Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, April 20, 1853, Image 1
VOL. 18. TERMS. The "HmurtNunox Jounat," is published at the following yearly rates: It paid in advance If paid within the year Anil two (Whirs and fifty cents if not pnid till after the expiration of the year. No subscription will he token for a loss period than six month", aml nn paper will he tilacontinned, except at the option of the publisher. until all twee:wages are paid. Sabseri4ers living in distant connties. or in other States, wall be required to pay invariably in &draw,. _ . . . 'r he above terms will be rigidly adhered to in all cases. RATES OF ADVERTISING. One square of sixteen linen or less Fir 1 Insertion $0.50, For 1 month $1.25, 2 a p . 75, .c 3 64 2.75, 1.00, " 6 PROFFASTONAL CARDM. not exceeding ten iinng, and not changed during the year• • • •$4.00. Cord and Joirnal, in advance. 5.00, BWITNEMS CARTE of the came length, not chan ged. 53.00 and Journal in advance. 4,00 egr Short, tramient ndrertißementß will he 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. lioetttal. They Say that Thou art Poor. They say that thou art poor, Louise, And so I know thou art; But what is wealth to noble minds, Or riches to the heart? With all the wealth of India's mines, Con one great deed he bought; Or can a kingdom's ransom bring One pore and hole thought? No: vain your boasted treasure. Though earth to gold is given, Ordd cannot stretch to measure, The LOVE bestowed by heaven. They say that than art poor, Louise, And so i know than art; But why should lark of sordid pelf Throat thee and me apart? The pearls that sparkle an the lawn Onr • jewels bright shall he ; The gold that frets the early dawn Shall fill oar treasury ! Ask ye the proudest minion • Whom gold gives rule o'er earth,. Doth not our broad dominion Out-beggar all he's worth? We'll rove beside the brook at eve, When hirds their vesper song Of gentle troth and guileless love, To woods and winds prolong! And from the morning's jeweler] cup Such healthful draught we'll have, As never met the fevered lips Of fortunes gilded slave. • Could Lydian Crorstut. dearest, As wide a kingdom see As the fair realm thou !merest Belongs to thee and me? I know that thou art poor, Louise, And so indeed am I; But not the hoards of ocean's caves Our poverty could buy ! For wealth beyond the miser's thought We both alike control— The treasure of a priceless love, The riches of the noel! Then at this hour divine, love, To holy echoes given, Let thy true vows and mine, love, Be registered in heaven ! Miliellantotto. [From the Bhaton Olive Branch, Shadows and Sunbeams. DT MINNIE MINOT. CHAPTER Nora Atherton sat at her . window gazing Out at the occasional passers-by, now and then turning to watch her darling little Willie, or answer some childish question. An old lady sat near her, but her work bad fallen from her hands, and she too was looking at Willie with a proud, happy ex pression on her venerable face, and when he would ask any question, she would turn to Nora and sinile,ns touch as to say, "Did you ever hear anything like that I The little wicket gate hung On ite tin gee, and Nora turned hastily to the wind ow as a heavy footfall sounded on the walk. • "There is the minister, mother, I an► a) glad he has come; he alwayti brings news from William," said Nora, and She went. to the door to welcome him, while the old la dy smoothed the folds of her snowy cap; and rose to give him her rocking chair; with an air of respect, which in a country village is a!ways shown to 'the minister' by old and young. There was an expression of sadness on the face of good Mr. Duntim as ho entered the humble apartments and seated himself near the old lady; after de clining her proffered chair. There was a mournful cadence in his voice, as he re turned their greeting, and the pressure of his hand was warmer, and his eyes moisten ed with unshed. tears of sympathy, ati he stooped to kiss little Willie. "There are no lettere for me, are there Mr. Minton 1" asked Nora. unfingbou I "No, my daughter," he answered, and then turned hastily to the old lady, and began to talk of other things. "I suppose the mail has not arrived yet, but I shall certainly get one when it conies, for he promised to write every mail, and I have not got a lino yet," and a c:ond pass ed over her bright fade as she added, "X hope nothing has happened to him.", The shadow deepened on the minister's face, and he walked to the window to hide the tears that would come ; for it grieved his kind heart to sae the suffering of 'oth ers, and he knew before lie left the house one heart that now beat joyously and hope_ fully would be torn and desolate, and an other wounded and broken. 11,50 -1.75 “Dear Mr. Dunton, you will stay to tea with us to-night V' asked Nora, rousing herself from her reverie. The minister assented, and Nora left the room to prepare the simple repast. As soon as she was gone, Mr. Dunton drew his chair yet nearer the old lady, and said,— "Those whom the Lord loveth he alias teneth, and in the hour of trial, turn unto him and he will not desert us." The old lady turned her meek eyes up ward and murmured, "even so." "I would speak of your son, Mrs. Ath citen. I have sad news for you and Nora." The old lady looked at hit;, and while the tears rolled down her withered cheeks, her mother's heart foreboded the truth, though she feared to speak it : she only said,— "0! William, my son." The minister drew a paper from his pock et, and handed it to her; but she pressed it aside, and with a gesture signified for him to read to her. With a voice husky and mournful, he read an account of the total wreck of the vessel in which William had sailed, then dropping it on the floor he bowed his head and prayed fervently for strength for that aged mother, to bear the Ali( tion which had been sent upon her in her declining years. 11 hen he had concluded, the old lady uttered an earnest amen, and then for getful of her own great sorrow, she spoke of Nora, and the good minister's heart sunk when he thought of her. Then they glanced at Willie, who sat in his litte chair, with the newspaper that had fallen, with childish brows knit, intently studying something. At last, with a gay laugh and shout, he started from the room, crying,— •Olamma, mamma, I can do it now," and as his merry voice was heard in the next apartment, the grandmother covered her face with her bands and wept again. Nora was pt °paring tea, but Willie was used to being paid' attention to before eve ry thing else, and pulling his mother to a chair, he exclaimed,— "Mamma, do hear me now." "What darling," said Nora. "I can spell here papa has gone, and you said I was a bright boy if I could learn that." NOra took the paper, and pointing to the word in large letters at the he..d pf a col own, Willie began to spell. Her eyes glanced below the heading and hastily rais ing it she read the account the minister bud read to her mother. With the paper in her hand she rushed into the other foote, and holding it out, gasped;— "read mother," and sunk into a chair. "The old lady rose feebly; and taking her hand said,— "Do not grieve so, Nora, for the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away." "He was all, everything to lue, mother, do not try to comfort me, my heart is breaking," sobbed poor Nora. . He was my only son, the solace of my old age, but it .was His pletiettre to call him Ito Himself, whose love passeth even the love of a mother." • "You did not love him as I did, mother, the world seems all dreary and desolate now he is gone." The old lady east a half reproachful Took at Nora, but she thought of her, so yohng and lovely, left alone in the world, and with a sweet unselfishness, shO forgot her own suffering, and tried to soothe her, but in vain, and at last she sighed and turned despairingly to the minister who had been silently looking on. "Try and comfort her, dear Mr. Dunton, it is no matter about me, I am old and shall soon inset hint in another world; but she is young; and cannot bond beneath the rod." The good man rose to go to her, buy lit tle Willie, with tears in his bright, blue even, stole to her, twining his arms around her neck, with an idea that some had happened, and said, • , Dcar mamma, do not cry, I will be vo= ry good;" and laying his rosy cheek lov , Inglyto . hers, burst into tears. Nora started up, and opening her arms, drew him to her bosom and said, "Dear mother and kind Mr. Dunton, have been very selfish to trouble you so, with my grief, but if it was not for Willie, my heart would break. I have yet some thing to live for ; but leave me to myself to-night, I have need to be alone. HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, APRIL 20, 1853. Many days •and ,weeks passed away be fore the smile returned to the lips of Nora, but she was resigned and cheerfulo Her yery existence seemed bound up in Willie, and she watched him, if possible, more than her former care and solicitude. CH4PTER 11. The world, with, all its vast and varied countries and climates, has none that offers so many inducements for emigration as our land of gold, California. And thousands of that eager-hearted multitude, that, press onward towards ity find there only a. grave, or return weary hearted and travel-worn, in mind and body, to their homes and friends. Atherton started, full of hope and ambition, prepared to face dangers and dare impossibilities, for the sake of obtaining a competency for the loved ones at home. His lonely hearted wife, who was for two long years by her cheerless fireside, mourning for the one she had hoped to tread the path of life with, is only one among the many of those who have their nearest and dearest friends die in that land of wealth. As Nora sat by her fire one chilly day in early autumn, thinking of her husband, her reverie iva.l broken by the entrance of Will ie. Ile brought some bright, fall flowers he had gathered, and throwing them in her lap, he sat down wearily in a chair, and leaning back as if he was very tired; he said, "Are they not very beautiful, mamma? I gathered them for you, for • you love flowers; don't you mamma?" Nora stArted at the listless tone in Arita he spoke, so different from his usual joy ous, boyish voice. "Are you sick, 'Willie ?" she asked, anxiously gazihg at hint, to see if he show ed any symptoms of illness. "No mamma, only 1 ant very tired, and my head aches." Nora glanced uneasily at his hot fltvihed elteekS, and after tea she made him go to rest. After he was gone she leaned her head upon her hand, and thought, if Willie should be taken from her! but the idea was too dreadful, and she took up her work and tried to sew. It would not do, and Ctealing hits the next room, she stoop ed over NVillie, and pressed het• lips to his 'forehead. It was very hot, and Nora brought the light, and sat down to watch the slumbers of her darling. At last, re assured by his regular breathing, she re tired to rest. The next morning she rose and went down stairs, thinking as Willie was so tir ed, she would not wake him till breakfast. When everything was ready, she went up and opened the door softly, and saw Willie sitting up in bed talking and laugh ing: and when she spoke to him he took no noti.e, but went on talking just the same. All that duy and night Willie. went on rambling and and Nora, with a cheek that was death-like in its huo, tend ed to his every wish and want, and would not allow any of the kiwi neighbors to do anything that would relieve them, nor would she give herself one moment's re spite.' Yet Willie grew worse, and the . village doctor's face was very sorrowful, and he only answered evasively when spo ken to concerning him. At, length the fever reached its heiTht, and the doctor stool at one side of the bed, and Nora, her eyes heavy with watching and. tears, by the other, gazing into his face with an *pression so imploring, that although used to suffering, he was moved to tears by it, and his hand,. that held one of Willie's, trembled in spite of himself. Willie's blue eyes were, distended awl fear fully bril bent, end as he tossed his hands about, ho exclaimed, „. , •Ilere, dear, mamma, you shall have all the flowers;, but do not go away; for I am very tired nod my head aches;" and the little sufferer,., unconseio:ts that she was bending over hint, incessantly called upon her not to leave him: while poor ,Nora, who would have given her life for the dear one, would turn to the doctor and hitplore hint to save him. . . ..... Towards evening, the little hands tell upon the coverlet, and the bright eyes clo sed wearily, and Willie slept, while the doctor and Nora eat by his side with al most suspended breath. At length Willie opened his eyes, and feebly and s'owly murmured, "mamma," in a tone that told that reason had re turned. Nora bent, forward and pressed her lips to the wan cheek of her darling, and turn ing, saw the doctor wiping his ayes. She flew to bile, and seizing his : hand, cried, "For tie love of mercy, is, he dying The worthy man, after in vain trying to clear his voiue, said; "He is doing well, and with care will re3over," and started 4 leave the room; but Nora seized him and looking up in his honest face, tried to thank him, but the words aiouldnot cone, for ber heart was too full. Murmuring "God bless you," and overcome with watching and anxiety. ph6 would have fal- len if smile one had not caught her in his arms. When she opened her eyes, oho saw a ' countenance that seemed strangely familiar gazing at Ler: and starting, .she looked steadily a moment, and then with a cry of joy she threw herself into the arms of her husband. The good dortor with a sly laugh, slip ped out, muttering, "I don't think she needs um any longer;" and when, a few minutes after, some one said his eyes look ed red, he said they always did in damp days. 1. illiam Atherton and many of the pas sengers were saved when the vessel was wrecked; they escaped in a boat, and reached an island where he stayed ever since, unable to reach home. He returned as poor as he started, and pith as good a will, went to work with his labor brown hands, for those he once left to brave the perils of a voyage to Cali fortia. •. Nora Atherton !snow a happy wife and mother, but she never thinks of the day that her husband and child were restored to, her, though in different ways, that her heeit does not rise in thankfulness to him "who doeth all thingi well." The Throne of Sol Onion. The following account of a remarkable piece of mechanism is taken from a Persian manuscript called "The History of .Jerusa lem." It purports to be a description of the throne of King Solomon, and if the de tails are correctly given, it midonbtedly surpassed any specimen of mechanistn.pro duced in modern times, notwithstanding the wonderful inventions and improvethnnts which have lately takeroplace in, every branch of science :—"The sides of it were of pure gold, the feet of emerald and ru bies, intermingled with pearls, each of which was as big as an ostrich egg. The throne had seven steps; on each side were delineated orchards full of trees, the branches of which were composed of pre cious stones, rnpresenting fruit, ripe or un ripe; on the top of the trees were to be seen figures of beautiful plumaged birds, particularly the peacock, the etaub, and th; kurges. All these birds were hollow ed within artificially, so as occasionally to utter a thousand melodious notes, such as the ear of mortal has never heard. On the first step were delineated vine branches, having bunches of grapes, composed of va rious sorts of precious stones, fashioned in such a manner as to represent the different colors of purple, violet, green Mid red, An as to render the appearance of ; real fruit. On the second step, on each side of the throne, were tyro lions, of terrible aspect., as large as life; and formed of cast gold.— The nature of this remarkable throne was such, that when the prophet Solomon pla ced his fret on the first step, the birds spread for th their wings and made a flut tering noiso in the air. On his touching the second step, the two lions expand 'd their claws. On his reaching the third step, the whole assem%ly of demons and fliries and men repeated the praises of the Deity. When he arrived at the fourth step, voices were heard addressing hint in, the following manner : —"Son of David, he thankful for the blessings the Almighty' has bestowed upon you." The same was repeated on his reaching the fifth step.— On his touching the sixth, all the children of Israel joined them; and on his arrival at the seventh,,all the throne, birds and Ani mals, became in motion, and ceased not un til he had placed himself in the roya) seat, when the birdp; lions and other anbcals, by secret springs, discharged a shower of the most precious perfumes on the prophet, after which two of the kurgeses descended and platted a golden crown upon his head. Before the throne was a column of burnish ed gold, Mt the top of which was a golden dove, which held in its beak a volume bound in silver. In this book were writ ten the Psalms of David; and the dove hav ing presented the book to the King, he read aloud a portion of it to the children of Is rael. It further related, that on the approach of wicked persons to the throne, the limis were wont to set up a terrible roaring; and lash their, tails with violence; the birds .also began to blistle up their featherti . ; And the asseini4 Also of demons and genii to utter horrid erica,. so that for fear of them no person dared be guilty of falsehood, but confessedtbeir crimes. Such was the throne of Solomon, the son of Da vid." r? ""Madam," seitf..a cress-tempered physician to a patient, "if women were ad mitted to paradise, , their. tengues would make it a purgatory." "And some phy sicians, if allowed to, practice there," re plied the lady, "would soon make it a des ert." "The fish "most out of water," in the "wide world,!' is a bashful man at a party, whore ho has but one acquintanoe, and that acquaintance quite as modest a waaouline as himself. What a pair! Ti Make hay while the MI) shines. G- \ r r <0 tt f* C 2 Eloquent Extract. The following beautiful comparison is from a lecture recently delivered at St. Loris by T. F. Meagher on Australia: One fair morning, towards the close of, this summer, I stood in a field that over-, looked the Hudson. I was struck with the glowing ripeness of the fruit which waved around me, and broke into an ex pression of delight. It seemed to me the most glorious I had seen in any clime—the most glorious the earth could bring forth. “Toat seed" said one who stood by, "came from Eg!pt." . _ It had been buried in the tombs of Kingo—had lain with the dead for three thousand years. But though wrapped in the shroud, and looked within the pyramids, it died not. It lived in silence—lived in darkness—lived under the mighty mass of stone, r liyed with death itself—and now the dust of the Kings has been disturbed— that they have been called and move not —that.,. the bandages have been removed, and they. open not their eyes—behold the seed giyes forth life and the fields rejoice in its glory. And thus it is that the energies, the in stincts, the faith, all the victims which have been crushed elsewhere, have been entombed. elsewhere, in these virgin soils revive, and that which seemed mortal be conies. imperishable. And thus it is that reviving here, the seed will multiply, and, borne.back.to the ancient lands, will pea -1 ple the..plapes that are desolate ; and with the song pf the harvest, wildernesss shall be made glad. Children of the old world, be of good cheer ! Whilst in the homea—by the Rhine, the Seine, the Danube and the Arno, the Shannon and the Suir, in the homes you have left, the wicked seem to prosper, and spurious Senates provide for the offspring of the tyrant, even to the third and fourth generations. Freedom strengthens herself in these lands, and, in the midst of count less hosts, concentrates the power by which the captive shall be redeemed, and the evil lord dethroned. This shall he the glory of Australia!— this shall be the glory of America. Territory of Washington, The recent territory organized at the late session of Congress comprises all that portion of Oregon Territory lying and be ing south of the forty-ninth degree of north latitude, and north of the middle of the north channel of the Columbia river, from its mouth to where the forty-sixth degree of north latitude crosses said river near Fort Wallawalla, thence north of said forty-sixth degree of latitude to the Rooky Mountains. The title to the land within these limits, not exceeding 640 acres, oc cupied ad missionary stations among the Indians, or which were so occupied before Oregon w,s organized into a territory, is confirmed to the religious societies to which the missionaries belong. The President of the United States appoints the Gover nor, secretary and, judicial authorities.— The Legislature is to consist of a council of nine members elected for three years, and a I louse of Representatives of eighteen members elected fur one year..,,The num ber of representatives may be increased to thirty by uct of . the Legislature. Every white male inhobitant over 21 years of age, who was a resident of the territory. on the 2tl instant, not clonging to the army and navy, and who ; if not a citizen of the United States, has declared on oath his intention to become such, is entitled to vote at the first election of which the Gov ernor is to aupoint time and places; but the Legislature is to prescribe the qualifi cation of voters at subsequent elections. United States property cannot be taxed; nor can any higher tax be levied on the property of non-residents than residents.— Congress has a veto on all laws passed by the Legislature. Tho Territorial Legisla ture is expressly prohibited from granting banking powers or privileges , and from is suing scrip or other evidence of debt.— The territory is to be represented, like other territories, by a delegate in Con gress. Section 16 and 36 of the Public Lands, when surveyed, are to be ;reserved for the a‘ipport of Common Schools in the Territory. Ugly Custonack•e. Mackey, in his entertaining work .on American Life and Manners, tolls the fol lowing story of the Mississippi fashions: dispute baying arisen between two gambler'', one of them drow,from his belt a huge ,Bowie knife, and flourished it before his antagonist, directing his attention to the words etched upon the steel, which were “Ilark front the toutim." • . , The ether, without being at all alarmed, drew forth one of ctolt!s,six barreled revol vers, and putting it before the eyes pf his opponent, pointed to the motto upon the cylinder—"A doleful sound." These two quotations form together a part of a well known hymn; and the 00-in cidenee so surprised the heligerents that they settled their dispute without resort to the nutinour oracles in question. NO. 16. ft arf cultural. Choking Cattle. We recollect well, when upon a farm, some years ago. in the fall, a fine cow got choked, as cattle often do, upon apples and potatoes, and would have died, if the ob stacles bad not been removed front the passage to the stomach where it was lodged. Various old remedies were tried to no put. pose... Presently one recollected a remedy propend in an Agricultural paper a few• weeks before. It is to put a stout line around the neck just below the ,substance, which can be felt with the hand on the outside, and draw it close... This prevents the piece of apple or potato, or whatever it may be, from falling back when the animal makes an effort to throw it out, which it will almost always do directly, when assis ted in this way. The remedy was at once successful. '1 he offending morsel proved to be the half of a bard apple. So this little scrap of newspaper kiowledge• was in this instance, worth a fine cow of thirty or forty dollars. Ho* can we know before hand, what kind of knowledge is going to be most beneficial to us 7 We cannot.— And there is hardly any information, es pecially in our owo business, that will not sometime or other, in the long tun, turn out to be of great value to us.—Ha. Gems for Farmers. To raise good cattle, a farm should in such a state that it would produce good corn, good cabbages, or good clover. . An increase ci! farm products lessens the market price, and the consumer is more benefitted than the producer. Therefore the enconrage.i.ent of agriculture is the interest of the whole people. It is the first duty of States to encourage agricultu ral improvement. The brightness of the plow-share will prove a better security to our republican institutions than all the windy patriotism of long speeches in Congress. Tie who encourages young men in the ptirsuit of agriculture, is doing a -good work for ,the morals of society a hundred years hence. • All the true honorer happiness there is in this world follows labor. Wore it not for workine-men there could be no pro gress in either science or 'art. Working, men are earth's true nobility. Those who live without work are all paupers. To PREVENT 1100 s ROOTING.—AIways keep them in a close pen, with a plank floor, where they will make enough of manure, if furnished with materials, to pay for keep ing, besides the constant gain in flesh at tendant upon the animal in a state of con finement. But if you are still groping in that heathenish darkness which prevents you from seeing how uncivilized the prac tice of letting your swine roam over your farm like the evil one, going to and fm over the world, seeking whom he may devour, and really desire to prevent them from rooting up the meadows, you may do so by a out across the nose, down to the bone just above the gristle of the snout, by which you sever the nossal, tendon, without seri ously injuring his beauty. Sometimes, in in healing, the tendon will unite and re store his mischievous power. In that ease you must cut again. SIMPRER FOR LICE ON CALVES, &O.— The September number of the Sleek. Re gister, quoting from the Genesee Farmer, reeconuended sulpher fed• to animals as death to all such vermin. 1 tried it on some calves so covered with lice that the outer ends of their hairs were thick with thent:i Tobacco and other remedies had but Little effect. I fed in salt and meal. giving a spoonful to each calf about twice a week. In two weeks not a louse could be found. A neighbor who has often used this same remedy on all kinds of animals, with perfect success, assures me it should be given in fair weather as the animals housed, else there is *liability to taking cold and injury being done to the animal. ; BAKED HAM.—Moot persons boil ham. It is touch better baked, if baked right.— Soak it for an hour in clean water and wipe it dry, and then spriad it all over with thin batter, and then put into a deep dish, with sticks underit to keep it out of the gravy. When it is fully done, take off the skin and batter crusted upon the flesh side, and set it away to cool. You will find it very delicious, but too rich for dyspeptics. To FA Mt Mir --The Hartford MSC: mentions a farmer who took up a fence af ter it had been standing fourteen years, and found some of the poets nearly sound, and others rotted off at the bottom. Look ing for the cause he discovered that the posts •hioh had been inverted from the way they grew were solid and those which bad been set as they grew were rotted off. This is certainly au incident worthy of be_ ing noted by our farmers. reThe AID ie never the worse fur ebs Ding nn a dungbill.