Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, November 18, 1852, Image 1

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    BY J. A. HALL.
The "Hownwonos Jovial," is pnblishcd at
the following yearly rates:
If paid in advance $1,50
If paid within the your 1,75
And two dollars and fifty cents if not paid till
after the expiration of the year. No subscription
Will be taken for a less period than six months,
and no paper will he discontinued, except at the
Option of the published, until all arrearages are
paid. After the close a ~ f the present vol., subscri
bers living in distant counties, or in other States,
will be required to pay invariably in advance.
11W The above terms will be regidly adhered
to in all cases.
hno square of sixteen lines or less
For 1 insertion $0,50, For 1 month $1,25,
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PROFESSIONAL CARDS, not exceeding ten
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BUSISE9S CARUS of the same leiigth, not chan
ged, " $3,00
Card and Journal in advance, 4;00
On longer advertisements. whether yearly 'or
transient, is reasonable deduction will he Made
And alihcral discount allowed Mr prompt Pay
Br C. F. ORNI.
llo! ye who at the anvil toil,
And strike the soundingblow,
Where front the horning iron's breast,
The sparks fly to and fro,
While answering to the hammer's ring,
And fire's intem3er glow—
Oh ! while ye feel 'tis hard to toil
And sweat the long day through,
Remember it is harder still
To have no work to do.
Bo ! ye who till the stubborn soil,
Whose hard hands guide the plough,
Who bend beneath the summer sun;
With burning cheek and brow—
Ye deem the curse still clings to earth
lirom olden time till now—
But while ye feel 'tis hard to toil
And labor all day through,
Remember it is harder still
To have no work to do.
Hod ye who plough the sea's blue field,
Who ride the restless wave,
Beneath whose gallant vessel's keel
There is a yawning grave,
Around whose bark the wintry winds
Like fie ads of fury rave—
O 6! while ye feel 'tis hard to toil
And labor long hours through,
Remember it is harder still
To have no work to do.
Ho ! ye upon whose fevered cheeks
The hectic glow is brighb,
Whose mental toil wears out the day
And half the weary night,
Who labor fur the souls of men,
Champions of truth and right—
Although ye feel your toil is hard,
Tlvert with this glorious view,
Remember it is harder still
To have no work to do.
Ho ! all who labor, all who strive,
Ye wield a lofty power;
Do with your might, do with your strength,
Fill every golden hour!
The glorious privilege to do,
Is man's most noble dower,
Olt ! to your birthright and yourselves
To your own souls ho true !
A weary, wretched life is theirs,
Who have no work to do.
"mufti) etrcte.
Value of the Sold,
Take a single soul, and compute, if you
can, its value! What heart can conceive
the depths of misery to which, if lost;
it may be degraded? What imagination
can ascend the bights of blessedneSs and
of glory to which, if saved, it will swirl—
What power of illustration can teach us
the vastness of its capacity for knowl
edge? What combination of human num
bers can represent the soul's duration? If
it be saved, the time will come in its future
history when in itself it will have experi
enced an amount of happiness exceeding,
that which has been enjoyed by all finite
beings from the creation of the world up
to this moment; if lost, it will reach in the,
developments of its coining wretchedness,'
a degree of anguish exceeding the aggre
gate-of all the misery which earth and hell
have endured from the beginning of human
woo up to this hour. 11 lien wo speak 0 . 1
the worth of the soul, thought staggers
under the vastness of the idea; we feel the 1 1
poverty of the human mind to estimate its
value. We can only rest upon what our'
blessed Lord taught us when be declared
that the gain of the whole world would
supply no equivalent for its loss. It is for
this soul—a thing of inealcuable value—al
thing for which the Son of God died!-.2
that the minister is to watch. When you
can understand the magnitude of the inter- 1
est confided to him, then, and then only,,
can you measure the value of the spiritual
sentinel; then only can you fathom the
depths of the bereavement, who have lost
such a friend.
un - iiixgAtm
Act Well Your Part.
We can not always pitch our tent where
we please, or enjoy ever the sweet song of
delight, sung by friends who played with
us in childhood, or conned at school the
same lessons. The world is a busy one, full
of adventure, and he - who would act well
his part, must take his chances as be can,
and feel happy if he can so perform it as to
exclaim at the dying hour, "I have endea
vored to do my duty,"
So wherever we aro placed, and in what
ever situation; it should be our earnest and
persevering endeaior to discharge our duty
as faithfully as our abilities will permit.—
Wee this no less to our fellows than to
ourselves, for however gitat the good they
may reap, it can in no wise, and I may say
under no circumstances, equal that which
we may gather ourselves.
It is therefore imperative upon us to
work at all limes as God has given us the
means and opportunities, and the more so
when he guarantees us so rich a blessing in
the performance. In this view, with our
hearts fully attuned to the "better spirit,"
the most irksome duty grows a pleasant
task, while the blessing is doubled in the
Female Occupation.
Women in middle rank are brought up
with the idea that if tl}ey engage in some'
occupations, they shall. lose "their position
in society." Suppose it to be so surely; it
is wiser to quit a position we cannot hon
estly maintain, than to live dependent
upon the bounty and caprice of others;
better to labor with our hands, than eat
the broad of idleness; or submit to feel
that we must not give utterance to our
real opinions, or express onr honest indig
nation at being required to act a base or
unworthy part. And in all cases, how
ever situated, every female ought to learn
how all household affairs are managed,
were it only for the purpose of being able
to direct others. There cannot be any
disgrace in learning how to make the bread
we eat, to cook our dinners, to mend our
clothes, or even to clean the house. Bet
ter to be found busily engaged in removing
the dust from the furniture, than to let it
acedmulate there* until a visitor leaves
palpaplo traces where his hat or his arm
have been lard upon a table.
How the universal heart of man blesses
flowers! They are wreathed round the cra
dle, the marriage and the tomb. The
Persian in the far-east delights in their
perfume, and writes his love in nose-gays,
while the Indian child of the far-west
claps his hands with glee as he gathers the
abundant blossoms—the illuminated scrip
tures of the prairies. The Cupid of. the
ancient Ilondoos tipped his arrows with
flowers, and orange flowers are a bridal
crown with us, a nation of yesterday.—
Flowers garlanded the Grecian altar, and
hung in votive wreath before the Christian
shrine. All these are appropriate uses.—
Flowers should deck the brow of the
youthful bride for they are in themselves
a lovely typo of marriage. They should
twine round the tomb, for their perpetual,
renewed beauty is a symbol of the resur
rection. They should festoon the altar,
for their fragrance and their beauty as
cend in perpetual worship before the most
high.— Jlirs.
Fe!nolo Society.
Wo honor the chivalrous deference which
is paid in our land to women. It proves
that our men know how to. respect virtue
and pure affection, and that our women aro
worthy of such respect. Yet women
should bo something more than mere wo
men, to win us to their society. To be
useful and agreeable companions, they
Should bo fitted to be our friends; to rule
our hearts, they should be deserving the
approbation of our minds. There are
many such, and that there aro more, is
rather the fault of our sex than their own;
and despite all the unmanly scandals that
have been thrown upon them, in prose and
verse, they would rather share in the ra
tional conversation of men of sense; than
listen to the silly compliments of fools; and
a man dishonors them as well as disgraces
himself, when ho seeks their circle for idle
pastime, and not for the improvenient of
his mind and elevation of his soul:
The pain which is felt when wo aro first
transplanted from our native soil, when the
living branch is out from the parent tree,
is one of the most poignant which vat have
to endure through life. There arc after
griefs which wound more deeply, which
leave behind them soars never to be effa
ced, which bruise the spirit and sometimes
break the heart; but never do we feel so
keenly the want of lave, the neessity of be
ing loved, and the utter sense of desertion,
as when wo first leave the haven of home,
and are, as it were pushed off upon the
stream of life.
Commenkdrative of the klharacter
of Thonias Jefferson:
There are few writers whose works have
been more universally admired during their
lifetime than those of Mr. Tator---a gen
tleman who has scarcely reached the mer
idian of life. Both his essays and orations
have been extensively' quoted, and are as
much appreciated for the wise precepts
which they inculcate as for the elegant and
classic style in which they aro written.—
We subjoin a random sketch from his last,
which will tell its own story :—.News.
Mr. Jefferson's greatness of character
cannot be enlarged and beautified, yet it
may be rendered more visible to the gener
al eye of mankind by judicious encomium;
as the milky-way can not have one spark
added to its amazing lustre,• though the
power of telescopic agency may render its
real appearance more discernable to the
gaze of men. His most influential acts are
as familiar to the country as are victory
and liberty. His pen moved, and the mask
fell fron► the confused faCe of his country's
enemy; it moved again, and religious free
dom of thought, rending her shroudy arose
to smile on Virginia; another stroke, and
the spirit of American diplomacy lifted still
higher its noble form. His bright memory
will as safely passon to the yet brigher re
wards laid up for it in the heart of poster
ity, as though it wore another sun beaming
from the depth of Heaven.
Excelled Jefferson ! distinguished au
thor of the Declaration of American Inde
pendence! elegant literaturist of the eigh
teen Century ! sound and learned statesman!
Whoever lives` after the great declarer for
modern liberties, will Strive, if an American
in principle, to be worthy of so seerly an
ancestor. Whoever rises up in the morn
ing, with a mornlike freshness of piety in
thought, will praise the nano, of Jefferson,
and through it, the name of Jehovah.—
Whoever lies down in the evening; With an
eyelike placidity of conscience, will resolve
to perform on the coming morrow all the
fruitional duties of a freeman. Whoever
beholds the fourth day of the second sum ,
user mouth of every succeeding year, with
a true eye, will live through that day as a
day of love, and love its return as the re
turn of liberty. Whoever, in far off cen
turies, shall delight to peruse the pearly
triumphs of the past, will find the perusal
of few Patriotic efforts more interesting,
delightful and instructing, than the Amer
ican Declaration. Whoever can compre
hend the full benefits lavished on the world,
by the timely introduction of that Declara
tion, has a sweep and power of soul that
can draw tho sword of Orion, and add to
him another belt of starry beauty. Who
ever would be a subscriptionist indeed, let
him subscribe to the continuance of his
country's independence. Whoever would
be a contributionist indeed, lot him contri
bute some commemorating emblem to the
free government be enjoys, and to the foun
ders and preservers of his enjoymonts.—
Whoever truly becomes an existence, so
august as that which Heaven bestows on
humanity, will stamp beneath him the un
becoming hope, that seeks even the sight
of an Oligarchy. Whoever duly estimates
the good works of his fathers, will esteem
himself too highly to ever disgrace the
name, or even degenerate from the glory'
he so honorably inherits. 'Whoever would
have the dews of the sky settle on, and re
fresh the flowers that bloom over the dust
of his father, so long as the earth rolls
from west to east, let him say nothing but
what Isis immortal sires themselves gladly
have said, and do nothing but what he
would fain have a beloved posterity do.—
Whoever among the uncounted millions of
our descendants shall yet read and re-read
the Declaration, which gave an intermina
ble impetus to governmental liberty in
America, the administering of which is im
proved and still improvable, may he de
clare to man, and re-declare to God, that
she will faithfully espouse the principles it
espouses, defend the cause it defends, and
advance the republic it advances, while he
exists among mon. May it descend to pos
terity like the holy mantle unto Elisha—
may posterity receive it as the solemn coun
sel of a spirit, that once ruled a nation in
the majesty of love, from the lovely sum
mit of Monticello; nor approach the tomb
of Its author, without the authority of prac
tically valuing the truth ho proclaimed.
His fame. will live till every continent on
the globe is overspread with a republic; till
every republic greets its sisters with a snail()
of glory, and until the republican glories
of each mingle with and illumine them all.
A resident of a western town, com
plained that ho could not sleep ono night,
scanned up the causes : 4, A wailing bubo
of seventeen days—dog bowling under the
window—cat fight in the alley—a colored
serenade at the shanty over the way—a
tooth-ache—and a pig trying the back
Where is the Shovelt
"Nathan, where is the shovel? Here
I've been ainting long enough to do my
work twice over, and can't find the sho
vel. 7
The farmer was wroth.
"I don't know where 'tie, father; sum
r.ere about, I suppose."
The two joined in the search.
"Nathan, you have left the shovel where
you have worked, I know. Why don't
you always Rut 0)e, .tools in their places?"
"Where is the place for the shovel, I
should like to knew , father ?"
He couldn't tell. It had no place.—
Sometimes it Was laid in the wagon and ac
casionally accompanied that vehicle when
harnessed in a burry; , S iiietimes it was
hung up with the harness to fajl down when
not wanted, or get covered up when it was.
A great deal of shoe leather htid 'Come to
nought by that shovel. It had at times,
more than the obliviousness of Sir Jebu
Franklin, and defied discovery. So it was
with all the other tools. They would seem
to vanish at times, and then come to light,
rusty as old anchors.
The farmer's barn was crowdBd: Hd
had no "spare room" there. There were
several in his dwelling. But the barn was
crammed—it was a kind of mammoth eau
sage—stuffed every year. So there was no
room for a special al_ artment for the tools.
In his imagination he never saw his hoes
hung ou a long cleat, his chains all regular
in a row, his rakes and his long forks over-
I '
head. certainly he was never anxious for
sucha convenient rebus.
Ills father never had a Idol houie; and
his father was called a good farmer:. .
So ho was, then—in his day—but there
are better husbandman now, let me say,
and I desire to shock no one's veneration,
Did they find the shovel? No! they
might as well have searched for the philo
sopher's stone, seemingly. Nathan started
for Mr. Goodman's to borrow 000. Their
work must be done, and borrow he must.
don't know as you can find one in any
tool house," replied Mr. Goodman.
Nathan noticed that he bore down on
Some of his words like a man on a plough
betini. Didn't he mean something Na
than went to the tool room thoughtfully.
4.. door on wheels opened with a light push,
and there were Goodman's tools—enough,
Nathan thought, to equip a, Company of
sappers and nitnera! Hateliets, axes, saws;
tree-scrapers, grafting tools, hoes, diggers;
shovels, spades, pick-axes, crow-bars, har
rows, ploughs, harrows, cultivators; Seed
sowers, sieves, trowels, rakes, pitch-forks;
flails, chains, yokes, muzzles, ropes, crow
twine, baskets, measures—all were there,
neatly and compactly arranged. It was
Goodman's ark to save him from the deluge
of unthrift ! Here every night the tools
were brought in and wiped clean, and hung
up in their places. The next morning a
job could be commenced at once. Good
man knew. He partitioned off a large room
in his new barn for tools. It was central
and easy of access. It was a pleasant place
for a visitor; the tools were the best of
their kind. Every new shovel, or rake, or
fork, before used, was well oiled with lin
seed oil, which left the wood smooth and
impervious to water. Goodman frequently
says; , g I had rather have the fow hundred
dollars I have spent for tools so invested
than the same in railroad §tock. It pays
Now, them is no patent on Goodman's
plan, and I hope many will go into it—the
more “successful imitations" the better.—
West Jersey Pioneer.
Port Jackson.
The anecdote told of Cook having over
looked this harbour is worth relating.—
One day, whilst the great navigator was at
dinner in his cabin, a seaman of the name
of Jackson happened to have the look-out
at the masthead, and seeing the narrow
opening now termed, "Sydney Heads,"
forthwith announced a harbour on the lar
board beam. The intelligence was duly
conveyed to Captain Cook, who was in no
great hurry to quit his dinner, and when
he did so, the entrance to the harbour,
from the speed with which the ship was
going through the water, had become
nearly shut in. Being unable to see any
of the indications which would have led
him to suspect the presence of a harbour
of any magnitude, Captain Cook i; said to
have soundly rated the seamen at the
masthead for his false report, whilst the
man firmly adhered to his statement.—
"Well," said the commander, with a sneer,
"we will call the harbour by your name,
'Port Jackson;'" and as Port Jackson it
was marked down in the ship's log, with
the additional appellation of "Boat Har
bour." The vigilance of the seaman was
thus unoonsckusly rewarded by his name
becoming immortaliied.—Gold Colonies
of Xustrolid:
TIIERE is no greater obstacle in the way
of success in life, then trusting for some
thing to turn up, instead of going steadily
to work and turning up something.
Juvenile Drinking.
The mayor of a French town has issued
an order to the keepers of cafes and wine
shops, prohibiting them from admitting in
to their establishments any young men un
der sixteen years of age. A similar law,
it is said exists in the English statute
books, passed in the reign of James First;
and in some districts an attempt was made
to enforce it, hot long since. When, a
few ,month ago, our correspondent, "Curio
sus;" suggested the need of such a law
here, it was sneeringly asked; "How are
the retailers of drink to tell whether an
applicant for liquor has reached the age of
sixteeny' The Mayor of Chatellerault,
and James First, were aware, it appears,
that with the fear of a heavy fine before
their eyes, men's discernment is quicken
ed. The cafe keepers of that town will
not often make a mistake, since, to gain an'
unlawful sum, they must risk the loss of a
hundred francs. Tha age of sixteen is,,
pretty distinctly marked; so marked; that
when a grown man is selling either liquor'
or tobacco to a youth who is not sixteen,
that grown man may know to a • certainty;
that he is . going a deed which is villain-
OiiS, and ought to be unlawful.
The Newspaper;
In promotion of this desirable object—
the union of the intellectual with the use
ful—the newspaper is an important auxili
ary. It is more. It is typical of the
community in which it is encouraged and
circulates. It tells its character, as well
as its condition; its tastes, as well as its
necessities; the moral, as well as the phy
sical stamina of population and soil. It is
the map whereon is traced out tendencies
and destinies. The chart to direct the
travellerj and thii settler to safe and pleas
cut . harborage, or to divert them from the
shoals and quicksands of social degrada-,
tion. At home, it brings to our firesides;
it imparts to our household, it inculcates
on our children; its sentiment of propriety,
or its tone of contamination. Abroad, it
is regarded as our oracle, and speaks vol
umes for or against us: In its business
features may be discerned the indications
of our prosperity, in a worldly Seise,*
otherwise, but in its general complexion
will be discovered our moral and spiritual
healthfulness or disease. It is the por
trait of our imperfections, as well as the
chronicler of our advancement.—Wheeling
liztelligencer. W. B. B.
Prevention and Cure.
"Several years ago," says an English
paper, "two or three paupers pressed so
heaviy on the rates of the parish of St.
Mary Extra, in lltint6, that the parish au
thorities gaVe them pieces of land on a
wild common, iituited between Itched Fer ,
ry and Motley, to cultivate; , in order to get
rid of them. The men Iveri3 looked upon
as transports, and the place to which they
were transported was called, in deriSion,
'Botany Bay.' The poor men, however;
by industry, did well, and Botany Bay
now figures on the Ordnance maps, it hav
ing become an extensive hamlet." It has,
also, at length penetrated the understand
ings of parish authorities, that the suns re
quired to support a pauper in idleness for
a Single year, is just about that very suns
which will transport bun to regions of
blessed opportunity, at the ends of the
earth. Moreover, it seems gradually daw
ning upon the minds of statesmen and tax
payers, that the sixty million dollars a
year which it costs England to maintain
her three million paupers, is adequate to
keep up a system of emigration, which
would drain off her surplus people, and
snake them, in other lands, produers of
value, and consumers of home manufac
CCU The Boston Transcript mentions,
that Dr. William Turner, formerly the
Health Commissioner of ow York, 11.19
invented a pneumatic instrument, by which .
the most obstinate cases of constipation arc
speedily releived without medicine or injec
tions. 'rho object is accomplished by re
moving the pressure of the atmosphere
from the bowels, in• the same manner as
some diseases of the eye and ear are treat
ed. Those who are troubled with the
complaint are advised to inquire further
respecting this instrument.
Once on a time, a Frenchman anti
a Dutchman were travelling in Pennsylva
nia, when their horse lost a shoe. They
drove up to a blacksmith's shop, and no one
being in, they proceeded to the house to
inquire. The Frenchman rapped, and
called out, "Is do smitty witting "Shtaud
back," says Hans: "let me shpeak. Ish
der blacksmith's shop en tier house?"
A dandy is a thing in pantoloons,
with a body and two arms, head without
brains, tight boots, a cane and a white
handkerehief, two brooches and a ring on
his little finger.—A coquette is a young
lady with utor , i beauty than sense, more
accomplishment than learning, more eharms
of persons than graces of mind, more ad
mirers than friends, and more fooN than
wise men for her attendants.'
VOL. 17; NO. 46.
Little Willy stood under an apple irel old, -
The fruit was all shining with crimson and gold,
Hanging temptingly low—how he longed for a
Though ho know if ho took one it wouldn't be
Said he, "I don't see why my father should say,
"Don't touch the old apple tree, Willy, to day." ,
I shouldn't have thought, now they're hanging so
low. • ,
When I asked for just one, he should answer In.
Ile would never find out, if I took but just ono,
And they do look so good, shining out in the sun,
There are hundreds, and hundreds, and he
would'ut miss,
So paltry a little red apple as thir"
He stretched forth his hand, but a low, mournful
Came wandering dreamily over his brain;
In his bosom a beautiful harp had long laid,
That the angel of conscience quite frequently play
And she sung "little Willy, beware, oh! beware
Your father has gone, but your Maker is there,
How sad you would feel if you heard the Lord
'This dear little boy stole an apple one day."
Then Willy turned round, and as still as a mouse
Crept slowly and carefully into thehouse.
In his own little chamber he knelt down to pray
That the Lord would forgive him and please not
to say,
"Little Willy Oiter:st stole an apple ono day."
Open The Gate,
"I wish that you would send a servani,
to open the gate for me," said a well grown
boy of ten, to his mother, as ho paused
with his satchel upon his back, before the
gate, and surveyed . its clasped fastening.
4, w a
hy; Jb; can't you open tIA gate
for Yourself?" said Mrs. , Easy. "A boy of
your age and strength ought certanly to be
able to do that:"
. .
could (19 it, I riuppose,/' said the,
"butchild, heavy mid ; I don't like the
trouble. The servant can open it for we
just as well. Prai u hat is the . ,uciif hiv-,
ing servants, if they are not to wait upon
The servant was sent to open the gate.
The boy passed out, and went whistlinK
on his. way to school. When he reached
his seat in the Academy, lie drew from his
satchel his arithmatic and began to inspect
his sums.
"1 cannot do those," ho whisrred to
his seatuutte; "they are too hard: '
'But you can tf y,' replied his companion.
"I know that I can," said John. "but
too much trouble. Pray what are
teachers for if not to help us out of diffi
culties? t shall Carry my slate to Prof:
Alas! poor John. He had come to an
other closed gate—a gate leading into a
beautiful and boundless science, "the laws
of which are the modes in which God acts,
in sustaining all the works of .Idis hands"
—the science of mathematics. .He cotild.
have opened the gate and entered in alone
and explored the riches of the realm, but
his mother had injudiciously let him rest
with the idea that it is as well to have gates
Opened for us, as to exert our own strength,
'the result *as; that her son, like, the young
hopeful sent to Mr. Wiseman ' soon conclu
ded that lie had no "genins'!for mathemi
-2 iies and threw up the study.
The saute was iruo of Latin. Ire could
have learned the declensions of the nouns
and conjugation of the verbs as, wer3Pl as
other boys of his age: but his Seat-Mate
very kindly volunteered to "tell in
class," and what was the use in opeiting,
the gate into the Latin language, when
another would do it for him? Oh, no!—
John Easy had no idea of talking mental
or physical strength when he could avoid
it, and the consequence was,
that runner
oils gates remained closed to him all of his
life—g•qtes to hottnr---gates to riches—
gates to lieppiness. Children ought to he
early taught that it is always best to help
thetuselves.—Jilad. (Geo.) Flintily Vistor.
.Q If 20 grains make a scruple, heyr
many will make a doubt ? If 5 h rods make
a furlong, how many will make a short-041-
pad hat if seven days make one
how many will make one strong? f three
miles make a league, how many will make.
a confederacy If 5h feet mike One Flem
ish ell, how many feet will make an En
glish Q ? If one hornet eat make a horse
run, how many will makb'. a horse-fly t
[l-7 - Intense mental a3tivity,:steadily di
rested to some leading pursuit, is the source
of all distinction.
fri . There are five or six thousand re r .
alar beggars in the city of New York—
mostly children.