Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, June 11, 1850, Image 1
~,n , ,m 71 71,r 1 , 7'41 4 , ' . • ,---, N , , 1 ( ~',!.k,. f. - Molf.;'' ':,:-.' "ir.i . 4, ••. 7,f. , i I 0 ) •, ' n -i f /‘ s ' 4, ~/ ( 0 f tlft ---- - . 4.-- ,-- rCN*6- , 4, Viz'f,..i. , ' , .-•' . - 7' - ' . .t* , •,.-7 < ''', : -. y.,:: . • .......,...., 3 , , , e ,t.. ~,,....„, ~..7.- ,-. ,:. ~ , , ..., :d 1 0 0 1 vf - AA, ( t , J , 0 , , ...,..i.,,,,,t,,,, , „.,.:.,„ --,....:,,' 4 . 4 r ' -- • lIIIIVA,--lc 4ftlro n nAL ..c ..... -, ' t, ~.16. BY JAS. CLARK. OUR DEEP OLD WELL. ET HENRY 11. PAUL *ha can forget our deep old well, That stood below the lawn; That dear old well I visited, So oiten jug at dawn I *hat luxury wan it to me, To stand beside the brink, And from the bucket iron -bound, To take my morning drink: So sweet and pure the water seemed, It sparkled as it fell; It was the nectar of our cot, The water of that well. My dear old father! how he loved To sit beneath the bower, Just after work, and slowly quaff— He'd drink, 'twould seem, an hour. All loved that well, the blessed place, And every stroller knew, To help himself—make fast the chain— 'Twas all he had to do. When at our homestead strangers paused, To make a passing call, My impulse was, if they would drink, For all were welcome—all. And•ne'er shall I forget the time The well, alas! was dry; And I was sick with grief—e'en now, To think of it I sigh. And when the water came, once more— Ah ! who my joy can tell 1 'Till then I knew not how I loved That moss-stoned deep old well ! MISCELLANEOUS DREAM OF A STAR. Beautiful and Instructive Sketch. There was once a child, and he stroll ed shout a good deal, and thought of a number of things. He had a sister, who was a child too, and his constant com panion. These two used to wonder all day long. They wondered at the beauty of the flowers; they wondered at the height and blueness of the sky ; they wondered at the depth of the bright was ter; they wondered at the goodness and power of God who made the lovely world. They used to say to o:;e another : Supposing all the children upon earth were to die, would the flowers, and the voter, and the sky, be sorry They be lieved they would be sorry. For, said they, the buds are the children of the flowers, and the little playful streams that gambol down the hill-sides are the children of the water; and the smallest bright specks, playing at hide-and-seek in the sky all night, must surely be the children of the stars; and they would all be grieved to see their playmates, the children of men, no more. There was one clear shining star that used to come out in the sky, before the rest, near the church-spire, above the graves. It was larger and more beauti ful, they thought, than all the others, and every night they watched for it, stand ing hand and hand at a window. Who ever saw it first, cried out, "I see the star !" And often they cried out both together, knowing an well when it would rise, and where. So they grew to he such friends with it, that, before lying down in their beds, they always looked out once again, to bid it good night ; and when they were turning round to sleep, they used to say, "God bless the•star. ' But while she was still very young, oh, very, very young, the sister drooped and came to be so weak that she could no longer stand in the window at night; and then the child looked sadly out by himself, and when he saw the star, turn ed round, and said to the patient, pale face on the bed, "I see the star!" and then a smile would come upon the face, and a little weak voice would say, "God bless my brother and the star!" And so the time came, all too soon ! when the child looked out alone, and when there was a little grave among the graves, not there, before ; and when the star made long rays down towards him, as he saw it through his tears. Nuw, these rays were so bright, ni.d they seemed to make such a shining way (ruin earth to Heaven, that when the child went to his solitary bed, he dreamed a bout the star ; and dreamed that, lying where he was, he saw a train of people taken up that sparkling road by angels. And the star, opening, showed him a a great world of light, where many more such angels waited to receive them. All these angels, who wore waiting, turned their beaming eyes upon the peo ple who were carried up into the star— nnd some came out from the long rows in which they stood, and fell upon the people's necks, and kissed them tender ly, and went away with them down av enues of light, and were so happy in their company, that, lying in his bed, he wept for joy. But there were many angels who did not go with them, and among them one• he knew. The patient face that once had lain upon the bed wos glo7itied and ra diant, but his heart found out his sister among all the host. His sister's angel lingered near the entrance of the star, and said to the leader among those who had brought the people thither: "Is my brother comer And he said, "No." She was turning hope( ully away, when the child stretched out his arms, and cried, "0, sister I am here! Take me!" and then she cast her beaming eyes up• on him, and it was night ; and the star was shining into the room, making long rays down towards him, as he saw .it through his tears. From that hour forth, the child looked out upon the star as on the Home lie was to go to, when his time should come— and lie thought that he did not belong to the earth alone, but to the star too, be cause of his sister's angel gone before. There was a baby born to be a brother to the child; and while he was so little that lie never yet had spoken word, he stretched his tiny form out on his bed, and died. Again the child dreamed of the opened star, and of the company of angels, and the train of people, and the rows of an gels, with their beaming eyes all turned upon those people's faces. Said his sister's angel to the leader, "Is my brother come'!" And he replied, "Not that one, but another." As the child beheld his brother's an gel in her arms, he cried, "0, sister, I am here! Take me!" And she turned and smiled upon him, and the star was shining. He grew to be a young man, and was busy at his books, when an old .servant Caine to him, and said: "Thy mother is no more. I bring her blessing on her darling son." Again at night he saw the star, and all that former company. Said his sister's angel to the leader : "Is my brother come'!" And he said, "Thy mother !" A mighty cry of joy went forth thro' all the star, because the mother was re united to her two children. And he stretched out his arms, and cried, "0, mother, sister and brother, I am here! Take me!" Arid they answered, "Not yet," and the star was shining. He grew to be a man, whose hair was turning gray, and he was sitting in his chair by the fire-side, heavy with grief, and with his • face bedewed with tears, when the star opened once again. Said his sister's angel to the leader, "Is my brotl.er come 1" And lie said, "Nay, but his maiden daughter." And the man who had been the child, saw his daughter, newly lost to him, a celestial crea.ure, among those three, and he said, "My daughter's head is on my sister's bosom, and her arm is round my mother's neck, and at her feet there Is the baby of old time, and I can bear the parting from her. Owl be praised!" And the star was shining. Thus the child came to be an old man, and his once smooth face was wrinkled, and his steps were slow and feeble, and his back was bent. And one night, as he lay upon his bed, his children stand. Mg round, he cried, as he had cried so long ago :. Wee the star !" They whispered one another, "He is dying." And he said, "I am ; my age is fall ing from me like a garment, and I move towards the star as a child. And 0, my Father, now I thank thee that it has so often opened to receive those dear ones who await me." - And the star was shining; and it shines upon his grave. A Striking Thought. " The death of an old roan's wife," says Lamartine, "is like cutting down an ancient oak that has long shaded the family mansion. Henceforth the glare of the world, with Its cares and vicissi tudes, falls upon the old widower's heart, and there is nothing to break their force or shield him from the full weight of misfortune. It is as if his right hand was withered—as if one wing of his eagle teas broken, and every movement that he made brought him to the ground. His eves are dim and glassy, and when the film of dentn falls over hint he mis ses those accustomed tones which might have soothed his passage to the grave." [r"-The love of a cross woman, they sny, is stronger than the love f any other female individual you can start.— Like vinegar, the affections of a high strung woman never spoil. It is the sweet wines that become acidulated, not the sour ones. Recollect this my dear hearers, and court accordingly. [Q'A plank - road is to be constructed from Cumberland, Md. to Bedford, Pa. HUNTINGDON, PA., TUESDAY, JUNE 11, 1850. The Old Man And The Snow Flake. BY SIIBS C. W. BARBEL 'Tie Nature's la's► That none—the meanest of created things— Of forms created the most vile and brutish, The dullest or most noxious, shall exist. Divorced from good." Near the close of a rough autumn day a wary man sat down beneath the na ked branches of an aged oak. His gar ments were worn threadbare, and his teeth chattered in the wind, which swept in fitful gusts around him. " Oh," said he, "this is a wicked world ! The smiles of Fortune are as changeful as an April day—one moment sunshine, the next shade. I never thought that I should be as poor as I am now, that I should ever come to this. There was a time when I was blith as a lark and gay as the morning. My pockets were well filled with gold and silver— friends bowed and smiled around me—a h.,ppy wife and rosy-cheeked children were mine. But my riches "took to themselves wings," and my friends de serted me—my wife is dead, and my children cry for a crust of bread. Alas! alas! how sad is my condition I" A snow-flake which had listened to the ptior man's moans, looked out from beneath a withered leaf and thus addres sed him: Alr! my good friend, 1 am sorry to hear such complaints from you. It will not do for you to wear that settled look of despair. The best thing we can do in adversity is to "hope on—hope ever l" as sweet Mary Hewitt bath said. My life has, in some respects, resembled yours. I was a brilliant rain-drop once and floated in the bosom of the blue cloud, or slept in the bell of the lily, dr at the heart of the rose. The summer birds waved their wings and sung their sweetest songs above me. Sometimes the beautiful belle, who was bound for the ball-room, took me upon her jewel led finger to' bathe her brew and lips, and when I returned to earth again, I joined the noisy stream arid dashed on ward to the green waves of the ocean. My life seemed one long sunny day of delight. But this blighting freezing weather came, and I was congealed in a flake of snow— , -now I am blown about by every saucy wind. If I presume to kiss ' the cheek of the gay damsel, I-he brush es me off with her fur-covered finger and shivers to let me know that I am an intruder. lam not admitted into the halls of the rich, and even the beggar seeks to expel me from his hovel. " But I am far from despairing ; 1 am going to observe everything that trans pires around me and note down all my wants, so that 1 may know if I ever again become a ruin-drop, how to pity the flake of snow." Just then a sudden gust of wind tur ned the leaf over beneath which the si.ow-flake was hidden, and a yellow sunbeam cane melted it. Its feathery form assumed that of a brilliant crystal. A smile of delight came to the lips of the way-faring man. " Oh," said he "what a foolish fellow I was to think he, the wheel of For tune would always keep me down. 1 shall yet rise above all war.t ; I Fee my fate mirrored in that rain drop. 1 will rise and go my way with a cheerful heart, while 1 keep a sharp look out for the sunbeam of fortune. What an Influence There are at least three millions of mothers in the United States. These mothers, aside from older children, have it is supposed, between two and three hundred thousand infants in their charge. Nu influence, at present, can reach these infant minds but that of u mother. These minds may be moulded at the will or discretion of these mothers. If this ar my of mothers should combine to arcom- Wish any given object, what might they not do If every mother should imi tate the example of Hannah the old, and consecrate her infant to the service of the Lord, what could withstand such a, moral influencel And let from these infants are to come our rulers, our jud ges, our ministers, and all the influence, either for good or evil, which is to sway the destinies of the nation. Q:" Look into the deep grotto, where little silent tears have created the pil• tars of the earth, and the splendor of heaven now plays upon them. Thy tears and griefs, oh, man ! will soon shine as stars, and bear thee up like the pillars of this temple." A COUNTRY youth who had returned home from a visit to the city, was asked by his anxious dad if he had been guard• ed in his conduct while there. 'O, yes,' replied the ingenious lad, '1 was guarded by two constables most of the time.' 7Some one has defined the word 'policy' to consist in serving God in a manner not to offend Satan. i , Lin is Sweet." DY MISS CATUARINE S6DOWIO6. It was a summers morning. I was a wakened by the rushing of a distant en gine, bearing along a tide of men to their busy day in a great city. Cool sea•bree zes stole through the pine trees embow ering my dwelling ; the aromatic pines breathed out their reedy music : the humming-bird was fluttering over the honey-suckle at my window ; the grass glittered with dew-drops. A maiden was coining from the dairy across the lawn, with a silver mug of new milk in her hand ; by the other hand she led a child. The young woman was in the full beauty of ripened and perfect womanhood.. Her step was elastic and vigorous ; moderate labor had developed withont impairing her fine person. Her face beamed with intelligent life, conscious power, calm dignity, and sweet temper. "How sweet is lile to this girl!" 1 thought, as, res. pected and respecting, she sustains her self in domestic life, distilling her pure influence into thelittle creature she holds by the hand ! And how sweet then was life to that child ! Her little form was so erect and strong—so firmly knit to outward life—her step so free and joy ous!—her fair hair, so bright that it seemed as if a sunbeam came from it, as it lay parted on that brow where an in finite capacity had set its seal. And that spiritual eye—so quickly perceived, so eagerly exploring; and those sweet lips —love, arid laughter, and beauty are there. Now she snatches a tuft of flow ers from the grass—now she springs to meet her playmate, the young, frisky dog—and now she is shouting playfully; he has knocked her over, and they are rolling on the turf together! Before three months had passed away, she had laid down the beautiful garments of her mortality; she had entered the gates of immortal life; and those who followed her to its threshold, felt that, to the end, and in the end, her ministry had been roost sweet. " Life is sweet" to the young, with their unfathomless hopes and their unlimited imaginings. It is sweeter still with the varied realization Heaven has provided the ever-changing loveliness and mysterious process of the outward world, in the inspiration of art —in the excitement of magnanimous deeds—in the joys of the mother—the toils and harvest of the father—in the countless blessings of hallowed domes tic life. "Life is sweet" to the seeker of wis dom, and to the lover of science, and all progress, and each discovery, is a joy to them. " , Life is sweet" to the true lovers of their race; and the unknown and un praised good they do by word, or look, or deed, is joy ineffable. But not alone to the wise, to the learn ed, to the young, to the healthful, to the gifted, to the happy, to the vigorous doer of good, is "life sweet ;" for the poor and patient sufferer it has a divine sweetness. "What," I asked a friend, who had been on a delicious country excursion, "did you see that best pleased you 1" She replied, "My cousin took me to see a man who had been a clergy man in the Methodist connection. He had suf. fered from a nervous rheumatism, and from a complication of diseases aggrava. red by ignorant drugging. Every mos• de in his body, excepting those which move his eyes and tongue, is paralyzed. His limbs have lost the human form.— He has not laid on a bed fur seven yours. He suffcrs acute pain. He has invente , l a chair which affords him some alluvia. Lion. His feelings are fresh and kindly, and his mind is unimpaired. He reads constantly. His book is fixed in a frame before him, and he manages to turn the leaves by an instrument which lie moves with his tongue. He has an income of thirty dollars. This pittance, by the vigilant economy of his wife, and some aid from kind rustic neighbors, bring the year rotund. His wife is ie most gentle, patient, and devoted of loving nurses. She never has too much to do, to do all well ; no wish or thought goes beyond the unvarying circle of her con, jugal duty. Her love is abounding as his wants—her cheerfulness as sure as the rising sun. She has not for years slept two hours conse.quively. I did not know which most to rever ence, his patience or hers ! and so I said to them. "Ah !" said the good man, with a smile, "life is is still sweet to me ; how can it but be so with such a wife!" 0, ye who live amidst alternate sun shine and showers of plenty, to whom night brings sleep and daylight freshness —ye murmurers and complainers who fret in the harness of life till it gall you to the bone--who recoil at the lightest burden and shrink from a passing cloud —consider the magnanimous sufferer my friend described, and learn the di vine art that_can distil sweetness from the bitterest cup! • A Tiresome Guest. i , lie sits and will forever sit." There is belonging to the race of hn ' man bipeds a sort of troublesome beings, who, setting no value on their own time, care very little how much they trespass upon that of their more industrious neighbors. They are a sort of stay-for ever persons, who, having talked over the whole world at one sitting, commence and talk it over anew from beginning to end, before they are ready to take their leave—in a word they sit, and sit, and sit, tong enough to justify the motto we have just quoted. Beside their dispo sition to bang on, there is generally about these persons n wonderful habi tude, a slowness in taking a hint, unpar alleled with the rest of the human race. To give a single instance of this sitting propensity, we will introduce the story of a plain spoken old lady from the land of steady habits. " 1 never seed the beat of that ere Captain Spinout," said she—"would you believe it, he called at our house last night just as 1 was done milking, and wanted to borrow my brass kettle for his wife to make apple sauce in. "Oh, yes," says I, "She may have it and wel come, Captain Spinout," and 1 went di rectly and fetched it out of the back room and set it down before him. Well presently our tea was ready, and I couldn't do no more than nx him to take a cup with us. "Oh, no," he said, he couldn't stay a minit ; but, however, he concluded he'd take a drink of cider with my husband, and so he did. Well, after I'd done tea, I took my knitting work, and sit down till I rather thought all honest people should be abed. But Captain Spinout had forgot his hurry, and there he was sittin' and talkin' with my husband as fast as ever. I hate above all things to be rude, but I couldn't help of h intin' to the Captain that it was growin' late, and maybe his wife was waiting for the kettle. But he didn't seem to take the hint at all—there he sot and sot, and sot. Fin . ding that words wouldn't have any effect, 1 next rolled up my knitting work, sot back the chairs and told the girls it was time to go to bed—but the Captain didn't mind it no more than nothin' at all—there he sot, and sot, and sot. " Well, next I pulled off my shoes, roasted my feet as I commonly do jist afore going to bed—but the — Captain didn't mind it no more than nothtn' at all—there he sot, and sot, and sot. t. I then kivered up the fire, and thought he could not then help takin' the hint—but la me: he didn't take no notice on't at all—not the least grain on the world—hut there be sot, and sot, and sot. "Thinks I, you're pretty slow at ta king the hint Captain Spinout—so I sed, sort c' plainly, that I- thought itwas bed time—speaking always to my husband —but jist so as I thought the Captain couldn't help takin' it to himself, but la! it did no good at all—for there he sot, and sot, and sot, " Seein' there warnt no likelihood of his goin' home, I axed him to stay all night. Oh, no,' Bed he, he couldn't possibly stay a minit, so seein' there warn't no use in sayin' anything I went to bed,— But la me! would you think it, when I got up in the inornin' as sure as you're alive, there he was a sotten yet. AN ENGLISH SNEER REBUKED.—CarIyIe in his last pamphlet, speaking of Amer ica, asks : "What great human soul, what great thought, what great noble thing that one could worship or loyalty admire, has yet been produced there 1" "What great human F 0111 1" WASHING TON. "W hat great thought 1" LIBERTY. "What great noble thing 1" A home for the homeless. Bread for the starving. Protectio.l for the oppressed. We do not know that these are things which syco , hants could worship, or loyalty ad mire but the fame of the first, the sacred ness of the second, and the uncircum scribed extent of the third, are what . freemen admire, and intend to defend. [j-" The dew-drops sink softly in the hollow mountains, but are petrified into hard and sharp angels. More beau tiful is the human tear. It penetrates and wounds the eye, but the wept dia mond is liquid, and when the eye seeks it, behold it is like the dew in the cup of the flower." :7..He who swallows up the subsis tence of the poor, will, in the end, find that it contains a bone that will choke him. INDUSTRY.—As the sweetest rose grows upon the sharpest prickle, so the hard est labor brings forth the sweetest profitS. 11_7•4 calumny, though known to be such leayes a stain upon the reputation. VOL. XV, NO. 28. filits Ways are not as Our Ways." Once upon a time there lived a her. mit, who in a solitary cell passed night and day in the service of his God. Not far from his retreat an humble shepherd tended his flock. Happening one day to fall into a deep slumber, a robber car ried off his sheep. The owner of them, turning a deaf ear to the excuses of his servant, ordered him to be put to death for his negligence--a proceeding which gave great offence to the hermit. "Oh, heaven !" he exclaimed, "the innocent suffer for the guilty, and yet is uneven. ged by God! I will quit His service, and enter the giddy odd once more." He accordingly left his hermitage; but the Almighty willed that he should not be lost, and an angel, in the form of man, was sent to bear him company. Having. made each et• er's acquaintance, they walked on together towards a crowded city. They entered it nt nightfall, and `entreated shelter at the bouseof a most noble captain. He took them in, gave them a most sumptuous supper ' and then conducted them to a bed-chamber deco. rated in the highest style of art. In the middle of the night the ang e l rose, and ,going stealthily to an adjoining apart ment, strangled the entertainer's only child, who was sleeping in iris cradle.— The hermit was horror-struck, but durst not reprove his murderous companion, who, though in human form, exercised over hint the influence of a superior be ing. in the mori.ing they nrose, and went on to another city, where they were hospitably treated by one of the princi. pal inhabitants. This person possessed, and greatly prized a massive golden cup. In the night the angel stole it. Again the hermit held his peace through fear s On the morrow they continued their journey, and having met a pilgrim on the bridge, the angel requested him to become their guide. He consented, but had not gone ninny yards with them be, fore the angel seized him by the should ers and hurled him into the stream.— The hermit now came to the conclusion that his companion was a devil, and long, ed for an opportunity of leaving him se. cretly. As the vesper bell was ringing, they reached a third city, and again en treated shelter; but the burgess to whom they applied was a churl, and would not admit them into his house. He said, however, that if they liked they might slew,' in his pig-sty. Not being able to procure a better loding, they did so, and in the morning their surly host receiv ed, as his remuneration, the purloined goblet. The hermit now thought the angel was a madman, and told him they must part. "Not until 1 have explained my con, duct," said the angel. "Listen, and then go thy way. I have been sent to unfold to thee the mysteries of Providence.-- When thou west in thy hermitage, the owner of a flock unjustly put his slave to death, and by so doing moved thy wrath; but the shepherd, being the victim of ignorance and precipitate anger, will enjoy eternal bliss, whilst the master will not enter heaven until he has been tormented by remorse on earth, and pit. rifled by fire in purgatory. I strangled the child of our first host, because, be. fore his son's birth, he performed many works of mercy, but afterwards grew covetous to enrich his heir. God in his love is sometimes forced to chastise, and beneath the tears of the sorrowing parent his piety will spring again. I stole the cup of our second host, because, when the wine smiled brightly in it, it tempted htm to sin. 1 cast the pilgrim into the water, because God willed to reward his former faiths with everlasting happiness, but knew that if he lingered any longer here below, he would be gni!. ty of a mortal sin. And busily, I repaid the niggardly hospitality of our third host with such a bounteous boon, to teach him for the future to be more gen erous. Henceforth, therefore, put a seal upon thy presumptuous lips, and con demn not the All-wise in thy mole-eyed folly." The hermit, hearing this, fell at the angel's feet, and pleaded earnestly for pardon, He received it, and returned to his hermitage, where he lived for many years a pattern of humility and faith, and at length sweetly fell asleep in Christ. SWEET GIRL!.—A Man travelling at the west, declare. the wind came to him so laden with fragrance, that he thought he was near a garden of roses. He dis covered that it was only a bevy of girls going through the woods, As Bees can breed no poison, though they suck the deadliest juices— so the noble mind, tho' forced to drain the cup of misery, can yield but genet. ous thoughts and noble deeds. "Law me !" exclaimed Mrs. Par. tington, "1 didn't know afore that they fought in court ; but 1 see by the pipers hat the Judge charg,l the Jury.