VOL. 18.
TERMS.
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tnent.
Vortical.
From the Pennsylvahia Democrat.
There's Beauty Everywhere.
BY ELLA LEE.
Where the young spring-flower's peeping,
O'er the mossy stones so old,
And the winding streamlet's creeping,
O'er its sandy bed of gold ;
Where the pale wild rose is blooming,
In the cypress-shaded vale;
Where the mountain pine is looming,
In defiance of the gale.
Where the silver fountain's throwing
Its white spray upon the air,
And the sunset sky is glowing
With a gold and crimson glare;
'Where the quiet stars are glancing
O'er the lakelet's placid crest,
And the pallid moonbeam's dancing
On the ocean's troubled breast;
Where the sunlight's brightly beaming
O'er the tomb-stone old and gray,
_Where the dew-drop's sweetly dreaming,
On each flow'ret round or way ;
Where the wild storm sweeps the billow,
And the lurid lightnings flash;
Where the zephyr sways the willow—
tempest's fearful crash ;
Where the coral tree is growing
'Heath the ocean's glassy wave,
And the speckled sea shell's glowing
Rollind the mariner's lonely grave—
•
All around, beneath, above thee,
Rathent beauty still we find,
But none we see yet half so lcively
As the beauties of the mind.
UNIONTOWN, Mora, 1e53.
Aliticellancotio:
A Race for Life.
Forty years ago my father's family set
tled in one of the counties of central New-
York. All was a wilderness, wild, grand,
beautiful. We located fiteen miles from
the farthest pioneer. The woods wore
around us, the tall trees and the pictu
resque mountains.
We had opened a space in the forest, and
a cabin of the good old time afforded us
shelter. It looked new end comfortable,
and its chimney-smoke curled gracefully
up and vanished with the shadows of the
forest. Tho blackened heaps smoked and
crackled, and deep in those wildwood soli
tudes the wilderness blossomed and smiled
in the presence df yellow harvests. A hap
py home was there. The birds sang at earli
est morn, and the deep river near the door
murmured sweetly at nightfall. There were
gentle whisperings among the trees. As
they bowed their heads in the winds, a ho
ly anthem floated up from the vast temples
where nature breathes fresh and pare from
the habd of God. The wild flowers bloom
ed even by the very door sill, and the deer
stopped in the forest to gaze upon the
smoke of the chimney top.
T'was a beautiful home in the wilder
ness."
The spring brought us neighbors. 'Twas
a great day when a settler came and pur
chased land across the river. He received
warm welcome from pioneer hearts, and
by the ready agency of pioneer hands, a
comfortable log cabin peeped out from the
dense wood-land of the opposite bank. I
watched the smoke from the open roof as
the sun went down, and eagerly looked for
it in the morning. But it was not the
smoke I cared so much about. I only
knew that it ourled up, from the fireside
where dwelled as beautiful a creature as
ever bloomed away from the busy world.-
And so I watched thesmoko,—and dream
ed as I watched the river until the moon
threw down its beautiful pathway of shi
(
A 4
1 5
."
'Th 14.
in/1:4 /I.k
•-,11-,/ "
ning silver, and listened for the sound of
familiar footsteps.
• Across the river was the home of Carry
Macon. Before the mellow haze of autumn
had dropped its dreary hue on leaf or
stream, I had learned to love her, and to
tell her so in the still moonlight of that
hidden home.
The leaves faded and the winter winds
swept through the forest. But we cared
little for that. The snow fell thick and
fast, but our cabin homes were bright, and
our hearts were alive with happiness and
hope. When the spring opened and the
birds returned we were to be married.
A Winter evening party in a new coun
try. Did you ever attend one, reader 7
There are large hearths and open hearts
there to bo found.
Carry and I were invited to attend the
party; and a rude 'jumper' had been built,
and in this we started. Ten miles were
soon passed, and we found ourselves in as
merry and happy a throng as ever gathered
on a frontier. The huge fire cracked on
the wide hearth, and the old fashioned fun
and frolic rang out until a late hour.
The moon hitd gone down when we start
ed for home, and the snow began to fall ;
but we heeded it not, for we talked as fast
as the stout horse sped on the forest path.
Carry grasped my arm and whispered,
“hilt!" The wind shrieked over the tops
of the dark pines,and I laughed at her fears.
But she nestled closer to my side, and talk
ed with less glee. In spite of all my efforts,
a shadow would creep over my own spirit.
The road wound among a dense growth
of pinea which shot uptyards, and veiled
even the sky from our path. The old pines
swayed and moaned in the increasing storm,
and the snow fell fast and thickly. I touch:
ed the horse with the whip and he moved
briskly through the woods. Again Carry
grasped my arm. I heard nothing save the
storm, and yet I startled as the hcrse gave
a quick snort and struck into a gallop.—
With a heart full of happiness, I had not
yet dreamed of danger.
Again the horse snorted ;n alarm. There
was a sound above the storm. I felt my
cheeks grow white and cold, and the blood
rush quickly to my heart.
Clear, wild, terrible, it burst dut in an
unearthly howl like a wail from the world
of fiends. I heard it. Its dismal heart-chil
ling echoes had not died away on the
storm, when it was answered from a score
of throats.
Merciful God! a pack of wolves were
around us. In those dark woods at night,
and the storm howling over-head, a score
of hungry throats were fiercely yelling at
each other on the feast.
For a moment my senses reeled. But I
feat Carry leaning heavily on my shoulder,
and t aroused.
But what hope was there? I had no
weapon, and the maddened devils were in
the path before and behind us. There was
but one chance, and that was to push ahead.
This was a slim chance,,and I grew sick
as I thought of Carry. The quiet cabin
and the happy hearth at home flashed
swiftly through my brain.
At that moment a dark shadow glided
iip by the side of our sleigh, and so Wild
and develish a yell I have never heard since.
My flesh crawled on my bones. A cold
shiver ran to. icy heart and crept to my'
head as though the hairs were standing on
end. Two orbs glared out like demon lights,
and I could hear the panting of the heart
Filially grasping the lines and shouting
sharply to the horse, we shot away.
The horse needed no urging. At the act
that infernal °horns again burst out in ear
nest, and their dark forms leaped in length
ened strides on either side of us. • The
speed was fearful, and yet the yelling kept
pace. Turning to speak to Carry ? I saw a
dark form leap into the path, and as we
sped ahead, his teeth shut with a vice-like
snap, missing Carry, and stripping her
shawl from her shoulders. With o shriek
she clung to me, and with one arm I saved
her from being dragged out of her seat.
I became m - adde;d—reckless. I shout
ed to the horse now reaking with foam.—
We went on at a fearful rate. The stumps
and roots and uneven places in the road,
threatened every instant to wreck our
sleigh.
Howie wds three miles distant. 0, for a
world to give for home !
' As the road struck the river bank, it
turned shortly almost on the brink of a
fearful precipice. Here was a new danger.
It was a difficult place, and there was not
only danger of upsetting, but of being
hurled into the river.
There was a path' across this angle of
land whore logs had been drawn out. It
was a mile nearer thil,way to a clearing,
than by the river. I durst not at
tempt it with a sleigh.
On we sped. That infornal pack, neck
and neck with us, and now and then jaws
shutting like steel-traps, close to our per
sons. Once around that angle, and I
should hope.
How madly I shouted to the noble brute.
We neared the turn in that race for life.
Heavens ! the infernal devils had cross
ed ahead and hung in deep masses. A de-
HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, APRIL 6, 1853.
mon instinct seemed to possess them.
A few rods more ! The wolves seemed to
feel that we had a chance, for they howled
more devilish than ever.
With a sweep the horse turned in spite
of me. The left runner struck high on the
roots of a pine, and the sleigh swung over
like a flash, burying us in the new snow.
Away sped the horse, and my heart • sank
as I heard his quick footsteps dying out
towards home.
The maddened pack had followed the
horse, and shot by us as we were thrown
out upon the bank, for a number of rods.
A shriek from Carry arrested them in
their career; in an instant they were upon
us. I gave one long, desperate shout, in
the hope of arousing the folks in the cabins.
I had no time to shout again. Their hot
breath burned upon me, and their .dark
masses gathered around like the shadows
of doom.
With a broken limb, I wildly kept them
at bay for a moment, but fiercer and closer
surged the gnashing teeth. Carry lay in
sensible on the ground before me. There
was one wore chance. A stunted pine
grew upon the outer edge of the bank, and
shot out nearly horizontally over the river
below, full a hundred feet froth the surface.
Dashing madly in their teeth with my
cudgel, I yelled with the waning energy of
despair; grasped Carry with one arm, and
dashed retlessly out upon the pine ; I
thought no of the danger; I eared not. I
braved one danger to ecape a greater. I
reached the branches; I breathed freer as I
heard the fierce howl of the baffled party.
I turned my head, and God of mercy !
long shadow was gliding along on the trunk
of our last refuge. Carry was helpless,
and it required all the strength of intense
despair, to hold her and remain upon the
slippery trunk, I turned to face the wolf—
he was within reach of my arm. I struck
with my fist, and again those fearful jaws
shut with a snap, as my hand brushed his
head. With a demoniac growl he fasten
ed upon the shoulder of Carry. Oh ! for
help, for a weapon- r -foot hold Ein earth,
where I could have grappled with the
monster.
I heard the long fangs crunch into the
flesh, and the smothered breathing, as the
wolf continued to make sure his hold !
Oh, it was horrible ! I beat hini over the
head, but he only deigned a munching
growl. I yelled, wept, nursed, and pray
ed, but the hungry devil oared not for
curses or prayers. His companions were
still howling and whining, and venturing
out upon the pine. I almost wished the
tree would give way. The wolf still kept
his hold upon Carry. None can dream
how the blood hissed and swept thrdugh
my knotted veins.. At last the brute,
hungry for his prey, gave a wrench, and
nearly threw me from the pine. Carry
was helpless and insensible. Even the
crunching teeth of the monster did note,
awaken her from the deathly swoon into
which she bad fallen.
Another wrench was made by the wolf,
and Carry's waist slipped from my aching
grasp, leaving me but the hold upbn the
skirt of her dress. The incarnate devil
had released his hold but as if aware of the
danger beneath retained his gripe on the
shoulder of Carry.-
The end had come ! My brained reeled!
The long body of the wolf hung downward
like a dark shadow into the abyss, fast
wearing out my remaining strength. The
blood gushed warmly from my nostrils and
light danced and flashed upon my eyeballs.
The overtaxed muscles of the hand would
relax, and as instantly close convulsively
upon the eluded skirt. I heard a; tearing
as if of :Stitches. The black mass writhed
and wrenched as if to deepen the hold. A
sharp crackling mingled with the humming
noises in my bead, and the dress parted at
the waist ! I shrieked as I heard the
swooping sound of the felt of the black
devil and hie victim, as they shot down,
down, into the darkness. I heard some
thing like the bay of the old house dog and
the firing of guns—and heard no more.
Weeks and months passed away, before
the fearful delirium of that night left me.
I returned to consciousness in my father's
cabin an emaciated creature, as helpless as
a child. My youth had passed away, and I
was prematurely old. The raven black
looks of twenty years had changed to the
silvery ones of eighty years of ago. Look
at this arm that clung to Carry ! It is
withered. I have never raised it since
that night. In my dreams I feel again that
fearful night, and awake, covered with the
cold calminy sweat that gathered upon me
while on that pine.
The neighing of the horse, as he dasbed
into the clearing, had aroused the peOple
at home. The empty and broken sleigh told
a brief story. The howling of the wolves
arose on the blast, and with guns and the
old house dog, they rushed to the scene.
They found me senseless on the trunk,
covered with blood, and a wolf febling his
way towards me. In turning at the sound
of their approach, he slipped and went
down upen the ice.
Our people long looked for Carry Ma
son, but did not find her tilt next morning.
They then went down on the ice and found
her corpse. The wolves had not pinked
her crushed bones. I. thank God for that.
The fall partially broke the ice, and the
oozing water, had frozen and fastened her
long black hair as it had flouted out. The
wolf had not released his death grasp and
his teeth were buried in her pure white
shoulder.
The spring sunshine and birds, and
green leaves had come again, as I tottered
out. My sister led rue to a grave on the
river's bank—the grave of all my youth
ful hopes, and all that I loved. The wild
flowers were already starting on the sa
cred mound. I wept over them and bless
ed them, for they were blooming over the
grave of Carry.
The Garden.
The last number of Blackwood contains
a capital article with the above title, and
the season is one in.which those who delight
in this pleasant pastime begin to look
around the garden. It is not unbecoming
in one of the best writers who adorns the
pages of this Magaxine, to say that he feels
his affections gradually concentrating on
hls garden, for if divine wisdom placed the
perfect man in a garden to dress and keep,
it, the place and duty must have been di
vinely congenial with the exercises of an
unclouded reason and an undepraved heart.
The love of man's primeval calling seems
yet to linger fondly in the bosom of .the
exiled race; boyhood and the succeeding
period of immature manhood, with their
tutnultary passions and noisy pleasures,'
show themselves alien to the tranquil de
lights of the garden; but “years that bring
the philosphie mind," and that chasten hu
manity with their mildening influence, con
duct the belated pilgrim back to the gar
den, and teach him there to fled pleasures
serene and unalloyed.
We often wonder why se many who have
around them a spare piece of our mother
earth, neglect to adorn it with the flowers
and plants which will shed upon them, in
the Bumper time, "an incense—breathing
morn." There is nothing which tends more
to throw around a home, however humble
it may be, an air of elegance and taste,
and to give bite residents real reflfieniont;
than the cultivation of a garden. It is a
school in which none are taught the vices
of the world, and we cannot question but
that many aro kept pure, amid the toils
and temptations of life, : by the calm enjoy
ment of horticultural pleasures. We trust
that these on the outskirts of our town,
who possess the necessary plot of ground,
will adopt this cheap inethcd of ornament
ing their houses. It is not all who . can
boast fine residences or costly fur/ante,
but there is not a home, however humble,
which eann?t, be deocorated by those natu
ral attractions which bloom alike in the
gardens of the rich and poor.
As the spring opens us, let many who
have almost forgotten their early hours, -
when they rambled through fields fra
grant with perfume, recall, by the culture
of flowers and plants, the earlier and bet
ter periods of life. Mt them tilled around
their homes the sacred influence of natur
al beauty, and deck the rooms devoted to
family union, with flowers which charm and
soften the erring or the tempted. No.one
can tell how much happier one can go forth
from such a home, than from ono of
wretched amid squalid poverty, in which no
form of beauty enters. The hours devo
ted to the garden will not be lost. The
pleasure thus gained will last when the
wintry winds have withered up even the
lilac embus of Autumn. There will still
remain a breath of fragrance and a form of
beauty which the first glance of 4 . 1'14 can
waken into life.
Politeness tii Dunning.
An old gentleman had owed a firm for
years; at last, after every-body's patience
and temper were exhausted, a clerk named
Frank undertook to get the money.
Frank galled upon the gentleman, and
met mttil' a polite reception, and the usual
answer, with the addition, "You need not
trouble yonrself, young man, .about the
matter; I will make it all right."
• "0,.n0," replied Frank, "I could not
think fat' a moment of compelling you to
call at the store for a few dollars. It will
not be the slightest inconvenience. for me
to stop in, as I pass your place of bniiness
six times a day, to and from wy meals, and
I can call every time I go by."
"Here," said the oid fellow to h'is book
keeper, alarmed at the prospect of being
dunned six tiiues a day for the next six
monthr, "pay this impertinent rascal.—
He can beat me in politeness, and if ho
wants a situation: I will give him two
thousand dollars a year."
Cr A celebratedr;medy is thus puffed:
'A customer called to-day to say that his
wife accidentally dropped a little of our
celebrated hair oil on the entry flour last
night, and this morning discovered a splen
did hair mat in the entry.'
If you would succeed in business
use Irlenty of printer's ink.
(II
codiiool,lXlt4)
The Free Press of England.
Ever since Louis Napoleon set the ex
ample of trampling it, as he trampled the
constitution and liberties of his country,
out of existence, the freedom of the press
has experienced a decline in Europe; and if
he, aud the other imperial and royal gen
try who have a common interest with him
in the matter, are suffered to have their
wey, the time will doubtless come when
this lamp of hope, intelligence, and civil
security will be put out, and the privilege
of free discussion be known only as an in-
stitution,of the new world. The coup
(1' chit •wts not merely an aid to the restor
ed chiefs of the older despotic states Jlke
Austria and, Prussia; it encouraged many
of the constitptionel governments to attack
the press, limiting freedom Under the pre
text of restraining its license. It has been
completely brought under control in Spain;
it is held in more or less check in Bel
gium, Sardinia, and even in Switzerland;
and indeed, real freedom can hardly be
said now to exist in Eur Ope, out of Great
Britain—where it is practically greater
perhaps, because less tied by party tram
mels and the influence of local feeling and
coteries, than in this country—and where
is eertaiuly deemed by the sovereigns of
the continet a worse evil than it is this
country. Wherever they rule, the ten
dency is from bad to worse; and English
men have more than ordinary reason to re
joice that they possess a palladium of ra
rbonal liberty which so many senseless mil
lions around them have tamely suffered to
e torn froM their hands.
Under these circumstances, we must
confess to having read with surprise the
remarks recently made in the House of
Commons by Mr. Disraeli deploring the
tone adopted by the British press, and by
certain members of the new government in
late public speeches made by them, towards
tho Emperor of France. As regards the
ministers, the attack of the ex-Chancellor
of the Exchequer was, doubtless, justified
as well by the circumstances as by the im
prescriptible right of the "outs" to make
war upon the "ins." Sir James Graham,
who was one of the speakers alluded to,
and who had handled Napoleon HI with-
Oui gloves, might, in defence, assert his
right, and dsolare that "if ho was net free
to say what he thought, lie was not fit to
be a minister;" yet, it must be conceded,
it is neither very prudent nor very canoni
cal for a member of a Cabinet to abuse.a
government with which he thinks it desi
rable to maintain friendly relations.—
Here, therefore, Dfsradi had a show of
reason on his side; but it was strange—it
was worse than strange—it was lamenta
ble, it was humiliating to hear him, a mem
ber of Parlament and late minister, find
ing fault with the British press, to .whieh
too, he said, ho belonged, for this freedom
wherewith it reviews the acts of the Em
peror of France. Are we to take this as
a sign that the infection is spreading to
England that there are persons there—
public men—writing men—who think the
freedorn,of the press an evil which ought
to be abated l Is it really to be regret
ted that the British journals are allowed
to say things of Louis Napoleon and his
acts which are not agreeable to his impe
rial taste add wishes 1 We may acquaint
Disraeli, we
.suppose, of any design of sug
gesting a censorship, or of any set - Alamo
of hostility against the most valued, and
most valuable, of all British institutions,
but it is scarce dossible to consider his re
marks without feeling that they involve.
something, of meaning and purpose, un
worthy, unmanly, un-English, for express
ing which he almost deserves to be hooted
out of Parliament.
What is there.m Lopis Napolemi or his
history—or in his . relations towards Great
Britian—which should elevate him above
the censure q t. her journalists? and what
has there been in their comments which
should cause an Englishman 4 single regret?
A. usurper and liberticide—the foresworn
servant of a republic which he overthrew—
the possessor of a throric which was built
upon the ruins of civil right—wearing a
crown which was waded to through blood,
lawlessly and ruthlessly shed—a 'parvenu'
despot who has inflicted imprisonment, and
exile, and confiscation upon more political •
offenders, (meaning those who preferred
free France to him) than any despot of the.
right-divine, which he pretends to despise
—a military dictator whose ambition
alarms ; and , elidangers other countries,
while it enslaves his own—the journalists;
of Britain would have been false to the
cause of liberty which they espouse, and
the interest of the English people which
they defend, had they not adopted precise
ly that tote towards him which was cer
kain to prove the most unpalatable, because
the, most appropriate and just. Could they
praise him, or praise what he has done ?
Could they remain silent ? To speak was
to censure ~,• to discuss was to denounce.-,
And yet Mr. Disraeli "deplores" the tone
they have adopted towards him. We nev
er heard that he, or any other member or
ex-member of the British government, de
plored the tone they have so frequently
adopted towards the people of the U. States,
NO. 14.
Yet in the one case they act justly, in the
other they have always acted unjustly.
France is in arms; America, though her
demagogues often threaten, has proved in
many ways that she would rather endure a
little-or more than a little-than exchange
the peace and trade, which England prizes
as much. as we, for the strife which both
countries feel would be to them unnatural.
If it be becuase France is in arms, 000upy
ing a highly equivocal or menacing position
towards England, that Mr. Disraeli makes
these remarkes, then a British ex-minister
has been, at length found in his place
in Parliament, deplores the freedom of the
British press which is asserted at the nio
meet and in the face of danger. He would
have the press unshackled when no enemy
is at hand; he would seleuce it in oomph-.
meet to a frowning foofian. If this be the
kind of sentiment which prevails, or is
countenanced in Parliament, we may well
believe that a change has come over the
proud spirit of England. Birmah
falls—
Kafirland is ravaged—towns in Honduras
are seized and bombarded—a treaty with
the United States is violated—but the
' freedom of the press is lamented in Eng
' land when it offends a millitary chief of
France.who meditates the revenge of inva- .
sion. Whet, Napoleon the First complain
ed of the same evil, the, British Ministers
that day threw open to him their courts of
law, and he was obliged to content himself
with the remedy of an action for libel. If
England was, we should think it suf;
&dent 'to offer the same mode of redress to
Napoleon lII.—N. american,
A Good One,
There is a good story told in a Scottish
newspaper. A tavern keeper in Kelso had
recently erected a shower bath in one of
his rooms, part of which was fitted itp•aa a
sort of a bar, or tap-room, as they call it
on the other side. One evening end Irish
man,
who happened to be drinking alone
with few enmpninons in one of the boxes,
rose up for the purpose of ringing for
more liquor. Looking round the room for
the bell cord, his eye fell on the rope at
tached to the shower bath. "Be Saint.
I Patrick !" said he, "I have found the belt.
lope at hest.!" and seizing it, he gave it
"strong pull, and pull altogether." In an
instant he was drenched to the skin; and
almost frantic with rage, to the no small
amusement of his companions, he roared
oat:
"Oh, be tho powers ;--is that the way
ye play thricks on travellers ? Be Japers,
if I had that big baste of a landlord for-,
ninst me, I'd soon teach him betther man
ners !"
Seven Fools.
1. The envious maa—who sends away
his wuttoon because the person next to
him is eating venison.
2. The Jealous man—who spreads his
bed with stinging nettles, and the sleeps
in it.
3. The Prond man—who., gets wet
through sooner than ride in the carriage
of an inferier. •
4. The Litigous man—who goes to law
in the hope of ruining his opponent, and
gets ruined himself.
5. The Extravagant man—who buys a
herring, and takes a cab to carry it home.
6. The Angry wan—who learns the op..
hioleide because he is annoyed by the play
ing of his neighbor's piano.
7, The Ostentatious man—who illumi
nates the outside of his house most bril
liantly, and sits inside in the dark.
A young, chap, one night came
home from church, fretting and crying at a
great rate about emoting, no ono knew
what. The father asked what was the
matter I
"The preacher says wp must all be born,
again, and I don't like to, cos I'm 'frail
nest thee I'll be a gal !"
Poor follow,
"Why don't you take a seat with
in the bar 1 , asked one gentleman of an
other, in the new court room, yesterday.
For the best reason in the world," re
plied the other; "my mother always told
we to keep out of bad company."
That'll do. But we wouldn't like to
have a case in court after saying it.—Chic.
Democrat.
ALONE!—But little do men perceive
what solitude is, and how far it extendeth;
for a crowd is not company, and faces are
but a gallery of pictures, and talk but a
tinkling cytuloal, where there is no love.—
Lord Beacon.
CC?" If you don't wiah to got angry, nev
er argue with a blockhead. Remember,
the duller the razor the more you cut your
self.
ICS What tables are most used tkrocigh.!
out the world ? Vege-tables, tea-tables,
and oard-tables.
CC"' A miser gets rioh by seeming poor,
an extravagant man grows poor by seeming
rich.