Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, September 04, 1849, Image 1
/ )"' s BY JAS. CLARK. THE LABORER. 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 down 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 abstinence man. "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 ular falls. 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, ye 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 manhood ! 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 avoided ! Elegant Extract. 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 undergo. 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 companions. s:Call him to no account of his even ings. 6. Futnish him With no stated employ. ment. 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. Loungers. 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 alley. 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 price. "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 ready answer. "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 fice." 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 it 1" "Olie dollar and a half." "A dollar and a half ! why you offer ed it yourself for a dollar and a quilt ter." "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 office. 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. 'the Rose. 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' of Herdei. A Gentleman. 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. \ • 0 44' - 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 even to '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 bad.' • '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 Squire. A voice replied i 'Oh no! 'Oh ho don't let's.' Some perions out doors sung out : 'Come into court!' and the laughter ii , as general: The bride was near fainting, and the Squire was not far from it; being an indefatigable man, however, he began again : '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 is aimed. 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; Washington. 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 visitors." 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 ies.