Huntingdon Journal

              ^  Cj^..'««^
THE JOURNAL
'ONE COUNTRY, ONE CONSTITUTION, ONE DESTINY."
Vol. vii, No. 35.]
HUNTINGDON, PENNSYLVANIA, ViTEDNEgDAY, SEPTEMBER 7, 1842.
[Whole No. 347.
PUBLISHED ST
THEODORE H. CREMER.
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POETRY.
Prom the Louisville Journal,
The Golden Riiii^Iet.
Here is a little golden tress
Of soft unbraided hair, The all that's left o f loveliness
That once was thought so fair ( And yet, tho' time has dimm'd its sheen,
Though all beside hath fled, I hold it here, a link between
My spirit and the dead.
Tes, from this shining ringlet still
A mournful memory springs. That melts my heart, and sends n thrill
Through all its trembling stiings. I think of her, the loved, the wept.
Upon whose forehead fair, For eighteen years like sunshine slept
¦J'his golden curl of hair.
Oh sunny tress! the joyous brow.
Where thou did'st lightly wave With all thy sister tresses, now
Lies cold within the grave. Tbat cheek is of its bloom bereft.
That eye no more is gay ; Of all her beauties thou art left.
A solitary ray.
Your years bave passed this very June,
Since last we fondly met— Four x<arst and yet it seems too soou
To Ict the heart forget— Too soon to let the lovely face
From our sad thoughts depart. And to another give the place
She held within the heart.
Her memory still within my mind
Retains its sweetest power; It is the perfume left behind.
To whisper of the flower. Each blossom, that in moments gone
Bound up this sunny curl, Becalls the torm, the look, the tone
Of that enchanting girl.
Her step was like an April rain
O'er beds of violets flung j Her voice the prelude to a strain
Before the song is sung ; Her life, 'twas like a half blown flower,
Closed ere the shades of even ; Her death the dawn, the blushing hour.
That opes the gates of Heaven.
A single tressl how slight a thing
To sway such magic art. And bid each soft remembrance spring
Like blossoms in the heart. Il leads me back to days of old—
To her I loved so long, Whose locks outshone pellucid gold.
Whose lips o'erflowed wilh song.
Since then. I've heard a thous.and lays.
From lips as sweet ns her's ; Yet when I strove to give them praise,
I only gave them tears. I eould not bear amid the throng
Where jest and laughter rung, To hear another sing the song
That trembled on her tongue.
A single shining tress of hair
To bid such memories start ? But tears are on its lustrc'—there
1 lay it on my heart. Oh! when in death's cold arms I sink.
Who then, with gentle care, Will keep for me a dark brown link—
A ringlet of my hair? Amelia.
Else who'd not prize a tress from Ihec, Loved mistress of the lyre .'
All listless thou, and net a tress
Snatched from the darksome grave! No kindred heart ot tenderness
The treasure that would save! O! think it not, o'er earth and sea.
Where'er thy song has sped, A tress of thine would cherished be,
If thou wert with the dead.
If mule the chord whose music soft.
Once charmed the listening throng— The lute if hushed, whence numbcri oft
Gushed forth in thrilling song— That lute, though lileiit, slill would be
Esteemed a sacred thing. And in the ear of memory
Its music ever ring.
And thou, whose fairy touch awakes
The melancholy strain. So sweetly it from sorrow takes
Whate'cr is owned of pain ; Will none, when stilled the heart that now
Swells with the soul of song, Save one loved tress from o'er thy brow.
And guard the treasure long.'
When song no more can fill the heart
With feelings pure, refined— When music ceases to impart
Balm to the troubled mind ; When love the soul no longer knows.
When friendship earlh has fled. Then may thy ' dark brown link' repose
Neglected wiih the dead.
MISaELLAX7EOI7S.
From the Amaranth.
\ Btray Lear rrom Ihc Book
or ure.
BT    JAMES   HE BS. CHAl'TER  1.
" This Book of Life, how fiirly it was writ¬ ten! And fancy's pen had sketch'd its frontispiece! But why, O fancy did'st thou mock him thus! Scarce had he time to read its preface through Before au angel from the throne of God. Sseafd up the Oook no inure uo nc [jciuii-a.-
I have often wondered why some of our southern writers have not taken up the subject of the yellow fever in New Orleans as a theme fur the exercise of their tal¬ ents ; it is one of interest, and quite a romance might be woven from its history. It is also true that death would claim a conspicuous pluce in its annals and the records ot its prowess would be but a monument of his power. One circum¬ stance I will relate, as it tell under my own notice ; leaving the field rich in all the ingredients fur story telling to those of more learning, and leisure.
Ia a little town of Massachusetts resi¬ ded a family by the name of Morton, consisting of four persons, vi'i: a man and his wife, aud two children, boy and girl. 'Phey held properly in the town, and when Robert the son reached his twenty- first year'-the deeds and titles ofhis por tion were placed into his hands hy those who were constituted his guardians. Up to this portion of his life Robert had lived in the words of the church of England's prayer-book. " a sober upright and righte¬ ous life." he was indeed a model for the young men of that, or any other town in the Union, but soon a change came o'er his dream oflife. the smooth current, was to be ruflled. anil the cup of human hap¬ piness dashed from his lips. It came in this wise. There had been no religiun in the tuwn since its corpurutiun by town council assembled, but that uf Presbyte¬ rian, beyund th.it the good people neither knew, nor wished for another. 'Phe inarch of improvement howcvei docs not overlook the morals of the people in its onward course, fur numerous missionaries fully authorised by the church were trav¬ elling over the country endeavoring to establish their new doctrines in every town and village through which they pass¬ ed, nor is this to be wondered at--for speculative religion is not incompatible with the speculative spirit ofthe American
ton heard of the proposition— he had no such scruples as the good folks ofthe town —he had read much—wondered more, and cared less. He immediately called upon the " agents of the devil" ss parson Parker called them, and offered his lot—it was purchased, and Robert Morton was looked upon as a doomed man. His fath¬ er's curse was upon him. his mother's prayers could not avail—his sister's tears were as nothing—the deed was done, and DO human power could recall it~it was registered in heaven or hell, as the opinion of the " high court" might determine.
Sanctified as the people ef the town were, still there were some who had the spirit of Judge Lynch in them. A meet¬ ing was held in the bar-room ofa temper¬ ance hotel: and it was there resolved that Robert Morton should be publicly disgra¬ ced—which, in other words, means that he should be lynched. 'Phat night it was performed. Next morning Robert Morton was missed from the town; Weeks, months, rolled away, and n» tidings ol him could be heard. There was mourning in his father's house, and the deep curse that had been uttered was revoked. Still no tidings of Kobert. A mother's prayer was unanswered—a sister's tears ilis- regarded ; he came not; even his dis¬ grace was forgotten, anil the mild blue eyes of an orphan girl who had loved, were filled with tears ; her cheeks had loaled as it were for'¦ hope deferred ;" and 'she irii^ened and died, weeping lor him she loved—loved 8vcn in death; Then folUwed another death : old Morton re¬ membered his curse, and it withered his own heart} and it recoiled upon him, and he died. Again there was muurning in the house | again had misery touched the chords and produced discordant sounds in the human heart. Still no tidings of Robert. Suspense was maddening; it lengthened the chord which held hope almost to its fearful tension; one more stretch and it was broken. The agony was over; hope was silenced; and the dead mourned, as those we loved while living are mourned, and when the clay cold sod covers them, and the green grass grows upon their graves, as the broad waters  rolling calmly, bearing  upon  its
and whe!n you first came into my office I your appearance quite unmanned me—I speak! why this disguise I" " Well Jones^ —there is no use denying it, give me your hand. I have kept my secret long enough —itis grown tiresome—now that in is out. tell me of my parents—my sister."— " Tour f^iuier, Robert, sleeps wilh the dead—your mother mourned your death long, but recently an idea came into her head that you were net dead but would return—will you write—or shall IT'— "Write for me, JOnes—get her pardon and I will return, liie the prodigal son- asking for—and receiving-forgiveness.
The yellow fever had just made its ap- pearanc«-a few deaths bad already occur¬ red. I advised Mmton to quit the city, and I would communicate with him; this he promised to do. and the letter was sent to his mother. Time sped on—winging its flight-while death after death filled up the gloomy catalogue of seventy or eighty of its victims a day in our «ity. How strange, how mysterious are the ways of heaven—the third day after the departure of mj letter, Morton was taken sick, and died—«Ac black vomit did its work.
I awaited somewhat nervously for the good old lady's letter—it came-joy was in it-every line breathed a mother's spirit- she spoke of her boy—her Robert—she spoke of dreams which she had in the sad solemn hours ot midnight, which told of his return, she spoke of mysterious feel¬ ings which whispered hope to her breaking heart, "and," she exclaimed "he has come—he has come to bless my old heart, and make my household happy—my son —my poor boy, whom I mourned dead is alive-bid hiin come-il he be poor—give him money, anything only let me embrace him once more ere I die—then I care not how suon I am laid in the tomb." So wrote the mother! but alas—I will not proceed. My task was simply to announce his detttli--gathcr up his money and ef¬ fects, deduct expenses, and commission, (even Iriendship cuuld not sway or alter the immutable love of gain which is en¬ gendered in the breast, and linked as it wore to the human heart.) The proceeds 11 remitte^^^ honesty  to his family.    The
declared, with much severity of manner is about sixteen times as much as the coal
that he must have a direct reply. measures of all Europe.    A single one dl
"I insist, sir._on  your  answering   at i these gigant^ic   masses   luns about 900
once, are you a Romaii Catholic P
"I am," said the fellow.
"And could you not say so at once." repeated the officer.
"You never_axed me," returned tbe other.
EXTRACT
FnoM THB SpRBcn OP Mn. JAMES IR¬ VIN. OF  PENNSyLVAN'I.t, IN  TAVOH OF
THE  Tariff Dili iiEPOBTrD nr  tub
COMHITTEE OV  WayS AND MkANS.
Delivered in the House tf Rrpresentativea ofthe U. S., July mil, 1842.
Mr. Chairman, notwithstanding the great interest I leel in this question. I had I determined, on the commencement of this debate, not to take any part in ir, or to consume the time of the committee one moment, believing that action was what the people wanted, not talking, and that I would be promoting the interests of my constituents by a silent vote; but there have been some remarks made within the last few days, by some gentlemen on this floor, which I feel called upon to notice, particularly those that were made by my colleague (Mr. Snydeh) from theadjoiiiing district to the one which I represent. 1 extremely regretted those remarks at the time they were made, believing Ihey would be taken hold of and be used to our dis¬ advantage, on account of cominj; from a
miles, from Pennsylvania to Alabama, and must itself embrace 50,000 s(|uare miles, equal to the whole surface of England proper. Confining ourselves to Pennsyl¬ vania alone, out of filty-four counties of the State., no less than thirty have coal and iron in them. Out of the 44.000 square miles which lorm the area uf Penn¬ sylvania there are 10,000 miles of coal and iron, while all Great Dritain and Ire¬ land have only 2,000; cu that Pennsylva¬ nia has five times as xnucli coal and iront as the country to which we annually pay eight or ten millions of dollars fur iron.— If coal and iron have made Great Britain what she is. if this has giycn her the power of 40.000,000 of men. and impelled tho manufactories which have iiiade us, like the rest of the world, her debtors, why should nut we, with at least equal advan¬ tages, make tlicm the instruments of our own independence."
Now, sir, notwithstanding the furnace which occasioned this celebration was built by a gentleman who was anxious to have the experiment made, and who gave Mr. Lyman the furnace without any charge, it was soon discovered that the business wan not profitable, and the luriiacc hasnutbeeit doing any business within the last year. Soun after tho experiment was made at Pottsvillo, a company commenced opera¬ tions on t!ie North Hrancli, and several fu'rnaces were built and put in operatiun, and, I believe, Bircceedeii in making metal of tair quality, but cost considerably moro
State that had, at all times and under all   tlia'n wk^"rt\irsr an'ticipatc'd7'a"n"7 i"s"e'e° nll'rnwn i^"h?«^^l7^"'i''''i^°J''"^i"!¦'"""I  ^^ "^ "cwspapcr I received fiom  Danville
nounced in  a New York  paper, that al """"'¦"J';*'"  .       ,     ,,
„ -r      .. -I storm king o'er the blasted heart, level¬
ling all that could not bend, and yield submissive to its force. The mother en¬ deavored to stem this torrent ot wo. this
From Ihe Louisville Journal.
Amelia's Ringlet.
" Oh! when in death's cold arms I sink.
Who then, with gentle care. Will keep forme a dark brown link—
A ringlet of my hair.'"
Say. sweetest minstrel, dost thou think There's none, with gentle care, .
Would keep for lliee a dark brown link- A ringlet of thy hair.»
Then think'st thou that sweet poesy No more can souls inspire;
young man named " Robert Morton," died at tea, on hta way to Liverpool, in the packet ship Ohio, Captain Williams. The account gave the place of his birth, and some slight allusions was made tu the supposed cause of his death. It left no doubt of its truth, and his memory was treasured by two fond hearts whose duty it was to remember him.
CUAPTZa II.
" The noiseless sorrow tells the tale That the strings of the heart are broken."
Six years had rolled away since the in¬ cidents in the last chapter had occurred, and the memory of Robert Morton was lorgotten by all save two whose task it was to pray for the dead, that when their last sleep is broken, they may avail some¬ thing with Him who sits upon the eternal throne in all the majesty of the king of kings, to judge all according tu the deeds done in the body.
I had lelt my native village alter the sudden appearance of Robert—I knew him well, we were schoolfellows. I knew nothing ofhis disgrace, until it be¬ came such—then it was too late—he left us. Business called me to New Orleans and detained me there ; I passed thro' the severe summers of 1831-2. when the combi¬ ned foes of the human race—cholera and yellow fever—were "going it strong" in that fated place. I will not describe the horrors ol that time—abler pens than mine have attempted it, and they have failed; why should I dream of it.
It was in the month of August, 1837, while seated in my office, (for 1 am an ex¬ change broker, or more properly speaking a thaver, a sort of blood-sucker on society, a " gatherer up of trifles," one ef those whose business it is to get rich un the mis¬ ery of his fellows, a sort of amphibious reptile, that all mankind shun, but all are compelled to approaches if by the power
whirlwind ot grief, her strength failed— and she died. Her troubles were over, and the temple of woe was dosed. 7'hc spoil- tr tet hit seal of silence therei
The daughter still lives, as Mrs. Mor¬ ris, the wife of tho worthy magistrate of the town, the pride of her husband, and the admiration of her friends. It may be well to state here, that there are now se¬ ven churches in that place, and each of them glory in being antipodes to the other in their opinions and notions ol salvation. 'Phey are. however in despite of this a moral and intellectual people.
ourown industry; and in thetarill'of 1824 and 1823 were found, with but one single exception, voting for those bills. I am not disposed to charge my colleague with having exhibited a false statement in re¬ gard to the expense of making pig iroo, knowing it to Le so, but I think he might havebeen satisfied that his estimates were incorrect, from the fact that the establish¬ ments whicii he referred to had all been obliged to stop operations; and when I asked him the question, if they had not done so. iostead of answering it fairly, he threw out the insinuation that they had done 80 for the purpose of inlluencing Cun¬ gress. anu tnai lne'iiiaiiuiai.<ui^.a ...9—^.. out the country were all doing the same thing from the same base mutives. 'I'his. I think, to say the least of it. was not only unkind, but also unjust to those persons immediately interested, and also to some in my district who have, from the difTicul- ties of the times, ceased operations. Now. sir, as to his calculation, that metal could be made at from 810 to $13 50 per ton. there is no reality in it. and. as it was correctly remarked by my colleauge from the Wilkesbarre district]! it was a mere paper calculation, probably made for the purpose of increasing the value of ore and coal lands, and withoutany expectation at the time that it would be realized; but, whether Ihis is so or not. I have been in- lormed by gentlemen  concerned, that no
people, it "is apart of them—iJ is l/icir na-1 of its fascination—our profession isa bad
ture. Among' those who are zealous in their attempts to enlighten mankind upon the mystified subject of religion, (which by the way is as plain and as simple as a pike staff,) where the universalists-they indeed performed wonders, nor did the little town of which we have spoken es¬ cape their eagle eyes, they picked it up as they would a lost sheep, and endeavored to restore it tothe Iold. Presbyterianism had laid its tternal^at upon the place, and the promises of Eternal happiness could not remove it—Universalism tried to get a foot hold, and ofl'ered a high price for a piece of ground, for the purpuse of rearing Its temple tliercon~not one from the great mass of inhabitants would sell an inch of ground for that purpose. " What." exclaimed an old grey headed man—" sell to the arch-fiend—sell aur suuls for lucre I Avaunt sathancs—avaunt loul fiend." I    Now it so happened that Ro'jcrt Mor-
onc, and thus admitting it, I care u«t how soon the system is destroyed. A shaver's confession would tend to palliate even a murderer's crimes.) I was interupted by the entrance of a young man whose ap» pearance afllicted me so much thatl could scarcely speak, a cold shiver came over me —my knees trembled so that 1 was com¬ pelled to sit down—having attended to his business which was the exchanging of some money. I enquired if his name was not " Morton"—for so certain was I that he stood before me. I would have sworn to it unhesitatingly upon a Catholic dm^belVUc bible. He gazed at me lor a moment—a shade passed over his counte¬ nance—as it were a cloud of other days. He answered."No sir—my name is Mor¬ timer." It was a prcvaricatiun—1 knew my friend, and thus addressed him—"Ro¬ bert it is useless to deny your name—I had credited the rumour ol your dealh—
Badgering an Irisli Toter
" You're a Roman Catholicr" " Am IV said the fellow. " Are you not ?" demanded the agent. " You say I am," was the answer. "Come, sir, answer—what's jour re ligioiit"
"The true religion." "What religion is that t" " My religion." " And what's your religion ?" " My mother's religion." " And what was your mother's religion!" " She tuk whiskay inker tay." " Come. now. I'll find you out. as cun¬ ning as you are." said the agent, piqued into an encounter of wits whicii this  fel¬ low, whose   baffling   ol  every   question pleased tho crowd.    " You bless  your¬ self, don't you V
" When I'am done with you I think 1 ought." " What place of worship do you go to?" "The most convsynient." " But of what presuasion are you t" " My persuasion is that you ^'on't find out." " What is your belief?" " My belief is that you are puzzled." "Do you confess?" " Not to you."
" Come! now I have you.    Who would you send fur ifyou were likely to die f" " Doctor Growling." " Not for the priest ?" " I must first get a messenger." "Confound your quibbling!—tell me, then, what your opinions arc—your  con¬ scientious opinions I mean r" " 'Phey are the same as inj landlord's." " And what are vour landlord's opin¬ ions!"
" Kaix. his opinion is. that I won't pay hiin the last half-year's rint; and I'm (if the same opinion myself," A roar of laughter followed this answer, and dumb foundered the agent for a lime ; but, anger cd at the successful (juibblingof the stur¬ dy and wily fellow before him, lie at last
metal has'been made at any thing like that price. The smelting of iron with anthra¬ cite coal in this country isof ver^ recent date ; the first successful operation, I be¬ lieve, was made by Mr. Lyman, at Potts¬ ville, in 1840. and I find, in an English work on the iron trade, as late as 1841, the following notice taken of it. a part of which, as it contains valuable information. I take the liberty of reading to the com¬ mittee. On the 18th day of January. 1840. a dinner was given at Pottsville. Pennsylvania, by W. Lyman, Esq,, on the occasion ol his liavine successfully intro¬ duced the smelting of iron with anthracite coal by the use of the hot blast. There was a number ol talented gentlemen pres¬ ent, and from a speech made at the time. I extract the following:
" In two yearsalonc. in 1836 and 183r, the importations of iron and steel amount¬ ed to upwards of twenty-four milliuns of dollars. The importations fur the last five years have been abnut forty-nine mil¬ lions of dollars. It is especially mortify¬ ing to see that, even in Pennsylvania, there has been introduced within the last seven years, cxclusire of hardware and cutlery, nearly 80,000 tons of iron, and that of these there were abuut 49,000 tons of railroad iron, costing probably three millions and a half of dullars. Nay. this very day, in visiting your mines we saw ut the farthest depths uf these subterranean passages, that the very coal and iron were brought to the mouth of the mines on rail tracks of British iron, manufactured in Britain, and sent to us from a distance o( 3.000 miles. 'Phis dependence is deplo¬ rable. It ought to cease fur ever; and let us hope that, wilh tho new power this (lay acquired, we shall rescue ouiselves hereafter frum such a co.stly humiliation. Wc owe it to ourselves not thus to throw away the bounties of Providence which, in these verv materials, has blessed u- with a prolusion wholly unknown else¬ where. 'Phe United States contain, ac¬ cording to  the best  estimstes. not  less
not long since, that the works have been entirely stopped  and some   four  or five hundred persons  thrown outuf employ¬ ment.    I wuuld not give much  for paper calculations  made  in  advance.    I have seen some which were about equal to those exhibited by my colleague.    A company some time since commenced making iron, from bituminous coal, about twenty-five miles from where I reside.    Their calcu* lation was tu make metal at about 810 per ton, but. after spending about one hund« red thousand dollars, and  making a few hundred tons of iron, il was  abandoned. Another cuncern. located in the district I kind, but. after speiiUiri'g' ii'e'iif na1i"i"f/ii1!; liun of dollars, they found that the inelal cost more than it would sell fur; and that cuncern has also been abanduned.    But these calculatiuns  and   failures  are   nut confined to our paiticular region, and  I am somewhat astonished that the Southern gentlemen seemed to place so much  reli¬ ance on the calculation exhibited by my colleague ; for. ifi am not much mistaken, such estimates are suinetimes made in their section of country.    I recollect last sum¬ mer, that a member frum Gt:orgia stated on this floor that a concern had gone into operation in his State, which was making iron, and clearing  thirty-three per  cent, on their investment; and that he was as¬ tonished that iron in Pennsylvania needed any protection,    I made some inquiry of the  gentleman—who  was part owner— respecting their operations, and was  told that it was a furnaCe producing about sev¬ en tuns a week, and sold iron at six cents per pound, and castings at five, but as yet ihey had not reali'ied any profit, but they weie assured by their manager, an experi¬ enced man from Pennsylvania, that he had no doubt they  would clear 33 per cent, upon their capital.    Nuw this wasa paper calculation.     But mark   the result.     A few days since I asked the same gentle¬ man huw  they were getting along  with their iron works.    'Phe answer was, they have turned out badly, our nianuger de¬ ceived us. and. after running um  m debt very much, we have given the business up, and   the property is  now to be sold, and will   be  suld very  low.    So tins  is thu winding up uf a tliirty»three   per cent, concern in less than a year, and one that required no protection.    Now. I presume, the gentleman Irom Georgia, at least, and some of his constituents, will not put inucli faith in my colleague's paper estimates.
Mr. Chairman. I havu statements which may be relied on. furnished me by persons engaged in making pig metal, and taken from their buoks for jears, which show a very dillerent result in the expenses of manufacture. I have scarcely time to refer to thein, particularly as my time is shurt; but 1 will state the result to tho coinmittee, and will proba'jly publish the statemenis more fully. 'Phey show this expense to be from $2^ tu $2-1 per ton. and, from a calculation I have made of the expense of making bar iron from metal, at $23 per ton—and, which calculaliun. I have submitted tu two of my colleagues, acquainled with the busiiic.-s. ami they have permitted me to reler to them for the correctness of it—(to wit : Messrs. Kp-im and PiuMrn)—I make the cost ofa ton of hammered iron tu be 8r2, and expenses tii Ballimore or Philadelphia, at least 88, would make §80, wilhuut any profit to the maker beyoud  a   regular   inleiest  on his
than 80,000 square  miles of coal, which Icapitil.    But admit "fur the sske of argu