VOL. IX.
Business Cards.
P. W. SNOB,
attornrN at Rain,
Coudersport, Pa., will regularly attc:nd the .
Courts in Potter county.
ARTHUR G: °MASTED,
ffttortteg Seottitatlor . at ILO),
Coudersport, Pa.., will attend to'all business
entrusted to his care, with promptness and
fidelity.
Otfice—in the Temperance Block, up stairs,
Main-stseet.
ISAAC BENSON
attorm ;at
COUDERSPORT, PA.
:Office corner of Welt and Third streotg.
•L. P, WILLISTON,
!attartteg at tail),
Tioga Co., Pa., will attend the
Courts in potter and 3PKean Couuties.
A. P. CONE,
fattornra at ?Lain,
Wellsborough, Tiogt countzya, will regular.
IV attend the courts of Potter county.
June 3, 1818.
. JOHN S. MANN,
Sttornek&Connottor.at
Coudersport, Pa., will attend the several
Courts in Potter and ,Mlietin counties. All
business entrusted in his care, will receive
prompt attention.
Office on Main-street, opposite the Cola
Bowe, Coudersport, Pa.
COUDERSPORT HOTEL,
Dania olimmire
PROPRIETOR.
Corner of Jlain and Second streete, Cou
deriport, Potter Co., Pa.
W. K. KING,
~%urinnor, Drartninan,
Corbenanur,
Smethport, Co.; Pa.,
Will attend to business for non-resident land
holders, upon reasonable terms. References
given if required. .
P. S. Maps of any part of the County made
to order, 7-33
Et J. OLMSTED,
Surinnor anti 'Orafttiatan,
At the office of J. S. Mann, Coudersport, Pa
ABRAM YOUNG,
Elliatc*matter ant( letuarr.
All work warranted. A stock of Watches
and Jewelry on band and fin. sale. Call at ;he
store of Sunth & Jones, Coudersport, Pa.
BENJAMIN RENNELS,
71 I..seasscrTn.
All work in his line, done to order and
with dispatch. On West street, below Third
Coudersport, Pa.
SMITH & JONES.
- -
Dealers in Dry Goods, Groceries, Statione.
.Iy. Drugs & Medicines, Paints, Oils, Fancy
articles, &c. Alain Street, Coudersport I'a.
JONES, MANN, & JONES.
General Grocery and Provision Dealers—
Also in Dry Goods, Hardware, Boots and
Shoes, and whatever men want to buy. :llaitt
Street, Coudersport- Pa.
D. E. OLIISTD
Dealer in Dry Goods, Ready-made Clothing
Groceries, Crockery, &c. Coudersport, Pa.
J• «r• SMITR,
Dealer in Stoves, and manufacture of Tin,
Copper, and Sheet•lron Were. Main street,
Coudersport, Pa.
W. MANN,
Dealer in Books & Stationery, Music, and
Magazines. Main-.t., opposite N. W. corner
pftbe public square.. Coudersport, Pa.
AIIIOS FRENCH,
Physician & siir g eon. East side Main-st.,
Own) 4th st., Coudersport, Pa.
DAVID B. BROWN,
Foundrytnau and Dealer in Ploughs.
Ar end of Main street, Coudersport Pa.
Ls.guiBoN & SCIfOOMAKER,
Dealers in Dry Goods, Groceries, Crockery,
and Ready-made Clothing Main street, Coo!
dersport, Pa.
ALLEGANY HOUSE,
Samuel 3f. Mills, Proprietor. On the Wells
ville road, seven miles North cd. Coudersport.
R. J. CHENEY,
Merchant Tailor, and Dealer in Ready
made Clothing. North of the public square,
Coudersport, Pa. -
A. B. GOODSEISJ,
ClTlNSMlTH,Coudersport, Pa. Fire Arins
kJ - manufactured and repaired at his shop, ou
short notico.
March 3, 1848.
J. W. HARDING,
Fashionable Tailor. All work entrusted to
his care «ill be dono with neatness, comfort,
and- durability. Skop over Lewis hiantee
Mose
1 1 pLF AL
TII 14 1 4 i 41
THE PEOPLE'S JOURNAL.
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Marriage notices 1.00
Professional Cards not exceeding eight lines
userted for $5,00 per annum.
All letters on business, to secure at
option, should be addressed (post paid) to the
Publisher.
What Freedoni has done for the North and Slave
ry for the South.
What has made the United States
great and powerful, is chiefly the gi
ant-like progress of the norMern states,
through the free labor of free men. We
point with prideand astonishment to the
statistical tables exhibiting the growth
of the Union in wealth and power—
but.this growth is solely in the North.
Hero industry and trade have work
ed miracles; here thousand 3 of towns
and cities hare sprung from the earth
like mushrooms; here smoke the chim
neys of manufactories; here burn the
looms, here rattle the spindles and re
sound the hammers, where but a few
years since the savage wended his way
through the primitive forests; here
rushes the steam-horse •through end
less plains which, in the reccollection
of the present generation, were far
beyond the bounds of civilization ;
here, in the course of a lifetime, wil
dernesses have been converted into
flourishing states, which, with rapid
strides overtake and outstrip states,
of the South, now over two centuries
old. But this is not all. Here, tile,
within a few decades a literature has a -
risen, which Will bear comparison
with any of its contemporaries; here,
not a single branch of human knowl
edge is without its worthy represent
atives, no acquisition of science or art
but here finds due recognition; and
here,lastly, every one; even the poor
est, finds opportunity to educate him
self—an academical education is here
onen to all.
Thus much for the North—But' in
the South? . . . Countries like Vir
ginia, surpassed by none in the world
for inexhaustibleness of natural sour
ces, according to the testimony of their
own statesmen, enfeebled and on the
verge of ruin; the once frtritful soil
wasted by senseless, suicidal man
agement; the mineral Ivealth of the
country undeveloped, its water-power
unregarded: all necessities oflife, with
the exception of food, imported from
the northern states or from England ;
states, the history of which scarcely
dates back as far as the lifo•of man,
exhibiting the most lamentable ex
haustion of soil ; and a want of refine
ment among the masses, and among
the wealthiest but little appreciation
of refined and artistic enjoyment S
- are some of the characteristics of
the South.—N. Yorker Abend-Zcienu
ar THE AUTHOR. OF THE UNHOLY WISH
The day . had been wet and dreary, •
fit emblem of its month, November;
and as the evening postman splashed
through the mud, on his rounds in a
certain suburb of a manufacturing town
in England, the family groups looked
from their warm, cozy sitting-rooins,
and said they would rather he had his
walk than they, in the wintry weather.
He left letters at many houses, but
not at all, as he would have done in the
manufacturing districts of the town ;
and whilst he is knocking at ono door,
that of a well kept, pretty house stand
ing in a small garden, let us glance
into its front parlor, preceding by a
minute, tho letter that will soon be
there.
A
DEVOTED TO THE PRINCIPLES OF DEMOCRACY, AND THE DISSEMINATION OF .MORALITY, n LITERATERE, AND NEWS
MILLICENT AND PRIMP CI LUTE
CHAPTER I
COITDERSPORT, POTTER COUNTY, PA., JUNE 26, 1856.
The family are •at dinner there.
Two ladies only. One, young still,
and handsome, sits at the head of the
table, the other, much younger and
equally well-looking. though in a dif
ferent style, sits opposite to her, facing
the window. Surely they cannot be
mother and child! It is not only thin
there appears scarcely 'sufficient -con
trast in the age, but they are so totally
unlike in face, form and expression ;
the elder all firo and pride, the younger•
all grace and sweetness. No, they
are only stop-mother and daughter.
.‘ Make haste, Naucy,' said the young
lady to the servant in waiting, there's
the postman coming here.'
Her accent was• exceedingly
. gay
and joyful. She. expected, perhaps
some pleasant news, poor girl ; and the
maid left the room with alacrity.
For me 3' she questioned, as the
girl returned with a letter.
• Not for you miss,' was the servant's
answer. For my mistress.' •
She put the letter on the tablecloth
by the side of Mrs. Crane, and the-lat
ter laid : down the spoon with which
she was eating some rice pudding, and
took it up:
Whom is it from, mamma ?'
How can I .tell, Millicent, before
it Is opened ? It looks like some busi
ness letter, or a circular. A large
sized sheet of blue paper, and no en
velope. It - can wait. Will you take
some more pudding ?'
' Philip sometimes writes on those
business sheets,' cried Miss Crane,
eagerly. - Is it his hand-writing,
mamma ?'
Philip! nothing but Philip ! Your
thoughts are forever running upon him.
I ask you about pudding, and you re
ply with Philip ! Were I Mr. Cran
ford, I should be jealous.!
No morn, thank you,' was the re
joinder of the young lady, while "a
smile and a bright blush rose to-her
candtd.face. Mamma, you have never
appreciated Philip,' she said. But
the elder lady had opened bet letter,
and Wa3 deep in its contents.
Nancy,' cried out Mrs. Crane, in a
sharp, hasty tone, as she folded the
letter together, in what seemed a move
ment of anger, take all away, and put
the desert on. No - cheese for me to
day, and Miss Millicent does not care
for it. Be quick. I want the room
Cleared. Ring for Harriet to help
you.'
In Mrs. Crane's impatient moods
size brooked no dilatory serving, and
the domestics well knOv it. So that
her wish, in this instance, was -execut
ed with all despatch, and she and her
step-daughter were left alone together.
I have never appreciated. Philip,
you say,' she began, as the door clos
ed. Not as you do, lam aware. I
haVe always told you, Millicent, that
your exalted opinion of him,• your ex
aggerated love ) would sometime re
ceive a check. This lettet is from his
employers.'
' Yes hesitated Millicent, for there
was something hard, defiant and tri
umphant in her step-mother's accent
and words, and it terrified her.
'He has robbed them and has now
decamped: They ward me to give
him up to justice if he should come
biding here.
In the first shock of this terrible as-
Crane asned for
breath, • so that the impassioned denial
she sought to utter would not. come.
For bar confidence in her brother was
strong, and her heart whispered to her
that the accusation was not _true.
There is some mistake,'• she said
recovering her agitation, and speaking
quite calmly.
Read the letter,' returned Mrs.
Crane, pushing it over the table to
wards her; and Millicent read, and
her confidence and her hope died
away.
When Millicent Crane bad been ten
and her brother eight, they were left
motherless. Mr, Crane after a short
lapse of time, married again a young
wife. . She did not talk kindly to the
two' children, or they to her. She
used to say. to lookers on that they
were so wrapt ,up other in eachthey
had no love to give her. But the chil
dren themselves, knew that their now
mother disliked them, in her inmost
heart ; that had they loved her, with a
true and entire love, she could never
have returned it—fur who so quick as
children, in detecting where their af
fections may securely be placed ? To
an open rupture with the children . she
never came, as she might have done
had a family - of her own been born to
her. She encouraged herself in her
antipathy to the children, and towards
Philip it grew into a positive hatred.
Ho was a generous, high-spirited, but.
tiresome boy, as boys, who are worth
anything, are apt to be. Ho kept the
house in commotion, and the drawing
room in a litter, -spinning top. on its
carpet, and breaking its 'windows with
his India-rubber ball. Mts. Crane
was perpetually slipping upon marbles,
and• treacherous, hooks and fishing
tackle were wont to entangle them
selves in her stockings and feet. She
invoked no end of storms on his head,
and the boy would gather his play
things together and decamp with them;
but, the next day they, or others more
troublesome would be lying about
again. What provoked Mrs. Crane
worse than all was, that she could not
put Philip out of temper. When she
attacked idin with passionate anger, he
replied by a laugh and a merry word,
sometimes an impertinent one, fur, if
the truth must be avowed,: Philip was
. not always • deferent towards his-step
mother. She had the ear of their fLth
er, not they ; and she got the children
put to school. Millicent was eighteen
and Philip sixteen- before they return
edhorne, and then Mr. Crane was dead,
and the money, which ought- to have
been theirs, was left to the widow for
her life; and to them afterwards—and
she but twelve or fourteen years older
than they we -e ! Mrs. Crane was charg
ed to pay them .f:5O a year each, due
ing'ber life ; an additional fifty . to Phil
ip
till he attained the age, of twenty
one, then to cease; and Millicent was
to have her home with her step-nioth
:.
er, until removed from it by-marriage.
It's a wicked will,' Inirst forth Phil
ip in the height of his indignation ;
my father must have lost his senses
before he made such a
We must make the best of it, Phil .
lip,' whispered Ilk gentle sister, sooth
ingly; "it is done, and there is no
remedy. You shall have my XSE) as
well as your. own. I shall not want
it."
"Don't talk nonsense, Millicent, re
turned the boy. "You'll want your
£5O for clothes and pocket-money, do
not flatter yourself that deceitful old
crocodile will furnish them.. And if
she did, do you think I would take the
paltry pittance from yob?"
Phillip said he would go to sea, but
Millicent cried and sobbed, and en
treated that he would not; for sho pos
sessed the dread of a sea life, indigen
oui in many womeni . and Philip, who
!need her dearly, yielded to her.—
Then he said ho would go into the
army; but where was his - commission
to come from? - Mrs. Crane declined
to furnish funds for it. At length an
old friend of his father's obtained for
him an _admission into one of the.Len
don banking houses. He was then
seventeen; but he was not to expect a
salary for over so long a period after
admission, and his. ,tlOO a year was
all he had. to keep him, in every way.
"Enough, too!. as Mrs. - Crane said,
and as many others may say. Yes,
"'amply enough, when a young man has
the moral strength to resist expensive
temptations, but very little to encoun
ter those which bubble up'in the vor
tex of London life. From five o'clock
in the evening,-about which hour he
left business,. was Philip Crane his
own master, without a home, save his
solitary lodgings, and without relatives.
Friends (as they are so called) ho
made for himself, but they were
friends that'he had better been with
out ; for they were mostly young men
of expensive habits, and of means su
perior to his: As the years went on,
debt- came; embarrassments • came;
despair.caMe.; . and, in an evil hour, it
was on his twenty-second birthday,
Philip Crane took what did not belong
to him, 'and detection followed. Hence
the letter which. the reader has seen
addressed to Mrs. Crane by the firm,
inwhich.they gave free vent, to the
fullness ortheir indignation. . •
Millicentsat with her eyes and
thoughts concentrated on the letter;
and a slow conviction ofits truth came
to_her. "Oh Philip! Philip!" aL3
wailed forth, "anything but this! I
would have viol lied to save' you from
dishonor-1 would have died to save
you from crime. Mrs. Crane! mam
ma! what ho has taken must be in
stantly replaced." ,
"Not by me," was the harsh reply.
"You will never find me ofForing a
pfemium for theft. He deserves pun
ishment and I trust he will meet it.
he attempts to coo here. I shall
assuredly give him up to justice."
Millicent did not answer, did not
remonstrate, but sat with her head
bowed in her cla?ped hands. She
knew how resolute was Mrs. Crane,
where her dislike was concerned, and
she.knew, now, that she hated •Philip;
she had long' stfipeeted it. A knock
at the house door aroused Millicent.
"Mamma," she exclaimed, . starting
up, "that is Mr. Cranford. Ho 'mss t
be told " this. Perhaps—when. he
knows—he will rot—l am going up
stairs," she added, more hurriedly, as
she heard a servant advan i cing to ad
mit the visitor. "Do you tell him."
How many phases of thought pass
through the mind in an instant of time!
In-the interval of Millicent's escaping
from,the room, and Mr. Crauford's
entrance to it, Mrs. Crane. had rnn
over the matter with herstqf and ta
ken her resolution. She would not
tell 'Mr. Craufiird. He was on the
point (within a few months, for it was
to be spring) ~of marriage with Milli
cent; she desired the latter inat - ried
with all heart and wish, and certainly
•she would not give information of any
kind, which might tend to stop that
marriage. Mrs. Crane was a vain wo
man, fond of admiration; her head had
latterly been running,on the possibility
of a second marriage; she wanted Mil-
licent gone, that herself and her move
ments migbt be left without incum-
brince
Mr. Crauford entered, a gentleman
ly man of about thirty. His
. manners
were pleasing, and his countenance
was handsorne,.but its chief expres,
sion was that of resolute pride. Ha
was in business with his father, a
flourishing manufacturer of the town,
.and was much attached to Milliccut.
Peopho said kow fortunate she . had
been, what .a desirable man he was,
and what a good match.
He sat with Mrs. Crane the whole
evening, and took tea with her.. Mil
licentnever came down. Mrs. Crane
told him Millicent was not well, and
she believed, had retired to rest.—
When he left the house, Millicent came
shiverisg into the parlor, and, crept
close to the fire, for she ' .was very
cold.
"•tiamma, how is it What (loos 110
say?" .
"Millicent . ," said the older lady,
turning away her face, which was
blushing hotly for her untruth, to tell
which, tiaa not ono of Mrs, Crane's
frequebt faults, "it will make •no dif
ference in his attentions towards . you.
He must feel the:degradation Philip,
has brought, but he will not vizi; it oh
you—upon one condition," .
"What condition?" asked Millicent,
raising het eyes to her step-mother.
"That- you never- speak of your
brother to him: that you never, direct
ly or indirectly allude to him in his
presence; and should Mr. Cranford, in
a moment of forgetfulness, mention
Philip's name before you, that you
will not notice it, but turn the conver
sation to another subject."
"And is this restriction to continue
after our marriagel" inquired Milli
cent.
"I know nothing about that. When
people are married they soon filia out
what matters they may, or may ms
enter nport with each other. It is .
enough, Millicent that yoti observe ii
.
for the present." • . .
"It is' io dillicglt restriction," mused
Millicent. " For what could I have
to say now about Philip that I -should
wiA to talk of to him?" -- She laid' her
her head avinst "the side marble Of
the mantel-piece ns she spoke, and . '
scat of a half-sigh, half moan escaped
her. Mrs. Crane looked at ker we-14k
led countenance, at her eyes closed is
pain, at the silent tears trickling dew*
"And for an ungrateful rake!" she
contemptuously uttered.
CHAPTER. IL
The week-1 went or!, several, and. .
with them, the preparation for
cent Crane's marriage with Sir. Cram
ford. Per once—rare 'occurrence!--
it was a union oflove, and
happiness would have . been ttncloti l
ed but for the agitating suspense tilt,/
was in about her brother. Isis hidirr;
place had not been traced, but it ts;t4
the opinion of the banking-firm, that -
he had escaped to America. And t:hqte
• ,
they quietly suffored.hirn rein
for his defalcation had sot been great
not sufficient for them to.go.to the iti. 7
pens& and .trouble of tracking 2bi;ii.
•
there. rMillicant's days were amp J
o , r
and her nights weary ; she Ird
brother with a lively, enduring for r;'
lilt.. as a mother clings to her chill;
so did. Millicent cling . to. him.. She
pictured him wandering the him__
homeless, friendless, destitute; ove-- .
whelmed with remorse, fur she kne.v
that an honorable nature, like Philip':
could not commit a crime and the a
forget it; or she pictured•him - revelliu;
with dissolute - companions, sinkin
deeper into sin, day by day. 13nfur.i
Mr. Cranford alone she strove to a-,-
pear cheerful and happy—not wishin;
him, after his restriction, to think
dwelt too much on this erring brother,
One day, in beginning of P 0 1),
ruary, Ae was walking unaccompa
led into the town, when a man, dress J
loosely in tho garb of a sailor, weari
a large, shabby pilot jacket, and wit',
huge black whisknis, stePped. up 4,3
her and put a note into her hand wit',-
I
out speaking, touched his - hat a.,
disappeared down aside-street; bi
licent, much surprised, started tirt : r•
the than and opened it.
" INilt Dnin Sts.re42.—Come to m •
-this evening at dusk, if you can.do
without suspicion at hOmd..4
been days on the .watclhnn.dhave n..:
been able to get speech of you. T a •
now writing this, hoping to give it t .
you,- if not to-day, some other. 1;e
very cautious; the police aro no d
on the look-out. for m3 - bere, as chi! r
have been in London. I am at
Port street : the house is mean a., I
I ow, and you :oust come up to the t.,..
story, and enter the door on your rig:.r.
hand. Will you dare this for my eak
"P. C."
Millicent, had unconsciously etc,
still while she road the note, and iei;
face was turning as White as death. S,l
intent was she as not to perceive
. Mr
Cranford, who happened, by ill-luck
to be passing through the street—ari
unusual part of the town for him
he in, at that hour of the day, IL
crossed over the road, and toucln,.l
her on the shoulder, and Millicent,
whose head was full of eincers'ofjn
flee looking' after Philip, positivt.lr ,
screamed in alarm, and crumbled thu
note up in her baud; and thrust it iniq
her bosom.
" What. is the matter?' cried l'sfr.
Crauford, looking at her in:astonish.
ment.
I thought—T.,—is it only your
stammered Millicent.
"Only me ! Whom did you expect;
it was ? What has happened, Milli
cent, to drive away your color, like
this t What is that. letter you have
just hidden, with as much terror as if
it were a forged banknote 1" .
The letter'e—nothing." she inv .
ed, her teeth chattering with agitati.la
and fright. -
( To be o mitinueg.)
13=1
EMZEI
ME
NO. 6;