Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, September 13, 1854, Image 1

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We miss thee at home—we miss thee,
And oh, we wish thou wert here,
To linger with us round the fireside,
And share in the evening's cheer,
To list to the voices of loved ones,
And the wish that thou never would'st roam;
Oh, yes, 'twould be joy without measure,
Dearest brothergthou would'st come home.
We miss thee at home—we miss thee,
When the pleasures of evening are nigh,
When the sun hath retired in splendor,
To his home in the western sky;
And the moon is shining so brightly,
On the family circle at home;
Oh, then, we miss thee, we miss thee,
And sigh that thou still dog roam.
We miss thee at home, we miss thee,
When we all kneel down to pray.
And the tears start from our eyelids.
As we wonder how long thou wilt stay;
If before the Winter is over,
And the cold snow leaveth the earth,
Thou wilt not Meet in our circle,
And cheer our desolate hearth.
But, oh ! when the spring time corneal,
And the birds from a distant shore,
Then, may we not hope to fold thee,
At home, in our arms once more ;
To kneel with on in the gravelard,
O'er that dear little, sacred tomb.
And mingle thy tears, dearest brother,
With those thou bast lett at home.
*ticct Cale.
From the Model American Courier.
"This is not the same country that it was for
ty years ago. When I first squatted at the foot
of yonder dark mountain you see away to the
north, I bad to live like an Indian in a wig
wam, for ever fourteen years. I remember
when the field we are uow standing in was cov
ered with a dense forest of hemlocks; now you
don't see a stump. I remember wh.n, for twen
ty miles round, the most splendid mansion to
be met with was a log cabin, of one room, with
:boys and girls as the principal furniture. Now,
sir, just look around you, and count from fif
teen to twenty good frame buildings, all polish
ed off in red and white paint. I feel that the
world is running away from me; it goes too
fast for the ideas of an old man, and I must
even lot it go. I love to think of the past, and
look forward to the future. Recollections of
the past, and the hopes connected with the fu
ture, are all that is left me now."
Thus spoke Mr. 8., a resident of a northern
county in the State of New York. Anxious to
hear a little more of things incidental to the
life of a hardy forest pioneer, we invited the
old man to take a seat on the fence, where we
had ourself come to anchor. With our invita
tion he cheerfully complied, seeming happy at
having met with one who appeared to take an
.interest in the things of by-gone days.
"For," said he, "the world now-a-days is all
go-ahead, seldom taking time to look behind/
"Had you any gristmills, or stores," said we,
"in the early days of this settlement?"
"Well," said the old man, "do you HOC that
large spruce, that stands by itself a little to the
east of a red building?'
We replied that we saw the tree.
"Well, there stood the first and only mill the
settlement had for sixteen years, and it was
just fifteen miles from my cabin. I consider•
ed myself very lucky in living so nigh the mill,
as we had to back all our grain, at least for
the most part. As for stores, wo bad little use
for them, and had none nigher than Sandy
Hill, about forty miles south. Some neighbor
would go out occasionally, and bring in tobac•
co, snuff, and such like indispeosables; besides,
the 'Squire, when he went out to got his barrel
filled; would bring up any knick knacks the
women wanted."
"What did the 'Squire fill his barrel with?—
Had you a rum•selling tavern in those days?"
"Not exactly a tavern, like the taverns, they
have now•a•days, but we had two grind•elones,
one in my neighborhood, and one about ten
Milcs north. Old 'Squire S--, he is now
t fluntingbon ‘Ol/TII t.
dead; some said he made way with himself, but
that was never fully known. Mr. S— moved
into this country about two years before I mo
ved in; he was a pretty cunning old fellow, un
derstood himself very well, at least he thought
he did; but all did not end well with him. When
he came into the country, he brought with him
a grind-stone and a barrel of whiskey, two very
good pieces of property in those days, and the
man who had them, was pretty sure to pick up
nll the loose change that was afloat. When
money failed, a bushel of corn would answer,
and when corn failed, a day's chopping was al
ways good. Many an acre of land did the 'Squire
clear with a few gallons of whiskey. Every
man had an axe, and you know axes will get
dull, then they must be carried to the grind
stone, and as Mr. S— could not afford to
have his stone worn out for nothing, all was
kept straight by spending a sixpence or shilling
in whiskey. Before one barrel was out, the
'Squire would always manage to have another
on the spot; and on this account he was consid
ered a public benefactor, and was elected
'Squire, an office which he held for more than
twenty years. I shall never forget the last
time I was at the grind-stone. Never! NEVER!
shall I forget that day I"
"What happened on that day," said we, "that
makes you remember it so well ?"
"Why, if you have time to hear it, I will tell
you the whole story. It does me good to talk
of the wonderful and merciful ways of God. I
was once a wicked man, stranger, very wicked,
a blasphemer, an infidel, and a drunkard. Ah!
I was a Heaven-daring wretch, but I trust that
I have been forgiven. I was going to tell you
about the last time I was at the 'Squire's grind
stone. Well, I started one fine morning in
the latter part of May, with a bushel of corn on
my back, and, as the day was long, and I had
got an early start, I thought I could get out to
mill and back again by night. Indeed it was
necessary that I should return the same day,
as I did not leave a pound of meal in the house.
We were dependent mainly upon meal and
milk fora living, as pork at that season of the
year was pretty scarce. I did not take my axe
that morning, as I was in the habit of doing,
having determined not to make any atop at the
'Squire's, although it lay in my way. Having
got along to within about half a mile of the
house, I was overtaken by three of my neigh
hors, with their axes, going to have a grind,
and of course the stone must be wet. They
invited me to turn in and partake with them,
in a drop of the new barrel, for it had been re
ported that a barrel of a very superior quality
bad arrived a few days previous. Of course I
did not need much pressing. The new stock
was pronounced by all hands to be excellent,
and I turned the grind-stone and drank whis
key until noon. I now thought it time to start
for the mill, and it did seem to me that I walk
ed on a great deal faster by the help of the spir
it than I otherwise could have done. I made
no doubt but that I could get home by night.
But for all the speed with which I was getting
over the ground, I found, on arriving at the
mill, that I had been five hours in travelling
nine miles. I could not believe it, but the mil
ler showed me his noon mark and calculated
the time so that there could be no mistake.—
He told me that the water was low, and he
could not do my grinding short of an hour. It
was not a mill like the mills we have nowa
days, that can grind a bushel of corn in a glify.
Somewhat sobered, I felt vexed at this state of
things; I saw plainly I could not get home that
night, and my children must go to bed supper
less. I felt ready to cry, for no man ever lov
ed his children more than I did; drunkard that
I was, my heart was never clean gone. I cur
sed the 'Squire's grind-stone, whiskey barrel
and all. but it was of no use; my cursing did
not mend the matter in the least. At last, I
thought the children might make out with milk
for supper for one night, and I should get home
bright and early in the morning. I got my
grist about an hour before sun-down, and re
turned four miles, when I put up at the house
of a neighbor, (we were all neighbors, within
twenty miles.) I was up in the morning, as
soon as it begun to get light, and while enga
ged with a bowl of bread and milk, some one
knocked; the woman of the house went to the
door, and was asked by the young man if Mr.
B. was there. Being told that he was, the
man entered, and coming up to me, said—
" Mr. 8., two of your children are lost in the
"I told him he Bed, for I knew not what I
said, but had some kind of thought that the
man wanted to scare me."
"It is true," he said; "and I have been down
at the mill, looking after you. And some of
the neighbors have been hunting for the chil
dren all night."
"I saw the man was in earnest. I cannot
describe my feelings, stranger, at that moment.
Did ever you feel as if the earth was sinking
away from under your feet, and the whole
weight of the heavens coming down upon your
head? Did you ever feel your heart knocking
against your breast as a sledge.hammer, and
threatening to force a passage up through your
throat? If you ever felt so, you know some
thing of my feelings on that terrible morning.
But, after all, my feelings did not bewilder me,
nor render me inactive. I rushed from the
house like a madman—soon leaving the mes
senger and the grist far behind. Neither stump,
stone nor fallen tree impeded my course. I
was young, then, and few men more fleet afoot
than I was in those days. I remember noth
ing of my thoughts, until I had got within half
a mile of my own house. I then began to con
jecture which of my children it could be that
was lost, (for I had forgot that the man men
tioned two). Could it be my own dear little
Nelly who used to come dancing to meet her
father every night, with her little eyes spark
ling like diamonds? Whether I came home
drunk or sober, Nelly was always rejoiced to
meet me."
"Have you any children, air?'
We answered in the ullirmative
"You will not wonder, then, at the old man's
tears, when remembering and speaking of the
strong pure love of a little daughter. But none
can tell how dear a child is, until lost in the
woods. It is nothing, comparatively nothing,
to lay a child in the grave. I have had the ex
perience of both; the one is a hard thing but
the other awfully terrible. As I came in sight
of my house, a new idea struck me—a strange
idea to enter a head like mine. I thought, now,
if there is a God, he can save my child. I
don't know why it was, but for the first time in
my life I felt sure that there was a God. My
infidelity had in a moment completely vanish.
ed, and I roared aloud again and again, '0
Lord! save the lost child of a poor sinnerf—
This was the first prayer that I ever had utter
ed—but, thank Godl it was not the last. I
discovered, on approaching the house, a few
men standing about the door, and as soon as I
could make myself heard, I inquired which of
my children was lost. I was informed it was
Nelly and Jamie. This was a dreadful blow;
but the madness of my grief had passed away
with my infidelity, and I repeated, 'Lord save
the lost child of a poor sinner.' On entering
the house, I found my wife and six remaining
children huddled together in a corner. They
had all cried until their faces were swollen, and
my wife looked the picture of utter despair.—
She could not speak, and I could only say, 'Ohl
Mary, Mary!'"
"The children came clinging around me,
their faces grew brighter, they felt sure that
their father could find Nelly and Jamie. I kis
sed them all, and told them they must stay in
the boson with mother until I came back. I
was about to join the men at the door who were
deliberating upon the best plan of proceeding,
when my wife rose from her seat, and laying
hold on my arm, said—
" John, the Lord can save our children."
"Yes, yes," said I, "but I have been a very
wicked man—a very great sinner, yet maybe
the Lord will forgive, and save our dear chil
"Arrangements wero now made for commen
cing the search. We were to go forth two and
two, each party having a gun, and if either
party should be successful in finding the chil
dren alive, the fact should be announced by
the firing of six guns, and if dead, three guns.
"Perhaps I had better give you some idea of
the geography of the woods. My h ouse wa s
situated about a mile from the toot of the moun
tain to the nortln—along the base of the moun
tain runs a considerable stream, rock rose on
rock up to the very summit of the mountain;
so steep and rugged, that a deer could hardly
get a foot-hold. With the exception of two or
three small fields, all the diftance from the
Douse to the brook was covered with heavy tim
ber. It was while hunting up the cows, about
the clearing, that the children got lost, and it
was reasonable to suppose that they could nei
ther cross the stream, nor climb the mountain,
being only eight and six years of age. We
therefore determined to confine our search be
tween the house and north branch of the brook,
extendinp a few miles east and west. Doctor
P—, who was my companion in the search,
said all he could to cheer me, but that was a
dreadful day. I could not take time to walk,
but ran from one thicket to another, calling out
with all strength, Nelly, Nelly I Jamie, Jamie!
But no Nelly, no Jamie answered. No gun
was fired during the day; and night, a very
dark night, began to set in. I determined to
continue the search, but the Doctor persuaded
me to return home, saying, we should have
more help by morning, and would go in larger
"We accordingly returned; found the others
had got in before us, but no traces of the lost
ones had been discovered. Fires were now
kindled upon all the knolls round about the
house, and a little after night aboht twenty
men joined us. The news had gone out thro'
the neighboring towns; and they all turned out,
every man with his bag of provisions and his
gun, determined they said to find them dead or
"In the course of the night, about thirty
more arrived, so that by morning we mustered
between fifty and sixty men. My hopesof find
ing them alive were getting very feeble, ypt I
spent the night praying: '0 Lord, save my poor
little children.' The sufferings of my wife du•
ring that long, long dark night, were awful,
and may not be described. She sat in thedoor
watching for the first dawning ofday, and when
she saw the light, she leaped for joy, as if the
day would bring back her lost infants.
" 'Ah l it has been a long night !' she said,
'the longest and darkest that I ever saw. Poor
little Kelly—poor little Jamie; where have you
been all night? Why don't you come to your
own mother, who has watched all the night
long, for your coming?'
"I thought my cup of affliction was already
full, but I now saw that some might be added.
I was afraid my Wife was about to lose her ma
son. On being pressed to go and taken little
rest, she gazed on me for a momet, and replied,
"Yes, John, I will rest--I will try to give
them up to the hands of God. We have been
great sinners; but He is a great God, and very
"I felt relieved; she promised to go to bed,
and we all prepared to renew the search. As
we were about to start, the 'Squire made his
appearance, and on his back a small keg of
whiskey; he said he had been from home un
til late last night, or he should have come soon
er to our assistance. He then drew some of
the spirit, and offered it to me."
"No," said I; "'Squire, I have drank my last
glass, and it has been paid for with the lives of
my two lovely children."
"What do you mean?" said the 'Squire ; "I
don't understand you."
"Well," said I, "if I bad not tarried six
hours at your grindstone, as 1 wont to mill, I
should have got home the same day, and my
children would have been all here this morning.
Yes, sir, I have paid a fearful price for illy last
glgs either Toe ur I ure (heir mordcrre.:'
"I was sorry I said quite so much to the
'Squire, but I felt all that I said.
"Some of the men took a little of the spirit,
and our plan of operation being settled, we di.
vided into two lines, extending from the fields
to the brook, one line moving west, the other
east, every man keeping within a few rods of
his right hand man, and in this order the whole
line moved forward, making careful examina
tion as they progressed. That day passed away
like the former ; no gun was fired, no traces
found. At night, we again met at the house,
tired and hopeless. Over ten miles, from east
to west, had been so closely examined, that no
living thing, the size of a woodchuck, could
have escaped detection. The men looked ex
hausted and sad. All hopes of finding them
alive had now fled, and but little, if any hopes
remained, of finding their bodies. Some seem
ed to think any father effort useless. I thought
so myself. and yet trembled, lest they should a
bandon the search. I went into the house,while
the men kindled their fires and prepared to cook
their supper. I found my poor wife much
calmer than when we left in the morning. She
said she was sure that God would do right.--
She had spent the day reading from a few
leaves of an old Bible, which we had in the
house, andl it had given her much strength and
comfort. The old book was once complete,
and belonged to my father; he brought it from
Rhode Island with him, but when he died,
there were none left in my house that cared
about reading it, and it got tore up and destroy
ed; only about a third remaining; but I found
that even in what was left there was a blessing.
I have got the old leaves yet.
`•Our friend, the Doctor, gave us all the con
solation he could; told us how long a person
could live without food, and insisted that there
was still hope.
"If any spark of hope remained in our hearts,
it had completely died away by morning. That
night about eleven o'clock, some flashes of
lightning were seen in the south, and in less
than an hour a most fearful thunder storm ra
ged around us. Rain fell in torrents, the wind
blew with destructive violence. The crashing of
trees, tore up by the roots, or twisting,splitting
and snapping like reeds, seemed louder and
more dreadful than the roaring of the thunder,
or the hissing flash of the lightning. I really
thought I could see the huge and broken limbs
of the fallen trees mangling the dead or dying
bodies of my helpless infants. I have seen no
thunder storm like that since. The morning at
last came: it was mild and beautiful: the sun
rose without a cloud, and the men,though much
exposed to the violence of the storm, during its
continuance, had early re-kindled their fires,
cooking their breakfast, and were preparing
foe another day's search. The plan was chang
ed, and they went oat in two's and three's
wherever each party should think best; the sig,
nabs, however, were to remain the same as
agreed on at first. This day, for the first time,
I began to find my strength failing me. I had
to set down and rest every half-hour. I would
sometimes fancy I could hear the report of a
gun, and would hold my breath to hear the re
port repeated, but no repitition would follow.
As evening settled down upon the woods, we
again assembled at the house. Every face now
wore an expression of deep settled hopeless
ness. and little for a time was said. At last
the question was put to the Doctor:
"Shall we continue the search?"
"A pause followed, but the Doctor added,
for one will not give it up.'
'So said the greater part; but the prospect
of finding the children was so doubtful, that
about fifteen left during the night. In the
morning, we mustered forty men. All seemed
quite discouraged. And the question again
occupied their minds, whether it was best to
renew the search or not. The whole seemed
to waver, and finally all came to the conclusion
that farther efforts would be useless.
"I went to the house, found the Doctor, and
informed him of the conclusion to which two
men had come. I begged he would endeavor
to change their minds just to try one day
more, and then I should be resigned to my
fate, whatever it might be; I did not expect
to find them alive, but I thought it would be a
great comfort to know they were buried. My
with on hearing the determination of the men,
went out, and plead with all the earnestness
of a bereaved mother, that they would try one
day more—only one day more ! The men (for
they were men, and could not stand a mother's
tears,) quickly replied, to satisfy her, they
would continue the search another day, not
that they had the slightest expectation of find
ing the children. We all went out in a body,
spreading in every direction, and every man
taking his own course. I had got about two
miles from the house, when, near noon, I dis.
tinetly heard the report of a musket. I fell
down as if a bullet had gone through my heart.
There I lay breathless, trembling in every limb.
Another loud report, like that of a c unnon—l
jumped to my feet, staggered forward a few pa
ces, and fell again to the earth. A third re
port soon followed, and then all was stil. The
story was now told—the dear children were
found, but they were dead
"Oh ! the agony of that moment! I feel it
yet. I rolled on the earth—l strove to be calm
—I tried to do reconciled—tried to thank God,
for restoring their dead bodies. I would look
once more upon the face of my little Nelly and
Jamie, although they would no more come to
meet their father, I remembered my poor wife
and rose from the earth. I knew she needed
my support, little that it could be, in such af
flicting circumstances.
"When I had got within half a mile of my
home, I was startled by the report of a gun;
another and another followed in quick success
sioo, and for eight or ten minuets there was
nothing but firing. All this perplexed me—l
knew not what to make of it. At last I tho't the
men had all got in, and were dicharging their
guns, that had been loaded for several days.
"Asl approached the linnse, a scene presen•
ted itself which if., think that the men
lee! nil one 'qr. mad. They were dancing,
and shouting, and capering in the most extrav
agant manner. Can tho children be dead,tho't
I, and all this going on I I rushed through the
crowd, and as I entered the house, little Nelly
sprang into my arms, crying, 'Here comes my
father, here comes my own father l' Poor
Jamie was-alive, but he was very feeble, and
that was enough.
"When the weeping spell was over, I inquir
ed where they had been found, and who found
them? As soon as the Doctor could speak, he
came forward and said that himself and Mr. T.
had taken a direction that led them to the bank
of the stream and the foot of the mountain.—
The ground had been gone over before,yetthey
thought it might be well to examine a little
more carefully the bank of the brook. It was
not long before they discovered the prints °flit
tle bare feet, apparently going into the stream.
They immediately crossed, and climbing a lit
tle ways up the mountain, discovered what ap
peared to have been a camp, where the children
must have passed a night. Little pieces of
bark had been collected, and small branches
broke off from the surrounding bushes, with
which they had formed a shelter. On leaving
this camp, they bad ascended the steep face of
the mountain, leaving trades of their course
sufficient to guide the Doctor and his compan
ion. After scrambling up fur half an hour,
sometimes on their hands and knees, they saw
before them the objects of their search, sitting
quite contentedly in a little hut, formed by pla
cing bark and branches as a roof, between two
large rocks that lay near together. They liv
ed upon gum, and bad laid in quite u little
stock for after use. The boy was somewhat
feeble, but the girl was lively and well. They
knew they were lost, but thought they would
find the way home by and by. The men took
them in their arms, and in a short time placed
them by the side of their mother. Notice must
now be given of the discovery, andon old musk
et was loaded and fired three times, but as the
Doctor in his joy bad used his powder rather
freely,atthethirddischarge the old thing burst.
"No one was hurt, but the signals were of
course stopped, until the men returned from the
search, expecting to find them dead. On learn
ing the facts, a general firing took place. I
have now told you the whole story. The loss
of my children for a few days made me a sober
man, and taught me that there is a friend that
"sticketh closer than a brother." The God,
whose unseen arm shielded my infants in the
darkness and in the storm, has conducted me
down to old age, giving me to enjoy "a good
hope through grace.' I have never tasted whis
key, rum, or brandy, from that day to this.—
The temperance reformation has done much
for this place, but there are many yet who
drink the damning beverage, and who, I fear,
will go down to the drunkard's grave."
"But what became of the 'Squire and his
grind-stone 1"
"Well, the old man is dead, and I don't like
to say much about him; some of the best farms
in the country were whittled down upon that
stone. Many are working as laborers on the
very farms their father once owned. The
'Squire made money, but it all went before ho
died ; his two sons both died drunkards before
they were thirty years of age, and his only
daughter married a poor worthless creature,
who finally ran away and left her with three
small children. After the old man died, it was
found that he was considerable in debt, and his
widow, his daughter, and her three children,
were sent to the poor house. My own family
all signed the temperance pledge; my five boys
own every one his farm, and my three girls are
married to good and sober men. Little Nelly
lives in the white house you see down in the
hollow. She often talks of her trip to the moun
tain, and says, in view of the change it wrought
in her father, 'That God makes all things work
together for good to those who love him.' My
self and the old woman have seen many a hap
py day together, and are now waiting the call
that will bring us 'to a better INHERITANCE.'"
The Evening Star.
The very bright star that is now visible in the
east after sunset is the planet Jupiter. The
earth is now at the nearest point of approach
to that magnificent globe, which presents to us
a round disc like a miniature full moon, when
viewed through a telescope of moderate power.
With au ordinary spy-glass its four moons are
distinctly visible. But, though apparently so
near, it is in reality thur times as distant from
us as the sun. If Jupiter were no larger than
our earth it would scarcely be visible to us.—
But, to the contrary, what an object do we
contemplate when we raise our eyes to that
massive orb I Here is a mass of matter, a re
volving world, more than twelve hundred times
larger than the earth we tread and seem to
look upon as constituting in itself the universe.
The whole surface of our globe, which men
"strut and fret" so much upon, would not make
in the wide area of Jupiter but a moderate
state. Our population would be lost in it, as
in a wilderness. What a subject for reflection!
Merged as we are in the history of our little
planet, how startling is it to break for a trio.
ment the spell that binds us down, and look
upward. There shines a bright world resplen
dent with the same sunlight that illumines our
own. Rolling clouds, like those above our
heads, float in its atmosphere. Moons, going
the round of their monthly phases like our own,
enlighten its nightly plains. Day chases night,
and night day through its lengthened year.—
Swiftly it rolls upon its axis, carrying round
its burden of continents, and seas, and nations
—yes, nations and people; for who with such
analogy before him, can see in that immense
sphere an uninhabited desert, when every leaf
and slew drop on our barren earth is teeming
with animated existence. Yes, Jupiter, we
hail thee us a world—a world of beings perhaps
as superior to ourselves in the scale of exis
tence as thou art in thy size and grandeur to
the one we move in—a world whose' history In
weighty import would cast that of our own rue
into shadowy On l l , oll. FLUKRANT.
A New Order—Dunghills Forever !
We have been furnished with the proceedings
of a new secret order lately established, which
we receive through a channel that we are not
at liberty to reveal.. This organization has
arisen from a long train of asurpations which
have at length become intolerable, and some
means of redress were loudly called for. The
meeting was composed exclusively of that class
of feathered bipeds known in this land of liber
ty, as Dung MU Fowls. The Grand Cock-a
doodle-doo ascended the throne, and after flap
ping his wings, scratched his ear with his left
leg, and then proceeded to crow in a whisper,
so that the place of meeting might not be dis
covered. The coop was decorated with the
emblems of the order. A hen feather and a
biddy's tail sprung from the end of the princi
pal baton of office. Around the neck of every
one present was a broad collar inscribed with
the motto, "None but Dunghills." The Grand
Cock-a-doodle-doo called the meeting to order
by a characteristic, "put-i-ca-tue-tue," and im
mediately all the young pullets and old hens
flew from the roost to ascertain if the "cock of
the walk" had found any corn. The old roes
ter looked indignant, and the hens and young
biddys stood off looking rather sideways at the
old gentleman. Order being restored, the
Chief proceeded to unburthen himself of his
message, which, being interpreted from the
chicken dialect into the vernacular, is as fol.
"Dung Hill Fowls"! We are assembled hero
to-night, leaving our roosts and our repose, for
the purpose of asserting our rights. We are
the legitimate owners, and ought to be the ru
lers of every foot of territory in this land of
liberty. This is a self-evident proposition, and
any one daring to deny it, is false to every
principle that Dung Hills bold dear. (Here
there was a loud cackle from every chicken
present.) "Notwithstanding all this however,
our rights have been seriously invaded by a
long series of usurpations which we are deter
mined to meet, and if needs be, die in the
breach!" (Another vociferous cackle, and one
young biddy sung out Cock-a.cloodle.doo.)—
"For a very long period of time we were con
tent to bear the impertinent interference of
upstart Game Chickens, notwithstanding we
were often wounded and worsted by the bloody
steel gaffs which they wore on their heels. We
could have put up with the horn spurs that na
ture furnishes to the race, but the gaffs, were
rather sharp. Of late years the country swarm
with Polanders, Spaniards, Burnm Footers,
and last, though not least, the detestableShang
hacs. We are driven from almost every barn
yard in the land, and our places supplied by a
long legged, rough coated set of foreigners,
whose encroachments we are determined to
resist" (Here an old hen became so much
excited that she laid an egg, which produced a
general cackle.) "We are here then, to-night,
fellow Dung Hills. to organize a secret society,
the object of which is, to regain our supremacy.
Death to all foreigners, and Dung Hills forev
er ! is our motto. With this glorious watch
word we shall go on conquering and to con
quer, and our chickens chickens will hereafter
rejoice in the name and fame of their illustri
ous sires." After the delivery of this eloquent
address, the regular organization took place.—
The secret pass-words were agreed upon and
the Dung Hill Fowls quietly retired to roost.—
Weekly Republican.
" Small Choice among Rotten Apples."
The New York Spirit of the Timis of last
week gives the following:
Time, towards evening—Place, Forks of the
Rood, somewhere in North Carolina—Log cab
in close by—Red-headed boy sitting on the
fence whistling "Jordan." Enter traveller on
an old grey mare, both looking pretty well beat
Traveller.—"Say, boy, which of these roads
goes to Milton?"
Stuttering Boy.—"D•b•bothon'em goes thar."
Traveller.—"Well, which is the quickest
way ?"
13oy.—"B•b-bout alike; b b-both on em gets
there b•b•bout the same t-t-timo o' day."
Traveller.—"lrow far is it ?"
Boy.—" B-b-bout four m-m-miles:'
Traveller.—"Which is the best road ?"
Boy.—" T-t-they ain't nary one the b-best.
If you take the right hand road and go about
a m-mile, you'll wish you was in h-h—Il; and if
you t-turn back and take the 1-1-left hand one,
by the time you have gl.gone half a tn-m-mile.
you'll wish you had kept on the other r-r-road."
The Preaching Monkey.
There is a curious animal, a native of South
America, which is called a preaching monkey.
The appearance of this animal is at once gro
tesque and forbidding. It has a dark thick
beftrd, three inches long, hanging down front
the chin. This gives it the mock air of a
Capuchin friar, front which it has acquired the
name of the preaching monkey. They are
generally found in groups of twenty or thirty,
except in the morning and evening meetings,
when they assemble in vast multitudes. At
these times, one of them, who appears by eom•
mon consent to be leader or president; mounts
to the highest tree which is near, and the rest
take their places below. Having, by a sign,
commanded silence, the orator commences his
harangue, consisting of various modulated
howls, sometimes char; and quick, then again
slow and deep, but always so loud as to be
heard several miles.
The mingled sounds at a distance are said
to resemble the rolling of drums, and rumbling
and creaking of cart wheels ungreased. Now
and then the chief gives a signal with hie hand,
when the whole company begin the most fright
ful chorus imaginable, and with another sign,
silence is restored. The whole scene is descri
bed as most ludicrous, and yet the most hide-
OM, that the imagination can conceive.
VES. A. tailor in Now York advertises for "a
number of thin coat makers." At the rate of
wags paid lwre, we should suppose nearly all
the vreompliErs world li: thin on. r.
VOL. 19. NO. 37.
sappy Effects of Ifnmanity.
The following facts of a young chief of the
Pawnee nation, and son of Old Knife, one of
the Indians who visited the city of Washington,
in America, a few years ago, from the foot of
the Rooky Mountains, are highly creditable to
his courage, his generosity and his benevolence.
This young warrior, when these events occur•
red, was about twenty-five years old. At the
age of twenty-one, his heroic deeds had acqui
red for him, among his people, the rank of
'bravest of the brave.' The savage practice of
torturing and burning to death their prisoners
existed in this nation. An unfortunate female,
taken in war of the Padua nation, was desti.
ned to this horrible death. The fatal hour had
arrived; the trembling victim, far from her
home and friends, was fastened to the stake
the whole tribe was assembled on the surround.
ing plain, to witness the awful scene. Just
when the wood was about to be kindled, and
the spectators were on the tiptoe of expectation,
this young warrior, who sat composedly among
the chiefs, having before prepared two fleet
horses, with the necessary provisions, sprang
from his seat, rushed through the crowd, loosed
the victim, seized her in his arms, placed her
on one of the horses, mounted the other him
self, and made the utmost speed towards the
nation and friends of the captive. The multi
tude, dumb and nerveless with amazement at
the daring deed, made no effort to rescue their
victim from her deliverer. They viewed it as
the act of their deity, submitted to it without
a murmur,•and quietly retired to their village.
The released captive was accompanied through
the wilderness toward her home, till she was
out of danger. He then gave her the horse on
which she rode, with the necessary provisions
for the remainder of her journey, and they
parted. On his returning to the village, such
was the respect entertained for him that no in
quiry was made into his conduct; no censure
was passed on it; and, since the transaction,no
human sacrifice has been offered in this or any
of the Pawnee tribes. Of what influence is
one bold act in a good cause.
On the publication of this anecdote at Wash•
ington, the young ladies of a female seminary,
in that city, presented this brave and humane
Indian with a handsome silver medal, on which
was engraven an appropriate inscription; ac
companied by an address, of which the follow
ing is the close ,--'Brother, accept this token
of our esteem; and, when you have again the
power to save a poor woman from death and
torture, think of this and of us, and fly to her
Jewish Weddings.
We were favored with an invitation to wit•
ness the Jewish marriage ceremony, performed
at the residence of Mr. Leibensberger, on
Wednesday last. There were two pairs to be
united in the "holy bonds," but there was a
separate ceremony for each. The services
were in the German and Hebrew languages.
and quite lengthy. The bride was dressed in
white with a light veil enveloping her head and
face. She was attended by two ladies. The
groom was unattended. The officiating priest
handed to the groom a bordered shawl at each
corner of which was a tassel of ram's wool.—
The priest then threw a shawl of the same kind
around his own shoulders. The shawl, with its
four tasseled corners, was to show 'in a figure,'
the dispersion of the twelve tribes to the four
quarters of the globe.
After the priest addressed the parties in re
lation to the obligations of the new relation.
and during which the bride shed many tears—
a glass of wine was presented to the groom,
who placed it to his lips, and passed it to the
lady next him, who presented it to the bride,
at the same time raising the veil to enable her
to partake. This ceremony over, a Psalm was
The groom then placed a ring upon the fore
finger of the right hand of his bride as a pledge
of his fidelity. Another Psalm was chanted.
The wine was presented as before. Then fol
lowed some further injunctions in regard to
the duties devolving upon each in the married
state. The ceremony closed by a friend of the
groom pouring out the wine upon the hearth
and then crushing the glass with his heel—the
signification of which was, that until the frag
ments were all re-united, so as to make the
glass whole and perfect as before, he would re
main faithful to the promise which he had just
made, to love, cherish and protect her. Kissing
the bride after the manner of the Gentile, came
in appropriately at the conclusion of the mar
riage ceremony.—Dayton Journal.
SERVE BEM:VV.—Don't use Chalk, Lily White,
or any of the so called cosmetics, to conceal a
faded or sallow complexion. If you would
have the roses brought back to your cheek, a
clear, healthy and transparent skin, and life
and vigor infused through the system, get a
bottle of Carter's Spanish Mixture, and take it
according to directions. It does not taste quite
as well as your sweetmeats; but if after a few
doses you do not find your health and beauty
reviving, your step elastic and vigorous, and
the whole system refreshed and invigorated
like % Spring morning, then your case is hope-
less, and all the valuable certificates we pos
sess, go for naught. Tt is the ( greatest purifier
of the blood known; is perfectly harmless, and
at the same time powerfully efficacious. See
/0). An old lady in the west for twenty sue•
cessive years darned stockings with the same
needle: in fact, so need was the same needle to
its work, that frequently on the old lady's leav
ing the room, it would continue darning with
out her! When the old lady died the needle
was found by her relatives and for a long time
no one could thread it, nor could they discover
what obstructed the threads, when by a micro
scopic observation they observed a tear in the
eye of itl
NEW PArta.—Paper from wood is being ex,
teasively used. Tit, Philadelphia Ledger im
rrifiti rl tirin it,