents and purposes, and which he
refuses to consider, or regard as such.
Now whether this is so, or whether it is
not so, I shall not stop to inquire: bare
ly remurking that on this point there is
no evidence before this House, either
official or unofficial, as to what are his
views with regard to the binding char
m-ter of those bills. ; But it is urged he
refuses to say anything to this House
on the subject, and refuses to order
them to be certified as laws, under the
Constitution. Admit this, for the sake
of the argument, (and there is no offi
cial evidence of it before this House,)
and what does it prove! It proves Sir,
that Governor Johnston is acting in
this matter as lie has always acted,
with an eye single to the Constitution
of his country and the rights of the
citizens. Let us see what his duty is,
under this honored instrument he is
sworn to support.
If those bills under con ideratinn are
laws, they are so by lapse of time, and
no act of the Governor's can give them
any binding force that they do not al
ready possess. And what provision of
the Constitution, I ask you, authorizes
him, or makes it his duty to communi
cate the fact to this House or to say
anything on the subject 1 Can any
thing he :nay say or do give them any
vital qualities they do not now possess 1
Most certainly not. Is there, I repeat
it, any thing in the Constitution, from
one end to the other, making it his duty
to say any thing on the subject'! Not
a word. On that point the Constitution
is silent as the grave. But says the
gentleman from Clarion, (Mr. M'CaLst
texy,) this is a high-handed measure in
the Governor refusing to certify that ,
those bills are laws! And this brings
us to the point at once. Those bills, it
is said, were regularly passed by the
last Legislature, and presented to the
Governor—that Gov. Johnston finding
them in the Executive Chamber, is
bound to regard them as having passed
both branches of. the Legislature, and
duly presented to the late Governor.—
Grnnt it, that they passed both houses
and were presented to the then acting
Governor. Where is the official evidence
of it I The gentleman from Clarion
says the Journals of this House are ev
idence of it ; and competent evidence
for the Governor to act upon. On this
point I join issue with him at once. I
affirm it, and Irest the affirmation upon
the Constitution itself, that the Jour
nals of this House are not such evidence
as the Governor should require, and
that too, for wise and obvious reasons.
The framers of the Constitution, deeply
impressed with the importance of their
undertaking, divided this Government
into three distinct departments—Legis
lative, Executive and Judicial ; each of
these independent, when acting within ,
their proper sphere, and the one has no
power to interfere with or encroach up
on the rights of the other. The House
is directed to " keep a Journal of its l l
proteedinge from day to day." What 1 1
for 1 For the Executive, that he may I
interfere with and examine it I Not at i
all. For the House itself. The Gover.
nor is not bound to examine its proceed
ings from day to day, to see what is I
going on. If the Journal were the only
and the proper evidence, he would often
'l~
niA( - ti4bcfn
be without it, for the ample reason that
the Journal of to-day does not contain
the proceedings of yesterday.
But there is another, a better, and a
higher reason for this. The Constitu
tion has not left us here to grope our
way hi the dark, relying on conjecture
and presumption. Its language is plain
and easily understood. "All bills shall
be presented to the bovernor." They
must be presented before they can be
come laws.
There are three modes by which acts
of the two Houses become - laws in this
country :—First, where the Governor
approves them. Second, where he re
jects nr vetoes them and they are pass
ed by two-thirds. Lastly, where he
holds them ten days without returning
them with his objections, unless the
Legislature shall, by its adjournment,
prevent his returning them—then and
in that case, they shall be laws, unless
returned within three days after the
meeting of the next Legislature. But
in no case can they become laws with
out presentation to the Governor. Now,
where is the evidence that the bills un
der consideration were ever presented
Ito the late Executive; and if presented,
when i—because that is important.
But here again, I am met by the gen
tleman from Clarion, who tells me the ,
Journals of the House prove it. Now I
know the gentlemen is a lawyer, and I
presume an able one, and we will test
the soundness of this argument, as well
as its strength, by legal rules. Grant,
if you please, that the bills were passed
and presented to the Governor, and
that we all know it to be so—dues dint
its itself make it proof I Most certain
ly not. It is a well settled principle of
law, yenning through English and
American jurisprudence, and a princi
ple that will not be questioned in any
judicial tribunal, that where a Consti
tution, an act of Parliament, or an act
of the Legislature, prescribes a panic
lar mode of proof, it cannot be departed
from, and it excludes all other modes in
the absence of the mode prescribed.—
Althmigh the kind proposed be quite as
clear and conclusive, yet It is rejected,
for grave reasons, resting on fundamen
tal principles. T o illustrate:—Suppose
an action of debt were pending before a
Judicial tribuna:, and the pica of the
Defendant was B.lnkruptcy. The act
however, makes the certificate of dis
charge, duly autheniiciaed by the pro
per officer, the evidenc, of o:—in the ab
sence then of this certificate,
would it
be pretended in any Court of law, that
you could introduce parel evidence to
prove the discharge, although the wit
nesses offered were present and knew
the Defendant was discharged I There
is no Court worthy the name that would
not instantly reject such testimony as
incompetent.
_ _ _
Nell then, admit the fact, for I do not
care to deny it, that these bills were
passed and the journals contain the fact,
still, it does not make it proof to the
Governor, for the very reason that the
Constitution has pr vided "that all bills
shall be presented to the Governor,"
and " the Secretary of the Common
wealth shall keep a fair record of all the
official acts of the Governor." This is
the evidence, and the only evidence;
and in the present case where is it 1 I
ask, where on those naked end uncerti
fied papers, is the evidence to be found 1
It is not there. There is no official mark
upon them by the Secretary of the Com
monwealth, denoting either, that they
ever were presented to the Governor, or
if presented, when 1 This then being
the Constitutional proof, in its absence
what is he to do I Is he to assume a
responsibility that does not belong to
him 1 Is he to set aside the injunctions
of the instrument he is bound to sup
port, and introduce a new order of evi
dence 1 Is lie to set himself up as the
Judge, the Execntivo and the Legisla
ture'? No sir, he is not. But this is
what is asked of him in the present
case. But the gentleman from Wyo
ming, a gentleman for whose legal opin
ions I entertain profound respect, seems
to think that when the Governor does
not sign or veto n bill, but simply receives
it, then and in that case there is no
"act" done requiring an official record
to be made. I don't think so ; there may
be a negative as well as a positive act,
and in either case the Secretary of the
Commonwealth is bound to keep an offi
cial record of it. The fact of presen
tation—the time when presented—and
the fact that he did not sign it at the
time— are all important acts, of which
the proper officer is bound to keep a
fair record. And now, I say sir, in the
absence of that official and fair record
the Secretary of the Commonwealth is
instructed to keep, the present Execu
tive is not bound, nor is he authorized
to certify those bills as being laws.—
Suppose he should do so and you Sir,
deeply interested in the bills, should en
quire of him in these words :—Gover
HUNTINGDON, PA,, TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 6, 1849.
nor Johnston, on what authority Sir,
did you certify those bills to he laws ?—
Did you find the name of the late Exec
utive approving them '1 No Sir. Did
you find any official record of their pre
sentation to the late Governor, and
when 1 No Sir. Did you find them
certified by the clerks and enrolled with
the laws of this Commonwealth ? No
Sir, nothing of the kind. I undertook,
without and in the absence of any Con
stitutional proof, to say they were laws.
Think you, Mr. Speaker, that Governor
Johnston would place himself in a pre
dicament so awkward—in a position so
unbecoming the Chief Magistrate of
this Commonwealth 2 No Sir.—He is
not the man to do so; and I honor him
for it. Whether they are laws, or whe
ther they are not, is a fact to be deci
ded by our Courts. Tney are compe
tent—they are the proper tribunal—and
to them the Governor is willing to sub
mit it. No person can be injured, no
rights can be interfered with, in taking
this view of the subject.
I repeat then, in view of all this, the
Governor has acted as he was bound to
do—in conformity to the laws and con
stitution. And yet Sir, because he has
not overridden the Constitution, and
broken down the barriers separating
one department from another, he is to
be denounced, and gentlemen are to
travel out of the record for the purpose
of engnging in a gratuitous assault upon
him ; and that, too, in the absence of any
official evidence before this House as to
what his views are. Whatever they
may be, I will undertake to say they
are sound, for he possesses an intellect
equal to any question thnt may arise un
der this Constitution. Now I put it to
this House—to its candor, and its sense
of justice, to say whether it is fair and
liberal, that a man should be denoun
, cod in advance 1 just too, when he is
entering upon his official career, anx ions,
and deeply anxious, to raise the State
from its depressed and impoverished
condition. We have been told Sir, on
this floor, that the Governor was shrink
ing from responsibility—anxious to
evade and avoid the open discharge of
his duty. When, I ask, has Governor
Johnston ever shrunk from anyjespon
sibility resting upon hint 2 or wren did
he fail to meet an issue? It is no part
of his history—no part of his character.
He has been placed in junctures too full
of difficulties heretofore, without be
traying weakness on the one hand, or
fear on the other. The Journals of this
Hotise show his position never was a
neutral one,
The Hon. Speaker too, has talked as
;bough be should be impeached.
0-lere the SPEAKER rose to explain
and sued, he put his remarks or charges
in the for,7u Of an inquiry—that if Guy.
Johnston tii:Jerstood his duty as,he un
derstood it, and !cruised to discharge it,
he should be impeethed , i
This Sir, only makes it worse. It is
put forth in the form of an inquiry, giv•
ing it all the force of an as.se.rtion with
out its fairness. What would lie ,thought
of me were I to rise in my place and
say, if it is true the Hon. Speaker uO
- his duty and refuses to do it,
and without any proof that lie had done
so, would it not be at least in bad Castel !
But Gov. Johnston cannot be injured
in this way. He stands before the peo
ple of this State to day with a character
above fear and beyond reproach,—a
character, resting on a basis too firm—
on a superstructure too enduring to be
shaken by the winds of mere assertion.
Those gentlemen will find, if they do
not know it now, before his official ca
reer closes, that a man of Titan mould
has once more taken possession of the
Executive chair of Pennsylvania—a
man, equal to any emergency, demand
ing either a lofty courage or a gifted sa
gacity.
f` Man doubles all the evils of his
fate by pondering over them. A scratch
becomes a wound, a slight an injury, a
jest an insult, a small peril a great dam.
ger, and a slight sickness often ends ►n
death, by the brooding apprehensions
of the sick. We should always look
on the bright side of life's picture.
If a man would register all his opin
ions upon love, politics, religion, learn
ing, etc., begining from his youth, and
so on to old age, what a bundle of in
consistencies would appear at last !
4,iierican Battles.—There were sixty
battles fought during the revolutionary
war; thirty eight during the last war
with Great Britain, and thirty-two in
all, during the war with Mexico.
The most valuable part of mates edu
cation is that which he receives from
himself, especially when the active en
ergy of his character makes ample
amends for th• want of a snore finished
course of study.
From the New York Christian Messenger.
The Unexpected Friend.
"It must be my child !" said the poor
widow, wiping away the tears which
slowly trickled down her wasted cheeks.
"There is no other resource, lam too
sick to work, and you cannot, surely, see
me and your little bruthers, starve. 'fry
and beg a few shillings, and perhaps by
the time that is gone, 1 may be better.
Go, Henry, my dear ;—I grieve to send
you on such an errand, but it must be
done."
The boy, a noble looking little fellow
of about ten years, started up, and throw
ing his arms about his mother's neck,
left the house without a word. He did
not hear the groan of anguish that was
uttered by his parent as the door closed
behind him; and it was well he did not,
for his little heart was ready to break
without it. It was a by-street in Phila
delphia, and as he walked to and fro on
the sidewalk, he looked first at one per
son then at another, as they passed him,
but no one seemed to look kindly on him
and the longer he walled, the faster his
courage dwindled away, and the more
difficult it became to beg. The tears
were running last down his cheeks, but
nobody noticed them, or if they did,
nobody seemed to care; for although
clean, Henry looked poor and miserable
and it is common for the poor and mis.
crable to cry.
Every body seemed in a hurry, and
the poor boy was quite in despair, when
at last lie espied a gentleman who seem
ed to be very leisurely taking a walk.
He was dressed in black, wore a three
cornered hat, and a face that was mild
and benignant as an angers.—Somehow
• when Henry looked at him, he felt all
his fears vanish at once, and instantly
approached him. His :ears had been
flowing so long that his eyes are quite
t swollen, and his v ice trembled—but
that was with weakness, for he had not
maul anything for twenty-four hours.
•As Henry with a low faltering voice,
; begged for a little charity, the gentle
; man stopped, and his kind heart melted
' with compassion as he looked into the
• fair countenance of the boy, arid saw
the deep blush which spread over his
' face, and listened to the modest, humble
tones which accompanied his petition.
"You do not look like a boy that has
been accustomed to beg his bread," said
he kindly, laying his hand on the boy's
shoulders; what has driven you to this
step 1"
" Indeed," answered Henry, his tears
begining to flow afresh, " indeed I was
not born in this condition. But the
misfortunes of my father, and the sick
ness of my mother, have driven me to
the necessity now."
"Who is your father'?" "inquired the
gentleman still more interested.
"My father was a rich merchant of
this city ; but lie became bondsman for
a friend, who soon after failed, and he
I was entirely ruined. He could not live
after this loss, and in one month he died
of grief, and his death was more dread
ful than any other trouble. My mother,
my little brother, and myself, soon sunk
into the lowest depths of poverty. My
mother has, until now, managed to stip-
I /L ori herself and my little brother by her
labor, and I have earned what I could by
shovei. l ing snow and other work that I
could ti:it to do, But night before last
mother was taken very sick, and she
has since becarKle so much worse that"—
here the tears poured faster than ever.—
"I do fear she will d i e. I cannot think
of any way in the world to help her. I
have not had any work to fot several
weeks.—l have no: had the courage to
go to any of my mother's old acquaint ,
antes, and tell them that she had come
to need charity. I thought you looked
like a stranger, sir, and something in
your face overcame my shame and gave
me courage to speak to you. 0, sir, do
pity my mother !"
The tears, and the simple and moving
language of the poor boy, touched a
chord in the breast of the stranger that
was accustomed to frequent vibrations.
" Where does your mother live, my
boy 1" said he in a husky voice; " is it
far from hero ?"
" She lives in the last house in this
street, sir," replied Henry. " You can
see it from here, in the third block, and
on the left hand side."
"Have you sent for a Physician 1"
"No, sir," said the boy, sorrowfully
shaking his head. "I had no money to
pay neither for a physician nor for the
medicine."
"Here said the stranger, drawing
some pieces of silver from his pocket,
"here are three dollars—take them and
run immediately for a physician."
Henry's eyes flashed with gratitude
—he received the money with a sumer-
Ing and almost inaudible, but with a look
of the warmest gratitude, and vanished.
The benevolent stranger immediately
sought the dwelling of the sick widow.
He entered a little room, in which he
()_,)
14.ournft
could see nothing but a few implements
of female labur—a miserable table, an
old bureau, and a little bed which stood
in one corner, on which the invalid lay.
She appeared weak, and almost exhaus•
ted ; and on the bed at her feet, sat a
little boy, crying as if his heart would
break.
Deeply moved at this sight, the stran
ger drew near the bedside of the invalid
and feigning to be a physician, inquired
into the nature of her disease. The
symptoms were explained in a lew words
when the widow, with a deep sigh added,
"0, sir, my sickness h as it deeper cause
and which is beyond the art Of the phy
sician to cure. 1 am a mother—a itiretch ,
ed mother. I see my children sinking
doily deeper in misery and want, which
1 have no means of relieving. My sick
ness is of the heart, and death alone
can end my sorrows ; but even death is
dreadful to me, for it awakens the
thought of the misery into which my
children would be plunged if
emotion choked her utterance and
the tears flowed unrestrained down her
cheeks. But the pretended physician
spoke so consoling to her,
and manifest
ed so warm a sympathy for her condi
tion, that the heart of the poor woman
throbbed with a pleasure that was un
wonted.
"Do nut despair," said the benevo'
lent stranger, " think only of recovery
and of preserving a life that is so pre
cities to your children.—Can I write a
prescription here 1"
The poor widow took a little prayer
book from the hand of the child who
sat with her on the bed, and, tearing out
a blank leaf, "1 have no other paper,"
said she " but perhaps this will do."
The stranger took a pencil from his
pocket, and wrote a few lines upon the
paper.
"This prescription," said he, "you
will find of great service to you. If it
is necessary, I will write you a second.
I have great hopes of your recovery."
He laid the paper on the table and
went away.
Scarcely had he gone when the older
son returned.
" Cheer up, dear mother," said he,
I going to her bed side and affectianately
kissing her.—" See what a kind, benev
olent stranger has given us. It will
make us rich for several days. It has
enabled us to have a physician, and he
will be here in a moment. Compose
yourself, now, dear mother, and take
courage."
"Come nearer, my son," answered
the Mother, looking with pride and af
fection on her child. "Come nearer
tl at I may bless you. God never for
sakes the innocent and the good. G
may He still watch over you in all yOur
paths ! A physician has just been here.
He was a stranger, but he spoke to me
with a kindness and a compassion that
was a halm to my heart. When he went
away he left that prescription on the ta
ble; see if you can read it."
Henry glanced at the paper and start
ed back—ho took it up, and as he read
through again and again, a cry of %yon
der and astonishment escaped him.
" What is it my son 1" exclaimed the
poor widow, trembling with an appre
hension of she knew not what.
"Ah, read, read mother !" God has
heard as."
!I The mother took the paper from the
hand of her son, but no sooner lied she
ti‘ed her eyes upon it, than "My God!"
she exclaimed, 1 , it is Washington !" and
fell hack, fainting upon her pillow.
The writing was an obligation from
Washington, (for ;t was indeed he,) by
which the widow was to receive the sum
of one hundred dollars, from his own
private property, to be doubled in the
e vise of necessity.
Meanwhile the expected physician
made his appearance, and soon awoke ;
the mother horn her fainting fit. The j
joyful surprise, together with a good
nurse with which the physician peon/.
ded her, and a plenty of wholesome food
soon restored her to perfect health:
The influence of Washington, who
visited her more than once, provided for
the widow friends who furnished her
with constant and profitable employment,
and her sons, when they had arrived at
the proper age, they were not only able
to support themselves, but to render the
remainder of their mother's hie corn ,
fortable and happy.
Let the children who read this story,
remember, when they think of the great
and good Washington, that he was not
above entering the dwelling of poverty,
and carrying joy and gladness to the
hearts of its inmates. This is no ficti
tious tale, but it is only one of a thou
sand incidents which might be related of ; I
him, and which stamp him one of the
best of men. I
THE friendship of some people is like
our shadow, keeping close to is while
we walk in the sunshine, but desert ing
us the moment we enter the shade.
VOL. XI V-
NO 4
A Beautiful Exti act.
However dark and disconsolate the
path of life may seem to any man, there
is an hour of sleep and undisturbed re
pose at hand, when the body may sink
into a dreamless alliteber. Let not the
imagination be startled, if the resting
place, instead of being a bed of downs,
should be a bed...of gravel, or the rocky
bed of the tomb: No matter where the
poor remains of a man may be, the re
pose is deep and undisturbed. the
,sor
rowful bosom heaves no more, flit tears
are dried up in their fountaing, the °eh
ing head is at rest, and the stormy
waves of earthly tribulations roll un
heeded over the place of graves. Let
&Mies engage in fearful conflict over
the very bosom of the dead, not one of
the Sleepers heeds the spirit-stirring
triumph, or responds to the thuntaring
shouts of victory. Hilyv quiet those
countless millions sleeo' in the arms of
their mother earth ! The Voice ur thun
der shall not awaken them—the loud
cry of the elements, the winds, the
waves, not even the giant trend of the
earthquake, shall be able to cause an in
quietude in the chamber of death. '1 hey
shall rest and pass away--the last great
battle shall be fought ; and then a stnall
voice, at first not heard, shall rise to a
tempest, and penetrate the voiceless
grave. For a trumpet shall sound, and
the dead shall hear His voice.
Quick on the Trigger.
"You will please observe," said old
Mr. Lambwell, as he led us through his
school the other day, " that the boys are
required to display the utmost attention
to quietness and discipline, and in a
short time become even divested of that
most annoying disposition to tease each
other ; ire short, they soon settle down
into air file gravity of mature years,
nader the wholesome system I have in•
troduced."
We at this moment arrived ?ti front
of several boys who Were standing
' around a bucket of water, and one hnd
just charged his mouth with the con
tents of a tin cup, while the old gentle
man was stooping to recover his ptri
from the floor, when another passing
along behind snapped his fingers quick
. ly beneath the drinker's ear, and onus
'ed him by a sudden start to eject' the
! contents of his mouth over the peda
gogue's bald pate. Starting uprigitl,
with his hair and face dripping, the
master shouted
" Who done that V'
The party unanimthisly cried out---
" Jim Gun, sir."
"Jim Gun, )ou rascal, what did you
do that for 1"
Jim, al - Palled at the mischief he had
done, muttered out that it was nut his
fault, but that Turn Owens had snapped
This changed the lirectfon'g of old
Lambwell's wrath, grid shaking his
cane portentously over Owens' head, he
arked—
Did you snap Gun V'
The culprit, trembling with fear,
murmured—
"Yes, sir; I snapt Gut, but I didn't
know he was loaded."
The Way to tend a Itaby.
A Chippewa Indian has been lecturing
in Hartford, Where, in a lecture on Tues
day evening ; according to the “Times,"
he advised the ladies of Hartford to tie
their babies, as soon as they were born,
to a board, bind them dolt n tight, and
keep them there most of the time till
they are ten months old. " Put a hop!,
round the head," he says, and then
when the board gets knocked over, it
won't break the child's nose." He sums
up other advantages as follows : " You
see ladies, (holding up a specimen.) the
child's hand's are tied down, so it can
not scratch its own eyes out, and can't
scratch its mother's breast, too ; it can't
wriggle about and get very tired ; it
can't bend over, and must grow straight;
when the mother goes out after he'.'Ss,
she can hang it on a tree, and snakes
can't bite it ; when it cries, the mother
can swing it across her back, and rock
it so ; (swaying his body to and fro,)
and can carry it a great distance in this
way, too; can sit up along side of the
wigwam, very handy ; and when canoe
turns over, the child swims off on the
board, and don't drown; and its back
don't break across its mother's arm,
because the board supports it; the
child can't crawl into the tire and burn
up, ton—can leave it long time, all safe
—so I think this much best way ; ladies
—much best !" The ladies gave in their
assent by a general laugh.
Francis was the first monarch who.ir.
troduced ladies at his court. He said,
in a style of true galantry, "that a
drawing room without ladies was like
the year without the spring --or, rather
like a spring without flowers."
Everything great is not always good,
but all good thins are groat.