Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, November 11, 1852, Image 1

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    BY J. A. HALL
The "HUNTINGDON JOURAL" is pnblished at
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Ur to the throne of God is borne
The voice of praise at early morn,
And he accepts the punctual hymn,
Sung as the light of day grows dim.
Nor will ho turn his our aside
Front holy offerings at noontide:
Then here reposing, let us raise
A song of gratitude and praise‘
%Vhut though our hurthen be not light,
We need not toil from morn to night:
The respite of the mid-dad hour
Is in the thankful creature's powcr.
Blest are the moments—doubly Hest—
That, drawn frotn this one hone of rest,
Are with a ready heart bestowell
Upon the service of our Gu4l
Why should we craven hallowed spot?
An altar is in each man's cut,
A 'Church in every grove that spreads
Its living roof above our heads•
Look up to heaven! the industrious sun.
Already half his race hath run:
Ile cannot halt, nor go a:nifty,
But our immortal spirits may.
Lord! since his rising in the east,
If we hate thltered or transgressed,
Guile, from thy love's abundant source,
What yet remains of this day's course:
Help with thy grace through lire's short day,
Our upward and our downward way;
And glorify fur us the west,
When we shall sink in final rest.
Abstract of an Address
Delivered at the close of the Summer term
of Mountain .dcademy,
The accomplishment of any thing desir
able on the present occasion needs not a
learned address. By this we do not insin
uate the low capacity of those who hear, to
appreciate,but the high claims of the sub
ject to be considered.
Though we shall not now decide upon
the propriety or impropriety of looking up
on "Education" us the hobby of such oc
casions, jaded and abused yet, we may up
on that of the assertion that its claims are
reasonable and important, commending
themselves to every working min , hero
aro many themes aside from t,l i high
might be dwelt upon, not only wit ad
ow of fitness, but with better of
affording entertainment. Our agile not
barren of questions before the public wind
seeking to be settled, among which the ver
iest tyro might be fortunate. Politics casts,
upon the public speaker, a pitiful and pray
ing look. 'Oppressed humanity spreads
forth imploring hands, and with tearful eyes
and burning eloquence, begs us to settle
the mooted question of intervention. Al-
Most a score of gaunt and shapeless Isms,
with long fingers, are beckoning us to sad'
which shall be greatest, and to assign their
"venerable founders" a place among the
gods. But to the entreaties of the first,
we turn a listless ear, sure it has nothing
to fear in point of attention, though we
should never name it. Others, at other
times and places, must settle Austria's
claims; and from the demi spiritual or demi
demon host that is shouting, with many
voices, "we! we! we!" as if to the ehildrens
fire-side question, "who speaks first ?" we
turn unmoved. Our busines is about the
Intellect improved.
Suffice it if the effort prove a mite to fur
ther a great cause—to effect in the least
degree that we I t behind the marshal
ed host that is .ng on and leaving In
dolence in th„
Indolence! Heavy charges might be
nn - tinqbcot
substantiated against this sleepy goddess.
Sarcasm might almost be permitted to use
its sharpest claws to expose her hideous de
formities and criminal delinquence; but if
more moderate measures will answer, we
must not fail to employ them.
It is a maxim of important meaning, that
"charity begins at home," and how fitly is
it manifested in a concern for our own wel
fare considered in its widest and most tirb
per sense. Look at man, either as a mor
al or intellectual being, and it is easy dis
covered his condition is far from what it
might and should be. It is not particularly
the business of this occasion to show or at
tempt to show, that the great fabric, the
moral man lays low in helpless ruins to be
re-started by God alone, but that intellect,
a gent that may be polished and improved
by man himself, and that the chief concern
should not be for the physical condition.
If it is asserted that man is the noblest
specimen of creative powers, we will admit
it, and only ask wherein does this nobleness
or superiority consist ? In any one of all
his wonderful doings ? In that with the
telescope's "ever lengthening sweep" he
counts the distant worlds? In that he
bath learned to navigate the air or with
steam to plough the ocean ? In that he
Lath tamed the fierce lightning, and made
it the bearer of his messages? In that ho
raises the vallies and levels down the hills
and drills the mountain of rock to make a
track for the winged car? 0 no; the
single characteristic of enterprising ingenu
ity could never mark the difference. It is
only comprehended in the wonderful con
trast between animal instinct and the human
intellect;—the one perfect in the earliest
period of existence, the other capable of
indefinite improvement. Thus the very
constitution of mind not or:ly forces us back
to a starting point to all attainment, but
argues the necessity and propriety of con
tinual and properly directed effort, that
those attainments be as high as possible.--
And this. same progressive nature of mind
may be ground to conclude that we not un
frequently mistake our own capabilities.—
Though so general, there is nevertheless
but little, if any, credit to be attached to
that species of modesty which .developer
itself in thinking meanly of self in an intel
lectual point of view. Its character is de
cided. It is wrong, wrong as pride itself,
and often nothing but that wicked thing in
a better shape. As idnividuals, our aim
will bo low as the estimate we put upon our
abilities; and as a people we will be satisfied
with our condition till viewing it properly,
we discover it practicable that it be better
ed. But how to rid one's self and commu
nity of the incubus,—that's the question.
IVhen we consider the lofty attainments
made by proper exertion, it may be said
with safety, we have not the faintest idea
of the position our race would occupy if
that exertion were but general. A farmer
in a thousand, perhaps, is aware of the ef
fect of proper tillage to multiply the num
ber of bushels produced by an acre of land.
There is some analogy between the soil and
the intellect. Both require cultivation or
they remain barren or produce but noxious
shrubs and poisonous plants.
Our idea of Nature's process in calling
up, at early spring -time, the tribe Rana was
always vague, yet it has been said it is done
by means of thunder. The fire-side phil
osophy ivhich disc( urses upon the breaking
of the fledgling's shell by the saute mighty
instrument is still but poorly understood;
yet we do not admit that circumstances
have not very much to do in calling into
action the dormant powers of intellect.—
We are sure they have. There is reason
to believe that many, very many who might
have been men, indeed have lived and died
in obscurity for want of means or opportu
nity as a just idea of things early taught
them, circumstances never thundered to
wake them into life, which, had they, it
would have appeared they were sleeping
giants. A great deal too much 'lv here
be trusted to the capability of things to
find their proper level. It may be a truth
of force to some extent, that genius will
develope itself, yet it may with some rea
son, be looked upon as a "base slander" of
tLo human race, to say that better talent
has not remained buried in the rubbish of
indolence and adverse circumstances, than
ever filled the Pulpit, graced the Bar, or
thundered in the Senate chamber.
To create feelings of vanity in the minds
of any would be a wicked wish indeed, and
one which would require years completely
to undo, yet on the other hand, we could
not as effectually bless or benefit mankind
in any other way, as in convincing first, of
the worth of a soul, and second,—if there
be a distinction—of the capabilities of the
immortal mind. The accomplishment of
almost any thing, by man, depends upon
zeal and determination. Especially is this
the case in the work of education. To in
spire the scholars thus, is the teacher's
first, often, most difficult task. And why?
Why, very much for the reason, that the
parents duty has been neglected. 0! the
wicked waste of talent, caused by the ig
norance and neglect of those to whom the
years of earliest training are entrusted.-
1 You ask then, what is to be done l Why,
without waiting to explain, Fathers, Moth
ers, wake thy boy lest he sleeps himself a
dwarf to all eternity. Teach him what you
can, of the worth of intellect. Teach him
what you can, of the importance of impro
ving the immortal mind, which here but
commences a flight to last throughout eter
nity. Art thou a Philanthropist, indeed,
sighing for the well being of humanity, neg
lect not the surest means and method, to
effect it. Look about and see where the
richest jewels lie concealed—smile upon the
efforts that are making to develope the
powers of those
.embryo giants. Pick up
that ragged urchin in the street; not to feed
and clothe him simply, but to mark the
fact, and teach it to him, that he may be
come a mighty man, and you will have done
the Philanthropist's first, and noblest, and
most appropriate work—a work which
would almost give a fresh impulse to the
course of things in the literary world—
would almost open anew the treasury of
discoverable truth;—would widen the sphere
of human research, and eventually teach
mankind more and more of the wonderful
works of Deity. We do not fancy it will
ever happen that men will not hate to "la
bor up to greatness,"--that a boy will ev
er be able intuitively to decline "penna"
or eongugato "tupto"—that Mathimatics
or Philosophy, or any science, will be mas
tered but by first mastering the elementary
principles,—no such thing. But we do
fancy, that " penna" and " tupto," and
Philosophy, and Mathematics, and all such,
aro but playthings for a determined mind.
Very much is comprehended in the sim
ple word, Progress. We can hardly claim
that our condition, in respect of education,
contrasted with the past, affords a very fair
illustration of kliat it means; but so far as
it will go, take the present character of
common schools, and the same even within
a period known to "living historians," when
an acquaintance with Arithmetic "through
the rule of three," was looked upon as
learning for males,, fully qualifying them
for business in life, and when a knowledge
of the elementary rules and other things in
proportion, constituted, for females, an ac
complished education. Palmy days of lit
erature, these, and even later, when iimr
Murray and Kirkham were esteemed, by
leachers, only:as-a little too dry, forvoread
ing books," Geography, as rather interes
ting, for its pictures, and Philosophy, as
not intended for the common people: Slone
of these things are said by way of boasting.
Nothing in our-condition we tify it,
yet the fact that sill stu ado a
part of the education, not Op k more
aspiring males, but also)) - , is evi
deuce that in point of in c al advanta
ges, at least, we occupy nigher station
than as good and sensible pepple did, less
than fifty years ago. But this, by no
means, argues that things are as they
should be. This must not be supposed.—
Almost as well might wo inscribe our mot
to ref for very soon, should our course
be backward. Neither must it be suppo
sed there is any analogy between mind and
body, in regard to their perfection. We
are not aware upon what principles the
theory is based, which teaches that at a
certain period in life, men become "too old
to learn," but we risk . the assertion, they
are false. It must be confessed, without
much honor or credit to any ono related to
the race, that very many, perhaps the ma
jority of men, at no great age, become too
big or too lazy to give any further atten
tion to mental improvement, but we are
sure, that at no time, have they been "too
old" but in their own estimation. This
would be to deny the progressive nature of
mind, and to admit that it is a thing of
mere ephemeral growth, which all its man
ifestations contradict. If it is so with In
tellect, why soars she away upon the wings
of fancy, not simply to dance around the
airy castles built for her amusement, but
to linger in the regions of undiscovered
truth 1 Why so often does she, as it were,
burst asunder the fetters that enslave her,
and soar aloft to gaze upon the works of
Deity 1 To her, why hath Nature's voice
a charm ? Why loves she to sport upon
the sunbeam and 'frolic in the harvest sky?'
The wind that bloweth where it listeth why
hath it a charm? Why loves she thus, the
sea, lordlcss and limitless; or the cataract,
cry, with which Niagara tells eternity she
is ohainless now, and will forever be."--
All these are her tendencies, and these el•
entente of Nature's freedom is but an at
mosphere in which Intellect breathes its
own native air. %en who shall dare to
fetter it, or by their course, to cast a with
ering shadow over it? Who dares, can do
it. Mark yon giant oak that has braved a
thousand hurricanes. Its history; in a
word, is this,--it was once an acorn, which
in shooting its tender leaflets through the
surface of the earth, might have been
crushed and smothered by a pebble. So
i d the infant mind. A thousand withering
influences may operate against its growth.
It is not the emaciated ghost of poverty
alone, that is destructive here; but the card
hand of avarice; the bony, bloodless lingers
of the mizer;—the hurricane of business; . —
wealth heaped up "to be enjoyed";—luxu
ry, fat and pampered with a mind, not sim-
ply waste from neglect, imbeoil from abuse
of the physical man:
It will not be expected that any one will
here ask what is to be done. Does it not
appear ? Needs it any argument of ours,
to show that riches, without a reference to
the mental and moral, are but a temporal
and eternal curse 4 We have the right of
the question, and shall answer it without tt
moments hesitance. What signify these
canals and rail roads, though all their ears
and crates were loaded with bullion ?
What signify these furnaces, cold or hot,
though they were so many mints,
for the
coinage of guineas and eagles I We an
swer, taken simply as a present
benefit, and that without regard to morals
or intellect, nothing but the completest
If - then we regard the most reasonable
dictates, whether of reason or inspiration,
the treasure, however small, will be fairly
appropriated. The cause of education, next
to that of religion, shall have more to
hope for. The one shall uncurl its banner
of love and peace over a benighted world,
and the other shall put forth its hundred
hands to help the infatit efforts of the in
tellectual man, and if possible, render him
indeed the pride of creative power.
Suppose that son were an idiot, but
barely conscious of his own existence, what
father would spare a fortune, though it
equalled the stores of Croesus, if he could
thereby but purchase for him ' a common
mind? Then if that father be told that
his son, instead of being an idiot, possesses
not only a common mind but bile of supe
rior Strength and brightness he might read
his duty. But will he? Ab, there is a
witching blindness here, that charms the
wretch when it afflicts and leads to soon
, strong errors a goodly character. True, it
is not the privilge of every one, as it is
ours, to say "we are an honeSt rind Indus
trious people. Neither is it their right as
is ours to say "we have come by what we
possess by the hardest." These are com
fortable considerations; but it is a pity
they aro made—sometimes basely made a
retreat from the discharge of duty.
No one shall be permitted to ask, on any
account—what have you to say why these
things should not be so. It is the duty of
every one, to right the moral wrong, and
we must not avoid it. Then we will be al
lowed to say that with all our tendencies
upward and onward—with all we know and
all we possess, it behoves us to lay sonic
new foundations; and with all our construc
tions not to forget the literary institution;
nor yet to establish it merely in mockery
of our neighbors, but because it is needed
—actually hdead—to stud our high ways
with the Academy, the College and the
Seminary, nut simply that we may seem to
be keeping pace with the spirit of the times,
but to show by the health influence exerted
that in the realization.of any desirable
state of things, mind with all things else
must progress; and to convince the "way
faring man" as lie dashes by in the wing
ed ear, that we aro truly a people march
ing on to greatness in its proper sense.
We have no quarrel with the "spirit of
the times" so far as it is marked with ha
proveinent. All we ask is that it be not
narrowed down to the accumulation of del-,
lars and cents. That in the great thorH
oughfare of business, some small place be
appropriated for the dealer in mental
wares;—for our cause a living chance. And
this it must have. Neither true wealth, true
greatness, nor true happiness can over be
realized without it. The advocates of in
tellectual improvement must plant their
standrad in the very ' , market places," and
there, upon banners appropriately inscribed,
point the busy world to the only merchan
dise of temporal sort that is worth buying
next to the ' , necessaries of life" which with
most purchasers are the fewest and loait
expensive. By the dock and the depot
must be erected the school house and
Academy, where shall be dealt out, not
small trappings for the body, but furniture,
for the great mental fabric which God has
built. And though the land resounds and
tremble under the thund. ring tramps of
business, yet throughout its entire length
and breadth must be established, first the
church and second the school--the only re- 1
liable marks cf true progress.
11 Orson Pratt, ono of the Mormon
prOphets, has put forth a proclamation to
the Spanish Americans in California and
elsewhere, inviting them to look into the
mysteries of the "new revelation," and
assuring thorn that they are descondants of
the original Mormons Nophi and .Lainauf
two brothers who emigrated frcm Jerusa
lem two thousand four hundred years ago,
and settled upon the American continent.
AN old man picked up half a dollar in
the street. ~O ld man that's mine," sail a
keen looking rascal, 'so hand it over."—
"Did yours have a hole in it?" asked the
old man. 'Yes' replied the other smartly.
“Thenf it is not thine," mildly replied the
old man, "thee must learn to he a little
sharper next time, my boy."
hliaht Diguity.
Among the thousand deceptions passed
off on our sham-ridden race, let me direct
your attention to the deception of dignity,
as it is one which includes many others.—
Among those terms which have long ceas
ed to have any vital meaning, the word
dignity deserves a disgraceful prominence.
No word has fallen so readily as this into
the designs of cant, imposture and pre
tence; none has played so well the part of
verbal scarecrow,
to frighten children of
all ages and both sexes. It is at once the
thinnest and most effective of all the cover
ings under which duncedom sneaks and
skulks. Most of the men of dignity, who
awe or bore their more genial brethren, are
simply men who possess thd art of passing
off their insensibility for wisdom, their
dullness for depth; and of concealing im
becility of intellect under haughtiness of
manner. Their success in this small game
is one of the stereotyped satires upon man.;
kind. Once strip from these pretenders
their stolen garments—once disconnect
their show of dignity from their relit mean
ness=and they woia stand shivering and
defenceless, objects of the tears of pity, or
targets for the arrows of scorn. But it is
the misfortune of this world's affairs, that
offices, fitly occupied only by talent and
genius, which despise pretence, should be
filled by respectable stupidity and dig
nified emptiness, to whom pretence is the
very soul of life. Manner triumphs over
matter, and throughout society, politics,
letters and science, we are doomed to inset
a swarm of dunces and windbags, disguised
as gentlemen, statesmen and scholars.—
Coleridge once saw at a dinner-table s a
dignified man with a face as wise as the
moon's. The awful charm of his manner
was not broken until muffins appeared, and
then the imp of gluttony forced from him the
exclamation,“Thenfs the jockeys for rue!”
A good numer of such dignitariaus re
main undiscovered.
It is curious to note how these pompous
getttlemen rule in society and government.
How often do history and the newspapers
exhibit to us the spectacle of a heavy
headed stupiditarian in official station,
veiling the strictest incen.ipetency in the
mysterious sublimity of carriage, solemnly
trifling away the interests of the Stttte, the
dupe of his own obstinate ignorance, and
engaged, year after year, in ruining a peo
ple after the most dignified fashion! You
have all seen the inscrutable . dispensation
known by the name of the dignified gen
tleman; an embodied tediousness; which
society is 'apt not only to tolerate, but wor-
Hhip; a person who announces the staic
commonplaces of conversation with the
awful precision of one bringing down to
the irdlidys of thought, bright truth pluck
ed on its summits; who is so profoundly
deep and painfully solid on the weather,
the last novel, or some other nothing of
the day; who is inexpressibly shocked if
your eternal gratitude does not repay him►
for the trite information he consumed your
hour in imparting; and who, if you insinu
ate that this calm, contented, imperturba
ble stupidity, is preying upon your pa
tience, instantly stands upon his dignity,
and puts on a face. Yet this man, with
just enough knowledge "to raise himself
from the insignificance of a dunce to the
dignity of a bore," is still in high favor
even with those whose animation ho checks
and chills—why? Because be has, all
say, so much of the dignity of a gentle
man! The poor, bright, good-natured
man, who l►as done all in his power to be
agreeable, joins in the cry of praise, and
feelingly regrets that nature has not
adorned him, too, with dullness as a robe,
so that he, likewise, might freeze the vola
tile into respect., and be held up as a mod
el spoon for all dunces to imitate.. This
dignity, which so many view with reveren
tail despair, must have twinned, "two at a
birth," with that ursine vanity mentioned
by Coleridge, "which keeps itself alive by
sucking the paws of its own self-impor
tance." The Duke of Somerset was ono
of these dignified gentlemen. Ills second
wife was the most beautiful woman in
England. She once suddenly throw her
arms around his neck, and gave him a kiss
which might have gladdened the heart of
du emperor. The Duke, lifting his should
ers with an aristocratic, square, slowly
said. "Madam, my first wife was a Howard,
and she never would have taken such a
Dr. Frankfort, who has been work
ing some abandoned lead mine opened at
Middletown (Conn.) during the revolution.;
ary war for the supply of builets to our
army, has found wore than enough silver'
to pay the expehties of working the mines,
thus leaving the lead obtained as clear
profit. The awouut of silver appears to
be increasing.
frrAdvices from Mexico exhibit that
country in a deplorable condition. Insur
rections continue to take place, and pro
nunciamentos to be issued. The treasury
is exhausted, atd ever and anon a rumor is
circulated that a formidable outbreak will
tako place hr the' the capitol.
VOL. 17, NO. 45.
A Dfriit ctf•Blood.
fete lb hailed upon to demonstrate;
through his works, the supreme wisdom of
the Creator, wp would degro to Speak of
nothing more than the structure and fund
tions of a little drop of blood, taken from
those numblerless.tivers of lifo which hiivd
their their origin in the heart, and which
pursue their unfaltering course through
our bodies in many fuilliens of channels.
Through the whole world's history,
science has had no higher exponents thati
Galileo and Ilarvoy. Though separated
by many leagues of Sett and lend, they
toiled In the same sunlight and in the
same fruitful days and while one had the
scope of his vision so enlarged as to be
'able to see the earth rushing through its
eternal orbit, and to point out the anchor
of the sun in the depths of infinity, the
other, with his refined gaze, was unfolding
the Sublime mysteries of the structure of
the image of God, and teaching the world
that these human forms arc merely bun
dies of many thousands of canals, through
which rush the crimson boats, laden with
the nutriment and essence of ife.
The latter discovery was of infinitelY
more consequence to the well-being of
mankind than the former. It gave us tho
key to the uses and abuses of foOd; a key
to the changes which the inanimate bread
which we eat undergoes, ere it becomes a
part of out living bodies, and also taught
us the kinds of food most easily converted
into blood; and endowed with vitality. A
drop of blood was no longer regarded as a
simple, red fluid, but was proved to be a
beautiful compound of some seventeen sub=
stances; all of which—not excepting even
the sulphur, flint, copper or iron—are ab
solutely indispensable to a state of health;
Let us follow a single drop of blood in
its travels through the system; All at.;
terial, or pure blood, is distributed through
the body from the left ventricle of the
besot. Starting, then, front that point,
this drop of blood; fitted to nourish and
warm the meat distant part of the body,
passes through those thrte valves, shaped
like half moons, which itt.nd at the outlet
of the ventricle, and servo as flood-gates hi
preventing the tide of life from ebbing
back upon the heart; here it enters thb
great aorta, which is the name of the first
artery—the largest in the body--and from
the numerous branches and sub-divisions
of which, all. the vessels which carry pure
blood from the heart, and which are term
ed arteries, are formed. Passing through
the aorta; it Is hurried; with great rapidity,
perhaps into the head, perhaps into the
hand, or perchance into the foot; we will
suppose the latter to he the case. Upon
arriving at the foot, (the artery through
which it passed having been growing
smaller,) we now find that it enters, parti:-
ele by particle, one of those minute vessels
termed capillaries, some of which are littld
more than ono four-thousandth of an inch
in diameter; .
Here the blood globules bf the drop
with which we started, having parted with
their health-giving oxygen, and taken on a
like quantity of worthless carbon and ei
hausted matter, and halting exchanged
their tOseatei hue for a dart, purple cblor,
the drop commences its ascent to the heart,
which it finally enters at one or the two
openings into the right auricle. It went
forth, a pure blushing, healthy drop of
perfect blood, fitted to strengthen, nourish
and vitalise any . portion of the system to
which it might flow; even shoUld it be diz
rotted to that exceedingly delicate fabric
where Reason sits throned, and all the
good within us, of sentiments or intend( its,
are elaborated. It returned, laden with
dead matter, a mass of corruption and dis
ease which would be poisonous to the least
vitalised bone in the human systent,
It went out, in its perfection, as a glean: ,
or of all the noxious mtittor It might find
in its path, and it ate the seeds of fever,
and drank the miasmatic dews that *Oro
scattered through the systems, and now it
is in the heart, demanding to be released
of its burden. The heart hurries its visi
tor into the vessels of the lungs, and there,
while passing through the capillaries, it
shaves off all its foul inctunbranees, takes
on the elements and hue or lifelia i n i
rbturns to the heart, fresh and
ready to perform again the offices of
isher and scavenger of the system:
OUR LANOUAGE.—The difficult' of ap•:
plying rules to the' Pronlinciation of our
language may be illustrated in two lines;
where the combination of the letters ough
is pronontMed seven different ways, namely,
as o, uf, of, up, ow, 00, ogh.
" Though the tough cough and hiccough
me through,
O'er like dark lough my course I still pursue."
UG'°A: Frenchman who proposed to
tablish a school in New Orleans; having
heard that a high school would be most re
spectably patronised, took a room in the'
garret of a four storS , house.
ILr"lf I au► ►stue up,' 1 ain't proud,"
said the beetle when ho was pinned to the