Huntingdon Journal

              Iw iitttiiitoi
"I BBB NO Stab abovk the iioiiizo.v, pkomisisq lioiit to quids us, but ths iNTEbiaoEXT, patuiotic, ujhted 'Wiho Partt oi' the U.mted S'txsthg,"—(Wf.bstbr.
VOL. 18.
a ' ' ¦=
TERMS :
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HUiNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, JULY 27, 1853.
NO. 30.
ip®[S'irii@i\ii.o
The Harvest Hymn.
Ood oftho rollinir year! to Theo
Our songs shall ri.SB—whose bounty poura In many a goodly gift, with freo
And liboral hand our autumn stores ; Ko firstlings of our flock we .il.iy,
Ko soaring cloud.s of iuccnac raiso— Bat on thy h.illowod shrine wo lay
Our greatful hearts in sacrifice.
Bomc on thy breath, the lap of Spring.
Was heaped with many a blooming flower ; And smiling Summer joyed to bring
Tho sun.shino and the gentio shower, The Autumn's rich luxuriance now,
The ripening seed—tho bursting shell, Tbe golden sheaf, and laden bou^rh,
Tho fullness of thy bounty tell.
No menial throne, in princely dome,
Here wait a titled lord's behest, But many a fair and peaceful homo
Hath won tby peaceful dove a guest; No groves of palm our fields adorn—
No myrtle shades or orange bowers— But rustling meads of golden corn.
And fields of waving grain arc ours.
Safe is thy care the landscape o'er,
Our flocks and herds securely stray; No tyrant master claims our store—
No ruthless robber rends away. No fierce volcano's withering shower—
No fell simoon with poisonous breath— Nor burning sun's, with baneful power,
Awake the fiery plagues of death.
And here shall riso our song to Thee
"Where lengthened vales nnd pastures lie, And streams go singing wild and free,
Beneath a blue and smiling sky Whore ne'er was reared a morlal throne.
Where crowned oppressors never trod, Here—at the throne of Heaven alone,
Shall men in reverence bow to God.
At Rest.
BT mils RARniB  Lv.B.
" 'Tis over," said the gentle nurse.
And amoot'ning back the tresses brown Slowly unclasped the loving arms,
An'd laid ber lifeless treasure down j Hcr hand across thc brow shc pnssed,
The dark fringed cycdids closer pressed, And with a prayerful voice she said;
"Thank God, the sorrowing child's at rcat.
*'No smile is on tbe lip,'* she said
"But sorrow has a winning graco, A winning softness in tho shade.
It casts npon thc fair sweet face; Oh, ahe was very, very fair.
And gifled, too," shc said, and sighed That she should perish thus no yonng.
"Come ncar, I'll tcll you why she died:
Sho was a gentle, loving child,
A wealthy mother's care and pride, But left withont a kindred heart,
Whon hcr dear widowed mother diod ; Her's was a richly gifted aoul.
But, oh, so sensitive and shy. That fisw had e'er the grace to read
The deep thoughts of her soul-lit eye.
But thongh reserved with her sweet worth.
Unknown she could not long remain, And to a heart that asked for lovo
She gave an answering lovc agnin ; A changing heart was his, thc youth
Her deathless love was lavished on, Not near so gifted nor so true.
He could not fathom half he'd won.
He know hcr heart was all his own.
And how that heart was won ho know, But other forms were bright to him,
And soon another dearer grew. Last cvc they told hcr he wns wed,
And deadly pale her face became ; I thought tho drooping eyea had closed.
And nearer drew and called her name.
Hor dark eyes raised to meet my gaze—
They had a wildness not their own, And groator strength wns in the arma
That wore so wildly 'round ino thrown ; Her voice was sadly, strangely swcot,
As ronnd my heart ita strains shc wove ; ^Leave mo no more, dear nurse,' aho said,
'I've nolhing left but you to love.'
These wero all the worda sho spoke—
No tears shc wept—not once she sighed— But all night long she clung to mc.
And now this early morn she died." The nurse smoothed back thc glossy curls,
On tho pure brow her lips she pressed, And with a weeping voice she said,
"Thank God the sorrowing heart's at rest." Cincinnati, Ohio, 1H53.
The Memory of the Dead.
It is an exquisite and heautiful thing in our nature, that when the heart is touched and ¦oftened by some tranquil happiness or affec¬ tionate feeling, the memory of the dead comes over it mott powerfully and irresistablT. It would almost aeem as though our better thoughts and sympathtea were charms, in vir¬ tue of which, the soul is enabled to hold some Tague nnd mysterious intercourse with the epirita of thoae whom we dearly loved in life.— Alas, how oflen and how long may those patient angcia hover around us, watching for thc spell which io ao ieldom uttered and so soon forgot¬ ten.-i'l'-'.'.'f'l J.
From the Boston Tronscript.
SPEECH OF ED'WARD E'VERETT.    j
Wc learn from thc Boslon Tran.ieript thnt at the Municipal Celebration of tho Fourth nt Boslon, the following acntiment was proposed in honor oftho Federal .Senate;
'I. The Senate of the United States.-Vlhen ever it (Everett) spenks di.scord and disunion shall hido their heads.
To this Mr. Everett replied ns follows : itr. Chairman and Gentlemen: I thank yon for the toast which has just been given, and for the marked kindness with which it has been roccivcd by thc company. I deem it a privib ego to bc iircsciit on this occasion. We all, I think, sir, who bad thc good fortune to bc pre¬ sent nt the Old South Church, felt that it was good to bo there. [Cheers.] Wc felt that it was good to pause a while from the hurry of passing events, and rovi.so our recolleclions of tho tiines which tried men's souls. 1 do not know that I have ever attended n celebration conducted in a more intnreating manner. The solemn prayers that the God of our fathers would extend hia protection to us, the public rending oftho great Declaration which hns giv¬ en immortalily to tho dny; thc sweet voices in thc galicry, giving assurance that tho sons and daughters were training up to catch thc spirit and imitate tho example of tho fathers aud mothers; thia all gavo uncommon interest to the exercises. [Much cheering.] It was, also, I own, sir, particularly pleasing to me to listen lo our young friend on my right, the orator of the day, who gavo us such a treat in his inge¬ nious, manly, and fervid discourse, in which he rose very far above the common places of tho occaaion, and adorned his great theme with much original and seasonable illustration. It was especially gratifying to mc, sir, to witness the brilliant promise he afforded us of adding new lustre to a name on which two generations in this community have accumulated their hon¬ ors.    [Great cheering.]
I believe no onc, sir, who has attendod this day's exercises, or is now present, will bc dis¬ posed to concur in the opinion whicb we some¬ times hear expressed, that tho interest of tho Fourth of July is on the wane; that it is a worn out, old fiishioncd affair, whicii has ceased to have a significance for ua. For my own part, I value it in no small degree because it is—I will not aay an "old fa.shioned," but I will aay an ancient and venerable institulion; [cheers] because its annual celebration for 70 years has already nourished the patriotic feeling of more than two generations, and amidst tho iicrilous convulsions of Statea abroad, and the rapid march of events at home, has left us onc great theme on which political opiniou is united; one hnppy day on which party strife is at rest.— [Great applause.]
I trust, sir, that the Fourth of July will ever continue to be celebrated as it hos been to-d:iy, understandingly ns well aa enthusiastically; bccausc it furnishes at once the most instruc tivo and glorious illustration of tho Union of tho two great principles of stability and pro¬ gress, on which our Independence was origi¬ nally fiauudcd; on which our prosperity, at tho present day, rests as upon its corner-stone; and by whose cordial allianeo and joint working alone, thc great designs of Providenco in refer¬ ence to our beloved country can bc fulfilled.— [Much cheering.]
I am thc moro desirous, sir, of making this remark on the present occasion with some em phasis, because there is, on thc part of many —perhaps of mo.st—persons aniong u.s position to separate these two great principles —to take up one to the neglect of thc other and consequently in effect to do violence to both. As in all party divisions, so in this; throw ouraclvcs passionately into thc causo we have embraced, push its peculiar views beyond proper limita, overlooking all reasonable qual ificalions, and forget that practical wisdom and plain common senso are generally found nbnnt half way between the two extremes. [Cheers.] Accordingly there are and always havo been among us, as in all countries were thought and apecch are free, men who give themselves up, heart and soul, to tho reverence of the past; they can do justice to no wisdom but thc wis¬ dom of ages; and if .in inatitution is not time- honored it ia vnry apt by them not to bc honor¬ ed at all. They forget that the tall oak wns once an acorn, and that the oldest things had a beginning. [Cheers.] This class of men received a few yoara ago in England tho desig¬ nation of''conservatives," from their disposition to maintain things just as they arc. Roccntly, in this country, they have been called by the rather unpromising name of "old fogies," thc origin nnd precise import of which aro un¬ known to mo.    [Cheera and laughter.]
Now, sir, theso benighted individuals, straight laced and stiff necked ns they are, err only in pushing a sound principio to cxtrumcs; in obeying ono law of our social naturo to the neglect of another, equally certain and impor¬ tant. The reverence of the past, adherence to wbat ia established, may bo carried a great deal too far, but it ia not merely an innate fading of the human heart, but a direct logical consequenco of tho physical and spiritual con¬ stitution which our Creator has given us.— [Cheers.] Thc sacred tie of family which, reaching backward and forward, binds tho generations of men together, and draws uut thc plaintive music of our being from thc sol¬ emn alternation of cradle and graie—the black and white keys of life's harpsichord—[sensa¬ tion]—the magical power of language, which puts spirit in communion with spirit in distant periods and climes; the grand sympathies of country which lead the Greek of the present d.ay to talk of " tho victory which we gained over the barbariana nt Marathon—[cheers] — the mystic tissue of race, woven far back in the dark thainbera of the past, and which, after tha vicissitude^ «ud migrations of oenturiea, wraps up great nations iu its broad mantle— [cheers]—-tiioso significtnt cuprossiona which carry volumes of meaning in a word—Fore¬ father, Parent, Child, Posterity, Native Land; tiCiC  ull teach us oi-'l blindly tg  wov^hip, l.Hit
duly to honor tho past, to sludy tho lessons of experience, to scan tllo high oounscla of man in his great associations, as those counsels have been developed in constitutions, in laws, in maxims, in traditions, in great undoubted prin¬ ciples of right and wrong, which havo been sanctioned hy the genernl consent of thosewho have gone before us; thus tracing in human institutions some faint reflection ofthat Divine wisdom which fashioned the leaf that unfolded itself si.x weeks ago in thc forest, on the pattern of the leaf which was bathed in thc flows of Paradise on thc morning of creation. [Enthu¬ siastic cheers.] ^
These feelings, I say, sir, are just nnd natu¬ ral. The principles wWcli pronipts tbem lies deep in our nature; it gives birth to the dearest charities of life, and it fortifies some of the sternest virtues. [Cheers.] But these iirinci- ])les and feelings arc not the whole of our na¬ ture. Thoy are a portion only of those senti¬ ments which belong to us as men, as patriots, as Christians. We do not err when we cherish thom, bnt wdicn wo cherish and act on them exclusively, forgetting that there is another class of feelings and principles—different tho'gh not ant<igonistic—wliich form another side to our wonderfully complicated existence.
This is tho side to which an opposite class in the community devotes itself exclusively.— They arc the "men of progress," or, as they sometimes call themselves, in imitation of sim¬ ilar designations in most countries of Europe, "Young America." Either from natural ardor of temperament, or thc fervid spirit of youth, or impatience caused by constant meditation on the abuses whicii accumulate in most human concerns iu thc lapse of time, they got to think that everything, which has existed for a con¬ siderable time, is an abuse; that consequently to chango is, as a matter of course, to reform —to innovate, of iicccssity, an improvement.— Tlicy do not consider that if this notion is car¬ ried too far it becomes suicidal; it condemns fheir own measures, and justifies the noxl gen¬ eration iu sweeping away their work as re¬ morselessly as they are disposed to sweep away tho work of their predccossora. [Great cheer- ing-]
Now here again, sir, tho error is one of ex¬ aggeration only. Young -\morica is a very honest fellow—be means well, but like olber young folks hn is sometimes a little too much in a hurry. [Laughter and cheers.] Ho needs tho curb occasionally, as we old ones pei'haps still more frequently need the spur. [Laugh¬ ter.] There is a principio of progress in the human mind—in all thc wurks of men's bands —in all associations and communilies, from the villago club to the empire that embraces a quarter of the human race—in all political in¬ stitutions—in art, literature and acicnce—and most especially iu all ncw countries, where it must, from the nature of the cuso, bc the lead¬ ing and governing principle. (Great cheers.] Who can compnre the modern world, its condi¬ tion, its arts, its institutions, wilh the ancient world, and doubt this; the daily iiewspapcrs, smoking every morning from a hundred press, es, with a strip of hicrglyphics on the side of an obelisk, perplexing thc world with its dubi¬ ous import, aud even th.it found out within tho last thirty years—tbc ocean steamer with the row galley creeping timidly round the shore— the railways in the United States alone, wilhout mentioning those of Europe, with those famous Roman paved roads the Appian und F'-^.^nian paved way, to whieii the orator alluded-— hieh our railways exceed tenfold in extent to say nothing of their superiority in every other res¬ pect as a means of communication; the printing press driven by steam, with the scribe's toil¬ some pen, the electric telegraph, with the mail coach, the post horse, the pedestrian courier; and abovu all, a represenlativo republican confederacy, extending over a continent with a federal despotism building a palace on tho neck of a people, or a stormy Grecian democracy, subsisting its citizens by public largess, all labor servile, ostracising its good men, insult¬ ing and oppressing its allies, and renouncing its own vitals within tho circuit of thc city walls to which it was confined—who, I say, can make this coinpariaon, and doubt thut the prin¬ ciple of Progress is as deetdy seated in our na ture as the principio of conservatism, and thnt true practical wisdoin and high national policy reside in due miiture and joint action of the two.
"Now, sir, this waa thc wisdom of the men of '76. This is the lesson ofthe Fourth of July; this tho oracle which spenks to us from the shrines of this consecrated hall. [Great cheer¬ ing.] If we study thc writings of thc men of that day, wo find that tbey treated tho cause of civil liberty not only as one ofjiistice and right, of sentiment and feeling, but also as one of history and tradition, of chartera and laws.— [Cheers.] They not only looked to the future, but explored the past. They built wisely and skillfully in such sort, that after times might extend the stately front of the temple of free¬ dom, aud enlarge its spacious courts, and pile its stories, arch above arch, gallery above gal¬ lery, to tho heavens. [Great cheers.] But they dug tho foundations deep down to tho eternal rock—the town, tbe school, flie church¬ es—theso wera thc four corner-stones on which they reared the edifice. [Enthusiastic cheers.] If wc look only at one part of Ibeir work—if we SCO tbem poring ovir musty parchments by the midnight lam|i—citing the year books against writs of assistance—disputing them¬ selves hoarse about Ihis phrase in the charier of Charles I., and thnt section in a statute of Edward III., wo ahouid be dispuscd to clasa them with tho most bigoted conservatives that ever threw a drug chain round the linibs ofa young and ardent people. [Cheers.] But gra¬ cious Heavens! look at tliiin again, when the triumph sounds tho hour of reaiethucG) survey the other nspect of tbeir work. [Great cheer, ing.] See these undaunted )>atriuts in thiir obscure caucus gathering, in their town meet- inga, iu their provincial assemblies, in their Continental Congreas, brealhiug defiance to the Biitiih   r«rlijiuci:t   ai.d  tic Urili.h   thiunc:
arch with their raw militia to tho conflict with the trained veterans of the Seven Years' War; witness then a group of colonies extemporized into a confederacy, entering with a calm aelf possession into an alliance with the oldest mon¬ archy of Europe; and occupying as they did, a narrow belt of territory along the coast, thinly peopled, ]iarti:illy cleared—hemmed in by the native savage, by the .\llcghaiiies, by Ibe Ohio and the lake.s—behold them, dilating with the grandeur of the position, radiant in the pros¬ pective glories of theircareer—[much cheering] —casting abroad tbo germs of future indepen¬ dent States, destined, und at no distant day, not merely to cover the faco of the thirteen British colonies, but to spread over the territo¬ ries of France nnd Spain on this continent— over Florida and Louiaiana—over Xow Mcxico nnd California—beyond tho Mississippi, be- 3'ond the Rocky Mountains—-to unite the At¬ lantic and the Pacific Oceans, the Artie and the Torrid zones, in ono great net work of con¬ federate Republican Governinent. Contem¬ plate this and you will acknowledge tho men of Seventy-six to h.ave been the boldest mon of progress that the world has ever seen. [Enthu¬ siastic cheering.]
Theso nre the men whom the Fourth of July invites us to respect nnd imitate—the .Tames Otises and the Warrens, the Franklins and the Adamses, the Patrick Henrys and the Jefl'er- sons, and him whom I may not name in the plural number, brightest ofthe bright and pur¬ est ofthe pure—Washington himself. {Raplnr- oiir cheers.] But let us bo sure to imitate them, (or to strivo to do so,) in all thoir great principles, in both parts of their noble and comprehensive policy. [Applause.] Let ns reverence then as they reverenced tbcir prede¬ cessors—not seeking to build up tho future on the ruins of all that had gone liefore, nor yet to bind down the living, breathing, burning pre¬ sent lo thc mouldering relics of the dead past —[cheers]—but deducing the rule of a bold and safe progress from tho records of a wise and glorious experience. [Great applause,]
I am trespassing unconscionably, sir, upon the time of the company. ["Go onl'' "Go onl"] But I will, by your leave, add one further re¬ flection. Wc live at an era aa eventful, in my judgment, as that of Seventy-six, though in a different way. Wc Imve no foreign yoke to throw off; but in the discbarge of the duty de¬ volved upon ns by Providence, we have to car¬ ry the republican indoiiendonce which our fathers achieved, with all the organi'zed insti¬ tutions of an enlightened community, institu¬ tions of religion, law, education, charity, arl, nnd all the thouaand graces of the highest cul¬ ture, beyond the Missouri, beyond the Sierra Nevada; perhaps in time around the circuit of the Antilles: perhaps to the Archi]ielagocs of tho Central Pacific, [Orcat cheering.] The pioneers aro on Ihc way; who can tell how fast they will travel ? Who that compares the North America of 17.'>;l, buta century ago, and numbering but a little over a million of souls of European origin; or still more, the North Ameriea of 17J.1, when Ihcre was certainly not a fifth part ofthis number; who thnt compares this with thc North America of 185.3—its twen¬ ty-two millions of European origin, and ita thir¬ ty-one States, will venture to assign limits to our growth—will dare to compute tho lime ta¬ ble of our railway progress; or lifl so much as a corner of the curtain lhat hides the crowded events of the coming century? [Great cheer¬ ing.] This only wc can plainly sec—the Old World is rocking to its foundations. From the Gulf of Finland to the Y'cllow Sca, everything is shaken.
The apiril oflhe ago has gono forth to hold his great review, nud the kings of the earth are moved to meet him at his coming. [Cheers.] Thc band which holds the great powers of Eu¬ rope together in one political league, is strain¬ ed to its utmost tension. The catastrophe may for a while be .staved off; but to all appenrance they are hurrying to the verge of or.e of those conflicts which, like those of Pliarsalia and Ac- tium, affect the condition of States for twice ten cenlurica. [Sensation.] The Turkish Em¬ pire, encamped but for four centuries on the frontiers of Europe, and the Chinese Monarchy, contemporary with David and Solomon, are alike crumbling. While these events are pas¬ sing in Ihe Old World, the tide of emigration, which has no parallel in history, is pouring westward aeross tbe Atlantic, and eastward across the Pacific, lo our shores. The real po¬ litical vitality oflhc world seems moving to the ncw hemisphere, whoso condition and fortunes it devolves upon ns and our children to mould and regulate. [Great cheering.]
Sir, it is a grand, let mo sny a solemn thongbt, well calcnlated to atill tho passions of the day, and to elevate us above the paltry strife of parlies. [Applause.] It Icachca us thnt we are called lo the highest, and I do veri¬ ly believe the most momentous trust lhat ever devolved npon onc generation of men. Let us meet it wilh a corresponding temper and pur¬ pose, with tbe wisdom of a well instructed ex¬ perience; with tho foresight and preparation ofa glorious future; not on the narrow plat¬ forms of party policy and temporary expedien¬ cy but in the broad and comprehensive spirit of sevcniy-sii. [Great ond long continued cheering.)
Eloquence Expounded.
During an address delivered by a young ora¬ tor, in a debnliiig society, tbe speaker attempt¬ ed lo describe thc beauties of nature, and touehing upou the scenes of a thunder storm he had witnessed once upon a time, hia foun¬ tain of eloquence could no longer withold itself, and be broke forth In the following strain :— "Why, 1 tcll you, Mr. President, tho roaring of the thunder wus heard fur and wide, and re¬ minded those who heard it of the clattering of the hoofs of so many wild horses crossing a bridgo over a creek where the little fishes waa seen skipping nbout from puddle to puddle— and the lightniiiga flushed and flashed, every now and then the wholo heavens looked as though it was lighted up with IjiUow candles, and ihcm all iuuffcdl"
Importance of Parental Duties.
Every parent ought to remember that his children are committed to him, and that all their interests are put into their hands, and to train tlicm up to virtue and usefulness, to hab¬ its of filial and reverential love nnd obedience nnd of fraternal beneficence, is ordinarily the chief duty required of hiin, and the chief good which be can ever accomplish. If he neglects thia duty, ho ought not to expect that it will ever be accomplished. It requires well direc¬ ted and persevering effort, and therefore neith¬ er chance nor those destituie of the fiinnlnin of persevering effort, n parent's love, cnn bc ex¬ pected to perform it. If he fail in his duly to his chiidrcn no onc will ever supply his defi¬ ciencies. Generally, whero parents neglect their dnties, the children are lords of tbem¬ aelves—"that herit.age of woe;" they bceome the associates of evil companiona, the victims of unbridled passions, the slaves of unrestrained and low propensities, the sources of annoyance [ind unhappiness in familiea and neighborhoods. Such arc some of the sad consequences of the neglecl of parental duties.
Parents should nlso remember that child¬ hood is the seed-time for all good, the season when every desirable impression is most easily made; the time when almost all that cau be done for a child is lo be done. They should remember that the encouragement ia very great. For experience abundantly proves that well-governed children are almosl nlways well behaved men. Themolherof Washington had learned Ihislcs.son from experience. When in¬ formed ofono oftho many worthy deeds of her aon, she remarked that it was not nny more than she was well prepared to expeet, "for,'' said she, "George was always a gond boy."
A Hodel Husband.
Governor Morris, in his will, make a ahort lime before his death, afler sellling on his wife a liberal allowance, says : "And in 'case my wife should marry, give her six thousand dol¬ lars more to defrny the increased expenditure which mny attend that cotin-ielion."
Now had that been my husband, Iwould not have married again ifit had almo.st killed me to live singlo. Dear, generous old soull Pro¬ viding for his wife's littlo wants th.at way, after bn waa gone I It makes my eyes as red as a rabbit's to think of it.
Nol I'd have worn Vilack to the tip of my nose and kept guard over his dear old ashes the rest of my inortal pilgrimage. He should have had a faney tombstono all carved over with cherubim and seraphim. I'd have tied a piece of black crape onlhe pump handle, nnd—but "sixthousand dollar.s" and a new husbandl An awful tempt.ition for a lone feinale; hut then the dear deceased old man I Oh. I would'nt have done it; at least, T don't think I would.— (ITopc reliody would ask mc, at any rate!)
Whal do you suppose possessed the old gen¬ tleman to be so uncommonly disinterested? It makes mo suspicious. It's my opinion on sec¬ ond thought, that he was a judge of female na¬ ture. Thonght if he gave her leave to perpe¬ trate matrimony, shc wouldn't want to. Shrewd old 'fogie I' I'd have put that "six thousand dollnrs" in my pocket, and Oovorneur Morris. No. 2, in my affection quicker than a flash of chain lightning I I'd have obeyed hislast 'will and testament' to thc letter. I'd have been as happy as a humming bird in a lilly-cup. drowsy with honey dew—see if I wouldn't.
F'tinny Fern.
To Make a 'Wife Unhappy.
We apiirehcnd that there are many husbands who will read the fullowing with a blush:
See your wife as .seldom as po.ssible. If .she ia wnrm hearted and cheerful in temper, or if after days or weeks of absence she meets you with a smiling facc, and in an an'ectinnato man¬ ner, be sure lo look coolly npon her and answer wilh monosyllables. If shc force her tears, and IS resolved to look cheerful, sit down and gap in hcr presence till she is fully convinced of your indifference. Never think you have any¬ thing lo do to make her happy—but that her happiness is lo flow from gratifying your capri¬ ces; and whon she has doneall that woman can do, be sure you do not nppear gratified. Never takc an interest in any of her pursuits; und if she nsks your advice, make hcr feel that she is troublesome and impertinent. If she attempts to rally you good humorcdly on anyof your pe¬ culiarities, never join in the laugh, but frown her into silence. If sho hns faults, (which without doubt shc will have, and perhaps may be ignorant of,) never attempt with kindnesa to correct them. By such a courao you will not fail to make an unhaiqiy wife, and ifyou have children, tbey will not fail to be inoculated with the example, which they will show in their re- siiect to thoir iiarents.
 •* *» .*	
The Printer's Commandments.
I. Tliou shalt love the printer—for he is tho standard ofthe country.
II. Thou shalt subscribe to hia paper—for he laboreth much to oblain the newa, of which ye may not remain ignorant.
III. Thuu sh.alt pay llim for his paper—for he laboreth hard to give you the news in due season.
IV. Thou shalt advertise—lhat ho may bo able to givc yo the paper.
V. Thou shall not visit him, regardless of his ollice rules—deranging thc papers.
VI. Thou shalt not touch anything that will givo thc printer troublo—that ho raay not hold thee guilty.
VU. Thou shalt not read the manuscript in the hands of the Compositor—for ho will hold thee blameful.
VIIL Thou abalt not aeek the newa before it is printed—for ho will givo it to you in due time.
IX. Thou shalt ask him but few questions of things iu the oflice—from it thou shalt toll nothing.
X. Thou ahalt not sond abusive and threat¬ ening letters to the editor.
8@r-The world is a hive  thut  affords both '¦'.cU air! ]'"i,'j.i'-. ¦•''.'¦'. nui.y cnrily comi
A Discovery in Egyptian Antiquities.
Dr. Thomas; in bis travels in Egypt, lately published, snys: "Wo saw lillle else worthy of note until we arrived nt the scene of thc ex¬ ploration carried on by thc French Govern¬ ment, under the superintendence of Monsieur
M .    The   avenue of   sphinxes w,a3 not to
bo seen, as these in ages had been again cover¬ eil (nol ileeply) wilh sand' in orl. r as I undor¬ stood, to prevent their being stolen until it should be convenient to convey tbem to Paris. We saw but two of the MO which had been found, bul those wero aufiicient to form a satis¬ factory iden of tho whole number, since they are similar, as we were Informed, in all essen¬ tial I'ospiM-ts. Thia pnrtial diaappointinciit, however, wns far more than compensated by the opportunity we enjoyed of witnessing the results of another diseovery, by far the most remarkable that has beon made iu Egypt, for many years past.    Withoul the last si'x  wceka
or two months, Monsieur M has opened an
immense aubterranian hall, or rather aeries of halls or passages communicating with each otlicr, designed as a place of sepulchre. One Jiassage is above GOO yards in length. Il is however, nol more than 12 or 1.5 yards in breadth, and jierhaps 10 or 12 in height.
The roof or ceiling of these, perhaps, is firm¬ ed of the natural rock, but tho whole was origi¬ nally encased with an archway of smooth stones. A large part of these have now fallen from the effects of time, or from some inten¬ tional violence offered by man. '1'he laller is in all probability tho true cause of the dilapi¬ dation. Ou one each, but not opposilelo ench other,arc vaat niches or rcee3scs,jirobably about twenty-five feet long and fifleen wide, tho length being at right a:igles to the passge whieh they join—containing huge sarcojilmgi of granite designed apparenlly by the Egyjilinns as tombs for sacred bulls. Each sarcojihagis con¬ sisls of a single stone about fifteen feet long, nine fiiet in width, and the same in height, ex¬ clusive of the cover, whieii is also of granite, nnd from 2\ tu SJ feet in thickness. The aides are rather morn than a foot thick. These sar- cojihagi resemble in I'aet great stone cheats.— Exlernally they are finely jiolishcd and inscri- bed wilb hieroglyphics. About 30 of these tomba have already been discovered; but what ia very remarkable, no niiminy or body of any kind has been found in lliem.
It is probable tbat they might bave been de¬ signated aa honorary sculptures or cenotaphs of .\pis. It is scarcely possible that the bod¬ ies could have been so corajjlctely removed bv tho Persians—who no doubl viaited and dese¬ crated these tombs—lhat no trace or fragment of them ahouid have been discovered. Ujioii tho covers of most all of them, were heaped a great number of stones. This necording to M. M , was the Persian mode of express¬ ing contcmjit to what they wished fo dishoner or profane. From this and other circumstan¬ ces, he concludes that these sepulchral cham¬ bers wero visiled by the army of Cambyses.— They do not, however, appear to have mutila¬ ted, in any instance, the sarcophagi themselves, these being in a stato of  admirable   preserva-
tiion.    M. M lold   me that more than   ."lO
feet of sand had accumulated over the entrance to these subterranean halls.—Pp. 59, 60, Cl and C2.
Study of History.
We h.ive sometimes thought that the sludy of history was not sufficiently cultivated in our schoola and academies. Indeed a student seldom, unless incidentally acquires a more definite idea of history than he gleaes from thc classics; and a youth wdiose studies nre confined lo the different branches of English letters, generally leaves school wilh vague und unconnected notiona of ancient or modern hiatory.
The advantages which aro derived from the atudy of hislory are immense—but tbey do nol seem lo hc jirojierly ajipreciated. Historv has been cmjibalically termed "lhe looking glass of the world." It reflects all thn actions of mankind and bringa to our view the acl of dislant nnd receding ages. It gives us a jiros- pecl of human affairs—it shows us tho tumults, changes, wars aud convulsions of empires— the polities, religion, virtues, and vices of in¬ dividuals and nations—it furnishes us with pat- teins lo imitate and examples to deter.
By atudving history, a man may grow wise at the expense of the sludies of other raen.— He may thus visit, withont travelling, all tho habitable parts of the globe. He may con¬ verse with the sagos of the olden lime. He may revel at Babylon with .Mexander the Great, or siji lilack broth at Lacedoimon with the pupils of Lycurgus. Ho may accompany Atilla the scourge of mankind, on his devasta¬ ting routes, or look ujiou Pcler of Russia, while devising jjlans to improve tho condition of his barhcrous subjecta. Ho raay go forth w-ith Columbus to diacover a new world—or join Najioleon and his numerous hosts; iu at- tcniiiting lo enslave kingdoms. In a word, familiar acquaintance with history will givo a man a certain knowledge of mankiiid wbich every one should possess. It ia an impjiortant branch in edneation, whieh should not be over¬ looked. It will excite to virtue and deter from vice. It will multiply and enlarge a person's ideas, and stimulate to noblu deeds.—Boston Journal.
To take Ink out of Linen.
Printer's and clerk's wives, will learn with Jileasure, lhat to take a piece of tallow, melt it and dip the spoiled part of the linou into the melted toUow, tho lincu may bo washed, and the apots will disappear without injuring the lioen.
BSS. Every man deems that he haa precise¬ ly tho trials and templations which aro the hardest ofall for hira lo bear; but thoy are so, because they arc tho very oues he nccda.
Bl^.. Ubo not evasions when colled upou to do a good action, nor excuse when you arc re-
pi'.^achcd for dc-inir :: bud onc.
The Conntry.
If you are weary of Iheworld—if life ha* gono with you so that you louk upon it as a. tedious and hacknied story—if you have labor¬ ed long and are yel surrounded by want—if poverty has cul down the best feelings of ^our soul—ifyou have hoped and been disappointed —ifyouhavc trusted snd been betrayed—if some being around whom your very heart¬ strings were woven has been but yefterday re¬ turned to the dark earth—go foith from tha rude noiae of busy men to the quiet and win¬ ning lovclinesc of a country scene. Look out of some doll in the midst of a lonely forest where the green bank, scented with a faw wild flowers, slopes down to a running stream, that sometimes dashes tbrough a compressed chan¬ nel, that 3omctime.s dashes through a lovely lake. The bending willow shall over-hang its surface, aud few roeks jut their mossy points here and there into the rippling water.
When you lie down upou the cool grasa, thn birds will alight near you and warble theic sweet notes, nnd trim their beautiful feathers, with a confidence which you would deem it sac¬ rilege to betray. Above yonr head, through the openings in the branchea, pieces of hluo slcy will gleam upon you with clouds sailing si lently, and if it be towards evening, and the red sun is going dowu to his golden couch,his crim. son rays will stream through the trees, and full upon some venerable onk, or the leaves of a. grove, or the aide of a high rock, or bosom of n glassy .stream, lending them alia beauty like lhat of a fairy land.
Beforo you have numbered halfof these aim¬ ple and common things in nature'a history, though there has been tempests of wild and gloomy resolutions in your mind, it will pas.s aw.\y unconsciously; you will be inapired with a resignation to the wiil of Providence, singu¬ larly opposite to your former recklessness and filled with a softness of grief dearer than th* lightest flush of pleasure.
Oood Taste.
The following very happy and equally truo sketch is from the London Quarterly:
" You see this lady turning a cold eye to the assurances of shop women aud the recom¬ mendation of milliners. She cares not how or¬ iginal a pattern it mny be, if it be ugly, or a recent shape, if ithe awkward. Whatever fash¬ ion dictates, ahe follows hcr own, and is never bidiind it. She wears very beautiful things, wbich people generally suppose to be hrought fromParis, but whicii as often are brought from the nearest town and made up by her own hand. Not that hor costume is rich or ncw—on tho contrary, she wears many a eheap dress, but it ia always goud. She deals in no gaudy confu¬ sion of colors, nor does she affect a studied so¬ briety, but she eilher enlivens you with a spir¬ ited contrast or comjio.scs you with a judicioua harmony. Not a scrap or tinsel of trumpery ap¬ pears upon her. She puts no faith in velvet bands, or gilt buttons, or twisted corda. She is quite aware, however, that the garniah is aa im. portant as the dress; all inner bordera anil hcad- ing.s are delicate and fresh, and shonld anything peep out which ia not intended to be seen, in quite as much so as that which ia. After all, thero ia no great art either in her fashion or ma¬ terial. The second simply consista in knowing the three unities oflier dress—her own statiou —hcr own age, and her own points—and no wo¬ man dresses well who does not. After this, wn need not say that whoever is attracted hy coa- lume will not be disnpjiointed by the wearer. .She may not bc handsome or aocoinplished; but we will answer for her being even temper¬ ed, well informed, thoroughly sensible—acom¬ plete lady.
Enchanted Uountain.
They have strange things in Texas,as well as wicked doings. The following account of a great natural curiosity in that countty, ia from the Texas Telegrajih:
"This singular mountain,or hill,is situated on the bead waters of the Salloc—a small tributa¬ ry of tho Colorado, about 80 miles from Bas¬ trop, in a norlh-woslerly direction. It isabout threo hundred feet high, and appeara to be an enormous oval rock, partly imbedded in the earth. Whon the sun shines, the light is reflected from its polished surface as from an immense mir¬ ror, and thc wholo mountain glows with such a da'zzling radience, that the beholde'r who views it oven from a dislance of four or five milcs, ia unable to gaze upon it without experiencing a painful sciisatiou, aimilar to that which ia felt when looking upon the rising aun. Tho ascent of tho hill is so very gradual that per¬ sons can easily walk up to the top; but tho rock ia so smooth and slippery that thoso who make the attempt arc compelled to woar moc- nsina and stockings inatead ofshoes. This fact, together with the name of tho place. Holy mountain, remind tho visitint very forcibly of the command made to Moses at Mt. Horeb, "Put off thy shoes from off thy feet." Tho Camnnchoa regard this hill with religious vene¬ ration, and ludian jillgrims frequently assem¬ ble from the remotest borders of thc tribe, to perform their Paynim rites upnn its summit.
A Dandy Answered.
An amusing colloquy cnme oft'recently nt tha supper table, on board of onc of our Eastern steamers, between a Boslou exquisite, reeking with huir oil snd cologne, who was 'demming' tho waiters, und othorwiae assuming very con¬ sequential airs, and a '.'aw Jonalhan who sat by his side, dressed in homespun.
Turning to hia 'vulgah' friond, tho former pointed his jeweled finger, and said;
"Butter, suhl"
"I ace it is," coolly replied Jonathan.
"Butter, aah, I nay I" fiercely repeated tho dandy.
"I Know it—very good—a first rate article," provokingly reilcrattd homespun.
"Butler, 1 toll you I" thundered the exquisite iu slill louder tones, pointing wilh "slow, un- moving finger," like scorn's, and scowling upoa bis neighbor ns if he would annihilato him.
"Woll, gosh all Jerusalem, what of it t" now veiled lbs Down Easter, getting his dander up in lurn. "Yer didu't thiuk I look it for larj. did ri::-r'