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BY JAS. CLARK.
When I am old.
Will affection still enfold me, .
As the day of life declines,
When Old Age with ruthless vigor,
Plows my face in furrowed linos;
When the eye lorgets it's seeing,
And the hand forgets its skill,
,When the very words prove rebels,
To the Mind's once kingly will!
When the deaf ear, strained to listen,
Scarcely hears the ripening word,
And th'unfathomed depth of feeling,
Are by no swift current stirred;
When fond memory like a limner,
Afany a line perspective casts,
Spreading out our by-gone pleasures,
On the canvass of the Past !
When the leaping blood grows sltiggialr;
And the tire of Youth has fled,
When the friends which now eurronnfins,
Half are numbered with the dead ;
When the years appear to shorten;
Scarcely leaving us a trace;
Whets old time with bold approaches,
Marks his dial on my face!
When our present hopes are gathered,
Lie like dead flowers on our track;
When the whole of our existence
Is ono fearful looking back;
When each wasted hoar of talent,
Scarcely numbered now at all,
Sends its witness back to haunt us,
Like the writing on the wall I
When the ready tongue is palsied,
And the form is bowed with care,
When our only hope is Heaven,
And our only help is prayer;
When our idols, broken round us,
Pall amid the.ranks of men—
Until death uplifts the curtain,
Will thy love endure till then
A Ohl that would be Married.
A SHO RT AND TRUE STORY.
Mr. Watts had, by industry and econ
omy, accumulated a large property. He
was a man of rather superior mind end
acquirements, but unfortunately became
add eted to habits of intemperance. Nat
urally fond of company, and possessing
superior conversational powers, his corn
puny was much sought, and he became a
sot. His wife was a feeble woman,
without much decision of character ;
but nn only child Was the reverse, illus
trnting one of those singular laws of
nature, that the females oftenest take
after their father in decision of charac
ter and peculiarities, and the males af
ter the mother.
Mary was well aware of the conse
quences that would inevitably follow
her father's course, and had used every
exertion of persuasion and reason in her
power, to induce him to alter his habits,
but without avail ; his resolutions and
promises could not withstand tempta
tion, and he pursued .his downward
course, till the poor girl despaired of re
fornl,. and grieviously realized what the
end must result in.
John. Drum waslt young man from
the East possessed of a g ood education,
us all our New England boysare, and
their indomitable industry avid perseve
rance, and was working on the farm of
a neighbor by the month.
Mary, on going some errand to the
next house, met him on the road with
the usual salutation, " Good morning
" Good morning, Miss Watts. How'
is your health !"
" Well, (thank you, but, to tell the .
truth sick at heart."
" Pray, what is the trouble V' said
John.. " What can effect a cheerful,
lively girl like you, possessing every
thing that can make you happy 1"
On the • contrary," replied Mary,
"every thing conspires to make mc Mis
erable. lam almost weary of life. But
it is a subject I cannot explain to you ;
and yet 1 have sometimes .. thought
Any thing that 1 can do for you,
Miss Watts, you,way, freely command."
"This is promising more that: you
may be willing to perform. But, to
break the ice at once--do you want a
A wife ! Well, I don't know. Don't
you want a husband V'
Indeed I do, the worst way. 1 don't
know but you may think me bold, and
deficient in that maidenly modesty be
co►ning a young woman; but if you
knew my situation, and the afflictions
tinder which I suffer, 1 think it would be
some excuse for my course."
Have you thought of the conse
quences V' said 3ohn- 4, my situation
-1 am poor—you are rich—l am a stran
ger—an d —"
Indeed I have till I'm almost cra
zy. Let me explain--you and every
one else knows the unfortunate situa•
tion of my father that his habits are fix
ed beyond amendment, and his proper
ty is wasting like the dew before the
sun. A set of harpies are drinking i•n
his heart's blood and ruin and misery
are .L.ring us in the face. Vie are al
most strangers, it -is true ; we have met
in company a few times, but 1 have ob
served you closely. Your habits, your
industry, rtud the , care and prudence
with which you manage your employ.
.'n,y‘ - til(gbon .
er's 'business, have always interested
" And yet my dear young lady, what
ran you know of me to warrant you to
take such an important step'!" •
" It is enough for mo that I am satis
fied with your character and habits—
your person and mannera. Nire are
about the same age; so, if you know
me and like me well enough to take me
there is my hand !"
" And my dear Mary, there's mine,.
With all triy heart in it. Now, whsirdO
you desire it to be settled'!"
".Now, this minute;
give me your
arm, and we will go to Squire Benton's
and have the bargain finished at once.
1 don't want to ehter our house of dis
tress again until I have one on whom 1
Can rely, to control and direct the affairs
of my disconsolate home, and to support
.me in my determination to turn over a
new leaf in our domestic affairs:"
" But not iri this old hat, and in my
shirt sleeves, Mary."
" Yes—and in my old sun bonnet and
dirty apron. If you are content let it be
done at dnee, I hope you will not think
lam so hard pushed as that comes to ;
but I want a master. lam willing to be
mistress, but to be master is Otore than I
am equal to, I will then take you home
and introdlice you as my own dear hus
band—signed, sealed and delivered."
"So be it—permit me to ray that I
have always admired you from the first
minute I saw you for your beauty; ener
gy, industrious and amiable,
Now, John if that is sincere, this is
the happiest moment of my life, and 1
trust our union, will be long and happy.
I am the only one my poor father. hears
to ; but alas! his resolutions are like
ropes of sand. 1 can manage him on
all subjects ; you, must take charge of
his bus:iness, and sole control ; there
will be no difficuity—l am confident of
They were married, and a more hap
py match never was consurnated, Ev
ery thing prospered; houses and ba
were repaired, fences and gates w
regulated, and the extensive fields sm i
dand flourished like an Eden.. The
unfortunate father in a few rears sunk
into a drunkard'# trave;` Mary. and
and John raised a large family, and
they still live, respected and wealthy—
all frbin an energetic girl's resolution,
forethought and courage.
tIiE USE OF' LEARNING.
" I'm tired of going to school," said
Herbert Allen to William Wheeler, the
boy who sat next to him. " t don't see
any great use, for my part, in studying
geometry, and navigation, and survey
ing, and mensuration, end dozen other
things that I am expected to. They
will never do me any good ; lam not
going to get my living as a surveyor, or
measurer, or sea captain."
How are you going to get your liV
ing,:-Herbert 'I" his youn g friend asked
him in a quiet tone, as he looked up in
" Why, I'm going to learn a trade; or
at least father says I am."
" And so am I," replied William.
" And yet my father wishes me to learn
everything that I can, for he assures me
that it'll be useftil some time or other in
•4 I'M sure I can't see what use I'm
ever going to make, as a shdler, of alge
bra and surveying."
44 Still if we can't see it, Herbert, per
haps our fathers can, for they are older
and wiser than we are. And we should
endeavor to learn, simply because they
wish us to, if, in every thing we are ex
pected to study we do not see clearly
"I can't feel so," Herbert replied,
tossing his head, "and 1 don't believe
that my father sees any More clearly
than I do, the use of all this.",
" You are wrong to talk so," his
friend said; in a serious tone, "1 would
not think as you do for the world. Our
fathers know what is best for us, and if
wo do not confide in them we will sure
ly go wrong,"
"I am not afraid," responded Herbert,
closing the book over which he had been
poring reluctantly for half an hour, in
the vain attempt to fix a lesson on his
unwilling memory ; and taking some
marbles from his pocket commenced
amnsincr himself with them from the
William said no more, hut turned to
his lesson with an earnest Attention.
The difference in the character of the
two boys is too plainly indicated in the
brief conversation we have recorded, to
need further illustration. To their
teacher it was evident, in numerous par
ticulars in their conduct, their habits
and manners. William recited his les
sons correctly, while Berbert never
learned a task well. One was always
punctual at whool—the Other a loiterer
by the way. William's books were
HUNTINGDON, PA., TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 1849.
well taken care of--While Herbert's
were soiled ; torn, disfigured and broken
externally and internally. •
Thus they began life. The one obe-.
dient, industrious, attentive to the pre ,
cepts of those who were older and wi
ser; and willing to be guided by them;
the other indolent and inclined to fol
low the leadings of his own will rather
thou the more experienced teaching of
• * * • • *
As men at the age of thirty-five, we
will again present them to the reader.
Mr. Wheeler is nn intelligent merchant
in active business, while Mr. Allen is a
journeyman mechanic, poor, embarrassed
in circumstances, and possessing but a
small share of general information.
How do you do, Mr. Allen said
the merchant about this time, as the lat
ter entered the counting room of the
former. The contrast in their appear
ance was very great. The merchant
was well, and had a cheerful look, while
the other was poorly clad, and seemed
sad and dejected.
"I ean't . 'say that 1 do very well, Mr.
Wheeler," the mechanic replied in a
tone of despondency.— n Work is very
dull, and wages low, and with so large
a family as I have, it is tough enough
to get along under any circumstances."
" 1 aim rally sorry to, hear you say
so, Mr Allen," replied the merchant in
a kind tone; "how much can you earn
now 1" ,
"If I had steady work, I could earn
nine or ten dollars a week. But our
business is very bad; the substitution
of steam engines on railroads for hor
ses on turnpikes, has broken in serious
ly upon the harness making business.
The consequence is, that I do not aver
age six dollars a week the year around."
"Is it possible that railroads have
wrought such a change in your busi
46 Yes--the harness tanking branch of
it--especially in large cities like this,
tvhere the heavy wagon trade is almost
entirely broken up."
Opid you say that six dollars a week
6'all that you could average 1"
" Yes, sii."
. now itTrge is your familyl"
6' I have live children, sir."
"Five children and only six dollars a
" To support them, and I am in con
sequence going behind hand."
"You ought to try and get into some
"But I don't know any other:",
The incuichant mused for a while and
then said " perhaps lean aid you to get
into something better. 1 ampresident
of a newly projected rail roe" and we
are about putting on the line a company
of engineers ; for the purpose of survey
ing and engineering, and as you stud
ied these sciences at school the same
time 1 did, and I suppose you have still
a correct knowledge of both, if so I will
use my influence to have you appointed
surveyor. The engineer is already cho
sen, and nt my desire will give you all
requisite instruction until you revive
your early knowledge of these matters.
The salary is one hundred dollars a
A shadow still darker than that which
before rested there, rested on the face
of the mechanic.
" Alas ! sir," he said," I have not the
slighte'st knowledge. It is true I stud
ied it or rather pretended to study it at
school---Aiut it made no permanent im
pression on my mind. 1 saw no use in
it then, and am now as ignorant of sur
veying as if I had never taken a lesson
on the subject."
" I am very sorry, Mr. Allen," the
merchant replied, in real concern. If
you were a good accountant I might
perhaps get you into a store,—What is
your capacity in this respect 1"
o' I ought to have been a good ac
countant, sir, for I studied mathernaties
long enough ; but I took little interest
its figures, and now although I was for
many months at school and pretended
to study book keeping I am utterly inca
pable of taking charge of a set of books."
" Such being the case ' Mt. Allen, I
really donut know what I can do with
yciu. But stay ! I urn about sending
out an assorted cargo to Buenos Ayres
and thence around Callon, and want a
man to go as supercargo who can speak
the Spanish 'language. I remember
that we studied,Spattish together, would
you be willing to leave your family and
go ? The wages will be one hundred
dollars a month."
" I have torgotten all my spanish, sir.
I did not see the use of it while at school,
and therefore, it made no impression on
The merchant, really concerned for
the poor mechanic, again thought of
some way to serve him.--At length he
said "I can think of but one thing that
you can dp, Mr. Allen, and that will not
be much better than your present em-
ployment. It is a service for which or
dinary persons are employed, that of
chain carrying to the surveyor of our
proposed railroad expedition."
" What are the wages, sir."
"Thirty-five dollars a month."
"And found I"
" Certainly ."
"1 will accept it, sir, thankfully," the
Man said. It will be better than my
then make yourself ready at one e,
for the company will start in a week."
"I will be ready sir," the poor man
replied and then withdrew.
In a week the company of engineers
started, and Mr. At len with them as a
currier,—when had he f as a boy, taken
the advice of his parents and friends,
and stored up in his memory what they
wished him to learn, he might have fill
ed the surveyor's office at more than
double the wages paid him as a chain
carrier. Indeed we cannot tell how
high a position of usefulness he might
have held had he improved all opportu
nities afforded hint in youth.—But he
perceived the use of learning too late.
Children and youth cannot possibly
know so well as their parents, guard
ians and teachers, what is best for them.
Men who are in active contact with the
world, know that the snore extensive
• their knowledge on all subjects, the
mors useful they can be to others; and
the higher and more important• use to
society they are fitted to perform, the
greater is the return to themselves in
wealth and honor.
A Centenarian Jeikeri
In a letter' from Cape Cod, Mr. N. P.
Willis gives the following account of an
Old gentleman, whose practical philoso
phy would outweigh all the fine spun
speculations of the stoics and Epicure ,
"I was sorry to hear, after We left
Yarmouth, that I had missed seeing a
centenarian of that place, who is cer
tainly a curiosity. He is now a hen. ,
dred and nine years of age, and, in his
whole life, was never known to be out of
temper. He married young, and his
wife died about 20 years ago, having
been all her life a singularly irritable
woman ! He did good service in the
revolution, and has been pressed, at va
rious times, to apply for the pension to
which he is entitled. He refused al
ways on the ground that, as he served
the time he agreed toi and received the
pay they agreed to give him, the Gov
ernment owes him nothing. His chil
dren, living in the town, are well off,
and wish hind td end has days with
then, ; but he his lodging in the
Poor House, declaring that he "can't,
bear to think of being a trouble to any
body," and fairly earning his beard by
" doing chores" about the ground and
kitchen. He is still of a most playful
tone of mind. A fellow pensioner of
the poor house, who is eighty years old,
was sitting with him, but a few days
since, upon a wooden bench in the yard
—the skirts of his broad skirted coat
lying loose upon the sent, and the large
pockets temptingly open.
The old humorist Very quietly gli
ded behind, during their talk, and, from
a heap of loose stones near by, filled the
empty pockets without disturbing the
j owner. He then patted him kindly on
the shoulder, and expressing some fear
that he might take cold, asked him to
walk into the house. At the vain ef
forts of his pinned down friend, to rise
with the weight in his coat tails, he
laughed as heartily as a boy of sixteen.
He is said to have a fine physignotny,
and to have been an nctife inan and a
good citizen, without displaying any
THE DRUNKARD'S WILL,—I leave to
Society a'ruined character, a wretched
example, and a memory that will soon
I leave to my parents, during the rest
of their lives, as much sorrow as human
ity in a feeble and desperate state, can
I leave to my brother and sister as
mutt mortification and injury as I well
could bring on them.
I leave to my wife a broken heart a
life of wretchedness, shame to weep
over, and a premature death.
I give and bequeath to each of my
children, poverty, ignorance, a low char
acter, and the remembrance that their
father was n - drunktird.
Ifryou don't want•to fall in love
with a girl, thou% commence flirting
with her. This courting for fun is like
boxing for fun. You put on the gloves
in perfect good humor with the • most
friendly intentions of exchanging a few
amicable blows; you find yourself in
sensibly warm with the enthusiasm of
the conflict ; until some unlucky punch
in the • , 4 vesicle' decides the mutter, and
the whole affair ends in a downright
fight. Don't you see the similarity 1
'ft is very — lonely, manta,' murmured
a fair-haired, lovely girl, as she rested
on the sofa, one evening . 'it is very
lonely now, and the' high( seems Very
long. Shall I never see papa any Morel'
'Yes my, love you shall see hini id a
brighter world titan thii.'
'but this is a fair world,' said the lit
tle girl ; '1 to run and play in the
Warm sunshine,and pick the water eyes
ses from the" brook; and when the weath
er is a little wartnPr, I shall go and
gather the blue eyed violet, thitt pa said
was so like me.'
'Too like, 1 feat,' said the mother, and
the tear-drop trembled on the drooping
lid, 'hut my child, there is a fairer world
than this, where the flowers never fade,
where the clouds never hide the light
of the glorious sky, and the glory of
Him, whose name is 'Love,' beams
brightly and forever in those golden
courts; the trees that growon the banks
of the river that waters that blessed
place, never fade as they do in this
world ; and when friends meet there,
they will be parted no more, but will
sing hymns of praise to God and the
;And shall I go to that place when I
dio ' ' said the childy 'and will you go
'Yes,' said the mother, 'we will go in
God's onen time ; when he calls us froM
this life, we shall dwell with him for
It was a little while, and the mother
bent over the grave of this little flower
of intellect, withered by the untimely
frosts of death; but was she alone when
in the twilight shades, she sat upon the
grassy mound, when he deep and year
ning hopes of that fond heart was gath
ered in oblivious silence! Oh, no ! the
soft and silvery tones of buried love
whispered in the breezes that lifted the
drooping flowers overcharged with the
dewy tears of night. The diamond stars
that, one by one, came forth upon their
silent watch, seemed beaming with the
light of that lifeless flame Which burned
undimmed upon the inmost shrine of the
heart ; and she enjoyed, in the hours of
solitude, that communion of pure spirits
which our exalted faith can alone be.
/edit Swift's Hatred' of Foppery.
Dean Swift was a great enemy to ex
travagance in dress, and particularly to
that distinctive ostentation in the mid
dle classes, which lead them to make an
appearance above their condition in
life. Of his mode of disapproving fol
ly in those persons for whom he had an
est eem, the following instance has been
recorded. When George Faulkner, the
Printer, returned from London, where
lie had been soliciting subscriptions for
his edition of the Dean's *mks, he
went to pay his respects to him, dress
ed in a laced waiscot, a bag rt?,g', and
other fopperies,—.Swift received him
with the same ceremonies as if lie had
been a stranger, "And pray, sir," said
he " what are your commands with ma"
"I thought. it was my duty, sir," re
plied George, "to wait on you immedi
ately on my arrival from London."
"Pray sir, who are you ?"—" George
Faulkner, the Printer, sir."
You George Faulkner, the Printer!
why you are the most impudent, bare
faced scoundrel of an imposter I have
ever met with ! George Faulkner is a
plain sober citizen, and would never
trick himself out in lace and other fop
peries. Get you gone, you rascal, or I
will immediately send you to the house
of correction." Away went George as
fast as he could, and, having changed
his dress, lie returned to the Deanry,
where he was received with the great
est cordiality. "My friend George"
says the Dean " I sill glad to sec you
returned safe from London. Why, there
has been an impudent fellow with me
just now, dressed in a laced waiscot,.
and would fain pass himself off for you,
but 1 soon sent him away wiAlln-flea
REBUTTING TEBTIitIONY.-A witness
giving testimony before the Recorder,
in an assault and battery ease &aid
The prisoner struck me cdhh a cot
ton hook, and I ran in on him, and but
ted him in the breast, lie then thought
to trip me up, and I butted him again,
"Stop, sir," said the counsel for the
defence. "Mr. Recorder," he added' "1
object to this witness proceeding any
"On uhut g;ound'io you object?
asked the Recorder.
On the ground, may it please the
Court," said the learned council, ~t hat
it is from us, and not from the prosecu
tion, that re•buttiug testimony must
At this piece of facetice, the Recorder
so far forgot his judicial dignity as to
permit a smile to play for a moment, on
his ouster() countenance.—(.N. 0. Delta.
VOL. NI V, NO, 37
Some genius has perpetrated the fol.
lowing calculation :
"I have been married 32 years, during
which time I have received from the
hands of my wife three cups of coffee
each day, two in the morning and one
at night, mil, int about 35,040 cups of
half a pint each, or nearly 70 barrels of
30 gallons each, weighing 17,550 lbs.,
or nearly 9 tons weight. Yet from that
period 1 have scaicely varied in weight
myself from 160 lbs. It Will, therefore
be seen, that I hate drunk in coffee alone
218 times my own weight. lam not
much of a meat eater, yet 1 presume I
have consumed about eight ounces a
day, which makes 5,806 lbs., or ten oxen:
Of flour 1 have consumed in 32 years ;
about 50 barrels. For twenty years of
this time, 1 drank two wine glasses of
brandy each day, making 900 quarts.—
The Port-Wine, Maderia ; whiskey punch
&c., I am not able to count, but they ere
not large. When we take into the ac
count all the vegetables in addition, such
as potatoes, peas, asparagus, strawber
ries; cherries apples, pears, peaches,
raisins, &c., the amount consumed ly
an individual is most enormous. Now
my body has been renewed more than
four times in 32 years ; and taking it
fur granted that the water, of which I
have drank, acts Merely as a duluent i
yet, taken together, 1 concluded that 1
have consumed in 32 years about the
Weight of 1,100 men of 160 lbs. each,
No± Cr T:NERALLY KNOWN.—The
Louis Reveille—a capital paper' it is, too
waking np sleepy people with its rub-a
-dud—has the following, which deser
ves to be written in letters of gold, where
we may see it every day
"the parent Who would train up a child
in the way he should go, must go, in the
way that he would train up the child.'
Ay—An ounce of example is worth
whole tons of precept ; and there would
be a great saving of scoldingg and
whipping, if the people could learn to
govern themsclvs before they undertake
to govern others. Be a living lesson
in your own proper individuality ; and
there is .little fear but that those who
look up to you will follow in the foot
steps of their illustrious predecessors;
but if you undertake to bully or thump
juveniles into the practice of virtues
which with you are matters of theory,
the success of the experiment is doubt
ful, to say the least of it. They are
much more apt to do as you do, than
act as you say ; and you will often find
them a mirror in which your own faults
are reflected, it may be with exaggere
tion.--Gro, therefore, in the way in which
you would train up a child—leading
the van, with due consideration for all
the weaknesses and mexpei ience of the
feeble ones who are thus called upon to
follow,—not expecting too much from,
untired limbs, or rebuking too harshly
the mis-steps and stumblings of those,
who are weaker than yourself.
We were not a little amused the
other day bye receiVing a visit from n
Locofoco, who came puffing into
our 'Sanctum' with a request that we
would la him have a 'Whig paper.'—
The appearance of the youth, and the
singularity of the request, led us to in
quire as to the use he intended to make
of it. 'Why,' said he, am gang to
make a kite.' 'But why so particular
to procure a Whig police!' said
he, .1 have tried three or four times to
make one of a Lecofoco paper—but all
I can do, it will not go up'; it keeps
twisting end turning, bobbing and dod
ging—now looking, as if it were going
to raise, but down it comes again, so I
find it's no use trying any more of them
papers.' We gave him a few of out's,
with the full conviction that the prinei
'pies they contained; would carry them
up—far above the flight of Locofocoism.
We resumed our 'scissors' reflecting
upon the similitude of politics and kites!
THE MODEL W/iE.--A lady in Alba
ny other day, washed the whole
week's washing, hung the clothes out to
dry, cooked three meals, made a pair of
pants for her younge.t boy, darned her
husband's stockings, had the cholera
and cured herself, then dyed four dress
es, all between the hours of G A. M. and
9P. M. Where is there another such
a women T—Bring her along. • •
To SHAKE OFF TOoUBLP:.--Set about
doing good to somebody ; put on your
hat, and go and visit the sick and the
poor ; inquire into their wants and ad
minister unto them; seek out the deso
late and oppressed, and tett them of the
consolations of religion. 1 have often
tried this method, and have always found
it the best Medicine fur a heal y heart.—
p- Why are eyes liko stage horses 1
Ee:ause they are under the lashes.