131 JAS. CLARK.
Front the itrational
Letter from Maj. Downing.
MAsorl AND DICKSON'S SIDI; Dr SALT Itt;Es, t
October 25, 1849.
My DEAR MR. RITCHIE :—To.marrow
Uncle 0 ,1 1 oa, our Delegate to Congress
from this Territory, starts for Washing
ton; and, as 1 haint Writ tti you for some
lime, I thought I would send a few lines
by him to let you know how matters are
getting along up here. We fire falking
pretty sharp about forming a State Gov
ernment, and some are for doing it right
Cif and sending Senators and Repre
sentatives to this Congress. But the
Mikjority was in favor of only sending
a Delegate now ,
and ti , aiting to see What
Congress will did with the other Terri
toriesthat are sprouting tip round; for, as
things now look, we could'nt seem to tell
whether a State on Mason and Dickson's
side of the river would be allowed to
come in. So we called a meeting to
choose a Delegate, and to fix up the in
structions for him to follow when he
gets there.
After the meeting come to order, and
Col. Jones Was appointed chcerinan, Un
cle Joshua got up and said the common
practise of choosing a Representative or
Delegate first, and then tying his hands
afterwards with instructions, he did'nt
think was hardly a fair shake. He
thought the instructions ought to be
agreed upon first '
• then if the Represen
tative had a mind to tie his own hands
he could'nt blame nobody else for it.
The meeting seemed to take the idea at
once, and agreed to go right to work
upon the instructions first.
The cheerman said, It was evident
the newspapers, and the way things
looked at Washington, and all over the
country, that this wac agoing to be a hot
Congress. There was trouble a brewin
about the Wilmot Proviso, and about
admitting California as a State ; and
then that monster, Nullification, that ev
ery body thought Gineral Jackson had
killed, years and years ago, was'nt by
no Means dead yet. He seemed to be
alive more than ever, and showed ten
times as many heads now as he did in
Old Hickory's time. He was a hard an
imal to handle then, as my worthy friend
lime on the right can testify, for , he had
a hand in it. (Here the cheerman point
ed to me, and made every body look at
me.) I. say, ses he, if Old Hickory and
Major Downing had their hands full to
master. Nullification when he was only
a young critter and had'nt but one head,
the country may well tremble and ask
what is to be done with him now that
he has growed up so large and tuff, and
shows so many heads."
_ .
At that Bil(Johnston jumped up, as
quick as a flash, and says he, " I'll tell
you what, Mr. Cheerman, jest send old
Rough and Ready arter him, and I'll
resk him if he had twenty heads. If he
would'nt scatter and run as fast as San
ta Anna did at Bony Vista, I'll pay the
toddy."
" Well" said the cheerman, "that
ain't the question before the meeting.
The question is, what instructions shall
we give our Delegate about the Wilmot
Proviso, and the State of California, and
Nullification, and such like troublesome
consarnes. Gentlemen will please speak
their minds on the subject."
When Col. Jones sot down the whole
meeting turned and looked towards Un
cle Joshua; for they think he knows
more about these matters than any body
else in the Territory : and besides he's
a considerable speaker when you once
get him started. They kept looking
and nodding to him, and at last Uncle
Joshua got up.
" Mr. Cheerman ' " says Uncle Joshua,
says he 'ifyoujest know . how things work
in one case, you can pretty commonly
tell pretty near how them same things
will work in another case; for I've al
ways observed in my life time, that
when things work jest so in one case,
them same things would most always
work jest so in another case. Now,
when I was a boy I knew a case a good
deal like this 'ere case you've been
speaking about. And if I should tell
you and this meeting how things worked
out in that case, maybe you could judge
better how things will work in this 'ere
case, and then you can instruct your
Delegate accordingly. The case, Mr.
Cheerman was this : Old Mr. Sam West
u very clever respectable old gentleman
—every body used to call him Uncle
Sam, he was a sterrin, thriven man, and
a good farmer—he owned a very large
farm and picked up a good deal of prop
erty. His oldest son Jonathan lived on
the northern half of the farm, and his
other son John, lived on the southern
half; and the oth of 'em had large fam
ilies growing up around 'em before the
old gentleman died. One day, some
time before he died, he spoke to his two
eons, and said : "Boys I can't be with
you much longer. I shall leave the
farm and all the property to you and
your children. The farm is under a
0 6 r„i
• --
; ik-tAttgbon .„
s -
ei 3 ol \ r d
,
good way now,
and there's plenty of
latid fur you and your children, and your
grand children, arid great grandebildttn,
and I charge you to altvays to keep the
families together on the farm, and live
in peace and help each other along.
There's no knowing what sort of neigh
bors you may got around you ; there
fore cling together and take care of each
other." The sons promised that they
Would mind him, and wrote it down in
a book, and showed it to the old gentle
man, who said he was satified and could
die in genre.
Well, after the old gentleman was
dead and gone, the sons continued to
thrive, and prosper, and grow rich.
Their large families had enough to eat,•
drink and wear, and plenty of fat tur
keys for Thanksgiving and Christmas
dinners, every thing they wanted. The
two btothers carried on the farm, as
brothers should do, in peace and harmo
ny, and helped each other along. What
one did'nt raise, %other did ; and between
'em they always had enough of every
thing. There was only one thing that
they ever had any jarring about, and
that was thistles. John's half of the
farm was covered all over with thistles.
And from some cause or other, John had
a strange fancy for thistles, and would
never allow 'em to be dug up or rooted
out of his half of the farm. But Jona
than hated the very idea of a thistle; he
could bear 'em no how. There used to
be some on his part of the farm when it
was new, but he kept mowing of 'em
down, and digging of 'em up, and rootin
of 'em out till there was'nt one left.
Jonathan used to talk to John and try
to get him to do the same. Ile told him
it was a disgrace to a farm to have this
tles on it. But John declared they was
the glory of a farm, and no farm could
be perfect without thistles. Jonathan
said that, besides scratching and hurt
ing every body that comes near 'em,
they would run the land all out, so that
it would'nt produce nothing; and if
John kept all them thistles on his farm
he would die a poor man at last. John
said he was'nt afraid of that : his land
was rich enough to produce all he want
ed with the thistles on it ; and he was
sure they gave a higher character and
dignity to his family, for they was a
sign to every body that passed along the
road that the family lived on a good
rich farm, that supported them without
having to work for it. Things went
along this way for some time. John's
children grew up to be very fond of
thistles, an Jonathan's all hated this
tles ; and if the cousins ever had any
sparring or quarreling,
it was almost
always about thistles. At last a squab.
ble broke out between some of John's
family and the family of the Silverbuck
les. The Silverbuckle family lived on
a very large rich old fartn, lying south
west of John's. But as the land where
they jined had'nt been. cleared up, and
the line had'nt been fairly run out, no
marks set up, the boys on each side got
into a dispute about the line. The Sil
verbuckles said the Sams were getting
on to their land. [They called 'em all
Sam's because they wore the descend
ants of Uncle Sam.] So a whole gang
of the Silverbuckles went down and or
dered the Sams oft; and told 'em to keep
on their own land. The Sam's said
they were on their own land, and they
would'nt stir an inch back. The quar
rel grew so hot that they soon came to
blows. John heard the rumpus, and
seeing that his boys were in great dan
ger of getting an awful licking he call
ed to Jonathan to send over his boys to
help to lick the Silverbuckles. " Well,
now brother," said Jonathan, "I think
your boys have been very foolish to get
into this scrape, and I guess the've been
more to blame than the Silverbuckles.
But still, as you've got into the difficul
ty, we'll take hold and help you out of
it." So Johnathan called his boys out,
and went over to help John's ;
and all
the Sam's went at the Silverbuckles and
licked 'em back, and followed 'em half
way over the Silverbuckle farm, thrash
ing of 'em from house to house, and from
field to field, wherever they met them.
At last the Silverbuckles gave up, and
owned themselves licked, and begged
the Sam's to quit and go home.
Well, the Sums said they was ready
enought to do that, but they warn't ago
ing to have all the trouble for nothin ;
and they should demand the gold-apple
field to pay 'em for their trouble. This
was a very valuable field on the north
west end of the Silverbuckle farm, and
took its name from an orchard on it that
bore very rich gold-colored apples. The
Silverbuekels sot very high by this field
and declared they couldn't part with it
no how. But the Sams said they must
have it, and they wouldn't stir an inch
home :ill they had a deed of it. The
Silverbuckles said they wouldn't give a
deed ; they acknowledged the Sams was
the strongest, and could take it by force
if they'd a mind to; but they declared
HUNTINGDON, PA., TUESDAY, JANUARY 15, 1860,
it would be an everlastin shame and dis
grace for them to do it. Oh, the Sams
said, we aint no robbers, to take a thing
by force. We have no idea of taking
gold apple field without your consent.
We calculate to Make a fair bargain of
it; and we'll give you a hundred and
fifty dollars for it. The Silverbuckles
said no, they wouldn't give a deed.—
Well, then, said the Sams, you may take
your choice—give the deed or take an
other lichen all round, for one or tother
Via must do. The Silverbuckles with
bunged eyes and bloody noses, felt as ii
they was half dead already, and thought
they couldn't stand another licken no
how, so they give up and signed the deed
vol u ate ri ly.
The Sams went home in high glee
about their gold-apple field, and sot down
and talked the matter over what a fine
addition it was to the old farm, and what
pleasant garden spots it would make for
their children, and children's children
to live on. And some of Jothathan's
boys, who were always wide awake,
started right off over to the field, and
went digging on it. And when they
come home they brought bags full of
rich gold-colored tipples, And when
some of John's boys begun to stir round
and talk about going over to dig and
build on the apple field, Jonathan spoke
to John and said, "Now, brother, I'm en•
tircly willing your boys should go over
to the apple field and dig as much as
they are a mind to, and build, and plant
and sow and reap—but before they go
there is one thing that we must have a
fair understanding about, and that is,
they can't never have no thistles there,
for I've made up my mind that there
shunt never be no thistles allowed to
grow on gold-apple field."
At that, John flared right up, and said
he never would stand that, for gold-ap
ple field belonged to him as much as it
did to Jonathan—and his boys had as
good a right to dig there and build there
as Jonathan's boys had—and if his boys
chose to have thistles there, they had a
right to have thistles there, and they
should have thistles there. Jonathan
declared again that he had made up his
mind "that there silent never be no this
tles allowed toiltow on gold-apple field."
While they was disputing about it one
of Jonathan's boys, that had been over
on to the field a good deal and knew all
about it, came along, and hearing the
dispute, he said, "Father, there needn't
be no trouble about that, for thistles cant
never grow there ' • it ain't the right kind
of land for thistl es, and you couldn't
never make a thistle grow there if you
should try as long as you live."
"So much the better," said Jonathan,
"and I am determined the whole world
shall know there aint no thistles there,
and shant never be any there—and I
will write it in large letters on a board,
and set it up on a post by the side of the
road where every body goes along, and
the writing shall be, there shantnever be
no new thistles allowed to grow on gold•
apple field."
" You will, will you I" says John.
" Yes I will," says Jonathan.
" Well,
then," says John, "11l tell you
what 'tis brother, if it is the last words
I have to speak, if you do that thing I'll
split the farm right in tu, and build up
a high fence between us, and never
have any more to do with you the lon
gest day I live."
" I can't help that," said Jonathan
"my mind is made up, and the world
shall know that there shunt never be n 3
thistles allowed to grow on gold-apple
field."
And while their blood was up, Jona•
than went to work and put up his sign
board, all write out in large letters. At
that, John turned as red as fire, and cal
led his boys and went to work and run
a great high fence across the farm be
tween him and Jonathan, so high that
they had to get up on a ladder to look
over it. And when 'twas done, John
went up on the ladder and looked over,
and called out as loud as he could call,
"Good, bye, Jonathan, I've done with
you forever," "I cant help that," said
Jonathan, "thare shunt never be no this
tles allowed to grow on gold apple field."
After this the families lived, entirely
separate, rind got along the best way they
could, but with much less comfort than
they used to have. Some things that
Jonathan raised he had as much again
as he knew what to do with, and it rot
ted on the ground. And some other
things that he didn't raise, and wanted
very much, was rotting on John's ground.
And jest so 'twas with John on 'tether
side of the fence. Things went on in
this way a few years, and they didn't
know much about how each other got
along. At last one day Jonathan heard
John up top of the ladder, and calling
out most bitterly, "Brother Jonathan,
Brother Jonathan, do come—the Silver
buckles are here, lickin my boys half to
death, thrashing of 'em with thistles,
and scratching their eyes out. Do come
and bring your boys over and help drive
'em 11W0fri
" fiut you've done with as forever f "
said Jonathan; "and besides, it's too
much of a job to get over that fence. I
dont see but you'll have to fight your
battles out the best way you can. Re
member, I always told you, that you bet-
I ter weed out them thistles. If you had
followed my advice they wouldn't now
be sciatchin , your boy's eyes out, but,
instead of that, your boys might now be
over along with my boys digging in gold
apple field."
•
"Gold apple field be hanged 1" said
John, "I wish 1 had never heard of it,
and then this fence wouldn't have been
here to prevent your coming over to
help us."
The upshot of the matter was, that
John's boys all got a dreadful lickin',
which they didn't get over for a long
time, and the Silverbuckles carried off
as much plunder as they had a mind to,
and John gave 'em a deed of a strip of
his land.
Some time after this, while Jonathan's
boys were busy digging on the gold
apple field, the Silverbuckles, who had
who had always been wrathy about that
field, agreed with the Goldthread fami
ly, who lived south of 'em, and with the
families of the Boheas,and the Shushons,
who lived over 'tother side of the pond,
to go together and give Jonathan's hoys
a lickin', and rob the orchards. So down
they went in whole flocks and swarms,
and the first thing that Jonathan's boys
knew they were having it rough and
tumble, and were getting the worst of it.
Jonathan heard the out cry, and ran
puffing and sweating down to the high
fence, and looked through a crack, and
called out to John, "Brother John, broth
er John, the Silverbuckles, and the
Goldthreads, and the Boheas, and Shu
shons are swarming over on gold apple
field, and fell afoul of my boys, and I'm
afraid they'll half kill 'ern. Do jest send
your boys over to help drive 'em away."
John put his finger up to the side of
his nose, and says he; "Brother Jona
than, I'll tell you what 'tis, my boys are
out of the scrape now, and I reckon
they'd better keep out of it. And, be
sides they've had one all-fired thrash•
in' lately, and I reckon that's their part."
The upshot of the matter this time
was that Jonathan's boys got an awful
drubbing, and had their orchards all
robbed, and the Silverbuckles and the
Goldthreads, and the Boheas, and the
Shushans went off with the plunder.
Not long after this, Jonathan was
walking one day along by the high
fence, thinkin', and ruminatin', and he
thought he would look through the crack
and speak to John. And as he put his
face to the crack, John was that minute
putting his face to it to speak to Jona
than, and their noses almost hit each
other. 'Hallo,' said John, that you,
brother Jonathan'! How do you all do
to-day T I should like to shake hands
with you, but I can't get my hand thro'
this crack, so you must take the will for
the deed.'
'Well, it seems to be a pity,' said Jon
athan, 'that this fence should stop our
shakin' hands. Don't you think, broth-
John, it would be as well if it was out
of the way, and we should agree to live
together again, and help each other
along as we used to.'
'That's jest what I've been thinking
of,' said John.
guess we should both fare the bet
ter for it,' said Jonathan.
I reckon we should,' said John.
Well, the upshot of the matter this
time was, that the next day the boys on
both sides were at work tearing down
the high fence.
'And, now, Mr. Cheerman,' said Uncle
Joshua, lowering his voice, 'seem' how
things did work in one case, and judg
ing from that how they would be pretty
likely to work in another case, I move
that our Delegate to Congress shall be
instructed—
Firstly, to vote against Jonathan's
putting up the signboard. But if it is
put up,
•
Secondly, to vote against John's put
ting up the high fence. But, if the fence
is put up,
Thirdly, to vote for putting it down
again as quick as possible, without wait
ing for both sides to get a likin' first.'
Here Bill Johnson jumped up and
slapped his hand down on the bench so
hard that it made the house ring again,
and says he, second that motion, Mr.
Cheerman ; and I move thnt uncle Josh
ua Downing shall be our Delegate to
Congress.'
NO sooner said than done ; the in•
structions and the Delegate were all car•
vied nt once by a unanimous vote.
So I remain, your your friend,
MAJOR JACK DOWNING.
0j There will be only two eclipses
this year, both of the sun, and invisible
in the United States.
6 fßespectability."
What a wonderful thing respectablii ,
ty is l It is a gem; we see its value
more and more developed every day we
live. It excuses in those who have the
distinction to possess it, all sorts of
pranks and capers, and justifies any lit
tle intrusions upon social order and even
law, they see proper to commit.
Not so with common folks. There is
a deal of difference between respectable
people and common people. If the lat
ter do not toe the mark they are made
to do it ; there is law for it.
It is best to be born respectable. But
if you cannot fix it so as to come into
the world with a respectable pedigree,
just follow some respectable man about
as though you were his tail, think as he
thinks, do as he does, and do any thing
he wishes you to do, no matter whether
t be a violation of law, gospel, or good
manners, and ten to one you come off
Scot free. Respectability is an invalu
able and easy substitute for conscience,
Honor and Religion.
Wealth, and respectable connections'
have saved the hide of inany a thief and
the neck of many a murderer. The
power looses none of its potency to save
as society grows older ! Look at Ras
cality through the evil of Respectability
and you will perceive its deformed pro
portions and foul colors miraculously al
tered
for the better. Let the Sheriff
make a mistake and nab a person of re
spectability for an outrage upon the
laws of his country and the rights of his
fellow citizen, every body at once per
ceives that it would be a disgrace upon
his uncle, the great So-and-so, and his
cousin, the respectable Squire Such-a
one, to punish him.
Respectability used to be conferred by
a quiet straight forward, conrageous
walk, and cheerful compliance with the
laws of the country. But this is an age
of improvement.
ii Signs of Death."
The Quarterly Review, just publish
ed, has a curious article on the dying
moments of distinguished characters.
The case of Cardinal Wolsey, is well
known. The morning before he died,
he asked Cavendish the hour, and was
answered past eight ; "Eight of the
clock," replied Wolsey, "that cannot be
—eight of the clock—nay, nay, it can
not be eight, for by eight of the clock
you shall lose your master." The day
he miscalculated, the hour came true.
On the following morning, as the clock
struck eight, his troubled spirit passed
from life. Boerhaave lay feeling his
pulse till some newly published work
which he wished to read had arrived.
Re read it, and exclaiming that the bu
siness of life was passed, died. Miss
Lindly died singing, ',l know that my
Redeemer liveth.' Napoleon fought
some battles o'er again, and the last
words he muttered were tete d'armie ;
Lord Tetterden, who passed straight
from the judgment seat to his death-bed,
fancied himself still presiding at trial,
and expired with, Gentlemen of the jury
you will now consider of your verdict;
Dr. Adam, the author of "Roman An
tiquties," imagined himself in school,
distributing praise and censure among
his pupils: " But it grows dark" he
said " the boys may dismiss ;" and in
stantly died.
Beautiful Sentiment.
The late eminent Judge, Sir Allen
Parke, once said at a public meeting in
London : 'We live in the midst of bles
sings till we are utterly insensible of
their g reatness and of the source from
which theyflow. We speak of our civ
ilization, our arts, our freedom, our laws,
and forget entirely how large a share
is due to Christianity. Blot Christiani
ty out of man's history, and what would
his laws have been, what his civilization"!
Christianity Is mixed up with our very
being and our very life ; there is not a
familiar object around us which does not
wear a different aspect because the light
of Christian love is upon it ; not a law
which does not owe its truth and gen
tleness to Christianity ; not a custom
which cannot be traced in all its holy
and beautiful parts to the gospel.'
" LEAD Us NOT INTO TEMPTATION."—
How beautiful in the Lord's prayer is
the invocation of 'Lead us not into temp
tation.' How much it expresses, and
what a volume of thought it opens, 'Lead
us not into temptation.' The will may
be strong, but the heart is weak, and in
i lk
an evi the tempted falls before the
temp emptation is a little rill
which . sat first drop by drop; but
follow iti course, and it swells until it
becomes a mountain torrent, which
sweeps all before it. 'Lead us not into
temptation'— flee from it as from a pes
tilence. Avoid it—for honor, happiness,
all will be drawn into its vortex, and be
come a wreck upon the shores of time.
'Lead us not into temptation.'
VOL. XV, NO. 3
Enjoyments.
The following paragraph is taken from
Paulding's new novel, "The Puritan and
his Daughter"—a capital work :
" Those enjoyments which neither
injure ourselves, interfere with the hap
piness of others, or violates the laws
and decorum of society, are in faet them•
selves most effectual barriers against
the indulgence of those criminal propen
sities which at one and the same time
undermine our own happiness and de.
stroy that of others.—Give to mankind
innocent amusements, and they will be
far less likely to seek fur guilty plea
sures. But it will generally be found
that those who whet their appetites by
rigorously abstaining from one enjoy
ment, are the more voracious in the rat-
Mention of others ; and he who rails
most loudly at the ninety-nine innocent
pleasures of life most commonly selects
the hundredth as an exception, and con
verts it into a vice by excessive indul
gence.
Father Miller Dead.
Mr. William Miller,
familiarly known
as 'Father Miller,' and as 'Miller the
prophet,' died at his house in Komton,
Washington county, N. Y., on the 20th
ultimo, aged 68. Mr. Miller was a na
tive ofPittsfield, Muss., and during the
last war with England served as a cap
tain of volunteers on the Northern fron
tier. He was a shrewd but narrow
minded man, practical in affairs, though
of an ardent and fanatical temperament.
He began to speak in public assemblies
upon the subject of the Mlllenium In
1833, and in ten years which preceded
the time he had set for the consumma
tion of all prophecy, he labored assidu
ously in the Middle and Northern States,
averaging nearly one sermon a day for
half that period. He was uneducated,
and not largely read in even the com
mon English Commentaries; his views
were absurd, and supported but feebly ;
yet lie succeeded in building up a sect
of some 30 or 40,000 disciples, which
disappeared rapidly after the close of
the 'day of probation' in 1813, after
which time Mr. Miller himself did not
often advocate or defend his views in
public.
This is Heaven Begun.
The Rev. Thomas Scott: during his
last illness, having recieved the sacra
ment, at the conclusion of the service,
he adopted the language of Simeon,
"Lord, now lettest thou thy servant de
part in peace, for mine eyes, have seen
thy salvation." Through the remain
der of the day, and during the night, he
continued in a very happy state of mind.
To one who came in the evening, he said,
"It was beneficial to me ; I received
Chirst last night; I bless God for it."
He then repeated, in the most emphatic
manner, the whole twelfth chapter of
Isaiah. The next morning he said,
"This is heaven begun. I have done
with darkness for ever—for ever. Satan
is vanquished. Nolhing now remain
but salvation with eternal glory—eternal
glory."
Letter from the President to Mazy.
Before leaving Europe, Gov. Ujhazy
addressed a letter to Gen. Taylor infor
ming him of the desire of the Hungari
an Exiles to find a refuge in the United
States. Since their arrival in New York,
the following reply has been received :
%VAsIIINGTON, Dec. 20th, 1819.
SIR :--1 have duly received your let
ter of Nov. 2d from London, announcing
the determination of yourself and com
rades to seek nn asylum in America.
The people of this Republic have deep
ly sympathized with the Hungarians in
their recent struggle for constitutional
freedom, and in the calamities which
have befallen their unhappy land; and
I am sure that I but speak the universal
sentiments of my countrymen in bid
ding you and your associates a cordial
welcome to our soil, the natural asylum
of the oppressed from every clime. We
offer you protection and a free partici
pation in the benefits of our institutions
and our laws, and trust that you may
find in America a second home.
1 am, with high respect, your sincere
Z. TAYLOR.
LAU ' ISLALS UJIIAZV, --
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Late Governor of Comorn, in Hungary.
An Irishman and a negro were figh
ting a few days since in Philadelphia,
and while grasping each other the Irish
man exclaimEtl:
"Yon black vagabond, holler enufi'! I'll
fight till I die."
-,, So will I!" sung out the negro. "I
always does."
Tho Legislative Telegraph, in vented
by Mr. R. E. Monaghan, for taking tho
yeas and nays, has been put in order
for operation at the next session in our
House of Representatives at Harrisburg.
It will save a great deal of time.