MLUR PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. TOWANDA 5 Sharsfcan morning, 3aniWrn 21, 1858. CAN I FORGET THEE foreel thee' 'tis no easy task To bid this heart of mine. Give up it first wild dream of love. So holy and divine ; Forget thee ; bid the flowers forget To blossom in the spring, Go bid the bird beside its nest Forget its song to sing. Co bid the stars forget to shine In God s own bine above. As well as bid this heart of mine Give up its dream of love ; Can I forget that I have lived In this eold world below ? Can 1 forget that happiness So mortal e'er can know ? When the gentle moon forgets to shine The sun to rise and set. 1:. teach this aching heart of mioo Thv image to forget t I -trove in vain to keep my heart From ioviug thee too well ; II v vainly 1 have striven, Get a life of sorrow tell. Oh. ra.iy no sorrow ever rest i>n thy calm and peaceful brow. Aud may thy heart forever be As free from care as now May God in mercy guard thee, With his never ceasing love, A:.a lead thee from thi- sinful world. To thy " sweet home" above. §lisfCll*KfOßS. [Y HOST - A HIGHWAY ADVENTURE. Mv business called rue through the northern of the State of Illinois. I crossed tiie 11-••* -••* river at Ottawa, intending to strike '. k river at Foster's Mills Foster was an - end who had gone out some yovs be - and erected a mill upon one of the triba r -of the last mentioned river, be having • _g.t a whole township in that section It care out of my way. as my most direct ■ was very near due west from Ottawa, i . - ;s this route took me over sixty miles r north. However. I had learned that - was quite a good road to Rock river, and [ - ."aed my horse's head in that direction. I . ited my time, and concluded that by r. -ate travelling I could reach the mil! iu ; l j the fir-t day my road lay through a r\: -7 c.vt!y cleared, and was well travel- j ; ' it on the second day I struck into a * region. ami the way was little better • i bridle path through a dense forest I ( i - veral clearings. where small huts were -• ; sr.J at one of these latter I -topped t. eg seme dinner I found a young man . v the premises, the father having :..o tn:!N " I asked what mills they - v • • -. tiie old iadv said thev were " Fos t-M -" : -? jveoplc I learned that Foster's i* forty miles distant, and that the oo ' :*• >g. after 'leaving two near by, between i -I there w is a <>rt of stopping place i•: a man named Daniel Groome. They m - . n-rally kept fi a gwd *u;q ly of liquor, princi v -key U;> bouse was twelve tulies to ? s ->4*t raited ra* T could reach Groome's > i ok. and there get some supper, and "-'A i '-i :my horse. Then I could easily V -r's Gy nine, as the moon was well i -s second quarter, good people refused to take anything 'i. r. bat I bestowed half a dollar i d.ixen-headeii urchin who was trotting I i ;oon his bare feet, and then set for- : *v-i Tiiere was another hut at the ' • - *? >f half a mile, and a second about a 1 1 * I -IT no more human habitation* IGr - I found the tr. - - as good 1 had expected, and arriv t:_-' the forest ina at jast haif-past five. was situated upou a romantic spot. *- ver of isolated nature must have i anni; g retreat. The house was ba it g - -.u-do surface hewn, and the seams • .xenent formed of some sort of fine 2n*< aud pitch There were three sepa - - gs to this house, the principal one ' w ?h the cable end to the road. L : i-ie other two u|>ou cither side, running •• -*•" '**> L's. T:iea there was a barn a "•---tauce off. w ; tb a piggery connected 1 g'.her, aad it was quite a place -•- • ca ty A small stream ran close • it ! water was pieutifui T - r.v* up to the door. Mr Groome He w ss a tali gaunt man with fiery 1 ar.d % face a coarse as it was ng'y i *arpriaed when I heard his voice. • J t -v ected a t.we hke the bellow of a s;ead >f that his uotes fell upon j ae the speech of a woman. He " t- he *peke, and I thought to myself , ' -'•* earance would deceive ar.y one. ' t-cvGwa he seemed a different atan j 1 : "tr. i him that I was on my way to " s aad couid only st k.ugecou?h "7 and get some o!>per He my fAee for some momenta w'/Jioa: - aad finally said : yes—hump" .' -- ie "irnetl into an entry ami Re came—a tall, strapjung ycath of I™ " '•* 1 in. twenty —with a red head and - ->s aas e- uid belong to DO ooe bat a i~x _ v ,t. •• Ike " took my horse, and . ''"i-Xme ,ed the way to the *'sitting 15 he called it. It was rough but com 1 i the farmture vasisted of a j*ne y. .. 4 r -d' >gany Lureaa. ami foar ioog pine 's ch tre j<>t agaiust the wall*.— t ' *"* b-" 1 ehi r these If aches be*az ' - *- 's: 30iatc qu tea ssseo lac* THE BRADFORD REPORTER. Groome asked me if I would like something warm. I supposed he meant whiskey and I told him no. He said I had better take a little—'twould do me good. Dot I assured him I never used it—that I felt better with out it. " Bat do you mean that you never drink whiskey ?" he added, with elevated eyebrows. " Never !" I told him " Brandy, I s'pose ; or mebby rale old gin?" pursued my host. " No," I replied. " I don't use stimulating drinks at all." " You don't ?" burst from his lips while he eyed me from head to foot. " Wal, stranger, I'd give sun'thin for your pictur to hang up in my house. Never drink ! How in mercy's name d'ye live ! How d'ye contrive when ye get wet and cold ?' " Why,* said I, with a smile, " 1 get dry again as soon as possible !'' " Dry, my sokes, I should think 'twould be an everlastin' dry ! Never drink ! Wal— here I've lived year in an' year out, goiu' on to fifteen year, an' you're the fnst man I ever seed as wonld'ut drink a bit o' whiskey on the top of a long journey. Fact—stranger—'tis, by thunder !" I told hirn I thought it very probable, and he then wont, and I heard him leave the house. In half an hour my host came aud informed me that supper was ready. He led me to a ! back room, where a table was set quite res- I peetably, the dishes being of blue ware, aud , nearly new. He and Ike sat down with me, and as I saw them attack the various articles jof food, 1 felt assured there could be no poi son in them. The meal consisted of boded potatoes, fr ed bacon aud uew wheat bread aud I did ample justice to the repast. '■ You thiuk you must go on to-night ?" said my host, while we were eating. " Yes," I told hint, " I wish to see my i friend, aud I hail gain considerable time by reaching his place to-night " I< he exjiectin" ye ?" Groome a?ked. " No." I answered. '• Perhaps lie don't know that you're in this sectiou at all ?" " No, he doesn't," I said : and I expected that my host would urge me to stay with him until morning, so I had my answers all pre pared. But I was mistaken. He didn't urge any such thing. Ou the contrary, he said lie tho't [was wise in my determination. He would like my company, bu; it wonld be better for me to push on. I was quite relieved, j It was a quarter to seven when my horse was brought to the door. I took out my wal let and asked what was to pay. " Half-a-dol lar " I paid it, and asked which was the most direct route. | " You see that big tree, just over the barn | there V i " Yes." I said. " Wal. that's right in the best road. When you strike that you can't miss the way." " But there another road ?—one which : follows this stream right down to the mills ?" I asked : for I ha-1 been informed by the vooag man who had takeu charge of my horse at noou, that Groom's inn was right by the very stream whrch gave Foster his mill power. ; aud that the road followed the stream direct " Oh." said ray host, turning and looking off towards the stream. " that road ain't fit to] travel now. T'other one's the best " •' But what's the matter w.tb it ?" 1 asked. " Why the bridges are all washed away, au' then there's been windfalls acro*t't. I tried it bst week, and had to come back.— The upper road is a matter of a mile or two turder. but that's nothiu*. \ our beast is good for it. I gw-ss." I told hint ray horse would stand it well eueugh. and then asked where the other roao struck the stream. " Abcut this three nbies this side of the ; mills," he replied. •• It's all clear aud direct " Yes. You can't miss the way." i I bade ray host good bye. aad then -tarted • on. I didn't like the idea of a new ruad at ali. The vonth before mentioned hid told me what an excellent road it was from Groome's to the mill by the river road He said he followed the stream, which was very near straight, and that it was light axid open the whole distant. However, of course, Groome kuew so I must make the best of it. 1 look ed back as I reached the edge of the wood, i was upon a gentle eminence, and coal J over look the shrubbery I had passed. 1 looked, and I saw Ike going from the hou*e to the ' barn : he had a saddle upon his arm. 1 was ure it was a saddle—pernapa he had an er -1 rand to d v Ere long I enterevl the wood, ar.u found it thick and glo- ray. The path was plain enough aud had evidently been at some time a travel ed road. Aye—l remembered, now. of hav ing heard mv informant of the noontide speak of the " old roai " He said there used to be a road leading to Rock River, bat when Fos ter commenced hi- - tt'emect. and a rew road ' was opened by the stream, ar.d the c:J ojte discontinued. He had said nothing about any bridges. At the distance of two miles, I came to a p'a v e where a bed of sand lay acres? the road. It was a sort of eal'y. and a stream mast at some time have run "there I looked, but s* no track upon it Water had wppt across since any iiiiug animal had trodden upon :t. I slid from my saddle and exam.neO thorough ly. bat I coold find no tracks Of course the father of my noontime's h<*=t could not have gone this way ! And yet he had gone to Foster's Mills. I began to sus pect mischief There bad been aa uneasy sen sation lurking in my bosora ever since I left the inn. Something vs wrong I regained ray saddle and looked aboat. TTie sun was nearly down—in twenty raiantes, at tbe far therest. it would be out of sight. las'.iocijreiy I drew one of my pistols from the holster. I raised the hammer, and found the cap in its place. I was jast potting it lack, when I noticed a stark upon tbe bott It was a re*. 7iar kuot in tbe wood Thai pis ■ I tlvvr.- rarr.cd n - -f: j -:cr I", in PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH. " RESARDLESS OF OENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER." ilot so sure as the other. I took out the other and was sure the weapons had been changed by the other hands than mine. They had re mained in the saddle at the forest inn. I be gau to think. Why was Mr. Groome so par ticular to know if my friend expected me ? Aud then why should he have been so anxious to have me set forward that night, instead of remaining with him, aud paying him a dollar or so more than I did ? Then, this road—l believed I had been deceived. There was no freshets to carry away any bridges for it was now nearly Autumn, aud the river road had been traveled all summer. And then, the saddle I had seen " Ike" carrying to the bam There was sorely mischief in all this. Daniel Groome had daughters at bis house, and, per haps others, whom he would hare to hear the noise of the robbery. Or very likely he would not wish to have such a deed connected with his house at all Of course he knew I had money. No one would be travelling, as I was then travelling, without a considerable sum. If my pistols had been taken out, might they not have been further dealt with ? I took one from the right holster and examined it. The ball was in the right place, aud cap on. Still I was not satisfied. I slipped the cap off. and found the percussion composition removed. There was not a particle left with in the cap. And this was not all I found the tube spiked with a little pine stick ! liore was the secret sure enough. I took my penknife and succeeded in drawing out the stick, and then I examined the other pistol, which I found to be in the same plight. I stopped and went to work in earnest. I had au excellent screw for removing bullet*, and my pistol barrels were emptied in a very few moments. I had -erious objection to firing them off in the woods, where the report might betray the knowledge I had gained. So I emptied them, and then snapped a enp upon each. I found them both clear, and then pro ceeded to lead them. which I did carefully. And now, bow should I proceed? That this road would lead me to Foster's Mills, 1 had no douht ; and it would be nearer for me to keep on than to turn back. So u{K>n that point my mind was made up. And uext —which way would my host come ? For that he meant to rob me I felt certain.— Every cireyrastauce—everything that trauspir el between him and to the one simple result. Would he go dowu the river road apiece, and head me off ? or would he follow me directly up 1 Most likely the for mer. I considered it awhile, and then resolved to push on and keep on my guard. The sun went down, and it grew dark in the deep wood ; but the moon was already up. and as her beams fell lengthwise upon the road, she gave me considerable light when my eyes had become used to the transition. Half an h vir had passed since I looked at my pistols, and just as I began to wonder if I had been mistaken, I heard the sound of a horse's tramp at a dislauce. At fir-t it puzzled me to tell toe direction from which it came, but in a moment I knew it was in advance of me, and and upon my right hand which was toward the river. Presently it stopped. I drew my horse to the left side of the path aud kept on h gentle trot. Laving raised the lappel of my right liol-ter. In a few moments I saw a dark form amid the bushes, a little way ahead, on the right A* I came up a man rode out. It was mv host ! "Good evening, sir," he said, with exceed ing politeness. " Ah. go,d evening," I returned. " I had not expected the pleasure of your company.'* " No. I expect uot,'' he re*um-i. in a sort of hesitating manner. " And I shouldn't have c mie out, only for a little I forgot wiieu you we*e at the iun." It was plain as dav. Mv pistol* had been rendered useless—l had been sent off into thi* unfrequented wood, and now the viliran had tliought to take my life and my money without a v risk to bis own body, and then hide my poor carcass iu tbe earth, where, very likely, others had been hidden before. My eyes were open, and ray hand rendv ' " May I to what business yoa allude V I said. " Ye*." he sruppe-1 out. *om?;hing in agree ment w.tu his feature- "I tao:.ey. money. A* he spoke, he ra"*ed hi- p'-tol. * Take it." I cried, pairing my p:od A chance as the boys have. They should not be degraded with half-pay. 3!ij oo'v two or three ways of getting a living, just btrcaase thev w-.re tnade to be women " NOBODDY BIT L PRINTER." —Such was the Steering remark of a person, residing not a thousand miles from the door of our sanctum, in refering to the profession we foiiow with with prtde. '• Nobody but a printer." in -oothl It makes our Mood ran rampsint through our veins to hear soch expressions full from the lips of those nursed on republican soil. " No body but a printer." anyhow 1 What was Benjamin Franklin 7 " Nobody but a prin ter." What was Earl Stanhope ? "Nobody but a printer " What were Goverr.o- Rigltr. of Pennsylvania, Governor P> gler of Califor nia. and Governor Floyd o? Virgin's * "No bftdjf but printer*." Geo. P Morris. N P W ~ s. Ga.es. Samuel R. riarisojt.Jas. llarfiT, Horace Greeley, Bayard Taylor, Robert Sears. Charies Djckcai, M Thiers, D.vjg'ass GeroM, Geo. P Prentice. Hot. John A Bingham Col John W Forney. Senators Dix. Cameron and Niles V " Nobody but printers." And last though cot lea*t. what WAS BUCHANAN, who occupies the most euvia : Lie position en earth ? " Nobody but a prin ter." One thing is evident ; every person that chooses can't be s printer Bra ns are necessary. • Tots CARE YOUR CHILL-REV —Mothers, rather than confide the health, life, and Lappi uess of your cl .Urea : - the hands of Gran gers. employ the ivtter ia the management of your household affair* No price i* adequate ; to healthful aud weii-ed icaled children ; they w 11 amply repay yon for ail the tears, the time, trouble, and care bestowed oa them, a* well a* for the eventual losses you may -u*- tain for their sakes ia your evononrca! con cents Every sensible mother, and prudent house wife, will so A rrange iser various domestic oc cupation*. as to enable her to pay sudk-ier.t at tention to the r.zr*e-y ; >'r * ! she *•:•?-r her valaable time to be wa*ted by inferior pur suits that can be easriy managed by oth-er*. SCHOOL A TVNT>ANCT —Three p*cp in oi e of the svbcFJ* in Springfield. Mas* . have to: been absent from a lesson, nor asked to be ex j cosed from one, ia a period of sixty-eiget sue ' cessive K*bool weeks ! Two of them live a mile from the scbool-hocse. tut neither heat nor cold, cor storm, nor alluring object* of ! pleasure, hare drawn tbern fmn the put of ; duty Of coure tb*y haT-the first raak in ' the: ia--* SCIENTIFIC BREVITIES. —Light moves at the rate of about 192,500 miles per second A ray of light moves generally in a straight, sin gle line, from some luminous' point ; n beam of light is an assemblage of rays. The nature or essence of light, is unknown. In 1861 thetrausitof Veuus takes place.— By*the transit of Venus is meant what is gen erally understood by an eclipse. The planet Venius will generally pass between the earth and the son, dnriug the day, and the darkness caused by it will make lights necessarily in tl.o houses. The transit happens only once in a century. There are fiftyfive known elements, or pon derable substances, forty-two of which are uietals, and thirteen-non uietalic. The elements by uniting, form compoauds. of which the ma terial generally consists. Most of the ele ments are usually solid ; but it is believed bv philosophers generally, that by intense heat, ali the solids might be converted into liquids, and these into abstraction of heat, gases aud liquiJs might be solidified. Kelper says that the globe has vital powers, and that its elementary atoms possesses in stincts and will. Gold and silver are the only perfect metals known : they are railed pefeet, because they lose nothing from the heat of the fire. Imper fect metals are those which decrease by the heat of fire, and are easily corroded by acids ; as quicksilver, lead, copper, Ac. •I L'ST ABOUT RIOHT.—Some forty years ago, w hen a man's respectability depended much on taking a newspaper, a certain shrewd old fellow wa- one morning enjoying the luxury of perusing his paper (although he labored under the great disadvatage of not knowing a single letter of the alphabet,) when a more knowing neighbor of his happeued in—perhaps, to bor row his paper—observing to him that he had his paper wrong end up The old gentleman drawing himself up in ai! the affronted dignity, exclaimed : —" I would have you to know, sir. that if I take a paper and pay fur it. 1 have a right to read it which end up I please " EVERY WORD TRUE. — It i A great and prev alent error, that children may t>e left to run wild in every sort of company and temptations for several years, and then it will oe time enough to break them in. This mi-take inak-s half our spendthrifts, gambler*, thieves and drunkards. No man wonld deal so with his garden or lot :no man would ra : se a celt or puppy on snch a principle. Tafc* notice, pa rents—unless von till the new soil and throw in the good seed, the devi! will have a crop of weeds before yon know what is taking place. Look at your dear children, and think wheth er yon will leave their rafe'y or ruin at hazard, or whether you ' -.11 not train them nn in the wav thev should go. MF.MOP.Y or A MACFIE. —A iady who caught her mag|>ie >ttAr bird, ex claiming : " Oh. you tL'ef. you've been at the pickled walnuts, have you ?" Poor magpie was dreadfully horned, Lis feathers came -ff. leaving Lis head entirely bare. He lost aQ spirits and .-poke not a word for more t'naa a year, when a gentleman called at the house, who on taking off hi* hat, exhibit ed a very bald head. The magpie apjeared evidently etrnck with the circuui-gance. Hop ping upon the back of his chair, an I looking Liai hastily over, he suddenly exclaimed, in the ear of his a*ton:*hed visitor. '• Oil, you thief! you've been at the p'ekied walnuts, have yoa V '■ I MARK ON t T;-:F H KS TK*T SHINE."— Thi*. if we rightly remember, is the inscription on a sun d'r.i in Italy. It inculcate.- a beau tiful lesson which many are prone to disregard. It would teach r.s to remember the bright days of life, and r.ot to forget the bles.-ing* Go>i is giving u* Life, it is true, is not ail bright and beautiful. But still it has its lights as well as shades, and it is neither wise nor graceful to dwell too much upon the darker por tions of the picture. He who looks upon the bright - ie of ! fe, a: i c.nkes the best ftv -y --thing, will, we think, other things being t-qual. be a better, happier uun. ;iian t >e, wi o, H- Fmrklin says, are always Kxtk ng t thc ngiy irg. and S. J occa-ioii for c cnpla t and censure ia alaivot everything they meet ita Sriri Ar; o'-I lady, a profe**"r of tbe * a*h erweraan'* sn, had rra r ag i to <-rape togeth er s ifEecie'it in-4Ti* to l uiki a srr*al' Ivoore and baru ia the coonty. O'te afterw,D. soon af ter she was coiufortabiy established in her new home, a bia.k cloni was seen in the west, and befcre oiaoy mi laics, a tor aiio swept through her pr-p-rty. scattering the timbers of her ii; tie bam in ali three tin* Coming out of L-.r k.tchen, and *eeing the devastation the -rerrn had made, the eld lady a* firs; *x)uld ot fiiid word- to express her in dignati* n, bui a; lost exclaimed : —'* Well, here's a pretty badness ' No : tatter, though I'll |*ay you for this—ll Wash uu ricuday - Mc-rHun v.—Why ?! * insatiable crar ■ g for riches ? Doe* a laari drink rc-rere aheti he drink? fr> m a large glass ? Fn>ta whence come* that oo.Teral dread of a r iir-i •* UIIH UT reap !■ *wftage* t*. 5,, -lAttv'- t > nr bis Hand " . * • • r i-r .<•• v 01.. XV I 11. — "NO. 33. HU ES FOB HOME EOCCBTTO*.— The follow ing rules are recommended for their excellence, brevity, and practical utility. Let every pa rent and guard'au read, ponder and inwardly digest : 1. From your children's earliest infancy, in culcate the ueces.-ity of instant obedience. 2. Unite firmness with gentleness. Let your children always understai*] that you mean what yon *ay. 3. Never promise them anything unless you are quite sure you can give them what you promise. 4 If you tell a little child to do something show him how to do it. and 9ee that it is done. 5. Always punish your children for willfully disobeying you, bot never punish theru in an ger 6. Never let them perceive that they TCX you or make you lose self-command. " If they give way to petulance, or ill tem |cr. wait till they are eaim, and then gently reason with them on the impropriety of their conduct. H. Remember that a little present punish ment, when the occasion arises, is more effec tual, than the threatening of a greater punish ment, should the fault l>e renewed. 9 Never give your children anything be cause they cry for it. 1<. On no account allow them to do at one time what you have forbidden, under the same circumstances, at another. 11 Teach them that the only sure and way to appear good, is to be good. 12. Accustom them to make their little re citals with j>erfect truth. 13 Never allow talc bearing. 14. Teach them self-denial, not self-indul gence, of an angry and resentful spirit. If these rules were reduced to practice daily practice—by parents and guardians, how much misery would he prevented, how many in danger of ruin would be saved, how largely would the happiness of a thousand domestic circles be augmented ! It is lamentable to s.-e how extensive is parental neglect, and to witness the bad and dreadful consequences in the ruin of thousands. KEJJOTVG Al.OCD. —There is no treat so great as to hear good reading of any kind. Not like a broad-wheel wagon ; and an other lias a way of reading which set:n ; to proclaim that what i- read is of no sort of consequence, and had better net be 'i;tened to tsf ' Education does not commence with i the alphabet. It begins with a mother's look —with & father's smile of a;(probation, or a • of reproof —with a sister's gentle pressure of the hand, or a brother"? bearance — of flowers in green and dai?y meadows—with bird's nests admired, i bet not touched—with creeping an*.?, and al rr.>-t ini"'-erp : one art.Sce unavoidably leads on to another, till, as the 'r.cai jof the ia'oy r:n h we ar.-e: Ur.gied ia our coo.se. Us" " Y>u c i'n't sy your prayers to-night ehiid," saui a met her to h*-r little ctrl of four years, who had been jomrvrhat refractors for a time previous to patting her to bed. '•Well.** ?ai \ the tiny sinner. " if when I iii* and go to heaven. God s-k? me whw I d:'irs't ( my prayers to-n _*\t. 1 -hail teli m you would?. *t let me.' ■ tSr* I.lke the gner*';ty of king? v 1 ec- ; qa*- r. Fr-derc th* Sad air m phi!-,- • : T-r re to death—i vihers. In *ne of hi* battle* a hat taboo of ioc'ik i th*ir h*el* ?.-3 r".gvj <•*: them. howling oat. " War do yo run away mn o' i biaskenardr. I> s-u td k forever V Iv ***l7 L:\v - \j j rcej *aid r*i were c nner* w ;.s. , c $ r [V. Vr-j mean by .nat, y.-ts a sen'ptor -*o sr.!.l ih --cp myself, but I fenwSh • "tOlre to a tui.. that does "" - -•> ?i U —lt ha., been said by a sin c : : •g, t at if a.! th br.tLi, ♦ tones a1 . "i '.sf Great Britain were gathered to re thr, there to* b: to bu:'d ti.tr £Trat Tti-i ■A ?b:aa Qeijea r"iod wi*b oi*Ma*g*d d--g --tifi ibe Sm-h) ha.- beeu .-o. for newv •gt- ;o sook upon <>ath as tiling tra.'i tumble ; forget ti*g <,r rather &oi knowior) thai i s a wise sad bvawtifuj law •!f natr to • ti. vustu 3 we.rr fialir-k aud *r. IK