Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, August 12, 1852, Image 1

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TIIE " Iltnsrmonow JOURNAL" is published at
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If paid in advance, per annum, $1,50
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THE above Terms will be adhered to in all cases.
No subscription will be taken fora less period than
six months, and no paper will be discontinued un
til all arrearages are paid, unless at the option of
the publisher.
From the North American.
We are up! Don't you hear the Whig thunder?
We come, with a hearty huzza!
What foe ever heard, without terror,
The war-cry of Old Chippewa?
Chorus—The war-cry, &c.
From Queenstown, where nobly ho battled,
Niagara where gory he lay,
The people re-echo the thunder,
And gather for Old Chippewa.
From Mexico's snowy sierras,
Her vales where they bash in the day,
Comes the voice of his valor and virtue,
The glory of Old Chippewa.
North, South, East and West, it arises,
No fact on that thunder can stay;
It hails, with the blessings of freemen,
Their champian and choice—Chippewa.
710 breast has been ploughed by the British,
And forty campaigns make him gray;
But we'll wreath his high brow with the laurel,
And glory in Old Chippewa.
When Mexico's millions were offered,
From his country to win him astray;
" Tho' poor, Pa love, live and die by hal"
em answered our Old Chippewa.
The hero that can't lose a battle,—
Win Field wins the field in each fray,
We'll be—while Scott fights for our freedom—
Scott free, with our Old Chippewa.
A Lundy's Lane fuss with the British,
Afiiss on Chepultepec's day,—
Thus dia./millers will Hy from the Locos,
When they conic across Old Chippewa.
'Tie strange, tho' in stratagem able,
Ho can't make a feint in the fray;
A fall—soya when riddled with Lanett—
Ne'er happen* to Old Chippewa.
With the high soul of honor to nerve him,
And good soup his stomach to stay,
Come Mexicans, British, or Locos,
They're nothing to Old Chippewa.
The Locos selected a leader,
But their managing masters said nay;
So they straw stutrd the coat of a here,
And set 'gainst Old Chippewa.
Poor fellows ! they're tired of their fetters,
And shrunk from the trick pith dismay;
All true-henated Democrats spurn it
And r nlly around Old Chipewa.
Rome-toil, with the iron of England,
Free-trade Pierce would pierce and would slay,
But Scott likes the ore of the Keystone;
Be used it at Old Chippewa.
No despot will dare to insultts,
No traitor our Union betray,
With him who has bled to defend us,
Our President—Old Chippewa.
The pure and the wise and the noble,
His country's best guardian and non
In camp or in cabinet peerless,
Oh, who is like Old Chippewa?
Mnke way : for a torrent is coming,
The millions in battle arrly;
Their glad shouts will soon cleave the welkin,
For Vidtory and Old Chippewa.
jranatv Circle.
Simplicity in Dress.
Those who think that in order to dress
well, it is necessary to dress extravagantly
or gaudily, make a great mistake. Nothing
so well becomes true feminine beauty as
simplicity. We have seen many a remark
ably fine person robbed of its true effect by
being over dressed. Nothing is more un
becoming than overloaded beauty. The
stern simplicity of the classic taste is seen
in the old statues and in the pictures paint
ed by men of superior artistic genius. In
Athens, the ladies were not gaudily, but
simply arrayed, and we doubt whether any
ladies have ever excited more admiration.
So also the noble old Roman matrons,
whose superb forms were gazed on delight
edly by men worthy of them, were always
very plainly dressed. Fashion often pre
sents the hues of the butterfly r but fash
ion is not a olassio.—G.• D. Prentice.
Qom' Our minds are like ill-hung vehi
eles, when they have little to carry they
raise a prodigious clatter ; when heavily
halm they neither preak nor rumble.
lit 0/6014
..34•e\. 4 0 • Ak .
11 1 ..r
A Mother's Influence
MOTHER ! There is something in the
very word that falls musically on the ear.
Soft, plaintive, tender, it comes to us like
the breathings of the wind over the .tEo
lien harp-strings. How that name brings
back the past, our youthful days% when
skies were all bright above us, and when
the carking of the world had not begun to
harden our hearts to tender feelings!—
What recollections spring up as we dwell
upon it! Dim remembrances of a mild
face looking down upon our tender infan
cy—of a gentle band guiding our first fal
tering stops—of tender accents now re
peating the tale with which to beguile some
twilight hour, and now teaching our young
lips to falter forth the first pure prayer of
childhood. And then the bed of sickness
—how even bitter things were made sweet
by a mother's hand; how easier lay the 1 1
pillow of pain when she had smoothed it;
and how delicious was even the cup of
cold water given by her!
Happy days! a mother's influence, how
mild her sway, gentle even in her stern
ness, she could restrain, and failing, soon
bring by expostulation the repentant tear.
And oh, how potent that influence in after
years, when leaving our homes, and with
them the many defences by which we had
always been surrounded there, we went
forth to engage in the battle of life alone !
Mayhap, thrown into the society of the
gay, the thoughtless, or the dissipated, we
have been led astray, and were just ta
king that irrevocable step which would
lead to both temporal and eternal ruin,
when—we knew not how—the home of
our childhood rose before us—a loved
form was there—and from those lips we
seemed again to hear the long forgotten
warning, or an earnest prayer offered in
our behalf. It was all powerful; it drew
us back from the edge of the precipice,
and we were saved. is it wonderful, then,
if we sometimes think that among the
bright band of guardian angles who are
ever about our path to watch over our
ways, stands chief a mother's spirit, strong
through love. And this influence did not
keave us here, but has ever nerved us to
higher attainments and to nobler deeds.—
If we were weak, she it was who strength
ened us; if we were despairing, she en
couraged us. And I doubt not that if we
could look into the earlier lives of those
departed worthies, whose.
"Semen were not born to die t "
we should find in many, if not all, that
their attainments, their courage, or their
greatness owed its germination to their
having then been blessed with the right
kind of a mother's influence.
But this influence does not end with
earthly attainments or success; for if there
has been a time in 2.n' of our lives when
flushed with success, we were in danger of
forgetting that better country where treas
ures perish not, the recollections of a
mother's early teaching, that seed sown in
faith, sprang up, and led us to look up
wards to our God.
This feeling of love to a mother,
amounting almost to veneration, is one
that, besides all the influence it exerts, is
a source of happiness, that of all things
pertaining to earth is the purest. It is
ennobling, its influence is creditable. If
there be some who have not known this
by their own experience, who among their
boon companions are want to boast how
they have thrown off the paternal yoke,
and to sneer at those who are so unmanly
as to wish to consult a mother's wish, or
to regard a mother's tears, let them look,
not to great earthly examples which might
be abundantly cited, but to Him who has
made man and dwelt among us. Al
though in His divine nature King of
Kings and Lords of Lords, He became
subject to His parents on earth, and even
amid the agonies of Calvary forgot not his
mother, but with almost His dying breath
commends her to the care of the beloved
Mother! How purifying are all ideas
connected with the name! how little of
earth, how much of heaven!
n -- liad Books are' like ardent spirits;
they furnish neither ailment nor medicine
—they aro poison. Both intoxicate—one
the mind the other the body ; the thirst for
each increases by being fed, and is never
satisfied; both ruin; one the intellect and the
other the health—and together, the soul.
The makers and venders of each are equal
ly guilty, and equally corrupters of the
community; and the safeguard against each
is the same—total abstinence from all that
intoxicates mind or body.—S:•S. aid.
Tr Though wo may haves hard pillow,
yet,•it is only sin can plant a thorn in it—
and,even though it may be hard and lonely,
yet we may have sweet sleep, and glorious
visions upon it. It was when Jaoob was
lying on a stone for a pillow, that he had
glorious visions of the ladder reaching to
ICr'What we wish to do we think we can
do, , but when we do not wish to do a thing
it beemnee impoeeible.
For the Journal
" All Together."
"All together," one exclaims, and
' Straight the ship triumphant rides.'
Whoever thinks it savors of cant or
apishness to talk more about "the present
age," the age in which we live, &e., will
not, by us, be accused of being critical or
fastidious. How could it now be looked
upon as any thing else than a hackneyed
subject? Something wonderful too--it
happens—always characterizes "the pre
sent age." It is either on the retrograde
or marked with astonishing progress.—
Either growing strangely better, or strange
ly worse, it matters little which. In short,
the one in which we live is "the present
Whether any thing of this character is
more than cant, or whether "this age" in
which we were brought into the world, is
really a very remarkable one, we enquire
not. Those who are more deeply and di
rectly concerned to know, may calculate
the difference, in worth, between a Conis
toga wagot► and it steam boat—between
the dromedaries of Ahasueres, and the
electric telegraph—between the slow pen
of the copyist and the Press, which rolls
off its thousand sheets per hour. For the
present purpose, it is sufficient to know,
that we do thus team our numberless vol
umes forth for the world--that we do blow
our commerce over sea and land by steam,
and do send our news on the winged light
ning!—Reality, all this. Strange, but
true. A solved problem going with other
things to demonstrate the truth that "Pro
gress and Development is a law of Nature."
And after all, this talk about the remark
able age in which we live, may not be en
tirely mushroon oratory. There are at
least some striking facts worthy of notice.
There are tendencies profitable to be mark
ed. No longer must we speak of "a day
of small things," which we are some where
instructed not to despise. The term, if
not obsolete, must be made so. Nothing
scarcely need be undertaken that can be
accomplished only by degrees. No time
for experimenting; none for trying whether
the thing is practicable. Whatever enter
prise is set on foot, must right off with a
snap and a whiz, like all modern machine
ry, or be abandoned. Every scheme must
keep pace with every other scheme, or be
miserably shaded or eclipsed. So we grow
impatient and weary of the one that seems
upon a stand, however complete. Obser
ving from this point we can readily see ed
ucation suffering.
The mania is for something new. And
if, in the general rush for something of the
sort, we do not quite forgot the devel
opment of the intellectual man, the tenden
cy is either to slight the job, or to look af
ter some now method of accomplishing it.
If we are not expecting mushroon growth
in Academies and Seminaries and Colleges
—which indeed may be a question—we are
at least anxious for a process, better ac
cording with the "bustle of the day," for
obtaining that knowledge which heretofore
has been acquired only by patience and
application. It looks too cinch like prod
igality of time to stop now to accomplish
any thing of this sort—too bold "an asser
tion of our own individuality against the
spirit of the age." Hence the tendency
upon tendency to keep schools that would
rise to any importance, in miserable quar
antine before they are allowed to enter the
class of healthful institutions, 0! when
will the Schools we found with our own
hands be fit to educate our own eons and
daughters? Not till we patronize and thus
aid in giving them character. But we must
not patronize them till they have character.
Miserable tedious winter! cold us long as
the cold winds blow, and the cold winds
blowing as long as it is cold.
It is, to say the least, old fashioned con
servatism in its bluest colors, not to iden
tify ourselves with the whirl-wind-move
meut of the times. And in any measure
we do not, in the same, do we risk the dan
ger of being pointed out, and loft behind
with the company of the "drab coat and
bell-Drowned hat." But let us not mistake
the true color and quality of things. Let '
us not, unless we are able to show a strong
—if not strange—analogy between mind.
and matter, ever suppose there is any effi-
fumy in steam to do the work of education, '
or that a greater than Morse will ever I
arise to invent or discover a method of an
nihilating time and labor in the develop
scent of mind. And while we assert noth- '
ing against the right of Phrenology and
Mesmerism and Spiritualism and Socialism
to make every possible discovery as to the
real "übi" and "quid" of the human race,
let us not forget Wit they, the first to con
test the claim to more than humanity, aro
still at no loss to see they have, effected
nothing when their subjects am from under• I
"the charm."
It is easy to notice then, that there need
be no fall-out between•old and tryed aye ,
toms, because they aie old, and the new
and approved ones, because they are new.
The steam boat is an incalculable bane-
fit, but the Conistoga wagon is needed still.
The dispatch of the press is indispensable,
and though so wonderful, the pen must still
be wielded. So the school, the old fash
ioned school, can not be dispensed with,
whoever may think it. Next to the church,
God's own institution, must it ever stand,
though the tamed lightnings flash around
it—though the march of improvement
threaten, and the thundering tramp of bu
siness shake it. No; the dashing steamer,
the rattling car, and the winged messenger
with the "old fashioned" school, the Acad
emy, and the Seminary, must never, need
never defeat each others aim, but go and
grow together,—all together, symbolizing
a complete world—a world in which there
has been the Old as well as the New—an
Egypt and an Italy, as well as an Arneri
ca—a Noah and an Abraham, as well as a
Morse and a Fulton—a world in which it is
important not only to attend to fashion and
taste, but to durability and worth—not on
ly to be brilliant and brisk, but thorough
and sure—not only to leave the fruit of in
ventive genius to bless succeeding genera
tions, but by persevering patience to com
plete the work of a hundred years, though
it effect far less than the saving of the hu
man race from uter ruin, So we shall
not object to the progress of things that
can progress. Genius may produce all her
patents to show that bodily labor is no
longer a consideration, but never, no nev
er, need she attempt to persuade the stu
dent there is any remedy for the course he
is to pursue—that there is, or can be any
labor saving machine in the work of edu
cation. "The groves of Academus" must
still be frequented, and if the thundering
eloquence of Demosthenes and Cicero is
ever heard again, it must be through Dem
osthenes' and Cicero's exertion. Or if ev
er the art of entrancing the congregated
wisdom of a nation is again acquired, it
must be by means of the self-application
which raised a Henry Clay to a position in
public esteem which ho has left no suc
cessor to fill. T. W.
Birmingham, Pa.
For tho Journal
An Inquiry.
A reader of the Journal bogs leave to
inquire, through its columns, whether
Facts go to prove that the contiguous
"haunts of sloth and idleness" 'have been
the bane" of properly conducted Female
Seminaries ? Or, generally, to what ex
tent the character of literary institutions,
of any importance, is effected by the char
acter of the immediate neighborhood?
If any difference of opinion exists amongst
those of our readers who have paid atten
tion to the subject of the above "inquiry,"
we hope they will avail themselves of our
columns, to lay their views before the pub
lic. Communications on this, or any oth
er question calculated to attract attention
to the important interests of Education--
if written in the right spirit, and not too
lengthy—will always meet a warm welcome
from us, and we doubt not, prove equally
acceptable to our readers.
Fear of Enemies.
It is a well known fact that most peo
ple arc often guarded and cautious in their
conduct lest they afford to those persons
who make
"Envy and crooked malice nourishment"
I I an opportunity to give venomous feelings;
and to so great an extent is this desire to
escape slander carried, that, not unfre
quently, a certain degree of timidity is
manifested. Now, this is going too far in
order to stifle columnious reports of ene
mies. We conceive that we should al
ways pursue the even tenor of our way re
gardless of what evil disposed persons may
say. We should live above the fear of
cool, calculating, lurking hatred. Or as•
the bard of Avon has it:
-"We must not stint
Our necessary actions in the fear
To 'scope malicious censures."
It is no disgrace to a man, a society, a
' state, or a church, to•have enemies. In
deed we view it in the contrary light,—
' for the good, the greitt, the noble'and the
honorable always have met and beyond
doubt will continue to meet with opposi
tion, bitter hatred, relentless enmity base
and slanderous accusations, and whole
sale injurious fabrications. But this is on
ly indicative of the evilness and loathsome
ness of your enemies' heart—it cannot
hurt the good, the true, and the faithful.
For a time perhaps, your honor may be dim
med, but sure as the Groat Searcher of
Hearts lives and reigns you will ultimately
shine in all the splendor and purity of your
real character. Man himself only assassin
ates his own reputation.
117 - What the impulse of genius is to the
great, instinct of• vocation is tc the medi
ocre ; in every man thero is aluagnet—in
that thing which therein can do best there
is a load-stone.
Effects of Climate.
In the tropical regions the power of life
in nature is carried to its highest degree;
thus with the tropical man, the life of the
body over-mastbrs that of the soul; the
physical instincts of our nature eclips
those of the higher faculties; passion pre
dominates over intellect and reasmh, the
higher faculties. A nature too rich, too
prodigal of her gifts, does not compel man
to wrest from her his daily bread by his
daily toil. A regular climate, and the ab
sence of a dormant season, render fore
thought of little use to him. Nothing in
vites him to that struggle of intelligence
against nature'which raises the power's of
man to their highest pitch. Thus' he nev
er dreams of resisting physical nature; he
is conquered by her; he submits to the
yoke, and becbtnes again the animal man,
in proportion al he abandons himself to
external influences, forgetful of his high
moral destination. In the temperate cli
mates, all is activity and movement. The
alternations of heat and more embracing air,
-incite man to a constant struggle, to fore
thought, and to the vigorous employment
of all faculties. A more economical na
ture yields nothing, except the sweat of
his brow; ever gift on his part is a recom
pense for effort of his. Nature here, even
while challenging man to the conflict,
gives him the hope of victory; and if she
does not show herself prodigal, she grants
to his active and intelligent labor more
than his necessites require; while she calls
out his energy, she thus gives him ease and
leisure, which permit him to cultivate all
the lofty faculties of his higher nature.—
Here, physical nature is not a tyrant, but
a useful helper; the active faculties,' the
understanding, and the intellect and rea
son, rule over the instints and the
passive faculties; the soul over the body;
man over nature.—Guyot's Earth and
Noble Sentiments.
This is an agreeable world after all. If
we would only bring ourselves to look at
the subjects around us in their true light,
and would see beauty where we behold de
formity, and listen to harmony where we
hear nothing but discord. To be sure
there is a great deal of vexation and anx
iety to meet; we cannot sail upon a sum
mer coast forever, yet if we preserve a
calm eye and steady hand, we can so trim
our sails and manage our helm, as to avoid
the quick sands and weather the storm
that threatens shipwrech. We are mem
bers of one great family; we are travelling
the same road, and shall arrive at the
same goal. We breath the same air, are
subject to the same bounty, and we shall
lie down upon the bosom of our common'
mother. It is not becoming, then, that
brother should hate brother; it is not pro
per that friend should deceive friend; it is
sot right that neighbor should deceive
neighbor. We pity the man who can har
bor enmity against his fellow; he loses
half the enjoyment of life; he embitters his
own existence.
Le us tear from our eyes the colored
mediums that invest every object with the
green hue of jealousy and suspicion, and
turn a deaf ear to scandal; breathe the
spirit of charity from our hearts, let the
rich Bushings of human kindness swell up
as the fountain, so that the golden ago
will become no fiction, and islands of the
blessed bloom in more than Hesperian
Surmise with Chat•if',
A kind-hearted old lady was once repro
ved quite sharply by her friend for giving
money to a stranger, who seemed to be very
poor, when he asked charity in the erects
of Boston. "Suppose he spent the money
for rumm said the censorious and suspicious
friend. The quick and noble answer was
"If you must 'suppose' at all, why not
'suppose that he will spend it for bread.
Why suppose anything that is evil about
any ono, when you are at liberty to suppose
what is good and noble?" That lady had
the true Christian spirit.
EARLY Ristrl.—happy the man who is
an early riser. Every morning, day comes
to him with a virgin love, full of bloom,
purity, and freshness. The copy of nature
is contagious, like the gladness of a happy
child. I doubt, if any man can' be called
"old" as long as ho is an early riser and an
early walker. And in youth—take my
word for it—a youth in dressing gown and
slippers,• drawling over breakfast at noon,
is a very doorepid, ghastly imago of that
youth who sees the sun blush over the
mountain, and the dews sparkle upon bloc
seining hedge-rows.—Bulwer
Now happy, how easy is that wife',
who knows that on every subject her hus
band's principles are as strictly pure as her
own, compared to hor who loves a being,
whose principles lire guided by fashion, and
whose affection and fidelity to hor has no
other security than her powers of pleasing,
or• the absence of temptation'
NUMBER -3-27
youtho' Column.
Our little hey! our meek-eyed one!
Our youngest darling boy,
We teach, at evening hoer, to kneel
&Bidden!. eldett joy;
And though he can but 114 his wordr,
But lisp his simple prayer, .
We know MS Maker blesath him.
The while he kneeletli there !
A l nd, oh ! v?e love our liMo one,
So artleis and so pure;
Hi bath ro many winning way.
Our fondness to secure:
And while he thus beside us kneels,
Some angel-prompted tone
Unheard by us, may mingle with
The prayer to Mercy's throne !
And lie, too; f o ndly comes to us,
With eyes of sparkling bliss,
And, like his sister, he receives
A good-night parting kisi;
Mi• aught of fear disturbs 'our breast,
While he to sleep is given,
For such as he will ever find
The guardianship of Heaven!
He Didn't Think.
So Aid a little boy as be stood by the
side of a mouse-trap which bad an uriwil
lingtenant in'it.
iWhat a fool he was lb go in there,'
said some one. The littld boy wishdd to
protect the character of thd trembling pris
oner, and added : 'Well, I suppose he
didn't think.'
No, 'he didn't think,' and for the ve
ry reason he was not made to think. But
what shall we say of that boy who is stand
ing in the circus doorovaiting for it to be
opened,'or that boy with his struggling hair,
a pert twist to his cap; and a cigar in his
mouth; or the one who stands at the cor
ner of the streets on the Sabbath or fre
quents the company of profane and filthy
talkers and singers; what shall we say of
such as those ?
They will be caught in an evil net.—
They will fall into a hidden trap, and can
they say : 'We didn't think!' Yes, per
haps they can. But if they tell the whole
truth, they will add, because we wouldn't
think. They have eyes but they see not.
Give a mouse their wit and km if he will be
caught in such a trap.
The pt actual, next to the honeSt and the
religieus'man, is the most praiseworthy in
community. lie who is always behind his
time it pretty sure to be behind in reputa
tion with all sensible people. Melanothon,
when au appoihtment was made, not only
expected the hour but the minute to be fix
ed, and was sure to be there exactly or a
little before the minute. The Secretary of
Wathington, when repeatedly late, tried to
apologize to thelatter by blaming his watch.
"Ydu must then," said Washington, "got
another Watch',. or I another Secretary."
The Fly on the Wall,
'Sao the fly on thdWall oferhend; why
does it not tumble duien l'
'Because it is so likht;ansviered a little
'But dead flies fall down,•and dead flies
are as - light as live ones; beside, in the Is
land of Java there are lizards weighing five
or six ounces, which run over the walls
chasing flies. Why does . not the lizard
'Because it does not. I cannot think of
any other reason,' answered the little girl.
'But that is no reason at all, for it is a
law of nature that everthing which is not
held up falls to the earth; now what keeps
the lizared and the fly from tumbling off
the smooth walls"! Something must.'—
The child cannot think.
Little girls you know sometimes suck
their thimble on their lips or on the palm
of their hand, the thimble sticks - on, and
you can hardly shako it off. What keeps
it mil I will tell you. The air is sucked
from the ihside of the thimble, so the air
outside presses all around and holds it
tightly down. It is so with the fly's foot
A fly's foot has hollow places from which it
can force out the air, when the airioutside
presses against the top of the foot and holds
it on the wall. So also with the lizard.—
Each of its feet has five toes, on the under
side of which are bags, with slits in them;
the creature forces the air out of the bags,
when the out outside air holds the feet
against the ceiling, and away it run's all
over the walls.
alAlways be more solicitous to pre
serve your innocence than concerned to
prove it. It will never do to seek a good
name ea a primary object. Like trying to
be graceful, the effort to be popular will
make you contemptible. Take care of your
spirit and conduct, and your reputation will
take oare ofitself.
7? Instead of regretting that we are
some times deceived, we should rather liw
meat that we are ever undeceived.-