BY J. A. HALL TEIIMS. The "HUNTINGDON JOURAL" is published at the following yearly rates: If paid in advance $1k,50 If paid within the ye, 1,75 And two dollars and fifty cents if not paid till after the expiration of the year. No subscription :will he taken for a less period than six months, and no paper will he discontinued, except at the option of the publisher, until all arrentages arc paid. Subscribers living in blatant connties. or in other States, will be required to pay invariably in advance. a The nbove terms will be rigidly adhered to in ell rims. RATES OF ADVERTISING. One squire of sixteen lines or less For I insertion $0,50, For I month $1,25, 2 u 0,75, " 3 " 2.75, " 3 u ' 1.00, " 6 5,00, PROFS - AMORAL CARDS, not exceedinz ten line., an 1 not changed du r ing. the year. • • • $4,00, Cord an I .but Ital, in advance, 5 OO, licsmenB CARDS of the same length, not chan ged. 53.00 C n 1 and Journal in advance, 4,00 Or Short, tran s ient advertisements will he ad mitted into our editorial columns at treble the trmal rates. On longer advertisement, whether yearly or transient. a reasonable de,liwtion will he made and a liberal discount allowed for prompt pay ment. Vortical. THE ;BHT-LAIIK. DE JAMES 11000. Bird of the wilderness, Blithsome and numberless, Light he thy tnatin o'er moorland and lea 1 Emblem of happiness ! Bless'd he thy dwelling-place ! 0, to abide in the desert with thee I Wild it thy lay, and loud, Far in the downy cloud ; Love given it energy, love gave it birth, Where, on thy dewy wing, Where net thou journeying? Thy Icy is in heaven, thy love is on earth, O'er fell and fountain sheen, O'er moor and mountain green, O'er the red streamer that heralds the day ; Over the elondlet dim, Over the rainbow's rim, Musical cherub, hie, hie thee away Then when the gloaming comes, Low in the heather-blooms, Sweet will the welcome and bed of luve be, Emblem of happiness ! • Blessid is the dwelling-place ! 0, to abide In the de,ert with thee ! jyantfin Circle. Literature of the Bible, EY N. 11. GRIFFIN The trav,ellor, wearied in his journey, finds it pleasing and refreshing to stop by 1 the war, and contemplate the varied and 1 beautiful objects which present themselves to view. The shady grove, the varied hues an 1 tints which mantle the surrounding for est, an I the bright canopy of the overshad owinz heavens, all afford him tauter for ple tsing and prostable diversion; they be- i galls the weariness of I is way; the very !lover which lifts its head by his path pleas cc by its variety, while it instructs by the wondrous wisdom which it exhibits. After surveying for - a time the fair and wonderful, an 1 releiving the pleasure and instruction , to be derive I from such a view, ho rises refreshed, prepared for a vigorous renewal of his journey. Like the traveller, we too, when wearied by the various labors of life, find it refreshing and profitable to turn aside and spend our leisure hours in the pleasures of literature, afforded us by the press. An individual, after tasting the de lights arising from works of genius, where eloquence, thought and feeling render each page instinct with life; after warming with lively emotions and kindling into a glow of fe :Hag under descriptions of the grand and beautiful in nature; after expanding the soul iu its conception of grandeur, majesty and wisdom of God, rises up with renewed en ergy, and with an elastic step pursues his way. II urs thus spent. instead of unfit tia.t us for the duties of life, inspity us with greater ardor in their performance, and we go on panting more and more after the greatness and goodness upon which we have I gazed; we feel a generous elevation of soul whiA fits us for nobler notion in duty and usefulness. This elevation is the invaria ble accompaniment of the genuine pursuits of lite.ature, and what dons not produce 1 this result . , is unworthy of the natne. erature in its latitude may embrace every veriaty of composition, ' , whether in religion or in morals, in history or in philosophy, in poetry or eloquence." It covers the whole field which the human mind has explored. I, however, at present use it rather to de signate what is conimonly meant by polite li orature; a species of composition confined chiefly to poetry, eloquence and subjects of taste awl elegance. To give an exaot de finition of what is meant by it, would per bads ba i upssible. Its general sense is plain. What then are some Lf the chief exoellenoiem of this species of writing 1 For unfittobon with these in mind, we shall be better able to determine the claims of any book a lit erary production. The first excellence which lays a foun dation for all others is thought—original sober thought. Without this there may be words elegantly arranged and musical in the ear, which for a moment may charm the mind; but on waking, it appears as a dream—music and not thought. There are those, who by a delicate play upon words endeavor to atone for want of thought: who abound more in illustrations than ideas; who seem to imagine that a cer tain felicity of expression, harmonious and loud sounding words, constitute eloquence. There are others who dance over their empty pages without ever discovering their want of meaning— so taken by the sound as to forget the sense. They read page af ter page, without perhaps receiving into the mind one definite idea, and should one inquire of them understandest thou what 'thou readest ? they would be speechless. Language, to such, instead of being a me dium of conveying ideas, is a kind of musi , cal instrument to charm the ear. Such persons care little for thought, but with others, substantial thought con stitutes the chief value of any composition. The drapery in which it is clothed may be a source of additional pleasure—a the foliage of the forest throws over it a de lightful aspect, which attracts and pleases. So the language in which our thoughts are dressed, gives them an attractiveness which charms. But let the storm drive through the forest and scatter its rich foliage on the wings of the wind, leave it stripped and naked, still all that is valuable re mains; the trunk continues to look up in the sky, and spread abroad its branches in all their strength. In like manner divest thought of -all the extraneous beau!) , with which bright imagery may invest it, and you leave it substantially the same. In fact, the highest beauty is that which con sists entkely in the idea—bereft of all beauty of language. A heathen has al ready remarked, what can be more sob lime than the simple sentence, God said "let there be light, and there was light." What more so than Paul's ascription of praise, "Now Unto the King eternal, in: invisible, the only wise God, be 'glory and dominion forever." Another element of literary excellence is richness of imagery. This throws an enchantment over thoughts which would otherwise be dull and uninteresting; circa' life and spirit to what without it would be dead. It gilds the pages of ,an author with brightness: chains the attention of the reader, and fills him with pleasing coneep dons. It is pleasant at any time, to look at the mountain tops toward heaven, tuonu meets of AI lolghty power, but far pleasan ter is it when the rising or setting sun tips their summits with a crown of glory. In like manner, thoughts presented in homely language please, but array them in the dra pery which a lively imagination furnishes, and their brightness will dazzle—they may even assume a living form. In this lies the. p wer of some public speakers; with great deecriptiye talent, they paint their ideas so vividly—the picture is so bright and lively that for a moment they seem re alities. It was so with the Roman ora ors, with Patrick Henry and others.— What gave these individuals such control over an audience? The power of rich and glowing description, they drew front the chambers of the soul such splendid imagery with which, to clothe their thoughts, that men forgot themselves and were carried away by their power. What but this gives to thepoenis of Ossian their inimita ble beauty? For example, his striking apostrophe to the Sun, which begins, "Oh thou that ro!lest in the heavens, round as the shield of my fathers!" Another excellence is the sublimity of thought. There may be an abundanCe of becomes necessary for a hungry - and half thought, beauty expressed, without sub- starved editor to dissolve the friendly bands, limity. This imparts a higher, perhaps which have connected him with a band of the highest grade of excellence. But few villainous patrons (!) and to assume among writers have been able to rise to the sub- mankind that seperate and just station lime. If for a moment they have done so, which his poverig and independence of spy their flight has been short; like Dodaalas, it entitles him, accent respect for the opie they have soon lost their wings and fallen. ions of his honest supporters requires that Milton has perhaps more of genuine subli- he should declare the causes which have mity than any other uninspired writer; his impelled him to the seperation. flight is more even and uniform; so much We hold these truths to be self-evident so, that the first two books of Paradise that editors wore created like other men, Lost partake of it throughout, that they were endowed with certain natti- Byron, toe, is frequently sublime. Yet ral propensities; that amongst them is a his flight may well be compared to Mil- disposition to oat, drink, and keep them ton's desoription of Satan's approach to selves comfortably clad—to secure these this world to tempt its ruin: "Putting blessings, laws were instituted among , men' swift swift wing with thoughts inflamed of dark securing to the creditor his honest and just design, he explores his solitary way; some- dues; but when a villainous $3OO exemp times he scours the right hand coast, some- tion act becomes destructive of theSe ends, 1 times the left, now shaves with level wing it is our right to institute a new system,. the deep, then soars up to the fiery con- laying its foundations in such principles as cave towering high, through upper ether to us shall seem most likely to protect us and surrounditio. a darkness." in future front all fraud and imposition.— The last excellence of literature which I Prudence, indeed, will dictate that friend shall name is, that its tendency be saints,' ship long established should not be sever ry: There way be thought, mighty and od for light and transient causes; and so overwhelming, yet pregnant with death. A cordingly all experience has shown that mind of strong and vig,rous powers, way- editors are more disposed to suffer while wardly inclined, may pour itself forth in evils are sufferable, than to right them floods of thought, which instead of tasting selves by abolishing the forma to which lof the sweetneee of the fountain of living they are accustomed. Bnt when long stan- HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, MARCH 2, 1853. waters, shall be full of the bitterness of ' • death. It way flash and glitter, but it will . be an unnatural glare, to be dreaded rath- 4 er than courted. As Napoleon looked up- I on the city of Moscow on fire, the sublinii ty of the scene drew from him the emphat- • is words, "au ocean of flame." There was • a grandeur, but it was the grandeur of I desolation. Like that is thought when sublimely wicked. It mounts up, if I may I accommodate the language of another to my purposes, "It mounts up, and with the I I thunder talks as friend to friend, and I weaves its garlands of the lightning's wing, yet spreads destruction where it goes. All thoughts, all maxims sacred and profane, all seasons, time, eternity, all that is ha tred, all that is ear, all that is hoped, and all that is feared by man, it has tossed about as tempest-withered leaves, then smi ling, looked upon the wreck it made." The tendency of literature is an essential ele ment in estimating its value ; a literature which does not bless mankind, which does not fill the mind with lofty conceptions and aspirations after good, and the heart with kind and generous emotions, is of no value, however radiant and sparkling with th'ght; a literature which desolates and blasts the soul and cuts it from the sympathies of life, should be avoided as one would avoid plunging into an ocean of flame. Thought, richness of imagery, sublimity and good moral tendency, aro then the cheif excellenceis of literature. And where these are found combined, there is the greatest excellence, nil matter where it may be. The author who possesses them in the highest degree, most deserves our attention in a literary point of view. Does the read er wish to improve his style or cultivate his imagination, that is the author to be studied. Would he fill his wind with just thoughts and his heart with kind feelings, that is the anther he needs. As to the question, what ono author actually embod ies most of these excellencies, there will doubtless be a diversity of opinion. Some will say Milton, and others Scott, some the profane Billwer, whose strength con sists in portraying the dark fiend-like pas sions of our nature, in such a way as to hide their enormity; others misanthropic Byron. Such is not our opinon. There has fallen within the limits of our reader, a book far surpassing these. It bears the marks of age, a precious relic which has lived through the fires so often kindled fur its de,truction. It takes precedence of Milton and Byron, of Virgil and Homer in point of age, being in part, at least, bun ' dreils of years older than any other author now extant. At first view this book pre . emits nothing striking or attractive, but those who carefully read its pages will soon discover wisdom and beauty unsurpags • I ed. Said one who hail studied the litera ture of twenty-eight different languages, i ancient and modern, Sir William Jones.— ' "It contains more exquisite beauty, purer • morality, more important history, and finer straines of both poetry and eloquence than ' can be collected within the same compass I in all other books ever composed in any age, or in any idiom." It is a book writ ' ten not by any one author, nor at one time. Its authors tire various and its time as, • much so. Law-givers and poets, kings • and preists ' prophets and epos- ' ties have recorded their collected wisdom, and God I himself has revealed the bright glories of the future world on the pages of Tim Bible. - - - - 141tocellantotto. A Printer's Declaration, In the last number of the Carlisle Dem ocrat, General Boyer releases himself from those who have taken his paper, without ever intending to pay for it, in the follow inn.' novel and bold Declaration: When is the course of rascally events it ding abuses, and a total disregard for eve ry generous feeling having in view the same object, evinces a design to reduce to abso lute starvation him who has labored for years to supply them with their mental ail ment, it is his right, it is his duty to repu diate friendships ) and provide new guards for his future security. The history of these outlaws is a history of repeated inju ries and insults, all having indirect object the pecuniary destruction of their best friend and benefactor. To prove this, let facts be submitted to a candid mind. They have refused time and again to pay us the first continental "dingbat" although repeatedly called upon to do so. They have refused to supply us with wood, corn, oats, potatoes, beans, peas, pork, and pou!try—although our appeals were long, loud and pathetic—fixens inesti mable to us, and formidable to rascals only. They have refused to supply us with any aid whatsoever, whereby to facilitate our, business operations : thus rendering us in a measure incapable of pursuing with a light heart and buoyant spirits our legiti mate business; the office in the meantime, exposed to all the danger of an invasion from without and convulsions within. They have endeavored to prevent the population of these States, by depriving us of the means necessary to feed and clothe the young Narragansetts according to our desires. They have combined with others, to sub ject us to the worst grievances, foreign to our good nature, and unacknowledged by our laws. For cutting off our trade with paper ma kers : For imposing debts on us without our consent : For depriving us, in many oases, of ben efits of market money. - - They have plundered our pockets, cheat ed our creditors, "burnt cur fingers," and done sundry other cruel and barbarMis acts, unworthy the character of gentlemen. In every stave of these oppressions we have petitioned in the most humble terms; our repeated petitions have been answered only by repeated neglect and consequent injury. Men whrse characters are thus marked by acts which may define a set of plt.mlering scamps, are unfit longer to be the recipients of our favor. Nor have we been wanting in attention to these men : we have warned them from time to time through the paper and by let ter of a "Black List." We have reminded them of our circumstances—of our emigra tion and settlement in Carlisle. We have appealed to their sense of justice and mag nanimity, and then we have conjured them by all the ties f good fellowship, to send us the "Almighty Dollar," or we would inevitably interrupt our connection and correspondence with them. But they have been deaf to the of voice justice, reason and humanity. We must, therefote, acquiece in the necessity which denounces our sepa ration, and hold them as we do all others like them, scamps when they don't pay us, when they do, the best of clover fellows and good citizens. We, therefore, the editor of the Antirican Democrat, appealing to all honest men for the rectitude of our intentions, do in the name and by the authority of our "better half," and "nine small children with one on the bosom,' soleMnly publish and declare that these men arc, and of right ought to be stricken from our list of subscribers ; and that all connectkn between them and us is, and (right to be totally dissolved. And, for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of our honest pa trons, we solemnly pledge renewed exertions to our pen, our paste-pot,and noble scissors. Female Nobily. A writer in Chambers' London Journal, thus beautifully paints true female nobility: The woman, poor and ill clad us she may be, who balances her income and her ex penditure, who toils and sweats in unrepi ping mood among her well trained children, and presents them morning and evening as offsprings of love in rosy health and cheer ful cleanliness,—is the most exalted of her sex. Before her shall the proudest dame bow her jeweled head, and the bliss of a happy heart shall dwell with her forever. If there is one prospect dearer than anoth er to the soul of man—if there is one act more likely than another to bend the proud, and inspire the broken heart—it is for a smiling wife to meet her husband at the door with his host of happy children. how it stirs up the blood of an exhausted man when he hears the rush of many feet upon the stair-ease—when the crow and carol of their young yeices mix in glad con fusion, and the smallest mount or sink into his arms amidst a mirthful shout. Tr Many to woman had lather have any of their good tiimilitios slighted, than their beauty. Yet that is the most incon siderate accomplishment of a woman of real merit. Qom' When is a blacksmith in danger of raising a row in the alphabet 1 When he makee A poke R and shove L. ( i (6‘ lift I -ft i o I 1, Self-Reliance. The following article will be read with interest. We clip it from the Mobilo Re gis t er. If our young men miscarry at their first enterprise, they lose all heart. If the young merchant fails, men say he is ruin ed. If the finest genius studies at one of our colleges, and is not installed in any of fice in one year afterward in the city or suburbs of Boston or New York, it seems to his friends and to himself that he is right in being disheartened, and in com plaining the rest of his life. A sturdy lad from New Hampshire or Vermont, who in turn tries all the professions, who teams it, farms it, peddles, keeps a school, preaches, edits a newspaper, goes to Con gress, uys a township, and so forth, in successive years, and like a cat, always falls on his feet, is worth a hundred of these city dolls. lie walks abreast with his days, and feels no shame in not study ing a profession, for he does not postpone his life, but lives already. He has not one chance, but a hundred chances. Let a stoic arise who shall reveal the resources of man, and tell men they are leaning wil lows, but can and must detach themselves; and with the exercise of self-trust, new powers shall appear; that the man is the word made flesh, born to shed heal ing to the nations, that ho should be ashamed of our compassion, and that the moment he acts for himself, tossing the laws, the books, idolatries, and customs out of the window—we pity him no more but thank and revere him—and that teach er shall restore the life of map to splendor, and make his name dear to all history. It is easy to see that a greater self7reli ance—a new respect for the, divinity in man—must work a revolution in all the offices and relations of men; in their reli gion; in their education; in their associa tions, in their property; in their specula tive views. The Baby. By FANNY FERN. "Baby-carts on narrow sidewalks are awful bores, especially to a hurried busi ness man." Sre they? Suppose you and a certain pair of blue eyes, that you would give half your patrimony to win, were joint propri etors of that baby ! I shouldn't dare to stand very near you, and call it "a nuis ance." It's all very well for bachelors to turn up their single blessel noses at these little dimpled Cupids: but just, wait till their time comes ! See 'em, the minute their name is written "Papa," pull up ; their divides, and strut off down street, as if the Commonwealth owed them a pen sion! When they enter the offiae, see their old married partner (to whom babies have long since ceased to be a novelty) laugh in his sleeve at the new-fledged dig nity with whloli nod baby's advent is an nounced ! How perfectly astonished they feel that they should have ben so infatua ted as not to perceive that a man is a per fect cypher till lie is at the head of a fetid ly ! How fraquently one may see them now, looking in at the shop windows, with intense interest, at little hats, coral and bells, and baby-jumpers. How they love to come home to dinner, and press that lit tle velvet cheek to their business faces. , Was there ever any music half ao sweet to their oar, as its first lisped "papa?" Oh how closely and imperceptibly, one by one, that little plant winds its tendrils round the parent stem ' How anxiously they hang over its cradle when the cheek flushes and the lip is fever-parched; and how wide, and deep, and long a shadow in their happy homes, its little grave would Cast! MY DEAR ETR, depend upon ti, one's own baby is never a "nuisanca." Love heralds its birth !—Olave Branch. MAINE AND RIIODE ISLAND SENATORS. —No election for a U. S. Senator, has ta ken place in either of these two States, and the probability is, that in both, an election will be postponed until the meet ing of the nest Legislature. 11_,The total vote for Mayor of Laneas ter, at the recent election, was 1661. Christian Kieffer, Independant, was elect ed by a majority of 761 over the Demo -Icratic candidate. .(Gen. Scott received at the late Pre sidential election, 1,383,537 votes being 121,293 more than Gen. Taylor rececived in '4B. The total vote cast in '52 was 3,- 124,378, being 246,962 more than in '4B. (cr On the 9th inst., Judge Bartley became Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of Ohio—and that Court stands thus—Bartley, Chief Justice, Judges Cor win, Thurman, Ramsey and Caldwell. T.:rThe Washington Union, in a late ar ticle declared that it was "a duty to tell the truth." To this the Lenisville Jour nal retorts,' , .true, it is a specific duty. but as Locofocoe are opposed to all such dude', on principle, the obligation is eel dom regarded by them." A cayital <hit.' VOL. 18, NO. 9. youtior TO LILIAN. MAT. BY LILY, Thank thee, Minstrel, for the musk Softly, sweetly floating here, Liniering 'round my heart like spirit Whisp'ringe on the evening air, 'Till each feeling, deeply glowing With its touch, would hack to thee In echoes send thy song of sweetness— Gushing, heart•wartn melody. Breathe, when shades are drooping o'er thee, Thy heart's saddest notes to mine, For my joys are linked with sorrow, Closely, Minstrel, as Are thine, Oh ! that all thy gloom* would vanish— Sing thy gladness then to ma— in my heart each note will trer Find a chord of sympathy, Far upon the mist-hung future Be thy music borne along, Till the loving list the cadence Of thy tuneful spirit's song, When it floats through sunny Eden In entrancing melody, While in mingling strains of sweetness, Angel harps play symphony. "Friend Don't Sweat." 'Upon going into a wagon shop a few days since, the first thing that met our gaze was the abode sentence, printed in large capitals, and posted up in a con spicuous place. Those 'three short words were sugges tive: First, the undoubted proof that some one connected with the shop was a man who had not forgotten God's injunction, not to take his name in vain. Second, they showed that ho wished others to remember the'sante injunction. • And third, they. showed, we thought, that he had taken a very good way to give them a warning to that effect. There was nothing harsh about it—perfectly Cool and utild—indeed egmething Pleasant— 'Friend don't swear,', - just as though a pe culiar interest was felt in each individual who might read it, it might have read— 'No Swearing Allowed in this Room—All Profanity forbidden here,' or any other peremptory command, bnt wo'doubt wheth er either would have accomplished as much as the request; 'Friend, Don'tSwear.'-- Would it not be well if, in reproving all kinds of iniquity, we were to use more mildness and not so much denunciation ? One thing we particularly noticed about this little sentence was, that it never seem ed to countenance, in the least, any spe cies of profanity or irreverence. we have known some good men, indeed, Chris tian men, whq, of course, would not for the I world swear themselves, but who neverthe less would seem much delighted with a well-told story, even though it abounded in oaths, and would laugh heartily at a joke, even though a serious subject lay at the bottom of it. But this sentence, on the contrary, had the same solemn, gentle ad monition for all such—'Friend, Swear.' We were informed that the effect of the silent yet ever-speaking little sen tence of truth, was most happy; that al though frequented by all classes of men, an oath was rarely heard in the shop.. As we turned to leave, we could not but wish that those three Words be posted up in every place Otpublic • or resort—in all our Shona—on beitrd our steamboats—in our Railroad Cars, and even in our Legislative Halls. But, above al,wo long for such a purity of public sentfinda, that the face of every respectable man should bear on its very lineaments such a legibletind tinialstaka ble—Triend, don't Swear,' as should ef fectually awe down the terrible profanity which is now so all-abounding—that the awful swearing, because of which the land mourneth, might entirely Mid forever cease.—New York Evangelist. A hint to the Young, To the question, what had boon the stu dios by which his style was formetli-Daniel Webster once remarked, "When t was a young wan, a student in college, I deliver ed a Fourth of July oration. My friends thought, so well of it that they requested a copy for the press. It waa :printed, find I have a oopy of it now, the only copy in ex istence. (In this he was mistaken.) Jo seph Bennie, a writer of great reputation at that time, wrote a review in a literary paper which ho then edited. Ho praised parts of the oration 119 vigOrous and elo quent; but other parts he criticised severe ly, and said they :were were emptiness.— ' thought his criticism was file; and I resolved that whatever ciao should be said of my style, from that glide forth, there should bo no emptiness in it. I read snob English Writers as fell in toy way—partic ularly Addison— , with great care. Besides, I remembered that I bad my bread to earn by addressing the understanding of common wen—by convincing juries—and that I must use language perfectly intelligible to them. You will, therefore, find in my speeches to juries, no bird words, no Latin phrases, no fieri facial; and that is the seorot of my style, if I have any."
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers