I* DOLLAR PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. TOWANDA s Hiara&ao morning, ©clobrr 8, 1857. Stletteb IMrj. SJTVLNTY-SIX. 'BV WILLIAM C. BRA ANT. What heroes from the woodland sprung. When, through the fresh-awakened land, The thrilling cry of freedom rung, And to the work of warfare strung, The yeoman's iron hand ! pills flung the cry to hills around, And ocean-mart replied to mart, And streams whose springs were yet unfound, Pealed far away the startling sound Into the forest's heart. Then marched the brave from rocky steep, From mountain rivers swrft and cold; The bolder of the stormy deep, The vales where gathered waters sleep, .Sent up the strong and bold. As if the very earth again Crew quick with God's avenging breath, And from the sods of grove and glen, Rose ranks of 1 ion-hearted men, To battle to the death. The wife, whose babe first smiled that day, The fair, fond bride of yester-eve, And aged sire, and matron gray. Saw the loved warriors baste away, And deemed it siu to grieve. Already had tlie strife begun ; Already blood on Concord's plain Along the springing grass had run, And blood had flowed at Lexington, Like brooks of April rain The death-stain on the vernal sward Hallowed to freedom all the shore ; In fragments fell tke yoke abhorred— Tir feststeps of a foreign lord Profaned the soil no more. - - ... . . . _ PisttllaHtous. Haw his Hat Trembled Him. DV IIAZF.L GREEK, ESQ. '• When I was a young lad, just beginning to think about the girls," said Charley, " I was monstrous pious, and went to meeting every Sunday ; but I have since come to the pouclusion that it was not so much for the Miicern I felt for the ' good of my sotil,' as it was for the sake of gazing about the room, RUii thinking to myself which girl was the prettiest, and which one I would rather marry. " Well, one day I singled out a girl who, I thought, eclipsed all creatiou for beauty ; iu fact, 1 was soon head-over-heels in love with her. But a few moments sufficed for me to form a resolution to see her home, pop the question, and, if possible, to strike a bargain immediately. I was ail in a tremble. The sermon seemed a week long, and very uninter esting. Many, no doubt, were praying for their neighbors and their neighbors' children, Imt with me it was different—l was praying for the meeting to break up. "At length the meeting did break, and I broke with it—for my hat ; but to my surprise and mortification, I could not find it until af ter the object of my affections bad gotten so far the start of me, that it would have requir ed quite an effort to have overtaken her. Be- Mes, there was another consideration —my lat had been under foot, aud was so badly oiled that I was rather ashamed to be seen kith it on. Taking all these things into coo peration, I resolved to wait for the next op- Kirtunity. " From that time I was a changed chap. I ould think of nothing but the girl I had seen it meeting, except it was that of persuading he' governor ' to buy me a new suit of Sun lay clothes. The old lady sided with me iu his la>t particular, and between us both we ucceeded in carrying our point. I was rig out in style—cloth coat, satin vest, cassi wre pants, and to crown all, a beaver that ost five dollars. This will fix things, thought ; could I but see her now, I might set her lown as mine. "In a few evenings there was a prayer neeting at ' Union Nleeting-honse,'and I, with "J new fixings, wended my way thither ; not, 'owever, until my mother had given me much rond advice concerning the management of my lew rigging—more particularly my hat, as I "'d but a short time before got my old oue rushed up at meeting. ' I had not been iti the meeting-house long, >efore she whom I most anxiously expected am e in and from thence until the services "ere concluded, I was in a sea of trouble, lest owe fellow should cut me out, or something >f the kind. "As soon as the congregation was dismiss •l ' yoked ' her, and off we started. When r c reached her home the sun was just setting, ln u so, to be mannerly, her old dad asked me 0 stay all night.' 1 had no objections, and ' tcr supper was over, I told Betty (for that 'he girl's name) that I'd like "to chat with lp r a little more. She had no objections, but Mwc must g 0 t 0 th e kitchen, as the old _ didn't like to be disturbed by a light in T : |'ig room' when they were to bed. To 1 l '"is I consented, of course, and so we were °°n on the very best of terms. I should have )een e x ( remely happy but for one cause—the , a ®p °f plenty, in the form of grease, was ■undantly impressed npon everything in the excepting the chairs upon which we r and consequently I was much troubled jut my new hat. What should I do with • 1 did not want to have grease npon it— '• that would never do ! Finally I resolved eep it on ray head, judging that to be the place. Being thus relieved of my great embarrassment, I went about the work of Tf* in real earnest. i m „ • r niany fine things had bee® said, and ctn r , ria £ e r °ntract had been partially entered > proposed a ki? e . You may be sure she THE BRADFORD REPORTER. refused, but I insisted. A scuffle ensaed, which lasted Until she was completely exhausted.— Being unable to hold out longer, she turned up her pretty lips and said : " If you must kiss me —here ; but don't you ever uudertake such a thing again—you brute !" " I stooped over to perform the operation, when, all of a sadden, I felt an unusual light ness about my head. Before I had time to think whether I was going to faint or not, I heard a kind of splashing about my feet, and easting my eyes downward, I saw —great hea vens ! what did I see ? There lay my five dollar beaver, completely immersed in a filthy compound of dish water, encumber peels, ' ta ter ' skins, and the Lord kuoWs what besides, that had beeu accumulated in a tub, under the fascinating cognomen of ' swill.' " There was a predicament for yon. What should Ido ? If Betty had observed it, the matter would not have been so bad ; but she had not ; could I tell her ? No ! heaven for bid ! At first I thought of lifting it out, but imagining the spectacle it would present, iny courage failed me. " But then," reasoned I, " she will be sure to see it ere long, and then how she will blush ! Already she is looking at me, as if she is wondering why 1 don't kiss her—perhaps I had better not stay any lon ger and suiting the action to the wo*d I made a leap for the door, and was off like a comet From thence all was confusion, until I found myself at home—bare-headed—receiv ing a raking fire from the old man and the ; old woman at the same time. This is bad : enough to think of, but it is not the worst.— ! There is one thing that now rings in mv ears and will continue to do so as long as I live— llt is the last words of Betty. Poor thing, i supposing t'mt I had taken offence at her re- I sistance, she called after me as I shot out of ! the door : " Oh, Charley, come back ! I was only in fun. Come back, do ! Oh ! Charley !" Do Right. A wealthy merchant remarked a few dajs since that he was fully convinced from his own experience, that the means to achieve success lay iu a nut-shell—no RIGHT. " When I say success," said he, " I meau not only the accu mulation of fortune, but the ability to enjoy it—to live a useful, happy life." What is the use of much wealth if we know that it was ob tained by wronging the widow and orphan, by the tricks of trade, selling articles for what they were not, aud a thousand modes of un fair dealings ? Can a man be happy if he knows he has stripped a poor family of its last dollar, sent a dagger to its very heart, drawn away the final drop of blood, leaving their bodies writhing in throes of untold agony, pinched by hunger and cold, their spirits de jected and gloomy—hope crushed out and despair fast hurrying them on, on to ruin ? Granting that men grow better by doing kind ly acts, and feel the better for seeing others do them, how sickening it mnst be to the true man to know that by false dealing lie has eur ditd the milk of human kindness in one breast, turning it to bitter gall ! If wealth conies by such meaus let it not come at all. Shall an active man, possessed of God-given powers, at his dying hour turn back to his past life and be able onlv to say : I have done nothing to add to the wealth of the world in gold or silver, or in artistic productions, but have coveted the labors of others, heaped treasures sordidly to myself, foolishly supposing that I might trample down all feelings and sympathies not directly productive of gain ? Or shall he rather be able to say that, while I have indus triously gathered wealth, I have douc it with cheerful looks, kindly words, warm sympathies; I have done it by making things which have added to the comfort of men, by bringing ' within the reach of the poor great means of j present enjoyment, the opening of a brilliant i future, by throwing lights of sympathy on the j dejected, lifting up the down fallen, strength-1 ening the weak, infusing in all a fervent belief in the brighter part of their being ? Such a j life will enable a man to throw off jiis wealth I as a scale, at the last day, bearing away only ! the imperishable soul which has accumulated i strength along with the mass of wordly goods ' justly and usefully obtained, would von, young man, belong to the latter class, do right. How much better to do right, if you die not worth a farthing, and feel that you have rather ad ded to the good faith in the higher life on earth, than to die while rolling in the luxury, pomp, and pride ot ill-gotten gains ! Then do right! j and if tempted for momentary ease and vanity i to abuse your better nature rest assured that j both the body and the spirit will suffer in a | ratio corresponding to the transgression. There is but one road to happiness and coutentroeut —do right. To EXTINGUISH. —An Irishman being on a visit to some of his relatives, a little more pol ished than himself, was requested on going to bod, to be careful to extinguish the candle ; he was obliged to ask the meaning of the word, when he was told it was to put it out. He treasured up the term, and one day he was sit ting at home with his wife, enjoying his pota toes and buttermilk, when a pig unceremoni ously walked in, whereupon he said, (proud of his bit of learning) : " Judy, dear, will you extinguish the pig ?" " Arrah, now, Pat, me hooey, what do yon mane ?" " Hush, then,you ignorant crathur," replied Pat, " it maues to put him out to be sure." THK NEED OK SYMPATHY. —No class or con dition is exempted from suffering and woe None in this world are so situated, as to be be yond the need, at some time of the soothing and solaciug influence of an unaffected sympa thy. Disease and death are common to all Who does not know of some friqpd or neigh bor, who tasted the bitternesg of losing a be loved ehild, an endeared wife or a loring pa rent ? Who does not know of some family sur rounded by all the comforts, and enjoying all the happiness of life, that had its joys turned mourning ? PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH. " REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER." Farm Life a School of true Manhood. The men who have left their marks npon the ages in which they have lived, have done a great and noble work for the race, have beeu with few exceptions, men of noble physical mould. The foundation of theirgreatness aud of their fame was laid in the patient training of their physical powers. Such a man was Washington, and most of the worthies who were asociatcd with him in the struggle for our liberties. Such was Clay and Webster, and many of their contemporaries in our na tional Senate. Their early days were spent upon a farm, and the thoughts of their declin ing years were given to the improvement and the cultivation, and the embellishment of their respective homesteads. Ashland and Marsh field will long be scenes of pilgrimage to the husband as well as the patriot. The whole tendency of farm life is to develop the body healthfully and systematically. The child is not pent up in the narrow back-yard of a city dwelling, nor turned into the throng ed and filthy street to pursue his sports. His eyes open first npon green fields and fragrant meadows, and his first footfall out of doors is upon the matted grass beneath the shadowy trees of his rural home. He drinks in health from every breeze, and ail the scenes around him call forth that playfulness which performs so importnant an office in our earlj training. And this leads us to speak of the influence of farm life upon the home virtues. No oc cupation can be more favorable to the cultiva tion of those qualities which are the charm of the domestic circle. The farmer is mnch more at home than is possible with any other men. How many there are in our cities, who can on ly see their families at etenring, of on the Sab bath. They live for their business, and this from its location takes them from home early and late. llow many from this same cause, forsake housekeeping and huddle into boarding houses and hotels, where the charm and beau ty of the family, as God instituted it, are en tirely lost, and children fall under a thousand unfriendly influences that would never reach i them at home. With the best arrangements ' wealth can command in the city, it is well nigh impossible to keep children under the in-! fluence of their parents, so that they shall have a distinct family character, and bear the mor al, as they do the physical image of their pro genitors. Pareutal influence is dissipated amid the varied social influences to which : they are subjected from their earliest days.— j Then what perplexities harrass the man of hu- j sincss in the city—his capital often invested j in profitless enterprise, exposed to the degra- j dations of dishonest men, betrayed, cheated, and ruined by knaves and bankrupts. Prom ■ the very character of his business, lie has to i trust far more of his available means to the in tegrity of his fellows than the cultivator.— His debts are often scattered over a wide ex tent of territoiy, and collections are not only expensive, but exceedingly uncertain. But his I commercial credit depends upon this uncertain- j tv, and he is often compelled to fall back upon ■ nothing, a ruined man. Ninety-five failures in a hundred, among' most business men in the city, tell a sad tale j of the perplexity and sorrow, the corroding \ cares and anguish, of mercantile life. How I can a father, goaded with these anxieties, from the beginning to the end of the year,do justice to his children, even if the business allowed him to be with them a part of the time ? He is not in a frame of mind to superintend their education and to perform a father's office. The farm preserves the family in its integ rity. The notne has in it that charming word and that before charming thing, the fireside, around which parents and children gather, and where the bright and cheerful blaze upon the hearth is but a true type of the flame of love that glows in every heart. The parents have been drawn together, not by the sordid motives of wealth, or the ambitious desire of social dis play, but for the personal qualities seen in each other. The glory of the fireside to the hus band is that the wife is there ; and to the wife that he is there who is the head of the woman, aud the band in that home circle.— Here they gather at morning and evening, and at noon. Their board is almost always surrounded with the same circle, and here they spend the long winter evenings together. —FroM (he American Journal of Education. A RICH ORATORIAI. CLIMAX. —The Toledo Blade says, that a story is told of an aspiring orator who held forth on the fourth of July, at one the mauy celebrations in the " rural dis tricts" iu Ohio. His maiden speech duly pre pared, and the telling portions committed to memory, he found himself, in a state of thrill ing nervousness, before the people. All went on well, and he had, in a measure, recovered his self-command, when lie arrived at the great climax of his speech—that portion of it in which he was to allude to " The American Eagle." Proudly he beguD, and tossed off almost flippantly, " The Eagle, gentleman, that proud bird 1 the emblem of our liberties, gen tlemen, as she stands—"when suddenly the rest of his labored simile faded from his memo ry. Terrified at the discovery, he gasped—he seized, nervously, a tumbler of water, and turn ed it, by mistake, inside his cravat, and took a fresh start, with a rush of desperation which bid fair to bursting the bonds of his fettered imagination, and soar majestically away on the wings of the apostrophized " bird." The American Eagle ! The American Eagle, gen tlemen, that frond bird of onr liberties, as she stands—standing—as she stands—standing" (with great vigor,) " with one foot on the Al lcghanies and the other on the Rocky Moun tains, and stretching her broad winds from the Atlantic to the Pacific, shall—strecliing her broad wings—with one foot on the Rocky Mountains, and the other one on the Allegha nies, shall—shall howl, gentlemen and fellow citizens, in the glorious freedom of—her native air I" Bfir There is an inscription on a tombstone at La Pointe, Lake Superior, which reads as foljows :—" John Smith, accidentally shot as a mark of affection by bis brother." Coffee—lts Origin. Culture, &c Coffee is believed to be a native of Abys sinia, and came dowu to us through Arabia, Persia and Tnrkey. It was carried into the last country by Selim, after his conquest to Egypt, but it was not until 1554 that it was publicly sold iu Constantinople. The Turks are forbidden the use of wine, and aence coffee is iu great repute, on account, of its exhilarat ing qualities. The city of Constantinople is filled with coffee-houses. Coffee was introduced into England by a Turkish merchant, named Edwards, whose ser vant was skillful in preparing it, and who, un der the patronage of his master, established the first coffee-house in London, in George Yard, Lombard street. Coffee was then sold for four or five guineas a pound. A duty was soon levied upon it of fourpcnce a gallon, w hen made into a beverage. The cultivation of coffee was introduced from the East into the West Indies, as well as South America, by the Dutch and French.— Coffee trees were also carried from Mocha to Holland, and so late as 1714, a plant was pre sented to Louis XIY., by the magistrate of Amsterdam, and was placed at Marly, under the care of the well-known Jussieu. A few years afterwards one of the shoots of this very plant was sent Cayenne and Martinique. In these tropical regions the plant flourished ex tensively, and there is now a large export therefrom. In two centuries Coffee has made its way throughout the whole civilized world. Before the commencement of the eighteenth century it was not known, except to some sav age tribes in Abyssinia. Coffee cannot be grown in any countries where the mercury never sinks below 55 deg.— The tree grows to the height of twelve or fifteen feet, with leaves something like that of the common laurel. The blossoms are white, much like those of the jessamine, and they issue from the angles of the leaf stalks. When these flowers fade they are succeeded by the beans or seeds, which when ripe are enclosed in a reddish berry. Every berry contains two of these seeds cr beans, which are surrounded by a yellowish glutinous pulp. They are as well known, convex on oue side and flat on the oth er, with a slight furrow in the middle of the flat side. They lie in the berry with the flat sides together. Coffee plants are set Out at regular distan ces, and flourish best in dry soils. They com mence bearing when about two year eld. The effect of a coffee plantation in full bloom, is very beautiful. The whole field looks as if it had been visited by a gentle fall of snow. In Arabia, and at the East generally, eoffee is much finer flavored than it is in ihe West In dies and South America. It is gathered with fur more tare in the former than in the latter section. The Mocha coffee is, undoubtedly, the best in the world. Its superiority is owing to superior climate, soil, and culture. Next in reputation to the Mocha, are the Java and Ceylon coffees ; theu those of Bourbon, Kar tiuique, and Berbice. The Jamaica and St. Domingo coffees are, comparatively speaking, very poor. The housekeeper has done much towards procuring a fine aromatic cup of coffee when she procures the best article. There is much yet to be done, though, in order to the great result, and that much lies in the roasting.— The best berry that Mocha ever produced may be offensive to the taste, if improperly roasted. The roasting should be done in a close vessel, otherwise much of the fine aroma will be dissi pated. The best machines we have seeu are hollow cylinders formed of sheet iron, which are made to revolve upon an axis, and which are turned with a crank. The fire should be brisk under the cylinder, and the crank should be continually in action when the roasting pro cess is going on. When the coffee has attain ed a deep cinnamon color and an oily appear ance, and when above all it sends forth a rich aromatic flavor, it should be taken from the lire, well shaken, and suffered to cool. Those who know, add that not more than a half pound of coffee should be roasted at once. In Italy they roast coffee, very frequently in the flasks of glass used for oil, very well it is done in this way. The non-conducting power of the glass is thought to give it an advantage over metal of any kind, and the coffee is thought to be less likely to burn. Another requisite in order to a good cup of coffee, is to have it roasted and ground just before it is wanted for use, or if not, it should be kept in vessels as nearly air tight as possi ble. THE DISAPPEARANCE. OF WOMEN. —Punch has thus expressed his distress at the disappearance of women from the face of the earth : There are no women now-a-days. Instead of women, we have towering edifices of silk, lace and flowers. You sec a milliner's ad vertising van that slides along with a rustling sound, and yon are told that it is ft woman ; but as you cannot approach within several yards of the monster obstruction, you cannot tell what it is, beyond something that looks like an entireshop front put in motion, with all the goods iu it exposed* for sale. I really be lieve if any showman would open an exhibition where one could see a woman, such as were iri my young days, when they used to be fair, slim, slender, graceful, well proportioned, and everything that was beautiful, instead of the animated wardrobes, unrecognizable bundles of fine clothes, that they now are—l really believe that an enterprising showman like that would realize a large fortuue. ft®" A clergyman observing a poor man by the road side breaking stone with pick axe, and kneeling to get. at his work better, made the remark, ■' All, John, I wish J could break the stony hearts ol my hearers as easily as you are breaking these stones." The man replied. " Perhaps you do not work upou your knees."' otir frioii