Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, February 16, 1853, Image 1

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    BY J. A. HALL.
TERMS.
The "HUNTINGDON JOURAL" ie pnblished at
he following yearll ,
If paid in advance $1,50
If paid within the year 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. Subscribers living in distant counties, or in
other States, will be required to pay invariably in
advance.
ar The above terms will be regidly adhered
itt all cases.
RATES OF ADVERTISING.
One square of sixteen lines or less
For I insertion. $0,50, For I mouth $1,25,
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and not changed during the year! • • •$4,00,
turd and Journal, in advance, 5,00,
BUSINESS CARDS of the onion length, not chan
ged, 53,00
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lir Short, transient advertisements will be ad
mitted into our editorial columns at treble the
usual rates. .
On longer advertisements. whether yearly or
transient, a reasonable deduction will he made
and a liberal discount allowed for prompt pay
ment.
Vortical.
itilr The finest Elegiac effusion upon the death
of Webster that has yet passed under our eye, is
the following dirge written by Epos Sergent, the
author of many of our most fhvoritc songs, and
also of some beautiful poems ;
Night of the tomb! He has entered thy portal:
Silence of death ! Ile is wrapped in thy shade;
All of the gifted and great that was mortal,
In the earth, where the ocean mist weepeth, is
, .
laid,
Lips, whence the voice that held Senates, pro-
:neded,
Form, lending orpiment aspect august,
Brow, like the arch that a Nation's weight need.
,
ed,
Eyes, wells unfathomed of thought—all are dust.
Night of the tomb! Through thy darkness is
• shining
A light, since the Star of the Eifst, never dim;
No joy's exultation, no sorrow's repining
Could hide' it, in life, or life's ending, from him.
Silence ofdeath ! .There were voices from Heav-
en,
That pierced to the quick ear of Faith, through
the gloom;
The roil and the ea tlant he aiked fur were given,
And he followed the Savior's own track to the
tomb!
ileyond it, above, in an atmosnbere finer,
T. 0 .! infinite ranges of being to till !
In that land of the spirit, that region diviner,
He liveth, ho loveth, he worshipped' still.
'Arran Circle.
(Selected for the Journal.]
Dr. Daddridge's Dream.
Dr. Deddridge was on terms of very in
timate friendship with Dr. Samuel Clark,
"and in religious conversation they spent
very inamy happy hours together. Among
other, matters, a very favorite topic was
the intermediate state of the soul, and the
probability that at the instant of dissolu-
Aen it was not introduced into the presence
of all the heavenly hosts, and the splen
dors around the throne of God. Ono eve
sting, after ft conversation of this nature,
Dr. Doddridge retired to rest with his mind
full of the subject discussed, and in "the
visions of the night," his ideas were shaped
into the following beautiful form : lie
dreamed that he was at the house of a
friend when he was suddenly taken dan
gerously ill. By degrees lie seemed to
grow worse and at last to expire. In an
instant he was sensible that he exchanged
the prisonhouse and sufferings of mortality,
for a state of liberty and happiness. Bin
breided in a splendid serial form ho seemed
to float in a region of pure light. Beneath
him lay the earth, but no glittering city or
village, the forest or the sea was visible.
There was naught to be seen below save
the melancholy group of friends, weeping
around hi; lifeless remains.
Himself thrilled with delight, he was
surprised at their tears, and attempted to
inform them of his change, but by myste
rious power utterance was denied, and as
he anxiously leaned over the mourning cir
cle, gazing fondly upon them and strug
gling to speak, he rose silently upon the
air: their forms became more and more
distant and gradually melted away from
his sight. Reposing upon golden clouds
he found himself swiftly mounting the skies
with a venerable figure at his side guiding
his mysterious movement, and in whose
countenance he remarked the lineaments of
youth and ago were blended together with
an intimate harmony and majestic sweet
ness. They travelled through a vast re
gion of empty space until at length the
battlements of a glorious edifice shone in
the distance, and as its form rose brilliant
and distiuot among the far off shadows that
flitted athwart their path, the guide inform
ed him that the palace he beheld was for the
present to be his mansion of rest. Gazing
upon its splendor he replied, that while on
earth he had often heard that eye had not
seen, nor had the ear heard, nor could it
enter into the heart of wan to conceive the
things which God had prepared for those
that love him : but notwithstanding the
building to which they were then rapidly
approaching was superior to anything which
/ tngh
on
HUNTINGDON, PAT, WEDNESDkY, FEBRUARY 16, 1853.
. . .
be bad actually before seen, yet its gran
deur had not exceeded the conceptions he
had formed. The guide made no reply,
they were already at the door and entered.
The guide introduced him into a spacious
apartment, at the extrem:ty of which stood
a table covered with snow white cloth, a
golden cup and a cluster of grapes, and
then said lie must remain, for he would re
cieve in a short time a visit from the Lord
of the mansion, and that during the inter
val before his arrival the apartment would
furnish him with sufficient entertainment
and instruction. The guide vanished and
be was left alone. He began to examine
the decorations of the room and observed
that the walls were adorned with a number
of pictures. Upon nearer inspection he
found to his astonishment, that they form
ed a complete biography of his own life.—
Here he saw upon the canvass that angels,
though unseen, had ever been his familiar
attendants, and sent by God, they had
sometimes preserved him from immediate
peril. He beheld himself first represented
as an infant just expiring, when his life was
prolonged by an angel gently breathing in
to his nostrils. Most of the occurrences
here delineated were perfectly familiar to
his recollection and unfolded many things,
which he never before understood, and
which had perplexed him with many doubts
and much uneasiness. Among others, he
was particularly struck with a picture in
which lie was represented as falling from
his horse, when death would have been in
evitable had not an angel received him in
his arms, and broken the force of his de
cent. These merciful interpositions of God
filled him with joy and gratitude, and his
heart overflowed with love as he surveyed
iq them all, an exhibition of goodness and
mercy far beyond all that he had imagined.
Suddenly his attention was arrested by a
rap at the door. The Lord of the mansion
had arrived—the door opened and lie en
tered. So powerful and so overwhelming,
and withal of such singular beauty was his
appearance, that he sunk down at his feet
completely overcome by his majestic pre
sence. His Lord gently raised hits from
the ground, timid taking his hands led him
forward to the table. He pressed with his
fingers the juice of the grapes idto the
golden cup, and after having drunk him
self, presented to him, saying, "This iu the
new wine in my Lather's kingdoms." No
sooner had he partaken than all uneasy
sensations vanished, perfect love had now
east out fear, and he conversed with hii
Saviour as an intimate friend. Like the
silver rippling of the summer sea, lie heard
fall from his lips the greatful approbation :
"Thy labors are over, thy work is appro
ved, rich and glorious is the reward.
Thrilled with an unspeakable bliss, that
glided over his spirit and slid into the very
depth of his soul, he suddenly saw glories
upon glories bursting upon his view. The
Doctor awoke. Tears of rapture from his
joyful interview were rolling down his
cheeks. Long did the lively impressions
of this charming dream remain upon his
mind, and never could lid speak of it with
out emotions of joy and tenderness.
The Universe and Man.
This earth might have been made a wild
dreary waste,without beauty or granduer to
cheer the heart of man; but the evidences
on every hand prove conclusively that the
universe and man,• as man is constituted,
have been foimed by the same Almighty
Creator, with all their laws in harniony, to
promote the happiness of intelligent crea
tures. The stars, when they come out at
niaht in the blue heavens, with their mil
lions of flaming torches, to light up the
mighty dome above, impress the heart of
man with feelings of wonder and admira
tion. The sublime mountain, the roaring
cataract, the rustling breeze,the forest with
its singing leaves, the songs of warblers in
the groves, the purling rills, the grassy
meadows, the flower's perfume, yea, the
black thunder cloud, as well as the calm
sunshine, were all made for man, for his
pleasure, his happiness, his immortal glory.
The very cloud of the arctic and antarctic
regions—those vast solitudes of ice and
snow,—were made for the benefit of man;
the sun looks down upon did oceans of the
tropics, the clouds and vapors rise, the
cold currents from the North to South—
"the wind, in its circuits," as Lieut. Mau
ry says, "rush in to fill up the vacuum be
low, while ,the hot winds fly away to the
North, and fall down in gentle showers,
refreshing the thirsty ground." The winds
thus formed and the vapors thus carried,
bring health to the cheek, and abundance
to the fields. The mountains are also na
ture's reservoirs; they husband up the
snows and rains to pour them down again
in silver streams and rolling rivers, to irri
gate the soil; or transport the inland com
merce of a continent to the broad ocean;
and the oceans themselVes,, their wide ex
panse of waters—their ever-restless beat
ings on wild shores—were all made for the
benefit of man. Without such an expanse
of ocean covering two-thirds of the surface
of our globe, lands now blooming with ver
dure and beauty, would be nothing but,
ideary sandy wastes. The winds carry our
[ ships from shore to shore,—they keep the
deep from stagnant putridity, and their'
very voices have a charm, when deep cal
leth to deep; "there is beauty on the
ocean's vast verdureless plains, when lash
• ed into fury ; or lulled into calm."
The summer clouds, as they stand and
move, red and grand against the setting
sun, when they rise like Alp upon Alp, or
castle upon castle, with flaunting banners
and gleaming lightning behind them, like
• the far flashing Of artillery; impress every
heart with feelings which tell us that
these things wore made for the delight,
the admiration, and benefit of intelligent
• beings. The very curves of mountain ran
, ges, hills and winding rivers--those bound
• ing lines of beauty, were made for some
• important purpose,—they harmonize with
those laws or endowments—call them what
[ we will—which are enstatuped upon the
heart of man; in the language of John C.
Prioe, "there is beauty and music o'er all
[ this delectable world,"--and ad there is,
but man often tramples those beauties and
• delights beneath his feet, in the same way
s that the profligate treads recklessly upon
) virtue. He who would enjoy the beauties
, of nature, must, like.the Patritirch Isaac
of old, often go out to muse at the even
ing hour, and "look from nature up to na
ture's God."
ffttoceliancotto.
A Letter Worth Reading.
We will back the following piece of com
position against anything over produced.—
It was written half a century ago, by Sir
Boyle Bootie, a member of the Irish par
liament, in the "troublous times of '98,"
when a handful of Wexford men struck
terror into the hearts of many gallant eons
of Mars, as well the worthy writer himself.
It was addressed to a friend in London :
MY Mita SIR :-- , ,Having now a little
peace and quietness, I sit down to inform
you of the dreadful bustle and confusion
we are all in from these blood-thirsty reb
els, most of whom are, thank God ! killed
and dispersed. We are in a pretty muss,
can get nothing to eat, nor wine to drink,
except whiskey; and when we sit thiwu to
dinner we are obliged to keep both hands
armed. Whilst! write this, I hold a sword
in each hand and a pistol in the other.
I concluded from the beginning that this
would be the end of it; and see I was right,
for it is net hale. over yet. At present
there are such things going on that every
thing stands still. I should have answer
ed your letter a fortnight ago, but I did
not receive it till this morning. Indeed,
scarcely a mail arrives safe without being
robbed. No longer ago than yesterday,
the coach with the mails from Dtiblin, was
robbed, near this town; the bags had been
judichitid' , left behind for fear of accident,
and by good luck, there was nobody in it,
but two outside passengers,. who had noth
ing for the thieves to take. Last Thurs
day notice was given that a gang of rebels
were advancing hero under the French
standard, but they had no colors or any
drums except bagpipes. Immediately, ev
ery man In the place, including the women
and children, ran out to meet them. We
soon found our force much too little; we
were too near to think of retreating. Death
was in every face, but to it we went, and,
by the time half of our little party were
killed, we began to be all alive again.—
Fertunately the rebels had no guns, except
pistols and pikes, and as we had plenty of
muskets and ammunition, we put them all
to the sword. Not a soul of them escaped,
except those that were drowned in an ad
jacent bog, and in a Tory short time noth
ing was to be heard but silence. Their
uniforms were all different colors, but most
ly green. After the action we went to
rummage a sort of camp, which they left
behind them. All we found was a few
pikes without heads, a parcel of empty bot
tles full of water, and a bundle of French
commissions filled with Irish names. Troops
are now stationed all around the country,
which exactly squares with my ideas. I
have only time to add that I am in great
haste.
P. S.---If you do not receive this, of
course it must have been miscarried, there
fore I beg you to write and let uic know.
iL.rAn Albany paper mentions the fact,
that a young lady of that city ,having fre
quent 000asicn, in the prosecution of be
nevolent objects, toylsit the residences of
the extremely destitiite, was often pained
with the slovenly appearance of their
dwellings and children, and determined to
make tho experiment, on a small scale, of
teaching the male children, of a ,particular
locality not only to read biti to werk.—
She secured 4, room for this purpose, and,
with the aid of a few friends, such books
and furniture as may be necessary to begin
the work with. She intends to live with
the children through the day- 7 -to Cook for
them and to eat with them; and, so far as
possible, to prepare them for service. It is
a praiseworthy undertaking, and will re
quire a great deal of patience and bard la
bor to succeed.
Handsome Women.
You put this question—bow comes it to
pass that the greater part of your hand
some women are exceedingly ignorant and
childish in their manners 1 I believe I
can tecrunt for it. It is not that nature
has been less kind to their minds, because
lavish to their bodies; nor that they are born'
with less capacities than others, but because
they neglect to cultivate their minds ; and
to improve their mental faculties; and they!
aro vain, and desire to please and to be ad
mired. An ill-favored woman knowns that
she cannot be loved for her face: this indu
ces her to endeavor to draw attention by
I her intelligence and wit. She applies her
mind to books, and bends the whole force
of her attention to her improvement ; and
in spite of nature and all her unkindness,
she becomes agreeable. The beauty, on
the contrary, has only to make her appear
ance to please; her vanity is gratified ; as
she never reflects, she never thinks that
her beauty is only for a season. She is,'
besides, so taken up with dress, with the
care of being at every assembly, to appear
with advantage, and to hear herself praised
that she has no time for the cultivation of
her mind, however convinced she might be
that it was necessary. Thus, of necessity
she becomes a fool, talrei'l up with childish
tricks, the vain frippery .of dress, shows
and sights. This may Continue to thirty,
at most forty years of age, if the small-pox,
or some other disorder, does not tarnish
this beauty. When youth is over; the
time for improvement is gone; then this
young lady, once, now no longer, a beauty,
continues in ignorance all her life-long,
though nature has given her as great an
advantage as any one; whereas the home
ly looking young woman who has now be
come very amiable, defies old age and sick
ness that can take nothing from her.
The Wit - .1;1" Sarcasm
To be sarcastic Is thought by some peo
ple, a proof of ability. Such individuals
are like a pack of Chinese crackers thrown
into a crowd, continually exploding in ev
ery direction, but with greater noise than
injury. There is snore ill, breeding than
wit in a sarcasm: and more ill nature than
calm:. True wit does not consist in abuss,
but in profound wisdom tersely expressed.
Nothing, therefore, can be further from
wit than sarcasm, and where they go to
gether, one, is pressed into the service, and
is tot a legitimate ally.
Nevertheless, we know many, mostly,
young persons, who sot up for wits on the
score of sarcasm. They are usually very
conceited, or very foolish, or very unamia
ble individuals, and by no means the terror
to others they imagine. Persons of sense
are no more affected by their sarcasms than
mastiffs are by the yelp of a lap-dog. A
real wit never condescends to reply to them.
We have known many of such sarcastic per
sons in. our experience, •and always found
they cured themselves of this . childish habit
as. soon as they grew.up. or, if they , did
not, that they remained children in their
tempers to the end of their career. It is
a mean sort of revenge, that seeks to gall
another's feelings by sarcasm; for where it
chances to be successful, it is like the cop
per shot of the Mexicans, which gangrenes
the wound.
A Good One to Go.
'Paddy, honey, will ye buy me watch
'And is it about selling your watch ye
are, Mike ?'
'Troth it is, darlint.'
'What's the price 1 '
'Ten shillings and a mutchkin of the
creature.'
'ls the.watoh a dacent one P
'Sure and I've had it twenty years, and
it Diver once desaved me.'
'Well, here's; your tin, and now tell mo
does it go well ?'
.11edad an' it goes faster than any watch
in Connaught, Munster, Ulster, or Leiuster,
not baring Dublin.'
'Bad look to you Mike, then you have
taken we in. Didn't ye say that it never
decayed you?'
'Sure an' I did; nor did it, for I never
depinded on it at all at all.'
Alorch of 1111ud.
A very popular preacher in South Caro
lina, and. a sepoSsiouist withal, harangued
his hearers on .the importance of perseve
rance and fortitude. lie skid “Yon thit
is church members must not limk back
on Babylon (Sodom) like Paul's wife (Lot sl
thine ! You must be a heap better than fill
world's people ! Religion is like a battle, :
and Satan are strong !
at
hates good men
and wants to kill them at isonst ! In short,
my dearly beloved hearers, you must do
like Con. Washington done at the battle of
Waterloo. In the skr.intage..his ImrSe was
killed by_a British eannim ball. Did Wash
ington give up his sword to the enemy ?
Not he ! Ho sung out at the top of his
voice, , A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for
a horse !' A horse was brought him by
Frank Marion, and he drove the bloody
British from the field, and thus secured tho
liberty of South Carol Ma !"
rid* „ 4./A/ftiler
RI, 11 k/74(7/
GEORGE WASHINGTON ON PROFANITY.
—A true extract from the original "Gen
eral Order Book" of General Washington,
under the date of 29th July, 1779 :
""Many and pointed orders have been is
sued against that unmeaning and abounna
ble custom of swearing—notwithstanding
which with much regret, the General ob
serves that it prevails, if possible, more
than ever. His feelings are coPtinually
wounded by the oaths and imprecations ofl
the soldiers whenever he is in hearing of
them. The name of that Being, from whose
bountiful goodness we are permitted to ex
ist and enjoy the comforts of life, is inces
santly imprecated & profaned in a manner
as wanton as it is shocking. For the sake,
therefore, of religion, decency and order;
the General hopes and trusts that officers
of every rank will use their influence and
authority to check a vice which is as un
profitable as it is wicked and shameful.
“lf officers would make it an invariable
rule to reprimand, and if that does not do,
punish soldiers for offences of this kind, it
Icould not fail of having the desired effect."
AUCTION OF LADIES.—An auction of
unmarried ladies used to take place annu
ally at Babylon. "In every district," says
the historian, "they assembled on a certain
day in every year, all the virgins of the
marriageble age," the most beautiful were
put up, and those who bid the most money.
gained possession of her. The send i ap 7
pearance followed, and the bidders gratili
pd themselves with handsome wives, accor
ding to the length of their purses. But
alas! it seems there were some ladies for
whom no money was likely to be offered,
yet thcie were, the Babylonians. "When
all these leautiful virgins," says the histo
rian, "were sold, the crier Ardered the.
most deformed to stand up; and after he
bad openly demanded who would marry
her with a small sum, she was at length
adjudged to the mu who would be satisfied
with the least." In this manner the mon
ey arising from the handsome served as a
portion of those who were either of disa
greeable looks, or who had other impertec
, dons. This custom prevailed about one
hundred years before Christ.
[.Mrs. Jameson.
Fr DELI TY.—Never forsake a friend when
enemies gather thick around him—when
sickness falls heavy upon him—when the
world is dark and cheerless, this is the
time to try thy friendship. They who turn
from the scene of distress or offer reasons
why they should be excused from extending
their sympathy and aid, betray their hy
pocrisy, and prove that selfish motives only
prompt and move them. If you have a
friend who loves you—who has studied
your interest and happiness—defended
you when persecuted and troubled, be sure
to sustain him in adversity. Let him feel
that his kindness is appreciated, and that
his friendship was not bestowed upon you
in vain,
HUSK BEDS.—No one, who has not
tried them, knows the value of husk beds.
Straw and mattrasses would be entirely
done away with, if husk beds were once
tried. They are not only more pliable
than mattrasses, but are more durable.—
The first is' but little. To have husks
.
nice, they may be split after the manner of
gplitting straw for braiding. The firer
they are the softer will be the bed, al
though they will not be likely to last as
long as when they arc put in whole.—
Three barrels full, well stowed in, will
fill a good sized tick, after they have been
split.
THEN AND Now.—Fifty years ago steam
boats were unknown; now there are 3,000
afloat on American waters, alone. In
1800 there was not a single railroad in the
world; now there are 10,000 miles in the
U. States, and about 22,000 in America
and England. Half a century ago it took
some weeks to convey news from Washing
ton to New Orleans; now not as many sec
onds as it did then weeks. Fifty years ago
the most rapid printing press was worked
by hand power; now steam prints 20,000
papers an hour on a single press. NADU
a great fellow, and a ill be much bigger
half a century hence.
lltooTnr.—Philips, the Irish orator, in
one of his speeches, gives a most vivid per
sonification of bigotry. It is as follows:
~B igotry has no head, and cannot think;
she has uo heart, and cannot feel; when she
moves, it is in wrath; when she pauses, it is
amid ruin; her prayers are curses; her com
munion is death; her vengeance is eternity;
her decalogue is written in the blood of her
Victim; if she stoops for a moment from
her infernal Hight, it is upon some kindred
rock ,to whet her fang for keener rapine,
and replutne het wing for a more sanguina
ry desperation."
The English Government has put
the Maine Law in operation among the mi
nare in Australia. Grog-shops are burnt
'lawn as sonn a thev are discovered.
VOL. 18, NO. 7..
out o' Column.
KEEP TO THE RIGHT.
"Keep to the right," as the law directs,
For such is the law of the road,
Keep to the right, whoever expects
Securely to carry life's load.
Keep to the right with God and the world
Nor wander, though folly allures;
Keep to the right, nor ever be hurled
From what by the statute is yours.
Keep to the right, within and without
With stranger, and kindred, and friend;
Keep to the right, nor harbor a doubt
That all will he well in the end.
Keep to the tight, whatever you do,
Nor.elaim but your on the way;
Keep to the right, and stick to the true
From morn till the dose of the day
Forget me Not.
'Grandmother '
said little Gretchen,
'why do you call this beautiful flower, blue
as the sky, growing by this brook a 'For
gettlue-not,r
'My child,' said, the grandmother, "F
accompanied once your fathei, who was
going on a long journey to this brobk..---
He told me when I saw this little flower,
I must think of him: and so we called it
the 'Forget-me-not."
Said happy little Gretchen: have
ntitht nor,Bl,§torsi not . Mona
from whom I am parted.: i do.not know
whom I can think of when I see the For
gct,mef-not.'
'I will tell you,' said her grandmother,
'some One whom this flower may remind
you—llim who made it. Every flower
in the meadow says, 'Remember God; ev
ery flower in the garden and the field says
to us of its Creator, 'Forget-me-not."
An Impreseite Fact
A vessel was overtaken with a terrific
hurricane iu the middle of the Atlantic
Ocean; After the most astonishing efforts
to weather the stbrni; the awful.. intelli
gence of the captain broke on the ear • ••of
the passengers. 'The ship is ou her beam
ends; she will never right again; death is
certain.'
'Not at all, sir ! not at all, sir,' exclaim
ed a little sailor boy, 'God will save us
yet.'
iliihy.do you thick suP said the cap
tain, with strong feeling and astonish
ment'
'Because, sir, at this moment they are
praying under the Bethel flag, in the city
of Glasgow, for all sailors in distress, and
us amoeg the rest; and God will hear their
prayers; now see if he don't.'
The captain, an old weather beaten tar,
exclaimed, with the tears runnit.g down his
check, 'God grant that their prayers may
be heard in our behalf, my little preach-
Pr
At that moment a great Ivan struck the
ship and righted her. A simultaneous
shout of exultation, gratitude and praise,
louder than the storm, went up to God.—
A few days after the noble ship rode safe
ly into the New York Harbor.
Beniamin Franklin.
George Bancioft, Esq., in a lecture be
fore the New Yorlt.Historical Society, re
ported in the Times, pays, an eloquent
tribute to the Philosopher "Not the half
of Franklin's merits have been told.. He
was the true father of the American Union.
It was he who want forth to lay the foun
dation of the great design at Albany; and
at New York he lifted up his voice. Hero
among us he appeared as.the apostle of the
Union. It was Franklin who suggested
the Congress of 1774, and but for his wis
dom, and the confidence that wisdom inspi
red, it is a matter of doubt whether that
Congress would have taken effect. It was
Franklin who suggested the bond of the
Union whioh binds these States from Floa
da to Maine. Franklin was the great di
plomatist of the 18th century. He never
spoke a word too soon; he never spoke a
word too late; he never spoke a word too
much, ho never failed to speak the right
word at the right time.
haze crises the misery of this
present world? It is not owing to the de
bilities of our bodies, or the unequal distri
bution of property. Amidst all the disad
vantages of this kind, a pure, a steadfast;:
and an enlightened wind, possessed of
strong virtue, could enjoy itself in peace,
and smile at the impotent assaults of for
tune and the elements. It is within our
selves that misery has fixed its seat. Our
disordered hearts, our guilty passions, our
violent prejudices, and misplaced desires
are the instruments of the troubles we en
dure. These sharpen the darts which ad.
versity would otherwise in vain point
against us.
One who, hi early years, will not
look forward with virtuous forethought and
resolution along the path iihieh he ib to
travel, will be forced, it is probable, in ma•
tuner years, to look backward on it mitt ,
compunction and oorrnw