Newspaper Page Text
BY JAS. CLARK.
ny WILLIA3I D. GALLAGIIEIt
Stand up—erect ! Thou hest the form,
And likeness of thy God!-who morel
A soul as dauntless 'mid the storm
Of daily life, a heart as warm
And pure, as breast ere wore.
What then?—Thou art as true a Dina
As moves the human mass among ;
As much a part of the Great Plan
That with creation's dawn began,
As any of the throng.
Who is thine enemy?—the high
In station, or in wealth the chief':
The great, who coldly pass thee,by,...
With proud step and averted eye?
Nay ! nurse not such belief.
If true unto thyself thou wast,
What were the proud one's scorn to thee!
A feather which thou mightest cast
Aside, as icily as the blast
The light leaf from the tree.
No ;--uncurbed passions- , -low desires—
Absence of noble self-respect—
Death, in the breast's consuming tires,
To that high nature which aspires
For ever, till thus checked:
These nre thine enemies—thy worst ;
They chain.thee to thy lowly lot—
Thy labor and thy life accursed.
Oh, stand erect ! and from them burst !
And longer suffer not !
Thou art thyself thine enemy !
The great!---what better they than thou!
As theirs, is not thy will as free
Has God will equal favors thee
Neglected to endow?
True, wealth thou bast hot : 'tis but (lust!
Nor place : uncertain as the wind!
But that thou hast, which, with thy crust
And water, may despise the lust
Of both—a noble mind.
With this, and passions under ban,
True faith, and holy trust in God,
Thou art the peer of any man.
Look up then—that thy little span
Of life may be well trod !
From the Boston Herald .
Father Matthew's Blessing.
After having administered the pledge,
rather Mathew is accustomed to bless
those who receive it. This blessing
seems to be prized by his countrymen
as the main virtue which enables them
to keep it—it is as follows.:
"May God bless you, and grant you
grace to keep the pledge. May God
grant you peace and prosperity here,
and eternal happiness hereafter."
Come on, my friends ! Come kneel
This he is accustomed to say preiTiOuS
'to giving the pledge. He says this in
a bland, and almost irresistible tone,
which few of his countrymen who hear
it pretend to resist. It has a magic
about it, which, when coupled with his
name and the love borne him by the Irish
people, accounts, in a great measure,
for his wonderful success.
" There is no slavery," says the Rev.
Father, to a squad upon their knees,
"like that of strong drink, and you
should do all you can to rescue your
fellow-man, the drunkard, who is a curse
to society, and a curse to himself.
"I have no object, my friends, but
your happiness; happiness without al
loy will be yours in becoming a total
"I entered the public schools of this
city on examination day, and was proud
when I recognized the natne of an Irish
man's son; there was the best blood of
Ireland thine. Oppressed by povery
and obscured by ignorance, all the bles
sings of this great and glorious country
are within reach, and well. may I say
unto you who are oppressed by the yoke
of intemperance, that the burden of tem•
perance is light. Which of you can flee
from the wrath to comet why will you
die! Taste, handle not the dup. Now
rs the accepted time. I can't be long
With you, I took a long voyage to see
tou, all for your own benefits ; to ena
le you to prosper in the world ; to en
able you to become great men in the
land. I despise the man who keeps his
children from school. The world must
be onward ! onward I Don't expose
yourself to temptation. I don't care
anything about the rum sellers ; 'tis you
who keep them thriving ; stop drinking
and they will stop selling.
"The Irish people, during the famine,
consumed more liquor than would pay
to supply the whole people of Ireland
with food. They were the murderers
of those who fell by the famine, and the
Almiehty will demand the lives of the
people at their hands.
' , Come my friends, take the pledge
for the sake of your children ; you Will
lay the foundation of your own prosper.
ity, arid I promise 'you, you will never
regret it.' The wheel of fortune is al
ways going round, and the 'poorest may
rise to the top if he is sober, but it
leaves the drunkard in the rum-shop,
and passes him. by."
Such were the remarks of Father
Mathew, while administering thepledge.
Punch says there is no man, however
high, but who is jealous of some one
and there is no man, however low, but
Wl'n has some one who is jealous of him !
A CRUEL STRATAGEM.
Did you ever hear of "Old Smith,"
that used to live away down east, du
ring the early settlement of the country
now called Maiuel Old Smith had lost
several relations by the hands of the
Indians, a•id h•ul ‘ , .iwed eternal enmity
to the whole a.a e, He had been twice
taken by the savage tribes, but contriv
ed to escape I rom them, and had killed
several of their number. He sought
every opportunity to do them harm in
any way. By this course he had become
exceedingly obnoxious to the red men )
that they would not even kill him if they
could, but were almost constantly on
the watch to take him alive, for the par•
pose of satisfying their revenge by the
infliction of the utmost torture that bar
barity could invent. Smith was aware
of this disposition of the savages, and
was less afraid of their bullets. It was
reported that Smith was et one time en
gaged in splitting some pine logs for
fence rails, and in the ardor of his em
ployment he had neglected his 'look out'
till six Indians came upon him with a
yell of exultation. The chief of the par
ty, whose name was Wuhsoos, seized
him by the arms, exclaiming—
" Now Smit! now Smit ! me got you."
Smith saw it would be vain toresist,
and assuming an air of composure, thus
addressed his captor—
" Now, Wabsoos, I will tell you what
I will do ; if you will now help me to
split open this log, I will then go with
you without any resistance ; otherwise
I will not, walk a step, and you will have
to carry or kill me."
The Indians, now having him safe in
their possession, and willing to save
themselves trouble, agreed to help split
the log if he would show them how.—
Smith had already opened one end of
the log with a large wooden wedge, and
renewing his blows on the wedge with
a beetle, lie directed them to take hold
of the separated parts of the log, three
on each side, And pull with all their
might, while he should drive in the
wedge. The red men were not without
suspicions, but kept their eyes on Smiths
motions, while they pulled at the sun ,
dered parts of the log. Every blow of
Smith opened the crevice wider, which
enabled the Indians to renew their holds
by inserting their fingers deeper into
the crevice, when Smith, slightly chan
ging the direction of the beetle, struck
on the side of the wedge, knocking it
out of the log, which, closing with great
force, caught every foe by the hands.
save one, who seeing the predicament
of his companions, took to his heels, but
ivas quickly brought down by Smiths
long barrelled gun, which he had kept
near hitn. The other five expected no
mercy, and were not disappointed. Five
blows from Mr. Smith's axe silenced
their death song.
A year or more after this affair, Smith
was returning one evening from an ex
cursion, and, passing near a bend of the
Androscoggin river, about a mile above
the falls, on which the Lewistown Mills
are now located ; it was nearly dark,
and he discovered an Indian, making a
fire on a rock by the river bank. Smith
saiv through the business at once ; the
fire was for a beacon to guide the land
ing of a strong party. With unerring
aim, he shot the lone savage, who
pitched into the water, and Smith qui
etly thret, the fire and fire brands after
him, and then proceeded down to the
falls, and there he soon kindled another
fire on a projected rock ; and then *mi. ,
ring up•the river bank n small distance,
awaited the result. He soon heard the
songs of a company of warriors, who
had then discovered the tire, and were
steadily paddling towards it in high
glee. Smith could hardly refrain from
laughing aloud, as they neared the fatal
beacon. The songs were suspended by
surprise, at the rapid motion of their ca
noes, and the hoarse roar of the falls re
vealed too late; the dreadful truth. A
brief death-song uttered in savage veils,
and the cries of several squaws and pa-,
pooses, were all that preceded their last
and dreadful plunge over the perpendic
Thy brother is in the ditch. Pass
him not by. Give him thy hand and
raise him up. Temptation was too paw•
erful for him ; he yielded and has fallen:
Pity him ; say not a reproachful word ;
use kind ifords and thou wilt restore
him to virtue again. Scores of the
tempted and fallen have thus been
saved. The path to heaven is thronged
with holy spirits, who were once in the
mire and dirt: Kindness saved them.
CHANCE FOR AN INFERENCE.-A little
boy of four or five years, was much vex
ed with his grandmother for boxing his
ears; but not daring to 'sauce' the old
lady directly, he took up his favorite
eat s and ctroking her back thus address
ed tier pussy, I wish one of
us three was dead—and it aint you, pus
sy, and it am! me, pussy.'
HUNTINGDON, PA., TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 1849.
The Marrhige Altar.
Judge Charlton, in a recent eloquent
address before the Young Men's Libra
ry Association, at Augusta, Georgia,
thus sketches the marriage scene
1 have drawn for you many pictures
of death ; let me now sketch for you a
brief, but bright scene of beautiful life.
It is the marriage altar ; a lovely female
clothed in all the freshness of youth and
surpassing beauty, leans upon the arm
of him, to whom she has just given up
herself forever. Look in her eyes,
gloomy philosophers, and tell me if ye
dare, that there is no happiness on earth.
See the trusting, the heroic devotion,
Which impels her to leave country, pa
rents, for a comparative stranger. She
has launched her frail bark upon a wide
and stormy sea; she has handed over
her happiness and doom for this world,
to another's keeping; but she has done
it fearlessly, for love whispers to her
that her chosen guardian and protector
bears a manly and a noble heart. Oh,
woe to him that deceives her ! Oh, woe
to him that forgets his oath and his
Her wing shall the eagle flap,
O'er the false hearted,
His life blood the wolf shall lap,
Ere his life be parted:
Shame and dishonor sit
On his grave ever ;
Blessinge shall hallow it,
Never 1 oh, never I
We have all read the story of the hus
band, who, in a moment of hasty wrath
said to her who but a few months before
had united her fate to his—'lf you are
not satisfied with my conduct, go, return
to your friends and your happiness.'--
'And will you give the back that which
I brought to youl' asked the despairing
wife. 'Yes,' he replied, 'all your wealth
shall go with you—l covet it not.' 'Alas!'
she answered, thought not of my
wealth, I spoke of my maiden affections
—of my buoyant hope—of my deiroted
love ; ran you give these back to mei'
'No,' said the man, throwing himself at
her feet, 'No, I cannot restore these,—but
1 will do more—l will keep them unsul
lied and unstained. I will cherish them
through thy life, and in my death, and
never again will I forget that 1 hate
sworn to protect and cheer her who gave
up to me all she held most dear.' Did I
not tell you that there was poetry in a
Woman's look—a woman's wordl—See
it here ! the mild and gentle reproof of
love winning from its harshness and
rudeness, the stern and unyielding tem
per of an angry man. Alt ! if creation's
fairer sex only knew their strongest
weapons, how many of wedlock's fierce
battles would be unfought—how much'
of unhappincis and coldness would be
There is an elien-tide in human life;
a season when the eye becomes dim and
the strength decays, when the winter of
age begins to shed upon the human head
its prophetic snows. It is the season of
life to which the autumn is most analo
gous; find which it becomes, and much
it would profit you, my elder brethren,
to mark the instruction which the sea
son brings. The spring and the summer
df ydur days are gone, and with them
not only joys they knew, but Many of
the friends who gave them. You have
entered upon the autumn of your being
—and whatever may have been the pro
fusion of your spring—or the warm tem
perament of your summer, there is a
season of stillness or solitude which the
benificence of heaven affords you, in
which you may meditate upon the pnst
and future, and prepare yourselves for
the mighty change which you may soon
It is now that yen may understand
the magnificent language of heaven—it
mingles its voice with that of Revela
tion—it summons you to these hours
when the leaves fall and the witite'r is
gathering, to that evening study which
the mercy of Heaven has provided in the
book of salvation. And while the shad
ow valley opens, which ltrids to the
abode of death, it Fpeaks of that love
vtihich dan eomfart and save, and which
can conduct to these green pastures
and those still waters where there is an
eternal spring for the children of God.
How to Ruin a Son.
1. Let him have his own way.
2. Allow him the free use of money.
3. Suffer him to roam where he picas.
es on the Sabbath.
4, Giire him full access to Wicked
s:Call him to no account of his even
6. Futnish him With no stated employ.
Pursue either of these ways, and you
will experience a most marvellous deli.
verance, or will have to mourn over a
debased and ruined child ! Thousands
have realized the snd result, and have
gone mourning to the grave.
Benjamin Franklin was one of the first
boasellers in Philadelphia his stab
was in Market street, north side, near
ly midway between Front and Second
streets, and his printing office on the
same lot; but fronting on Pewplatter
One morning, while Franklin was bu
sy in preparing his newspaper for the
press, a lounger stepped into the store,
and spent an hour or more in looking
over the books, &c., and finally taking
one in hand, asked the shop-boy the
"One dollar," was the answer.
"One dollar !" said the lounger, "can't
' you take less than that?"
"No indeed—one dollar is the price."
Another hour had now nearly passed,
whets the lounger asked : "Is Mr. Frank
lin at homel"
"Yes, he is in the printing office."
"1 want to see him," said the lounger.
The shop-boy immediately informed
Franklin that some one was in the store
waiting to see him. Franklin was soon
behind the counter, when the lounger,
with book in hand, addressed him thus:
"Mr. Franklin, what is the lowest you
can take for this book'!"
"One dollar and a quarter," was the
"One dollar and a quarterl why your
young man asked only a dollar."
" , True," said Franklin, "and I cold('
have better afforded to take a dollar thtn,
than to have been called out of the of
The lounger seemed surprised—and
wishing to end the parley of his own
making, said—.icome, Mr. Franklin, tell
tne What is the lowest you can take for
"Olie dollar and a half."
"A dollar and a half ! why you offer
ed it yourself for a dollar and a quilt
"Yes," said Franklin, "And I had
better have taken that price then, than
a dollar and a half now."
'Fdte lounger paid down the price, and
went about his business, if he had any,
and Franklin returned into the printing
If any storekeepers are the better for
the custom of loungers, especially such
of them as chew tobacco and smoke se
gars in the store, they are respectfully
requested to publish the secret for the
benefit of country merchants generally.
I see all flowers round about me here
fading and dying, and yet I alone am
ever termed the fading away, the easi
ly-perishing Rose. liugrateful men ! do
I not make my short ex istence pleasant
enough to you 1 Do I not in truth, after
my death even, prepare for you a sepul
chre of sweet odors, medicines and oint
ments full of refreshing and strength
ening qualitiesl And notwithstanding
this I hear you even singing and. say
ing; "Ah 1 host fading; how easily per
ishing is the rose !"
Thus lamented the Queen of Flowers
upon her throne, perehnnce already in
the first perception of her declining
beauty. A maiden, standing before, o
verheard her and said, "Be not angry
with us, sweet pretty one! Call not
ingratitude, that which is a higher love,
the wish of a fond inclination--we see
all flowers around us die, and we con
sider such the destiny of flosters, but
thee, thee alone, do we wish and hold
worthy of immortality. If we find our
selvs disappointed in our desires, yet
ltafe to us the lamentation by which,
in thee, wt; beittil our destiny--all the
beauty, youth, and joy of our life we
compare to thee, and as they, like thy
self whither away, so do we sing and
say, "Ah ! how fading, how easy to fall
to pieces is the Rose !"—Tarantythien'
Show me the men who can quit the
brilliant society of the young to listen
to the kindly voice of age—who can
hold cheerful converse with one whom
years have deprived of charms—show
me the man who is as willing to help
the deformed who stand in need of help
Its if the blush of Helen mantled on her
cheek—show me the man who would no
more look rudely at the poor girl In the
village than dt the elegant and well dres
sed lady in the saloon--show me the
men who treats unprotected maiden
hood as he would the heiress, surroun
ded by the powerful protection of rank,
riches and family—show me the man
who abhors the libertine's gybe, who
shuns as blasphemer the traducer of his
mother's sex --- who scorns ns lib would a
coward the ridiculer of women's foibles,
or the exposer of womanly reputation—
show me that man who never forgets
for an instant the delicacy, the respect
that is due to woman as woman in any
condition or class—and you show me a
gentleman—nay, you show me better,
you biIQW me a true Christisn.
- WO 4,414,/
Dow Jr. on California.
We make the following extract from
one of Dow Jr.'s Patent Sermons, re
cently published. It contains truths
worthy of consideration at this time :
Hearers—l know very well what
you imagine will procure to , you bliss by
the hegshettd ; it is that wredhed, filthy
stuff called money ! This it is keeps
your souls in a flutter, and sets you
jumping like a lot of chained monkeys
at the sight of a string of fresh fish.—
You think if you only possessed a cer•
lain heap of the lucre, you would lid off
in lavender—make mouths at care—say,
How are you ? to sorrow—laugh at time
and feel as happy as an oyster in June.
0, yes! if you only had enough of the
trash, I admit you might feel satisfied
and of course contented; but in such
cases, more, (according to Daboll and the
devil,) the last more requires most ; most
wants more yet, and soon, to the end of
everlasting; there is no such thing as
enough in worldly riches. As well
might the sow be supposed to get enough
of wallowing in the mire, as for a mortal
to be satisfied with rolling in the carrion
of wealth. So fa;se are your ideas oh
the means to obtain happiness; that you
would, if you could, etlax angels front
the skies to rob them of the jewels in their
diadems. 1 haten't th 6 least doubt of it.
My dear friends—l will tell you how
to enjoy as much bliss as heaVen can
afford to humans. Be contented with
what you have no matter how poor it is,
till you haVe an opportnuity to get some
thing better. Be thankful for every
crumb that falls from the table of Prov
idence, and live in the constant expec
tation of having the luck to pitch upon
a whole loaf. Have patience to tint up
with present troubles, and console your
selves with the idea that your situations
are paridises compared to others.—
. When you have enough to eat to satisfy
hunger--enough to drink to quench
thirst; enough to wear to keep you de
cent and comfortable, just enough of
what is vulgarly called 'lin" to produre
you a few luxuries; When you Mire no
one, and no one owes you, not even d
grudge--then if you are not happy, all
the gold in the universe cannot make
you so. A man much wiser than I once
said, give me neither poverty nor rich
es and I look upon him as the great
est philosopher that the World ever pro,
All he Wanted was a contented
mind, sufficient bread and cheese, and a
clean shirt. Take the pattern after him,
0 ye discontented mortals who vainly
imagine that bliss alone is to be fdund
in the places of wealth and cpulenac.
My hearers—if you consider all crea
tion too poor to afford a pennyworth of
pure blessedness, you must pray to be
come reconciled by its poverty. Grease
your prayers with faith, and send thco
up in earnestness ; hot from the soul's
oven. This manufacturing cold peti
tions with the lips. while the heart con
tinually cries Gammon, is of no more
use than talking Choctaw to a Chinese.
Heaven understands no such gibberish,
it knows only the pure simple language
of the spirit—the soul's Vernacular. So
when you pray do it in as simple a man
ner as poosible but with red hot ear
nestness, and your soul will find rest
wherever you are—whether nibbling at
a crust in poverty hollow, or half star
ving in California, while endeavoring to
transmogrify a bag of gold into at Indi
an-pudding. So mote it be.
SOUTHERN CHOLERA ANECDOTE.—The
Richmond Rapublican, its commenting
upon the cholera, remarks that at least
five blacks die tb one White, on account
of their having less control of their ap
petites, in addition to their belief that
'a man's time is fixed.' It relates the
following anecdote :
"What is amusing even in so serious
a matter as an attack of the cholera; is
the uniform pertinacity with which its
colored subjects will deny to their med
ical attendants that they have eaten any
thing which could make them sick. An
eminent physician of our city informed
us that on being called to a negro slid.:
deuly attacked with cholera; he asked
him whether be had been eating fruit or
vegetables. 'Oh, no, sir,' was the re
reply, 'nothing of th e kind." What,
have you ate no apples or clierrieal"No,
no,' said the negro, never eats 'erii any
time of the year: 'Well, 1 believe you
have,' said the Doctor,
'and I'll prove it
is a short time.' The admin
istered a vomit, the result of Which was
the ejection of about a quart of apples,
stems, seeds and all. 'Well,' said the
doctor, thought yo u told me you had
not been eating apples. Look at those.
Are they not applesl"They does look
like 'em, sir.' ..dre they not applesi'
'Yes, sir, they are, thats n fact.' Well,
how did they get into you, if you did
not eat theml, 'Please God, mesa, I
don't know, but I never eat anything of
the kind.' The conclusion to which our
medical friend came was that 'the only
VOL. XIV i NO, 84
Iway to get the truth out of a negro is td
vomit it out of him;' and even then he
won't own it."
A Georgia Wedding.
The preacher was prevented froM ta•
king his part in the ceremouy; arid
ne*lY created Justice df the Peace, Who
chanced to be present, was Called upon
to officiate in his place. The good man's
knees began to tremble, for he had net:
er tied the knot, and did not know where
to begin. He had no 'Georgia Justice,'
or any other book from which to read
the marriage service. The company
was arranged in, a semicirele; etch One
bearing tallow candle. He thought
over everything he had ever learned i
'Thirty days bath September,
_April, Jtine and November,
but all hi vain, he could recolleCt tak
ing that suited the odertisibtl: A Sup:
pressed titter all 64er the room admon
ished him that he must proceed with
something, and in the agony of despera
tion he began—=
'Know all then by these presents, that
I'—here he paused, and looked up to
the ceiling; while an audible +6iee in a
Corner of the room was heard to say :
'lle is drawing a deed to a tract of
land,' and they all laughed.
'ln the name of God, amen !' he began
again, only to hear another voice in a
loud, whisper say :
'He's Making his will ; I thought he
could not Jibe king; he looks so powerful
'Now 1 lay the dOWn to sleep.'
'I pray;'—was the next eddtiy, when
some erudite gentleman remarked:
'He is not dead but sleepeth'
'Oh yes ! Oh yes !' continued the
A voice replied i 'Oh no! 'Oh ho
Some perions out doors sung out :
'Come into court!' and the laughter ii , as
The bride was near fainting, and the
Squire was not far from it; being an
indefatigable man, however, he began
'qo all and singular, tho skier—'
Lets run ; hes gOing to 1661 on us,'
said two or three at once.
Here a gleam of light flashed across
the face df the Squire. He drdered the
bride dud grodm td hdld up their hands
and in a solemn voice said
'YOU, and each of you, do solemnly
swear, in the presence of the present
conipany that ydu will perform towards
each other, all, and singular, the func
tions of husband and wife as the case
may be, to the best of your knowledge i
and ability, so help you God.'
'Good as wheat,' exclaimed the fath
er of the bride.—Stanford Xdvocate:
WHY SHOULD ANY MAN SWEAR.—I
can conceive of no reason why he should
but of ten reasons why he should not
I. It is mean. A man of high moral
standing would as soon steal ad
It is vulgar—altogether too much
so for a decent man:
3. It i s cowardly—implying n fear
either of not being bdieVed or obeyed.
4. It is ungentlerrianly. A gentleman,
according to Webster, is a genteel man
—well-bred, reflii6d. Such a one will
no more srbear than go into the street
to throw thud with a clodhopper.
5. It is indecent— offensiv . e . to
cy and extremely unfit for human ears.
6. It is foolish. 'Want of decency is
want of sense.'—Pope.
7. It is abusive. To the mind ivhicli
conceives the oath, to the tongue whicit
utters it, and to the person at which it
8. It is venemous, showing a man's
heart to be a nest of 'riper's and eery
time he stVears One of them sikks out
of his head.
9. It is contemptible, forgetting the
respect of all the wise and good.
10. It is wicked, violating the divine
law, and provdking the displeasure of
Him who will not hold them guiltless
that take his name in vain.
tOO MUtil FOR THE GENkitAt:—The
Mobile Tribune tells the following story
of Jemmy Mahar, who has been so long
the gardner at the Presidential House;
Gen. Jackson had heard rumors that
Jemmy wan rtCcustottred W get dtunk
and be uncivil to the visitors of the.
Whitt, House; so one bright morning
he suthmoned him into his presence to
receive his dismissal.
"Jemmy," said the General, "I hear
bad stories about you. It is said you
are constantly drunk and uncivil to the
Jommy was puzzled for a reply, at last
he said :
"General, boded, 1 hear much worse
stories about you, but do I believe them
No, by the powers; I know they arts