Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, November 27, 1849, Image 1

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To be let—
To be let at a very desirable rate,
.6 snug little house in a healthy estate,
'Tie a bachelor's heart, and the agent is Chance,
ffection the rent, to be paid in advance ;
he owner, as yet, has lived in it alone,
ut the fixtures are not of much value—but soon
?Twill be furnished by Cupid himself, if a wife
Take a learie for the term of her natural life.
Thai ladies, tk,ar ladies, pray do not forget,
An excellent bachelor's heart's to lie let.
The tenant will have but feW tastes to pay,
Love, honor and—heaviest item—:oegi,
As for the good will, the subscriber's inclined
To have that, if agreeable, settled in kind,
indeed, if he could such a matter arrange,
He'd be highly delighted to make an exchange,
Provided true title by prudence is shown,
Any heart unencumbered and free as his own.
So ladies, dear ladies, pray do not forget,
• An excellent bachelor's heart's to be let.
Thrilling Incident.
Vte copy the following sketch from a late
number of the Democratic Review. It is from
the pen of Henry Wikoff, Esq., and written with
his usual graphic power, and portrays the esti
mation in which this country is held by the true
tepublicans of France
Two American families, who were
living in Paris in February, 1848, be- !,
coming alarmed at the increasing agita-!
tion of the capital, determined, only at' ,
the last moment, to leave for some qui
eter neighborhood, and on the very day
that the revolution broke out they took
their departure, and made all haste by
railroad to reach Havre, They had not
. got more than nine miles from Paris
when the train stopped, and they were
told by the conductor that the bridge
ahead of them was on fire, and that pro
ceeding further was hopeless, and that
it was equally impossible for them to
run back, for the rails behind them had
already been taken up. There was
nothing else to he done than get out, and
return on foot, at the imminent risk of
insnit and outrage from nn infuriated
mob, that already lined both sides of the
road, to the extent of thousands. This
war a situation alarming enough to fill
the stoutest heart with terror, and the
effect may be imagined in the present,
where there was only one man to pro
tect three or four ladies, with several
children, to say nothing offemes de
chambers, and small parcels. Their
fright was excessive, but escape was
out of the question, Nothing could be
done but return to Paris, and run the
gauntlet that awaited them. They pass
ed along in a drizzling rain, covered
with mud and borne down by fatigue.
Shouts and imprecations made the air
resound around them, for the very e arth
seemed teemed with armed and savage
men. With shrinking hearts they push
ed along, dreading every moment to be
waylaid, robbed, and perhaps slain,
when to their infinite joy they reached
Paris, and believed their tribulations
over. Hurrying through the Barrier,
they struck down the first street that
seemed to lead in the direction of their
residence, when, of a sudden to their
consternation they found themselves
hemmed in behind a vast barricade, and
in a moment were surrounded and sei
zed by hundrede Of fierce and desperate
insurgents, disgiiised in masks, and arm
ed to the teeth, who brandished their
weapons, and threatened them with
Ha i ha!' they shouted id furious
tones, you vile aristocrats, you have
endeavored to escape—but you are not
gone yet. And we'll take care of you
Their situation Was really fearful. In
flamed With drink and passion, these
terrible men, further exasperated by
the combat in which they were engaged
were capable of any excess, even to
murder. The unhappy party, seeing
themselves cut ofl from every resource,
thtew themselves on their knees, and
endeavored to move their ruthless cap
tors by supplication and tears, They
declared they were no aristocrats—but
republicans like themselves—they Were
of them in principle and in sympathy—
they were not English but Americans.'
At which shouts of bitter derision were
returned, accompanied by exclamations
rind oaths, full of contumely and hate.
You think you'll cheat us that way, do
you, by setting yp as republicans, and
passing yourselves off as Americans.—
No, that won't do, as we'll soon convince
you.' The danger increased every mo
tnent, and cries of a base les .4nglaise'
mon les reales,' rose on all sides, amid
frantic yells and demoniac threats. At
this agonizing moment one of the la
dies, whose nerves were strung by the
imminence of the peril, roused herself
to one more heroic effort.
' But what,' she said, if we give you
proof my friends, that we belong to you
--that we are fellow republicans—that
we are'not monarchists, but AmericansV
The proof—the proof!' they roared,
• •
ik s 4 •
)41) ,
in the hoarse tones of the coming tem
Every eye was bent on her—every
upraised arm refrained; a breathless
pause ensued. At this revolutionary
period in France, scerce a family resi
dent there but had deemed it prudent
to provide themselves with an Ameri
can flag, and in hurry;ng away from
Paris, by a mere chance; the lady in
question stripped the banner from ifs
staff, and rolled it up in a package she
carried with her. In the desperate hope
that it might now possibly stand her in
stead; she unfolded and raised it aloft.
dn one of its white stripes was
written in large. red letters, Les Etals
Unis d' ameriqfte—the United States of
America. The display of the national
ensign, proving beyond question the or
igin of their prisoners, had a perfectly
magical effect on the powder begrimed
mob around them. Off flew hats, caps,
cheers rent the air : Vice les ✓lmeri
cans !' Five le dra eau de la libeller
—long live the Americans—long live the
flag of liberty—was shouted from count
less rude throats. The wildest enthu
siasm seized on these tumultuous, but
gallant men. They entreated a thou
sand pardons for their unthinking vio
lence, and in their frenzy fell on their
knees, kissed the hands of the ladies,
and would but for their earnest remon
strances, have carried them home in
triumph.—As it was they detailed a for
midable guard, and followed the Amer
ican flag, which was mounted on a lance,
they escorted, amid every token of re
spect and homage, the grateful objects
of their democratic sympathies, back
again to their longed for residence.
Nothing could more hapiply confirm all
my speculations on the reality of French
affection to America, which is found to
be sure only amongst the masses, since
the upper classes are naturally devoted
to aristocratic privileges, and seek alli
ance with any thing but democratic
To confirm in every particular 'the
thrilling facts I have related, 1 would be
happy to give in full, the names of the
parties in question, whose respeetabili
ty would be a sufficient guarantee ; but
as they consisted chiefly of ladies, I
feel a certain hesitation in taking such
pi liberty. 1 will merely state that I
ceived these particulars from the he
roine of the flag' herself, Mrs. J.
H. -, of the Fifth Avenue, New
A ii iv in the Desert.
HERE is a beautiful incident, related
by an officer at Matamoras in a letter
to a friend in Providence, which reminds
.us that
"In the desert there still is a fountain,
In the wide waste there still is a tree,
And a bird in the solitude singing."
Our army were marching into Meta
morns and the officer writes; "Under a
tree, just on the river bank, and at the
point were the bustle and throng of the
passage were the greatest, a family of
Mexicans had taken shelter, who had
recrossed to our side the day before, and
had not had time to move their homes.
There were some six or eight children
of various ages ; one of these beautiful
black-eyed graceful creature, of five or
six years. I saw her while tumult and
toil of all description rang around, while
arms were flashing, cannon rolling, men
hurrying to and fro, horses dashing at a
wild speed, the air filled with shouts and
oaths- '
and all was as if quiet and peace
were banished from earth, half sitting
half lying upon the knotty knoll, her
head resting upou a white pet dove, and
one little arm thrown around the bird
as if to protect it from harm. What a
lesson is taught here! ‘‘ hat a picture
for the painter and poet ! See innocence
personified in that sweet child! See
Peace represented in that beautiful dove!
How they stand out, bright, glorious fig
ures in that scene where War, with its
drray of banners and .marshalled men,
and gaudily dressed officers on compar
isoned horses, fresh from the battle-field
their hearts filled with the swelling,
thoughts of the victory they have won
and all glowing with the ambitious de
sires that became heroes that they have
shown themselves—how the sweet
child and the beautiful dove shine with
the light, that if from in that scene, when
war fills up and darkens all the back
undertaker itt New York, not long since
being unable to collect some old debts,
after calling and sending in vain took
out his hoarse .and drove up to the dwel
ling of a creditor. Much surprise was
expressed by the family, who, on hear
ing that the hearse would remain until
the mony was paid, speedily handed over
the cash. lie repeated the operation
with all his creditors,
and before night
the debts wore all paid.
Universal Education.
UaiVeraal Education ! Grand, inspi
ring idea ! And shall there come a time
when the delver in the mine and the
rice swamp, and the orphans of the prod
igal and the felon, the very offsprings
of shame; shall be truly, systematically
educated? Glorious consummation ! twi
'light of the millenium !—Who will not
labor and court sacrifices, and suffer re
proach, if he may hasten by even so
much as a day, its blessed coming
Who will not take courage from the con
templation of what the last censury has
teen accomplished, if not in absolute
results, yet in preparing the approaches
in removing impediments, in correcting
and expanding the public comprehension
of the work to be done, and the feasibili
ty of doing it. Whatever of evil and
suffering the future may have in store
for us, though the earth be destined yet
to be plowed by the sword, and fertili
zed by human gore, until rank growths
of the deadliest weeds shall overshad
ow it, stiffing into premature decay
every plant most conducive to health or
to fragrancethe time shall surely come
when true and universal education shall
dispel the dense of night of ignorance
and superstition that now enshrouds the
vast majority of the human race ; shall
banish evil and wretchedness almost
wholly from earth, by removing or un
' masking the multiform temptations to
wrong doings; shall put an end to rob
bery, hatred, oppression and war, by .
diffusing widely and thoroughly a liv
ing consciousness of the brotherhood of
mankind and the sure blessedness, as
well as righteousness of doing ever as
we would have others do to us. "Train
up a child in the way he should go, and
when he is old he will not depart from
it." Such is the promise which enables
us to see the end of the dizzy whirl of
wrong and misery in which our race
has long sinned and suffered. On wise
and systematic training, based on the
widest knowledge, the truest morality,
and tending ever to universal good, as'
the only assurance of special or person
al well-being, rests the great hope of the
terrestial renovation and elevation of
Not the warrior, then, nor the states
men, nor yet the master worker, as such
but the teacher, in our day lends the
van guard of humanity. Mrhether in
the seminary or by the way-side, by ut
tered word or printed page, our true
Icing is not be who best directs the seige
or sets his squadrons in the fields, or
heads the charge—but he who can and
will instruct and enlighten his fellows,
so that at least some few of the genera
tion of whom he is shall be wiser, pu
rer; nobler for his living among them,
land prepared to carry forward the work ;
of which he was an humble instrument ;
to its grander and loftier consummation.
Oh, far above the conquerer of kingdoms,
the destroyer of hosts by the sword and
bayonet, is he whose tearless victories
redden no river and Whiten no plain ;
but he who leads the understanding a
willing captive, and builds his empires
not of the wretched and bleeding hag
' ments of subjugated nations, but on the
realms of intellect which he has discov
ered and planted, and peopled with ben-.
ificient activity and enduring joy ! The
mathematician who, in his humble study
undisturbed as yet by the footsteps of
monarchs and their ministers, demon
strates the existence of a planet, before
unsuspected by astronomy and unob
served by the telescope , the author who
from his humble garret, sends forth the
scroll which will constrain thousands
upon thousands to laugh or weep at his
will ; who topplds down a venerable
fraud by an allegory, or crushes down a
dynasty by an epigram, he shall live
and reign over a still increasing domin
ion, when the pasteboard kings, whose
steps are counted in court circulars, and
timed by stupid huzzes, shall have long
since mouldered and been forgotten. To
build out into chaos and drear vacuity ;
to render some corner of the primal
darkness radient with the presence of
an idea; to supplant ignorance by
knowledge, and sin by virtue;. such is
the mission of our age, worthy to en
kindle the ambition of the loftiest, yet
proffering opportunity and reward to
the must lowly. To the work of uni
versal enlightenment be our lives hence
forth contracted, until the black clouds
of impending evil are irradiated and dis
persed by the full effulgence of the di
vinely when All shall
know the Lord from the least unto the
greatest,' and when wrong and woe
shall vanish forever from the presence
of universal knowledge, purity and bliss.
07-A Western girl, after giving her
lover a hearty smack exclaimed, 'Dog
my cats if you han't been takin' a little
rye, old hose •
Two Ways to Tell a Sioryi
We hope there are many of the read
ers-of our paper who have had practical
evidence that a little kindness, however
horneepathic the dose may be, goes five
times as far towards making those
around you happy, as cargoes of sour
answers or surly rebukes. There aro
two very distinct Oaks of tellifig the
sdme story. Some men will make hosts
of friends, while others will find it im
possible to discover one. Bluntness and
frankness may do rery well at times,
but as a general thing it is prudent to
study effects as well as causes. 3ones
may say to Smith :
6 1 Shilth are you going to pay that
note to day ?"
No I shan't : don't suit me, and I
shan't do it."
Then by thfinder I'll see if you
don't !" says enraged Jones. A lawyer
gets a case, a squab - We follows, and—
they both pay dearly for a lesson•in ci
vility. How different Brown would fix
it !
"Smith, what is the strito of your fi
nances this morning ; do you fe3l as
though you could let me have that $5O
to-day V
" Well; no, I can't" says Smith, "l'm
very Short ; can't you wait on me a few
days, it would be an accommodation'!"
" Well," says Brown, "let it stand;
do something for me as soon as you can,
will you, Smith I"
"Certainly I will." They part—
friends and brothers.
6 , Go away with that noise !" says
some bullet-headed fellow to the poor
itinerant organist and his monkey.—
The poor fellow goes away, mortified
and soured against his species ! how dif
ferently the good heart, the peace maker
does it—
My man, your music is pleasant, but
it disturbs us now ; there are a few pen
nies, play for some others further on
your way." The organist goes along,
smiling at the man who has ordered him
off. There is five times the force in
kind words and generosity, than there
is in morose sulkiness and arbitrary
moasutife. AVe cannot live long nor
happy among our species, without the
aid of kindness, and generosity. It is
not necessary to knock a man down to
convince him he is in error or hold a
knife at his breast to assure him his life
is in your ponier. Politeness and civil
ity are rare jewels ; they render two
fold good, blessing him that giveth and
him that receiveth. It is quite astonish
when we calculate the entire safety
and splended per centage it yields—that
so few invest in that capital stock--good
humor and kindness.
From the New Orleans Picayune.
The Unclad Horsemah.
Widowers should look out for break
ers.—Absalom Nippers was E., widower,
and one of the particularest men, per
haps, that ever lived though some peo
ple said, that when his wife was alive
he used to dress as a common field hand
and didn't use to take any pains with
himself at all. Everbody knows how
he spruced up about six weeks after
Mrs. Nipper died, and how he went td
church regular every Sunday : but they
didn't have no confidence in his religion
and used to say he only went to church
to show his new suit of mourning and tcb
ogle the gals.
With such a character Ang the
wimmin f it aint to be supposed that lie
stood anY chance of gettitig another'
Mrs. Nippers near home, and whether
he was as bad to his first wife as they
said he was, or not, one thing is certain
he had to look abroad for some one to
fill her place.
Mr. Nippers tt'as Very lucky in fin
ding a gal just to his mind, what lived
about ten miles from his plantation.-
Nancy Parker was rich, and though she
wasn't very young nor very handsome,,
she belonged to Mr. Nipper's Church,
and filled his eye exactly; so he sot in
courtin' her with all his might. Ten
miles was a good long ride, and as he
was an economical man, he used to ride
over to old Mrs. Parker's plantation
every Sunday morning to go to church
with the family, take dinner with them,
and ride bad; in the cool of the evening.
In that way he managed to kill ;we birds
with one stone; that is, to advance the
prospect of his happiness on this earth
and the world to come at the same time,
without losing any of his week day
A ride over a dusty roard is apt to soil
a gentleman's dry goods, and make him
and his horse very tired. However, Mr.
Nippers didn't mind the fatigue as much
as his horse; but in n matter of sich as
he had in hand it was very important
that ho should make us good an impres
sion as possible, so be adopted a plan by
which he was able to present himself
o , onrif.
. se .
4 ,44.
before the object of his affections in or
der, with his Sunday coat as clean, and
his blooming ruffles as fresh and neat
as if they had just come out of a band
box. This was a happy expedient, and
nobody but a widower lover would think
of it. He used to start from home with
his new coat and shirt tied up in a pock
et handkerchief, and after riding within
a quarter of a mile of Mrs. Parker's
plantation, he would turn off into a thick
et of chinkapin bushes and there make
his rural toilet
One bright Sundny morning Mr. Nip
pers had arrived at his dressin' ground.
It was an important occasion. Every
thing was promisin', and he had made
up his mind to pop the question that ve
ry day. There was no doUbt in his
mind that he would return home an en
gaged man ; and he was reckonin' over
to himself the value of Miss Nancy's
plantation and niggers, while he Was
settin' on his horse maim' his accus
tomed change of dress.
He had dropped the reins on his hor
se's neck, and was browstre about, ma
king up his last night's scanty feed from
the bushes in his reset; and kickin' and
stompin' at such flies as was feedin' . on
him - in return.
I'll fix the business, this time,' ses
Mr. Nippers to himself. El bring
things to a pint this time,' ses he, and
he untied his hankerchief with his clean
clothes, and he spread them on his sad.
Wo, Ball,' sus he-- , l've just got to
say the word, and—wo ses he to his'
horse, what was kickin' and rearin'i
and rearin' about. Wo ! you cussed!
old fool l—and the business is settled
just like fallin' oil a log.'
He was drawin' his rhirt over his head
when Ball gave a sudden spring what
like to made him lose his balance. Wo
sea he—but before . he could get his arms
out of the sleeves Ball was wheelin'and
kickin' like rath nt somethingthatseem
ed to trouble him behind. Down went
the clean clothes, shirt and all, on the
ground. 'Blast yer •infernal pictur— '
wo now !' ses Mr. Nippers, grabbin' at
the reins. But before he could git hold
of 'em Ball was off like a streak of
lightnin', with a whole swarm of yellow
jackets around his tail.
Mr. Nippers caught hold of the main
and tried to stop the hdrse, but it was
no use. Away went the infuriated Ball,
and takin the road he was used to tray
elin', another moment brung him to the
house. The gate was open, and in
dashed the horse with the almost n,Aked
Nippers hangin' to his neck holle7in.'
Stop him ! hornets l' as loud ae he
could scream.
On came the dogs, dnd after the hdrse
they went round the house scatterin' the
ducks and chickens, and terrifyin' the
little niggers out of their senses. The
noise brung the wimmen to the door.
'Don't bok, Miss Nancy! hornets !
Wo ! ketch him !' shouted the unclad
Nippers, as, spent with breath, he
went dashin out of the gate agin, with
the dogs still after him, and his hosre's
tail switchin' in every direction like rt
young hurrycane.—Miss Nancy got one
glimpse of her forlorn lover, rind before
she could get her ttprdn to her eyes, she
fainted at the atful sight, (I) while his
fag recedin' voice, cryin 'Hornets!
stop him ! hornets !' still rung in her
How Uncle Bill "did a LandWV,
There lived some years since* in a
thriving Connecticut river village of
New Hampshire, a lively little old man
of sixty years, who was familiarly cal•
led "Uncle Bill."
He was poor, fond of a &hilt, and
when short of change, always ready with
some cunning expedient to procure one.
' One hot summer's day the old man
came puffing and swetting into the porch
of the village tavern, where sat Mr. 8.,
the landlord, whom he thus addressed :
" Like to lost every thing in your gar
den, laedloi'd ; jest as I come along 1 see
half a dozen cows in there, but 1 drove
'em out before they done much dam
" Much obliged to you for your trou
ble," said Mr. .13., "won't you take a
drink 1"
Don't care if I do take a cooler ; made
me rather warm runnin' after the tar
nal critters."
The old man took his liquor, and after
loading his short pipe, sat down to take
a smoke. He puffed away in silence a
long time, chuckling occasionally with a
self-satisfied air--probably at the funny
forms assumed by his smoke wreaths.
Getting up at last to go, he said, "Did
not tell you, landlord, how the cows got
into the garden."
" No,' said Mr. 8., "how was it ?"
"Why, I took down the bars, and
drove 'cm in myself !"
And the old fellow stumped off; leav- i
ing the nettled Mr. B. to the laugh of
the bystanders.—Yankee Blade.
Selection of Seedt.
The winter is a favorable time for far
mers to look around them, and procure,
or look up new, and improved varieties
of seed, roots, scions, &c., for future ugE:
In this way, one may; in a lery diorr
time, greatly increase the income of his
farm, for no fact in vegetable physiolo
gy is more strongly and incontroverta
bly established, than that seeds, plant:
ed or cultivated during a series of many
years; will depreciate, or in farming
technology 'run out.' I am not, neith
er is any ono cap ible of determin
ing, accurately, by what strange influ
ences this result is effected or brought
about ; but frequent experience has con:
winced me that seeds and vegetables
brought from a distance, invariably suc
ceed much better than those that have
become familiarized to the soil ; and that
consequently, a change every three oar
four years, at furthest, even of the same
varieties, is invariably judicious, and
productive of the best results.
In the spring of 1838, I had a variety
of early potatoes, which had so nearly
'run out,' that I had, notwithstanding rely
desire to continue their cultivation, con
cluded to throw them by. A friend,
however, to whom I had presented some
of them a few years antecedently, and
whose residence was some eight or ten
miles off, chanced to come along, and
suggested the propriety of an exchange.i
To this ptopoSition I willingly accebdedi
and the result was a most beautiful crop
with both. The same takes place with
cotn, beans, wheat, rye, oats, barley,
Rumpkins, and indeed most vegetables.
Even ft change froth tine description of
self to another, on the same farm, is
productive of this favorable result. In
the selection of seed, a farmer cannot be
too circumspect, as he is perpetually li
able to be deceived and led into error
by spurious appearances. The 'hum
bugging' system is at present the order
of the day, and if we suffer ourselves to
be deluded and carried about by every
wind of doetrine i our profits from farm
mg will be limited indeed.
It is always a good plan, when by
any means, we have succeeded in ob
taining a valuable variety, to endeavor
to preserve and propagate its deserting
qualities: This may be easily accom
plished by selecting, every autumn, the
best and most perfectly developed spec
juleps of the crop. In this way; by the
exercise of care and skill in cultivating ;
we may in a few years, bring it to al
most any degree of excellence desired.
Every farmer must have noticed that in
every kind of drop there are some indi
viduals whidh are earlier matured than
others. These ought intarlably to be
selected to propagate from. Whatever,
'May be the character or nature of the
crop, this principle systematically adop
ted and practided, will, in the end, pro
duce the best results. The same holds
good in relation to farm stock. To se
lect the best, most symetrical, and most
valuable animals for the market or the
shambles ; is necessarily to degenerate
and stultify the breed, whereas a contra
ry course will, in a short period produce
an improvement, which it is not possi
ble in any Other way to produce. No
judicious and intelligent breeder wilt
ever be unmindful of this important prin
ciple, for by attention to its dictates, we
shall assuredly be gainers in the end.
If we have become dissatisfied with any
particular kind of seed, or, by injudicious
management, have so far depreciated it
that its yield, when carefully cultivated,
scarcely remunerates us for the labor
and expense we bestow upon it, now is
the time to supply its place by a more
valuable article, and one that will better
reward our toils.
A farm stocked with the best animals i
and producing the most valuable fruits,
grains and vegetables to be found in this
country, and cultivated on the most en
lightened, successful and scientific prin
ciples, would be an object of wonder
worth contemplating. In some period
of that finality, which to this people is
so rich in glorious promises, such ob
jects will be common of, this the past is
eloquent in promises, the present a
pledge that these promises shall ulti
mately be fulfilled. AGRICOLA,
that out of the 135,845 marriages sol
emnized in England during IS4S, no less
than 104,308 of the parties--viz : 42,-
429 men d and 62,819 women, signed the
marriage Register with a mark or, in
other words d nearly one-third of the
men and one-half of the women could
not write.
'Mother,' said Jemima Spry to her
venerable maternal relative, 'Sam Flint
wants to come courting me to night.'
'Well, you jade, what did you tell
him V
'Oh, I told him lio might tome i I
wanted to nohow thee fool would act,'