jjf' | V rP ? A.isrr) jno. S. IWonn, g P Krtriitor. 3STIE W S ITEM. ' '''"- ItUME XXV, NO- 23. , ,il JO'D'MAL AND N , ~v- ITEM. „ " • AT , )L UEUSI'OUT, PA. (V. Miina u 1 - it.K Ye\U ts ADVANCE. R.MS 4 s Mann, s - F - Hamilton, j l 0" " rr r. PuHMter. j ARTHUR R. M (KIT "'JOHNS. MANN & SON, K •,„VI)KKSI*OKT, l'A., Arthur B.Mann, Ja,ur,ucf A*eut A .Vdary Public. OKI, McCIiA RY. M. i.. a ,;T|{lN<. PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON j-irt'DERSI'iHtT, PEN N'A. C. J. CURTIS, lumoral Did and District Attorney. j ( : H'lE'iDl't HIT. PA., i -' l ii.pii • ;>rrt to his profession. at. .iti.'ii iiveii lofriKtitMUt 05AS. T. SOHIVELY, lirif'ubiir.' liiitii \gcnt. "ouveyaucer j anil i.ml Estate Atreiil. ■ : 't'tiiifitelahsa, '/it. ; . . t . f'e:i-l->us a.i.J other ! i ! • . • ► P. C. ' AKKABEF. ! - *■ i EE, '.l ;f N'.xEi.ORS AT LAW; 'V . >ii<. He Ciitrt il ) i .>• JEiiSlNitT, PE.VN'A. j SET:? LEWIS, ru. v at lain' anil liiMirauce Agent, LEW: -;VILLE, PA. A. M. REYNOLDS, DENTIST, 111 - N -'I ~i .1. BUM K,) < 'DEDKUSPOHT, PA. Baker House, P-'.oa s , K.Ei.i.l, Propi s. rai-r id si. OMt.mu EA.S'I Streets, tl4 Dr.i.Si'i .li'i, i'J. XA. '■ i tnti 'ii j'.ii.i t., < .•urenieiK'c ..tui -• t >: :;aesta. -cvvisvilie Hotel, w >i.U.V ;i Streets, LiAVi-xii.Ll-, l'A. i>t.i- .11 Ai;i; I.eii. JOHN J. PLA :SALL, PAXNTER-, Cut HEItSI'oGT, PA. .v..-Uii .g. •D'aiui.iK. C li laiiui t i'-T, i'.l'K*:-nUiltfl.iJi, *Lt 1 kf • 'II-; • • it l.i H:l Ith l s.l! l-il - a i t io ti . 1 i'.lt.N i'S f. r .a1,., 1 J. 8. JDS'. THOMSON it if]ANN i tixvi.Kes ! N Medieiiies, Books, Stationery, k'aO'JJi P.lfls OILS. W-Ll P-Ptf;, j Cir. if tin iml Thifil Six., COUDEUSPDRT, PA. S. F. HAMILTON, K AND JOB PRINTER ' 'r l/£ attenWon Edward Forster. DEALER IX G-roceries & Provisions, I MA IN STREET above SECOND, COUDERSPORT, PA. A FULL SUrPLV or ; FLOUR, SUOAJti., SPICES, SYRUP, CHEES , HAM, FISH, TOBACCO, SNUF F. &c., &c., KEPT CONSTANTLY ON IIANT). A specialty made Teas and Coffees, ! nf whidi I Lave the | I.arjee.-it find Rest Stock in town. j All (.r.orls sold CIIKA P for I.'AMI only. j I Call and ezainiue 1.-efore purchasing elsowiitie : Ell WARD rOKSTCR j I Now Si NO Eit Sewing Machines ex ; ; eliaiigcd for ones of any kind or make.' j by A. M. RKYNOLI. Aijent. \ BASSETTS LIVER! I ! I j • orner MARKET and 111 NTEK -u*eei>. i { S'O I" TJJ SID K>J the HI VEi;.) ! I '.vort.:> rc ijiecifully invite Ilie attention>; t> ouMic iiiy LlYtj.i .Y ESTABLISIILHiIItv with the UMV ranee that 1 can meet every m.unl foi a his! ciass ttii nont. Having pur- L,. e>l the l.ive,y "if \n.on > r mivf the uiy I'scaij-isl'iuehi ,if the '.iiu! in i veetion. J. M. MASS! :T i * >i-tr K. E. G OGLSELL. Ca Y periter and Jo?no.. ; CUTiI SIDE of the RIVER, (tilt'irt EA S i Stf't. U(Uitho*j<[ior". Pit. ' 'NTIi ACTS rah: j, ~n< matei iaW fnrnl.-laN. :< ali Ui|l:ls (if It! II.DtNi. I*l.A VINO ;'.nl Vi.vr.- ;riM. ilaie.—Moci ids - , 'f.. •leseiiiilii.ns. SAsJI, BLIND:- ami iXiullS .>n bun or man - Dietareii t.i "inh-r. CAN If pan! Di! l ine i umber. VOID PATII'II >GE is viieiieii. 5?. I)SELE. The SlN'ouii is a lock-stitch uiacliiin ! and lnakt sabeautiful,even:md nniforu. ; stitch which will not ravel and is alikt !on both sido It hems, braids, cords, j tucks, embroiders, mfilcs, fells and dot s j all kind • ol' work on the linesl muslin or the heaviest full-cloth. John V. Erown, PKORRIETOK OF LINE OF STAGjbfY BBTWFKN Coudersport & W ellsville ( Via OS WA YO. PA.) Persons going to OSWAVO I>V stage, and aesn 1... to return same day, will be accommodated , at stage rates. passengers wishing to reach any of the neiglits.: itig towns will lie conveyed by Livery a ■ reasonable rates. A good Livery rig kept eonstar.tly on hand • passengers >y the stage. OSWAYO HOUSE, (JOIIN V. BKOWN, I'ropt., I OSWAYO, PA. ! ;vh# COUDERSPORT PA., WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 11,1874. Golden Hair. Colden Tlalr sat on Grandfather's knee. Dear litt e Golden Ilairi tired was she, All day busy, a* busy could be. Up in the morning as soon as 'twas light; hit With the birds and butlerllies bright. , 1 iitting a'oout till coining of night. Grandfather toyed witli the curls on her head, "W hat lias my baby been doing?'' he said, ■'Since she arose, with the sun, front her bed." j ' "Ditty much," answered the sweet little one, "1 cannot tell, much things haw 1 done. Played with dolly and feeded my bun. "And I have jumped with my little jump rope, i And then i made out of water and soap, litijUiie worlds- —Mamma's ca sties of hope. "Then I have roaded in my picture-book; And little P.e'da and I went to look For some smooth stones by the side of the brook, i "Then f coined home—ami eati-d my tea. And 1 eiimed up to my Granpapa's knee, I'm-jes-as-ti red-as-tired-can-lK.'!" We are but children: the thing, that w. do j ! Are as sjeirts of a bain* to the Infinite view, j That sees all our weakness and pities it too. G(kl grant that when night overshadow s our way, And we shall be called to account for the day Ifc may find it as guileless as Golden Hail s play. And oh! when a-weary, may we be so biest As to sink like an innocent to our rest. And fee! ourseivescias|ied to the Infinite bread. { "Black Your Boots." Mr. Manning's big wagon, with white cover aiul red wheels, rumbled over the stones into Jersey city. Bounce and Del, the great la\ horses, j witli fat, shining sides nud ion j, How ilig mam - and tails, shied this way j and that, picked up their cars and ! stamped and snorted at the engines; l i hut Mr. Manning's kind voice kept them in chack; his "Whoa! bays,''; "Hey! there, Steady, my good fel lows,'' reassured them. The ferry i they did not ke at all; their noses j were high in air smiling, their eyes j i staring wiidiv a' the strange, shim-! ' meting sheet of water h.-tore them; I hut they only needed thvii' inasti r at I | I heir head, powerful us they were, to ; | keep t hem tpiiit. t Mr. Manning's wagon looked like | I n emigrant's, hut il tva> only cov-j | -red for marketing juu poses. If you : eotihi have peeped inside, you would ; nave st-eit jut s of sweet butter, has- | i.ets of eggs, and boxes of the whit-j |est horny, nice enough i'- r the dttin-1 Test table in the city. Over the; stone pavements, through the bttsv. j noisy streets up to Mr. Thomas Man ning's mammoth grocery oi\,tln great wagon rolled on its way. Tit. I gentleman came out of his oiiiee am. greeted his brother with .sincere cor diality. What though the farmer"- amis were rough and brown, his •iothes coarse and worn, his hat a paim-le.if ami his i.oot-8 "stogies," he was every incn am m. The wag on was unloaded and the hors -s were iriven to : livery stable tot lood am. est. Mr. Matitting intemled return rg home that thy, hut a eonveisa :v• t at his bt'oliter s dinner taiih etumged his mind. Sn lite course 1 in ir e!iit,-( iia! lie t< marke 1: "Neighbor Wat-on's bound b'\ ran a wax Lite other day. It's the ay with "these charity children, i \t no faith in 'em: you can't keep ■. te ; it's no IHC trying." "VJ tt ma-t not condemn them : il t<\ t uw; many have done xxiil tnnt matie useful men and women. In deed i was going to suggest to you, JIS i have done before, to take one,' answered his brother smiling. '•Oh! 1 know your hobby, Thom as," laughed tiie farmer, "but I don't prove a good cab'lt, you see. Really, though, xvii'e and I have thought more about il of late; we are getting old, and the house is dreadful lone some since Johnny died. He sighed heavily. Tiny had hurried all their children, ihree in number; Johnny, a links fellow of j seven yeais, was the last. How ties- j olatc is the home and hearth without : the merry voice and busy feet of the: children, especially if the light has | I once burned and then gone out —still, blank, void! Mr. Thomas Manning had a lively and earnest interest in city children. Jfe gave of his time and money liberally. Now his heart was delighted with the new interest manifested by his heretofore incor rigible brother, who had always j seemed very indifferent on the sub ject; so to draw him out still farther, he simply asked asked: "Why not take one?" "It is this, Thomas. I suppose I have bt en unfortunate in my observ ance in 'em. 1 have little courage to try Meanness seems to be bred in j lite bone, or something's the matter." "As I said, it is not always so. I j see new waifs on the streets every day driven out for bread—bread. The suiroundiitgs soon harden them; they catch the manners of street life; they have to fight to live. It some of thcin eouhl he taken before this hardening process they would of course lie more easily managed; but i even some of the worst turn out well. Only, yesterday I saw among the boot-blacks a little fellow xvlio I am e ire ir> unused to their rough way: • his face has haunted nte ever since. I'm sorry now I didn't stop to speak I with him. 1 was in a hurry and he j ! seemed under the protection of one , iof the older bows, so I thought he; ts | | would not be absurd, as new recruits I | usually are." "Well," said the farmer, "i! I could find one could have faith in to .i. t xvitii, I would try one." "You would? Well then, suppose you stay over ni lit and we will c< what we can find. 1 will go over the i missions with you and the orphan asylum us, if you like. I'd like you j to take a look at the armies on the ' streets, too." "I should never ta' e one from the streets, I'm sure: I have a horror of j j j them, with their rags and dirt and j oaths." j "Not all! nut all! George! "re ; peatcd Mr. Thomas Manning. The farmer shook his head incred | tilously; hu nswered, "I don't know | i what wife will say; t til 111 stay and j look 'round." Out on the streets of New York! one has to see and hoar to know.! | Rich and poor jostle each other.! I The street is free to all—the home of' 'many—a great place for business;! • fruit, vegetables, milk, meat, a.ul i j tisii are cried lot saie, mingled with j I he hollow sound of "char-coal!" and I "tags! " "rags," the shrill voice of it he newsboy, and the merry cry ot j"Rlack- our-boots," etc.—a tinning : panorama in many acts. The broth jet's went on together and as thev I prts.--.MI safe!\ to the sidew.dk, over a I crowded crossing, Mr. George Man j iittg felt a touch on his arm and ;. ! sweet voice said, '■mac's your !)<■(>' i—m:ike "i m shin*; (.'..it x.'tt only like a liiitit— niul it: tae sky." The farmer was struck by the curi ms couplet, and looking down at itis unpolished boots said; "Well, sonny, they do need it; suppose you try your hand. Thom as!" he called to his brother w ho had passed on a few steps, "here!" as Ln eaine up, "what do you think of im getting a shine?" 11a! ha ha!" The little fellow set to work quit; business like, though a little awk ward. Taking out his blacking air brush, he set his box for Mr. Man ting to nst his foot upon. Titer was some blacking on his hands, <>l course, but bis clothes were neat and clean. He looked up with gratitu b in os eyes to answer lite farmer's questions. "What was thai so rig you were tinging, sonny ?" Dvl'ore he could answer, the city brother exclaimed: "Well, I declare, if this isn't the same little fellow i was talking about You haven't been in the business long, my boy ?" "No, sir; you bet on that. I'm rather green, but 1 "li daine your boots for you for all that." He brushed away with the energy oi a small engine. If tiie gentlemen ! had looket they might have seen LG protector—a big boot black—only a few steps off, with something more I than gratitude expressed on his face; j there was real, genuine love, as he ! watched his charge, j "You didn't tell me your song," re marked the farmer, changing his foot; on the box, one boot shining like a j mirror now despite its coarseness, j "Well," laughed the bov, "yon see Den told me something to say—may be 1 didn't get it right." "Out xvitlt it.; what was it? that was what caught this customer for you." The boy raised his head and cried half smilingly and shyly: Black yer Loots— M.\KE ctn shine; Cost vor <>n'y like ;i dime— ond in toe sky." Ilis oice dropped towards the last, lie said, "1 guess I get something else mixed with it. "Den!" he shout ed, peering around. Ben stepped from the cornel of a building: "What was it you told me to say, old fel low?" "Black your boots—make 'em saiue; Coat yer only half a dime—" "Oh! yes; I got some of "Twinkle Star" in't, I guess." They ail laughed. Then Mr. Thomas Manning said: "Step this way, boys, into my store"—they were near it; he led the way—"come on, I'll pay you for your time," he added cheerily. They walked through to the back part of the store. "Now I should like to know something about this little boy —who he is. I noticed him on the street yesterday." "My name's Toots," the child said, ! then looked at Ben. "Why, yer see," said Ben, "I've ; knowed 'im allers. His mother used ter live next room t'us. She tuk in sewing and washing, and got 'long xvell 'nough i-ili she tuk sick an'died. Me'n Bob, that's my brother, felt so sorry like fur Toots we tuk 'im far our own. He don't like ter stay j 'lone so we hex ter takes 'im with us. ! Toots wants ter work, so we sets im jup an' are learnin' of htm. Toots J does bully," and th generous Ben | patted him fondly on the shoulder. "Your big heart makes rne asham ed of my little one, Ben," said Fann er Manning, "I think I'll learn :t les son from you. Now 1 want a little boy; God has taken all of mine and ! I'd like to take this little fellow oil J your hands. What do you sa\ son j iiv," turning to foots, "would you j like to live in the country an be jmy boy?" "Oh! Crack—ee," Toots : (jaculated, dropping his blacking-box iand opening his eyes very wide—"a | real country of trees and birds and ! flowers and prett , chickens, and ail ! that, such as mamma used to t-'il me about." Ben's face grew long as lie tried to sean Mr. Manning's. "'Twottai be the tiling sir, if we's sine"—i. it p:uis< 1. "Sureof what?" Asked the farmer. "That you'd be good 'n kind," Den said half choking. "I think I should try to follow your example, my brave boy; II" you could take him with your little, ! ought to do well by ititn with the plenix God has given m . With his .dp I will," In said solemnly. "What do yer say, Toots?" asked Den. "Leave you? " said the child, tak ing Ben's hand. "Yes, but. ver'tl tu-v a good home 'mong green fields 'n flowers." "Oil! Crack—ee,"exclaimed Toot again. "Yes, I've seed 'em or.et Toot-, they're awful nice; I"d come ter see you sometime- yer know." "Of course," said the farmer get ting more and more interested. His brother was silently enjoying the •e.-tie, and after s une l'.rlh r eonver satioii both gentlemen went homo with the boys to talk with Boh tViif ii Mr. George Manning saw thdir one poor room and scanty fur niLure, and thought how generously they had made room not only there but in their hearts for the orphan boy, he silently prayed God to for give him for shutting so much joy out of his soul as he felt was creep ing in now he hid opened it. It xva lecided that Toots should go. He was quite willing now. iLe had been sitting during the conver->nlion on his new friend's lap and said, "'Tis most like mamma's." You dear children who see green and fair fields every day can not im agine. the joy and surprise of little Toots x\ hen the next morning they drove out of the noisy, bu-y city. He noticed tree and flower and bird, asking many questions which Lis nev. friend gladly answered. It : brought the tears to Mr. Manning's | eyes many times, for his own little | boys were brought to mind. lie ft It his heart growing bigger with litis 1 little waif beside him. Mrs Manning only said, "Why, George!" when her husband explain ed who his company was. Then she got Toots a doughnut and a glass of ; sweet milk, and took him to her kind j mother heart. Toots's real name was Newton j Murdoch, lie was a Scotch boy, and a noble one he proved. Mr, Manning's generosity did not stoj: here. He took Bob to help him on the farm, and got a good place fot ; Ben. Three better box s than they - never lived; they quite took the 1 st.qrnio £rc*u the nam® of cirarifcx ■ | children in that neighborhood. Bob bee ime a sturdy, thrifty farmer and helped Ben to become a fine scholar. Toots—what was he not to Mr. and Mrs. Manning? their comfort: and stay, tender and gentle as an own son could possibly bt. At their | death the old farm was his. Many and many a poor city boy has he be friended nd always tdd them t e j story of "Black your boo's—ni ike Vm shine; j Cost you only like a dime — ond iu the sky." Managing Children. Our children are our mirrors. If i we would know ourselves, we have! j but to study them. They give back j the true reflection. Can there lie a 1 ! sadder sight than the one s. often J seen, o a worn and anxious mother I scolding and -hut ting up, and xvhip ) ping, aye, and praying over her i bright, wayward child, when, were ! she but to turn ; clear look, unbiind !ed by self- love, inxvat 1, she could i see that almost, if not quite all, which j causes her so much anxiety and an ; noyance, and her child so mat:\ ! punishments, is h< r men fault. But j 1 children are not mere relicetions. I They have iit pii-itive little minds | and warm little ltea' i-, and if we, ; through wearinos or thoughtie>s i tu -s. vxithliol 1 information from lite ! j one, or sympathy from the other.; : they are genuine sufferers. 1 vx:t once visiting a home, of w licit a dear little airl w ts the light. ! One afternoon S!K> xvas crying qniet- Iv. Her mother's eover-Alioii xxa-- j * f ! interspersed witli "Hush, I tell you," j "Stop crying," Ho hush," "I'll send i | 1 , • ' vou <>if by yourself," "Hii-li." "Mother, v hat ails the lilfcle girl? ' i i asked at lust. "Nothing at all. she is j list j, ' ! naughty little girl, and . shall have so punish her. I've let her bring nil ' her plaything* into the pari or and I isn't she bad to annoy and mortify ; tnt so?" But that little, low, half-suppress ie 1, sobbing cry' and those great, I j round tear-drops told another story. I and I asked, "May I talk to her?" "Certainly, 1 xvish you wouid." "Come heo, darbug." I said and taking her on my knee an 1 kissing her. "What is the trouble, my little pet ?" "Doesn't means to be bad. I does n't wants to plague ninmma. but dolly is very sick and I can't get nobody to do nothing for her." "Bring dolly to me." Feeling her puisc, "Why, why site is in a high j lever, bring me some paper and I'll make her some powders. There are three powders all folded tip nicely: now bring tnc a baby cup and a liny i spoon. I've filled it with air mix til re, and you niu-t give it her a le:t spoonf'ul every time site erics. Now undn -s her ami rui) her with afiunel and then rotdv her to sleep." The little girl was happy and sing, ing all tiie afternoon, oeeasionally bringing Holly to me to see how she was,which 1 enjoyed as much as the child did. At night sac kissed in again and agair, xvilh "I does lovt rou." ' ' j "Bui the child was crying for I nothing." I beg your pardon; the child wa i crying for lore an-1 syw/jaw i what you and 1 cry for even yet. < "But her troubles ar- imaginary." i So are most of yours and mine, j yet we bore all our friends and wear; j God with them. ! Children not only imitate our : faults, suffer by our carelessness, but | govern us through our weaknesses. ! A friend came to visit; me and bro't ja generous, irank and manly boy of ! four years old. But ho disturbed jour whole circle by his constant cry- 1 ; ing. This habit- was not in keeping j with the brave, proul, independent ! character of tiie child. I therefore felt a curiosity to Gud the cause. My first discovery was that he never ; .-7e (I a I car. ' His mother wished to take a trip but could not take her boy. "Leave him xvitii me." "He'll torment the life out of you." "1 don't tiling so." "I will, indeed, be inost gratful. s Yon may whip him as often as you ' - pleafx,' $1.75 A YCAII "I shall not strike a child, except in a most extreme c: e." '" Then you can do nothing with him.'' Site was gone. The next morn ing, after breakfast, Willie asked: '•May 1 go and play in the yard?*' '•lt. rain.- 1 last night, ami it's too damp now. You may go at ten, not before." 4 :!>oo, whoo, wlioo," rest. I kept quietly sewing, 800, whoo, wiicfo," I>ack. Concert resumed, with the addi | tion of bumping his head as well as toes: vest, a pmse. Then, picking hiin-i If up, he stood erect before me ; with ids hand - in his p >ekets. ; "Why don't you \vii ij> me and send j me off to get rid of my noise?" | "Beeau-e yon are not going out J until ten o'clock." I lie sto. I a moment. "if I bump iny head ain't you (afraid it will kill me!" "Not in the least." '.But it does burl me aw fully." "I am happy to hear it." lie drew a long breath. "What i : Ido next? I's done all j I knows how." j ".See if you cannot think of some thing else." "Mat I take my blocks?" "Cc.tainly." At nine he started up. "Now may 1 go?" "That's nine." He went back to his blocks with out a murmur. At ten lie went out. lie had been Used to kneel by his mother, say his prayers and hop in to bed. I wished him to kneel with me by the bed ami say his prayers slowly, and then I would make a short prayer for him. The arrange ment did not please him; so, the third night he gave battle. Being tired, my head did feel as if it could n't, or rather wouldn't, bear it. Out of" all patience, 1 determined to give him a good whipping. But never having struck a child, 1 was not quite hardened enough to take my •Upper, and couldn't See anything else. As 1 looked around, a voice— my God, speaking through my con science, asked: "What! whip, in anger; whip a little boy because lie cannot govern his spirit, when you cannot govern your own! Another than the boy needs to be prayed for." And kneeling, 1 asked mv lather to i . give me His strength. His grand pa tience wil-h a disobedient, self-willed child. As 1 kneeled, Wilde crawled under my arm and commenced to say his prayers very slowly, and kept still while I piayed a few words and then askeo: "Now,-mayn't I pray ray own self?" "Yes, darling." And these were his words: "I's a real mean little boy. She won't do nothing ugly a bit, and i's made her head most split. Oh, God, don't let ! mo be a mean little boy any more at all. The splendid little follow had had a fair trial of streugth, and was con quered and surrendered, manfully; I and I had no farther trouble or an -1! imyance during the seven weeks ho j stayed with me. I But how nearly I had lost my ' vantage gronud! If we would rule. | our own spirit*, how easy it would . be to rule our children and our serv i ants. But o/r, to govern self. Keep.your fcritk unbroken.