Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, July 08, 1852, Image 1

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Ton "HUNTINGDON JOURNAL" is published at
the following rates, viz :
If paid in advance, per annum, 111,150
if paid during the year, 1,75
If paid after the expiration of the year, • 2,50
To Clubs of live or more, in advance, • • 1,2.5
THE above Terms will be adhered to in all cases.
No subscription will be taken fora less period than
fix months, and no paper will be discontinued un
til all arrearages are paid, unless at the option of
the publisher.
The human 3MM—that lofty thing !
The palace and the throne,
Where reason sits a sceptered king
And breathes his judgment tone.
f)h! who with silent step shall truce
The borders of that haunted place,
Nor in his meekness own
That mystery and marvel bind
That lofty thing—the human Mind!
The human HEART—that restless thing!
The tempted and the tried;
The joyous, yet the suffering—
The source of pain and pride;
The gorgeous thronged—the desolate,
The seat of love—the urn of hate—
Self-strung, self-deified;
Yet do we bless thee as thou art,
Thou restless thing—the human Heart !
The human soot.—that startling thing !
Mysterious and sublime !
The angel Aeeping on the wing
Worn by the scoffs of time—
The beautiful, the veiled the bound,
The earth-enslaved, the glory-crowned,
The stricken in its prime!
From heaven, in tears, to earth it stole.
That startling thing—the human Soul!
And this Is MAN—Oh! ask of him,
The gifted and forgiven—
While o'er his vision, drear and dim,
The wrecks of time are driven; '
If pride and passion in their power,
Can chain the tide or charm the hoar,
Or stand in place of heaven ?
He bends the brow, he bows the knee—
rereator, Father ! none bat thee !"
FRIEND HAIL :—Ever since I read the
announcement of your proposed change of
business, my mitid has been constantly re
verting to by-gone days, calling up old
thoughts and sentiments, which during my
happy school days, I so frequently indulged
with you. On the most prominent of these
I have ventured to dot down a few remarks,
which, if not deemed entirely unworthy the
subject, you will please insert in the 'Jour
For the Huntingdon Journal.
The Teachers' Profession.
Assuming (what I suppose none of my
readers will seriously deny) that the busi
ness of teaching is a profession, my re
marks will be confined principally to the
inquiries, What is a profession?—aid what
aro the nature, the duties, the rights and
privileges of the Teachers Profession?
We instinctively classify men according
to their occupation—their peculiar business
in life—and are quite ready to recognize
that classification which antiquity adopted,
and which time has perpetuated. This di
vision gives us two general classes—the
professional and non-professional. The
professional class includes those objects of
human pursuit which have a direct relation
and reference to man, as man; while the
other class has reference to things only,
or to man so remotely ifs to he, in sonic
measure, undistinguished from things.
The various pursuits comprised under
these two general divisions are all uncon
sciously weighed in the balance of our own
• estimation. In that balance, whether well
or ill adjusted, we not only graduate the
man according to his occupation, but ulti
mately give to any occupation, the charac
ter of the men by whom it is sustained.
Hence we find the tradesman so ready to
complain that the common judgment of
public sentiment regards his calling less
honorable than many others. ' and hence,
too would he often feel disposed to abandon
his occupation, could he not point us to a
Franklin, a Sherman, and a host of other
worthies whose illustrious names have dig
nified labor and adorned the mechanic's
Tlic agriculturist has not until quite
lately, manifested much professional pride,
regarding his occupation as one of simple
necessity, or at best, of necessity and pro
fit combined. But recently his views of
his business have undergone great and im
portant modifications. The accident of
agricultural associations has waked up the
long dormant energies of the farmer; he is
now beginning to tiud that not only is his
calling highly honorable in itself, but that
the world's awakened wisdom is awarding
it due honor.
The man of commerce has always claim
ed a high rank among his fellow men, and
has prosecuted that claim with various suc
cess. Generally, however, the merchant
has secured the homage of mankind—at
least that kind of homage which wealth
commands—an homage in my humble opin
ion, about as devoted as any bestowed by
the world. It must be observed, however,
that these classes of men, engaged in these
several objects of pursuit, though justly
valued for their contributions to the coin
fort, convenience and luxury of man—still
have gain for their motive, whilst their
province is in things. An engine is con
structed—a house is built—a garment is
made—wheat is raised—the produce and
manufactures of foreign climes are import
ed—those of our own are exchanged—tea
and coffeb are weighed out—tape and broad
cloth are measured—but all these consti
tute a catalogue of mere things. True, 1 1
these things and the avocations which pro-i l them are of vast importance; and it is
a fortunate circumstance for the welfare of
all, that the love of gain has such power
over the minds of men as to make these va
rious occupations tolerable and pleasant.—
But still, let it never be forgotten that
these occupations, however useful, respect
able and profitable—are exercised on some
thing lower than man—on things—sense
less, inanimate things.
"The learned professions" is a term of
no equivocal application. They have re
ference to man as man, and have common
ly been reckoned three, Law, Medicine,
and Theology. The several sounding ti
tles, " Doctor," " Esquire," and " Rever
end," though bestowed on many a brainless
dolt, have generally commanded the ven
eration of the world, because the profes
sions which they indicate aro esteemed hon
orable—honorable because noble and wor
thy men have graced them, and because
their province, end, and aims are honora
I have intimated that the learned pro
fessions are more ennobling than agricul
ture, manufactures, and commerce. Why
is this ? Simply and very justly because
the material on which they operate are
more noble. Their province is man —not
things—not soils, nor minerals, nor mer
chandise—but sentiment, intellectual, ra
tional, immortal man. Man is, as we have
seen, triune—made up of body, mind, and
soul. Let us occupy a moment in distrib
uting his several natures among the sever
al professions.
That inan's physical nature has been sub
mitted to the care of the medical profes
sion, will not be disputed. Nor can there
be any question that on the profession of
theology rests the responsibility of culti
vating his moral nature. This leaves his
intellectual nature unappropriated; and as
the law profession has its claims yet unsat
isfied, it would seem quite accommodating,
if not a matter of obvious inference, that
the law should be honored (or burthened,
if you please) with the high office of guid
ing to maturity, the intellect of man. But
the common consent of mankind rejects the
usurpation, and,. however• little the profes
sion itself may be respected, the teach
er's claims to it aro universally acknowl
edged. To him the world accords the re
sponsibility of training man's intellectual
faculties; of preparing him for usefulness,
respectability and happiness.
Now if I am correct in saying that the
learned professions have man for their
sphere of action, and that man is physical,
intellectual and moral, then, surely, do the
physician, the teacher, and the preacher
encompass and exhaust the professional.—
And of these the teachers' profession is
neither last nor least. Could it be judged
by a just standard of comparison, it would
be found in point of importance and real
dignity, second to none but theology alone;
and considering the intimate connection be
tween man's intellectual and moral natures,
considering that man must bo civilized and
enlightened before he can be fully chris
tianized, it must be obvious to every mind
not blunted by the power of prejudice, that,
the secular teacher is almost, if not quite
as indispensable to the well being of man
as is the religious teacher himself. "Sci
ence" is said to be "the hand-maid of reli
gion." Is this saying true ? Then, sure
ly, there can be nothing wrong or irrever
ent, arrogant or presuming in claiming for
the teacher some degree of that consider
ation, which is so cheerfully awarded to
the theologian, in estimating the labors of
the pedagogue, at least next in importance
to those of the parson.
The teachers' calling is noble, and he
should have ennobling views of it, He
should honor tt, and it should honor him.
It is noble in its nature, its province and
its aims.
It is noble in its nature—education ele
vates. There is in it nothing degrading,
grovelling or debasing.
It is noble in its province, which is
man, the most exalted of earth's creatures,
man made in the image of God, allowed a
communion with him in this life, and des
tined to an immortality of bliss with him
beyond the grave.
It is noble in its aims. Its object is to
enlighten, refine and elevate. A school is
a nation in embryo, and the type, as well
as the monarch of that nation, is the teach
er; who at the sacrifice of time and repose s
of health and consideration in society
toils without sympathy for the improvement
of his kind—the advancement of his race
in knowledge, virtue, and happiness. The
brute creation, God himself has educated.
Man, a nobler animal, God has left for
man to educate. From the ranks of the
million the teachers are selected to bear
the mighty responsibilities and unmitigated
toils of this high office.
It is a rule of general application, that
privileges should be commensurate with
responsibilities, that power should equal
obligations. In all pursuits and profes
sions, except the teachers', this rule is re
cognized and observed. Thus the medical
profession is duly encircled by the protect
ing arm of the law, which shields it from
the degrading association with quacks, who
would court honors and vinoluments for
which they have not labored and of which
they are not worthy.
The law profession is protected by the
law which it expounds.
The clergy, too, have regulations by
which the proper dignity of their profession
,is placed completely in their own power.
All these professions as such, determine
the qualifications of candidates or member
ship, and exclude, at pleasure, the incom
petent or unworthy. The teachers' pro
fession alone constitutes an exception.
A tavern-keeper, a cobbler or a tailor
is not expected to licence a doctor, a law
yer, or a minister. But the cobbler, or
car-man, the horse jockey, or loafer; may
make a teacher, and may tell him when he
is made, who shall be his professional
brethren—may call a dough-head or a sim
pleton a teacher, and class him with the
profession; while he may, at the same time
decide with all duo gravity, that a more
worthy candidate, for reasons not necessa
ry to mention, is not entitled to a certificate
of competence. From this arbitrary deci
sion the powerless teacher has to appeal.
These are some of the evils peculiar to
the teachers' profession. They are evils
of no ordinary magnitude. They should be
abolished. The best interests of the peo
ple demand their abolition. The remedy
is simple and obvious. Let it be speedily
applied. Lot the profession be allowed the
chartered organization of other profession.
Give teachers the power to decide . who
shall be their professional associates, their
brethren in office. Let them fix their
qualifications for membership, give their
calling "a local habitation and a name"
and control all its operations.
A respected friend of mine once likened
the teachers to those skilfully carved step
ping-stones pictured by the artist, on which
the eager youth arc seen ascending the bill
of Science to the temple of Fame which
crowns its summit. I thought the com
parison beautiful and liked it at the time.
But I now feel that I would rather listen
to the story of that dreamed, whose dis
tempered vision saw the world in minature.
The whole unbounded continent wits present
to the view, while in the centre arose a
mountain of vast dimensions and enormous
height. From every corner of the plane,
could be dimly seen, amid the darkness
that enveloped all, a thronging multitude
directing their pathway towards a solita
ry light, borne, by the steady hand of one
who zealously sought the' mountain's sum
mit, and who rejoiced to be the bearer of
that lamp by whose glowing light the
multitude were directed on their way up
the rugged mountain. That man was
dimly seen, if seen at all, nor was he cared
for by the thousands tugging towards the
summit of that hill, little heeding the im
portant fact, that all their hopes of suc
cess were dependent on his agency as
bearer of the light—that should he fall,
their hopes wore dashed to earth, while
midnight darkness must again enshroud
That was "a dream which was not all a.
dream." The multitudes in every civized
nation, are emerging from the dark do
mains, the shadowy vale of inioranee.—
They see a light and follow where it leads.
That mountain in the distance is the Hill
of Science. Its summit forms the goal of
human einincee. It is the spot whence
"Fame's proud Temple Alines afar."
That lamp which lights their footsteps up
the rugged mount, is Truth. The obscure,
neglected bearer of that light is the hum
ble Teacher.
Were all the the teachers of the nations
my readers, and did my pen possess a po
tency to command all their attention. I
would say to them, in language of impres
LIGHT. Let the millions be directed by it
to the goal of order, industry, self-con
trol, intelligence, and happiness. Lead
on with undeviating step. Hide not the
light you bear, but raise it up aloft, that
all within the range of vision may be
warmed, and cheered, and animated by its
ever glorious beams; illinumited and bles
sed by its over glorious effulgence."
Huntingdon, June, 1852. R. A. M.
And Jesus Wept.
What a spectacle, the son of God In
tears! Why was He who knew no sin,
and in whom no guilt was found, so deep
iy tooted when He beheld the holy cityi
doomed to destruction? Were those tears
called forth by the reflection that the walls
which encompassed that venerable city,
would soon crumble before the fierce as
saults of an invading foe, that the beauti
ful Temple,
with its richly decorated al
tars, would ere long be levelled with the
ground, that those who thronged in multi
tildes to celebrate the solemn feast of Zion,
would soon be strewed in lifeless heaps
along the plain, or scattered among the
nations of the earth, hating and hated 'by
all? No, His reflections were more com
prehensive, and the far-seeing eye of God
penetrated far beyond the limits of an
earthly destiny. how easy for hint to
send confusion and overthrow in the ranks''
of the relentless besiegers, or when their
desolating hand had swept over Judea, to
speak, and at the word, would arise from
the solitude, as earth from chaos, and a
temple far more gorgeous, would crown
Mormh. His thoughts swept beyond the
boundaries of time and ranged through
eterinty. But still if it was "all of life to
live, and all of death to die," why this
deep emotion? For on this hypothesis, the
doom which rested upon the suffering,
famished multitudes, was only a sweet re
pose, from a life all of disappointment and
sorrow, and the death dealing weopen, the
instrument which soothed the sorrowing to
While the son of God in many instances
alleviated the sufferings of humanity, it
was not these that moved him to visit
earth. For his own blood-washed people
are not distinguished from the world by
exemption from afflictions, which is the
certain inheritance of man—they are re
garded as things "to be borne for a sea
son." It was the lost condition of man
that penetrated His bosom and led on an
erreud of mercy to the earth—that man
' was lost to a spiritual knowledge, of spiri
tual lire and favor with his God. It was
in view of the condemnation which had
passed upon every unbelieving soul and
the overwhelming anguish, treasured up
against the day of wrath, for the perdition
j of the ungodly, that the sou of God was
j moved to tears. He had taught them
j to "fear not hint that can destroy the
body and hath no more power, but rather
fear Him who can destroy both body and
soul in hell." Ile well knew that oven af
ter the dreadful tragedy of the Cross, that
after his bosom was cleft and the fountain
of life was opened, that many would refuse
to drink and only stain their souls with
deeper guilt.
Then thespirit of Christ prompts to
sympathy for every variety of human suf
fering, and its impulses excite deeper and
more pungent anxiety for the salvation of
souls. But how many wear the sacred
name of Christian whose hearts are little
moved by the sufferings of humanity, and
less by the prospect of the lost soul's
eternal anguish. With what interest the
news of the ravages of a pestilence in for
eign lands is devoured, and there are
treasures without limit to feed a starving
nation. But oh, how feebly is the cry
that come to us from the distant perishing
heathen for the bread of life. How few
are the hearts, comparatively, that re
sped to such appeals— how small the
treasures that flow into the channel of that
holy enterprise, which contemplates the
supply of famishing souls with the bread
of life and with the meat "that endures
unto everlasting life." Even• parents who
suffer so much when disease prays• upon
their child, often without emotion behold
that dear one drinking in from day to day,
that poison which works death beyond the
grave. And in this day of refinement, it
is a most unpardonable offence to warn
men 'with tears.' The formal denounce
it as weakness. But this was a weakness
manifested by our Saviour and His Apos
tles, when they contemplated the power of
reigning ni sin the human heart and the
death it works.
[l-* It is the highest duty, privilege
and pleasure for the great man and the
whole-cooled woman to earn what they pos
sess, to work their own way through life,
to be the architects of their own for
Annul' Rtuttr.—qhe newspaper is a
law-book for the indolent, a sermon for
the thoughtless, a library for the poor.—
It way stimulate the most indifferent, it
may instruct the WWI t profound.
Kr The morals of a people, must bo
founded in its industry. In propotion as
a man is exempted from labor, ho is deba
sed in the soale of existence,
Kr. We live in the enjoyments of bless
ings till we are utterly insensible of their
value, and the source from whence they
(.4,00 °out
Closing Taverns on Sundays.
In the Court of Qttarter Sessions, yes
terday; Judge Thompson delivered a
charge to the constables, on the subject of
his order requiring them to close the tav
erns on Sunday. His Honor first alluded
to the two Acts of Assembly having bear
ing upon the question—that of 1705 and
that of 1794. The fourth and fifth see
tion of the first, he said, are only in force
at the present time, the remaining portion
of the act having been supplied by that of
1794. The fifth section of the act of 1705
prohibiting tippling on Stmdaysy and, im- 1
poses a penalty for every violation of it.- 1
The keepers of public houses are also lia
ble to lie fined under it. The act of 1794
forbids the prosecution of worldly employ
ment on Sunday, works of charity and
necessity only excepted, and imposes a fine
of $4 for every violation of it.
-... _
This act allows inn-keepers to supply
refreshments to travellers, but the Court
understood It to apply to those who .for
the time being form part of the inn-keep
er's household, and not those who frequent
the house to tipple. It does not allow him
to pursue his worldly employment on Sun
day, any more than it allows the merchant
to sell his goods or the mechanic to pur
sue his ordinary avocations. The act of
1794, the Court said, is in full effect, and
it has been enforced against the Jew and
Seventh-day Baptist. The Supreme Court
have not only declared it to be constitu
tional, but have pronounced it S salutary
law. Several oases were given by the
Judge in which the Supreme Court have
so decided. The remarks of the late
Judges Coulter and Kennedy were repeat
ed to show that the Court had pronounced
the law a salutary one, not only as afford
ing a weekly cessation from labor, but as
protecting the Christain sabbath from pro
The Court repeated that the law must
be enforced, and said that the tavern keep
er must not be expected to be placed in a
better position than the merchant, and if
the one may not be allowed to sell his
goods, the other may not sell his liquor.
The present license system was held to pro
duce results disastrous to the community,
but it is especially the duty of officers to
enforce it, and all other laws that have a
bearing upon it. Under the fourth section
of the act of 1794, the constable is to re
turn such houses as are kept open on Sun- 1
day to the magistrate of the ward, who
to enforce the law against all such, and W I
the magistrate refuses to act, then the con
stable is of make the returns to Court.—
The Judge remarked that it is the duty of
the citizens to make complaint of all such
tavern-keepers as refuse to obey the law,
as well as the constable, and all good citi
zens will do it.—Penna. Inquirer.
A Nawspaper in a Family.
A school teacher who has been engaged
a long time in his profession, and witnessed
the influence of a newspaper on the minds
of a family of children, writes to the ed
itor of the Ogensburg Journal as fol
lows :
I have found it to be a universal fact,
without exception, that those scholars of
both sexes and all ages, who have access
to new,papors at home, when compared
with those who do not, are,
Ist. Better readers, excelling in prod
nuneiution and enlinsis, and consequently
read more understandingly.
2d. They are' better spellers, and define
words with greater ease and acturac'y.
lid. They obtain a practical knowledge
of Geography in half the time it requires
others, as the newspaper has made them fa
miliar with the location of all the import
ant places, natitonsi thefr governments and
doings on the globe.
4th. They are better Grammarians, for
having become familiar with every variety
of style in the newspaper, from common
place advertisements to tle - finished and
classical oration of the statesman, they
more rapidly comprehend the moaning of
the text, and consequently analyse its con
struction with greater accuracy.
sth. They write better compositions,
using better language, containing more
thoughts more clearly expressed.
fith. Those young men who have for
years been readers of newspapers are al
ways found leading debating societies, ex
hibiting a more extensive knowledge upon
a greater variety of subjects, and expres
sing their views. ith greater clearness and
correctness in the use of language.
NEVER SAY DIE.-If you can't succeed
at one business, try another. If you fail
as a cobbler, enter yourself as a member of
Congress. In short, do anything but des
pair. When Monsieur Jollie presented his
picture of "Moses crossing the Red Sea,"
the curate of the Louvre threatened to kiek
it out of doors. Did this dishearten him
Not at all. Ho went home, added a little
chrome yellow to it, gave it a new name,
"Caesar crossing the Rubicon," and sold
it in less than a month to the same curate
for ten thousand francs. Here we see the
advantage of "never giving up."
A WOMAN'SIiLITABLEs.—Some of the
brightest pages in history are those•wvhfch
illustrate the heroism and• fidelity of *o
manr We Tomemberof reading a beauti
ful and effecting incident which , ocoured-in
the wars of. the Guelphs and Ghibbelines
illustrati , ie , ef, these truits,•and which we
beg leave tO.COMILItfid to the notice .of our
bachelor readers., The Emperor of Con-.
rad heed refused all teams of capitulatieti to
the Garrison of Winnesberg; but like a true
knight, he granted thtfdiitidst df the woiten
to pass out in safety, with such of their
most precious effects as they could them
selves carry. When the gates were open
ed, a long processionpf metrontrand maid
ens appeared, each beiiirsg on her shoul
ders—not her treasures; her household
goods, or her trinkets—but a husband, a
son, father, or brother. As'they passed
through the enemy's.lines all respeotfol-
ly made way for them while the whole
camp rang witti'shouts cf applause.
Bachelor readers, will you allow us to
ask whether - there is a maiden or matron
on whom you notild rely, for .similar ser
vice in case of emergency ?
C Hear how the editor of the 'ver
mont Mercury talks to the borrowing
“Got a papor , to- spare!?
“Yes l sir; hare's one •of '
our last.—
Would you like to stitscrffie, and take it
would but I am too poor."
That man has just come front the circus,
fifty cents; lost time from his' farm, fifty
cents—liquor, judging from the smell, at
least fifty cents--making a dollar and a
half actually thrown away,. and then beg
ging for a newspaper, alledgitg that he was
too poor to pay for it..
SiENTS . --Atudrig the fancies of the Em
peror Nicolas,are two regiments stationed
at St. PeterAburg.• Every man and officer
of the first named has a pug-nose, blue
eyes, sandy hair and whiskers. The hook
noses have each a nose like a hawk, with
eyes, hair, and' beards black as a ra
ven's wing. The men, too, all much one
height and with their splended uniforms,
make a showy appearance.
A IlinEors 'lse!.'—A• zealdus divine
out south, who had noticed with pain the
continual absence from cliurch of a gentle
man, for many years .a constant worshiper,
met his negro servant, and inquired why
his master no longer attended divine ser•
'De fac is massa's been , iery. bad, sali;
and, I'ze frald he's gettin wus.'
'ls it possible" said the minister in alarm;
'can it be possible that he has theown
aside the light of Christianity and ben=
flounderer in the dark, cheerless bogs of
No, sah, wus an' dat,' replied the blank,
with a mournful shake of the head.
was ever afraid,' said the venerated
gentle maw,- saffly,. , his•classic ldre
too devotedly incline him to heathen my
thology; he may perchance have become'
afliibted with the mental delusion of 016 ,
theism t'
'Wusser still,', inutteicd the black, dog
, .
'Alas!' groaned the preacher, 'then he'
has became lost in the dark abyss of athe , .
, No,.sah,•athyisin isn't a circumstance—
he's got de rheumatism!'
ap- A dandy lawyer remarked, one
summer day, that the. Weather was so ex
ceedingly hot', that' when he put his head
in a basin of water,•it fairly boiled?
'Then, sir, 2 was the reply, 'you have
calf's-head soup •at very little expense.'
The apple . and pdiii trees in tb s e vi
cinity of Bostmvpromisti remarkably well,
but the peach trees appear to have been a
good deal injured by the rigorous wiutet.
MONKEY ACTORS.-A troupe of well
trained monkeys is now performing at ono
of the New York theatres,• which must be
a genuine curiosity. It was•brought from
Paris; They niiinic the human actors ifY
a great style,•just as the latter fregently
imitate them!
A CtottisT. If you wish to re-fasten
the loose handles of knives and forks, wake
your cement of einutuon brick dust and ros
in, melted together. Seal engravers un- ,
derstand this receipt.-
UII , Ti I I.: fire iegoing out, Miss Filkins.' .
'I know it Mr..6Yeen; and if you would act
wisely, you'd' %Bow its example.' It is
unnecessary to add that Green never axed
to set up with that gal uguib.
lX A Jailor in a Western Stale had
received orders not to keep his prisoners in
solitary confinement. Once when he had
but two in charge,. ono escaped, and he was
obliged in conseqitenee to kick the other
out of doors, in order to comply with the
If you wish others to respect you,
you must respect yourself.