O* DOLLAR PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
TOWANDA:
Thursday Morning, June 20, 1861.
fjlcctcb
GOD SAVE OUR NOBLE UNION.
ST u. CLAV FRECS3.
It rame to us through darkness.
It came to us through biooa ;
It shone out like i he" Promise
Of GOD" upon the flood.
A beacon.it has served us
Willi true, uncr ing flame,
And cast a blaze of glory
Upon our nation's name.
GOD .-ave our noble Union I
Twas left us by our fathers,
Those souls of priceless worth-
Tlio noblest types of manhood
That ever walked the earth.
'Twas bought with fearful struggles.
By sacrifice sublime,
And stands a proud memento
For all the coming time.
GOD save our noblo Union!
Our land, a waste of nature,
Where beast and savage strayed ;
Its wealth of lakes and rivers
Unlocked by keys ol trade.
Theti sun-like rose the UNION—
A terror to our foes—
And 'o! this " waste of naturu"
Sow " hlcssoms as a rose."
GOD save our noble Union I
JYhere eaith lay hid for ages
la deep, primeval gloom,
Sthold a boundless garden—
A continent in bloom.
With iru hands of railroads.
Electric tongues of wire,
ADO energies within us
Which time shall never tire.
GOD save our noble Union I
But now upon our Heaven
Are signs of coming storms,
And fierce, unholy passions.
Unfold their hideous forms.
The bravest hearts among us
Are filled with doubt and fear,
While sounds of horrid discord
Are grating on our ear.
GOD save tur noble Union 1
The hallowed flag that bore us
So proudly through the wars,
ii thcru a hand would sever
Us sisterhood of stars?
Great GOD '■ can we so blindly
Cast all thy gifts away ?
Or tnrobs there in this- nation
One heart tlut will not pray—
GOD save our noble Union 1
i <§ clcc 1 c b £;tl c.
p£E LOST DEEDS.
A parting glance around the office, to as
sre liitn-dt all desks, closets and iron safes
properly secured for liu night, and tire so
or's confidential clerk locks up and pre-
TI-S for heme. With coat buttoned to the
nat, utid hat drawn over bis eyts, Mark
[iaurds lurns his step towards homo, and
..n-r! .Ay faces the rough wind ami drizzling
v. which unmercifully pelt and buffet him,
as he vainly hails omnibus after omnibus to re
te the i ariio answer—"Full." Rut Mark
makes no trouble bf these out door income
• .'-■• OK. for his mind's eye is fixed on the well
f vered tea table, bright fire, and best of all,
*• pretty young wife awaiting his return. The
I lire is -o pleasant, that lie cheerfully breaks
icTtli into a liu - of " Home, Sweet Home,'.' us
J turns the corner of the street where stands
• ; own trim little domicile.
1 Mrs Edwards is peering into the darkness
"uugli the folds of the muslin curtains, and
I i the door open before Murk's hand touch
's Ue knocker.
That aing'nt for you, love!" says the lit
"latron brushing the raindrops from his
| - 'w!ii,kers, and kissing him compassion
r;. "and how late you are!'
W*sr<ls looks up at I lie clock as lie strug
I*" Wot his dripping coat. "f am late, iu
'*■ he answers; "but Mr. Pleadwell has
-■* -ed on his trip to the lakes this afternoon,
'Wmere were a great many things to attend
.re he went. And look here, Fanny—
• "pßc&et contains some valuable deeds and
" "■'■ is, which will be called for by the own
1 nhw flays; in the meanwhile, I have to
■ one of them, but don't feel inclined to
-"■t to night. Wbtrccnn I place them wth
t >'y?"' '
,* " ;U J c '"g"sts his desk, but that is the first
, burglar would be likely to meddle
f' Ihe w;f e 's cheek pales at the idea of
I visitor, and she considers, "That the
'-'oritoire iu the spare bedroom, wiil aot
tit do?" 1
"I had so many injnnc
' J be careful, and not let tliern get out of
possession, that I am afraid even of
my re-rinds him that there is a secret
" '*■ " Don't yon remember," she
trouble we had to find it?"
|c '' l ' le V( r y place!" So his wife carries
ai, for him, ni „j the valaabla packet is
toit'f.. ' ! " l ''' s bidden receptacle. Its only
I arr it f ew highly scented letters, tied
T r *ith a piece of ribbon, to which Fan-
I- 1 -'-* ai| d blushing, confesses that they
•lark Edwards' love effusions before
i i!m Care ' u "y preserved to bear witness
wl >eti he becomes old and cross,
idr ' ' Was a res,lcss night and unpleas
l'fch made the clerk so uneasy—
Stu ' luirry of the next day's work
foe in. 1 ' ilt '' e ' not T ' s ' te d the escritiore
'•h I I '*' ''ome in the morning to ascertain
1 chv> WQ ij 6B '' i<! ,afet y the papers in
iu'if P°°b P°obs the idea as it
'R L'" . • reme 'Bbering one key is in his
and the other on his wife's
nu J pin bunch; but it retcrns so often,
" ®"'b a feeling of relief that be bears
THE BRADFORD REPORTER.
the signal for closing, and feels he is at liberty
to return home.
How is it his welcome is not such a smiling
one as it usually i.-? . Fanny's spirits seem de
pressed, and her eyes look us if they had been
clouded with tear^.
" Have you had any visitors to-day?" her
husband carelessly inquires as he sips his tea.
The hesitating " No" is so faintly pronoun
ced that the young man, hitherto pre-oceupied
with business, looks up.
"That 'No' souuded like 'Yes!' Who
has been here?"
" Only my brother George." Fanny an
swers in a low voice, and Mark, frowning,
turns away and takes up a book.
"My brother George" is his aversion, and
the torment and trouble of his wife's family;
always in difficulties, no sooner rescued from
one scrape than rushing headlong into anoth
er; sometime invisible for months, and sudden
ly reappearing to levy contributions on any rel
atives able or willing to assist him. Mark has
seriously contemplated forbidding his visits;
but then Fanny is so tender-hearted, and cher
ishes such a kindly belief in the prodigal's ul
timate reformation, that her husband lias not
yet mustered sufficient firmness to eufq|ce his
wishes, although ht knows where hisnvife's
bfooch went, and why she wears that old vel
vet bonnet. Fanny seems to guess what is
passing in his mind, by her coming so softly to
his side, and stroking his hair, and pressing
her lips to his forehead, but neither of them
say anything, and Mark leisurely prepares for
his task of copying. While he has gone up
stairs to fetch bis papers, she lights an extra
candle, and ensconces herself in a corner with
her work-table, regietting as she does so that
her " poor boy " must be bored with this odi
ous writing when lie ought to be resting. How
ever, Mark soon comes down the stairs, three
at a time, to rather angrily, why she has
moved his packet, without mentioning it. With
astonishment in her looks, his wife denies hav
ing done so, and hurries with him to the spare
bedroom, asserting her belief that lie has over
looked the parcel. Not a thing is cut of its
place. The old escritiore stands exactly as
they left it, the lock had not been tampered
with, nor was the secret drawer open; and there
undisturbed, lie the love-letters; but the small
brown paper parcel, tied with pink tape, and
sealed with the office seal, is gone!"
The fcasband, suspecting he knows not what,
looks almost sternly at his wife, whose answer
ing glance is confused and full of terror.
" Tel I uie the truth, Fanny, my dear Fanny!
Are you playing a trick to lease me? Remem
ber, if I cannot produce these papers, I am a
ruined man! It would be worse than the lossof
money; that I might replace, these I cannot.
Tell me at once where they are."
"Indeed, Mark, I know no more ahouttiiem
than jou do yourself. They must be here?
perhaps they have slipped behind the draw
er?"
Although next lo impossible, the chance is
not overlooked. Hammer and chisel are soon
fetched, and the back of the escritiore i soon
knocked out, leaving no nock or cranny where
the smallest paper could remain unperceived.
Almost beside himself, Mark leads his wife
down stairs, and commences questioning her.
Where is her key? On the ring; it lias not
been out of her possession. II is she been out?
.No. Is she sure of that.' Quite; besides, as
she ventures to remind hiir, tlie locks have not
been forced, nor is aught else missing, as would
have been the case if thieves had entered the
hou e e. In uncontrollable agitation, the be
wildered man paces the room, while Fanny,
unable to proffer advice, or assist him with
any reasonable conjecture, watches liitn in
trembling silence.
Suspicions are crowding upon his mind;
bints given before bis marriage about Fanny
Roberts' brother, and regrets uttered, even
within his hearing, that a respectable young
man like Mr. Edwards, should lower himseil
by such a connection, are suddenly remember
ed and dwelt upon, lie pauses before his
wife and sternly demands what errand had
brought that brother of hers to Ids house
That brother of hers! What a speech! All
Fanny's sisterly feelings are in arms, and yet
she falters, for she is forced to own that it
was for the want of money. " And you told
him that I had those papers in the house,"
Mark cries, accusingly. With crimson face,
she angrily denies it. • She did not men
tion Mark's affairs during their short inter
view. Is it likely she would do so? Or if
she did, would George, poor foolish fellow that
he is, steal up stairs and rob his sister's Louie!
Ridiculous! Impossible!
"Impossible!" Mark retorts, "without he
possesses the key."
"It has not been out of my pocket," sobs
Fanny.
" Then where," asks Mark, " are the mis
sing papers ?" Their little servant-maid away
for a holiday—no one in the house, according
to Fanny's own confession, bnt this young
man. Where are the papers?
Receiving for reply a torrent of tears and
protestations he flings himself on the sofa, and
tries to steady his nerves to the consequences
of this extraordinary loss. Meanwhile, Fanny
goes and institutes an unavailing search in
every box, and cupboard, aud drawer where
it could be possible to find suoh a parcel al
though it would pnzzel her to explain how it
could have withdrawn itself from the secret
drawer to take refuge elsewhere. At last, she
returns to the parlor in dispnre. The packet
must have been stolen. But how ? When?
By whom ? Getting frightened at Mark's
gloomy looks, she is delighted when a tap at
the door announces a visitor, and that visitor
proved to be Iter father.
To him the affair is circnmstantially detailed,
and Mark points out the inevitable loss of his
situution and good name if he should be unable
to produce the paper or give any clue which
might lead to their discovery. To Fanny's
dismay, he particularly dwells upon her broth
er's visit aud her half-made endeavor to con
ceal it ; concluding by an entreaty that she
will, if retaining any affections for her husband,
tell all she knows.
Rut now the father interposes. To lamely
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOVVANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY R. W. STURROCK.
hear botli his children accused of such a crime
is more than his irrascible temper will endure,
and lie enters a counter-accusation that Mark
has, for some unworthy end, removed the par
cel himself. Words now become so hot and
bitter that Fanny's distress is increased, not
lessened by this championship, and she weeps
so bitterly and pleads so earnestly with both
that Mark, more touched than he would like
to confess, abruptly leaves them to shut him
self in his chamber. After some hours, the
souud of his footsteps ceasing the anxious
wife creeps softly up stairs, and is relieved to
find him lying on the bed in an uneasy slum
ber Iler father persuades her rest too, but
poor Fanny shakes her head on his shoulder,
and feeling more forlorn -mid miserable than
it had ever been her lot to feel before. What
will poor Mark do ? Arid what will become
of her if he persists in believing her guilty?
Equally bewildered and almost as unhappy
as his daughter, Mr. Roberts tries to soothe
her with promises, not only 4 to seek George,
and bring him to exculpate himself, but to for
give Mark's hasty speeches, and assist him in
investigating tins mysterious affair. So, at
last, Fanny begins to feel more comforted,
and to wish her father to leave her ; but,
tired as he confessed himself, lie cannot quit
her in such trouble, and they continue to oc
cupy the same position by the tire till night
has long given place to morning, and Mr.
Robert's eyes closed involuntarily.
A footstep overhead startles them. "It it
only Mark," says Fanny, after a moment's lis
tening. " Poor leliow, I wish he had slept
longer."
In the modern six roomed house every sound
is distinctly audible, and they heard him en
ter the chamber where stands the shattered
escritoire. After a short pause, he is heard
slowly defending the stairs, and his wife raises
herself Iroin her reclining position, aud
smoothes her disordered hair.
As he entered the room, Mr. Roberts lays
his hand on his daughter's arm. "Look,
child, look !" lie whispers ; and Fanny sees
with astonishment that her husband is fast
asleep, and holds in one hand the bundle of old
love letters.
Setting down his candle, Mark uuloeks the
front of his large and well filled book case,
and begins deliberately taking down, one by
one, the handsomely bound volumes of the
" History of Euglaud," which grace the high
est shelf ; then he draws out a number of the
loose magazines, hidden there because of their
untidy appearance ; lays the old love-letters
quite at the back of all replaces the odu num
bers, returns the volumes to their shelf, care
fully putting them even, locks the glass doors,
and is talking away, when Fanny, with a cry
which awakens him stiaches tiie key from his
hand Rubbing his eyes, and wondering, he
sees her eager lingers dragging Iluuie and
Suiolett from their proud position to assume
an inglorious one on the hearth-rng and in
the fender ; the once treasured "Belie Assem
blee" are scattered in all directions ; the high
ly prized love-letters receive similar usage ; and
then, from behind all the rest, Fanny triuui
pbautly takes out the small brown paper par
eel, tied with a pink tape, and sealed with the
office seal. Crying and laughing in one
breath the happy little wife is the next mo
ment MI her husband's arms, kissing and being
kissed ad libitum.
Little explanation was needed. The young
man's brain, excited by extreme anxiety re
garding his trust, had led to his cautiously
rising in the night, and unconsciously truns
terring the packet to what he afterwards re
membered as the first hiding place which had
presented itself to his mind on bringing it
home the preceding evening.
How many times he a>ked forgiveness is
cot recorded ; but Fanny is a true women,
quick to resent, but easily appeased ; and
Mark has taken George aud George's affairs
in hand so heartily, that the young scapegrace
is actually improving, and there is even some
hope of Fanny's belief in total reformation be
ing realized.
A PROTESTIOUS QUESTION. —" A large pond
of ice was near a school hon.-e where one Miss
C "t;v:ght the young ideas." To warn the
boys against the danger of amusing themselves
upon the " frozen element," one day she rela
ted the following story.
• Two young men who were very fond of
skating, were out on the river one moonlight
night. One of them placed sticks where lie
thought there were air holes ; but the other,
in skating backward, passed the boundry,
the ice broke and lie went under. II is body
was found a longtime afterward by some boys
who were playing on the river bank—"
Ilere the excitement in the school room be
came intense, and one boy, about eight years
of age, wiio, with mouth wide open, hair on
etid, and eyes dilated to their utmost extent,
had been literally ' swallowing'the narrative,
stated ii d, anxiously inquired, " who got his
skates ?"
GUARD AGAINST VULGAR LAVGUAGE.— There
is as much connection between the words and
the thoughts as there is between the thoughts
and the actions. The latter are not only the
expression of the former, but they have a
power to react upon the soul, and leave the
stain of their corruption there. A young man
who allows himself to use one vulgar and
profane word has not only shown that there is
a foul spot on his mind, but by the utterance
of that word he extends to that spot and in
flames it, till, by indulgence, it will pollute
and ruin the whole soul. Be careful of your
words as well as your thoughts. If you can
controlthe tongue that no improper words are
pronounced by it, you will soon be able, also,
to control the mind, and save that from cor
ruption Yoa extinguish the fire by smother
ing it, or by preventing bad thoughts from
bursting out in language. Never utter a
word anywhere which you would be ashamed
10 speak in the presence of the most refined
female or the most religous man. Try this
practice a little while, aod you will soon have
command of yourself.
" REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANT QUARTER."
Matrimonial Infelicities.
BY AS* IRRITABLE MAS'.
COS'VEILSATIOS' AT THE BREAKFAST TABLE.
" My dear," 1 said to the lady who was
seated opposite me at the breakfast table, and
who had the good fortune to be my wife, " if
there be one thing I dislike more than anoth
er, it is to receive a cup of coffee that looks as
if it had been sipped from before it reached
my hands. Have I not often asked you to fill
my cup to within an eighth of an inch of the
rim, and not give it to me half or three quar
ters full V
" You are as particular as an old bachelor,"
the estimable lady replied, " and if I had
known it before I married you, this day would
not have seen me your wife. There, sir, is
your cup of coffee. I hope it will suit you."
" Good gracious !"' I exclaimed, as I took
the cup, " now you've mauaged to ruu it over.
You must certainly be aware tnat if there be
one thing I dislike more than another, it is to
find slops in my saucer."
" Well, if you will insist upon my filling the
cup, you must expect that sometimes 1 shall
spill it over ; besides, your finding fault with
me does no good, but maßes me uervous, and
causes my baod to tremble, so that I only won
der there is any coffee left in the cup. But
here is a clean saucer, in place of the one you
have."
Having effected this important change, I
tasted the contents of my cnp. It was evident
to me that there was no sugar in it. I tasted
it again to make certain of the fact. Then I
said to her :
" You have neglected to put sugar in my
coffee. If there be one thing I dislike more
than another, it is coffee unsweetened."
" I am certain," replied the estimable
spouse, that I did sweeten it. I don't think
you have stirred it."
" Rot I know I have," I answered.
" Not with your spooD," said the provoking
woman, " for it is perfectly dry ; perhaps,
however, yon used your fork."
" Pshaw !'* was all the auswer I vouchsafed
to this remark.
" Now. I declare," I said, after having stir
red and sipped my coffee, " you have made it
too sweet. If there be one thing I dislike more
ilinn another, it is to have my coffee taste like
syrup."
" Let me put more milk with it, then !" said
the obliging woman.
" No, I thank you," T replied, " I don't care
to have my stomach turned into a dairv. If
there be one tiling I dislike more than anoth
er, it is milk. I gave up tnilk diet when I cut
my first teeth."
" It is to be hoped that yon will give tip
the habit of fault-finding, which you possess in
an eminent decree, when you come to cut your
wisdom teeth, though uo one can tell when
that will be."
" Thank you," I replied ; " you will proba
b!y be the first who will know it when that
occurs."
" And a happy day it will be for me," she
answered, with provoking calmness. " Few
know, though, how much unhappiness vour
constant fault finding causes me. Nothing I
do seems to give you'any satisfaction. There
isn't a moment elapse, while you are in the
house, save when you are asleep, but vou are
thus occupied. The truth is, I have always
bcci^too indulgent with yon, and humor you
when I ought not. I didn't commence right
in the first, place. I should have paid iio"ut
lention to your whims, but studied mv own
convenience and comfort, instead of seeking
io make every thing smooth and pleasant for
you. Then I would have got along much bet
ter. Oli, you men are great tyrants, and if a
woman yields to you in the least, you follow
up your advantage, and bend her will to vours
and crush her spirit to the earth, till, by and
by, you break her heart."
" My dear, I wiil thank you for another cup
of coffee," I said, passing my cup to her ; " but
be careful not to run it over, nor get it too
swee, nor put in too much milk. What an
intoleraMe steak this is," I added ; " it is
enough to have been cut from one of the cat
tle pastured upon a thousand hills more than
a thousand years ago. If there be one thing
I dislike more than another, it is ntoufh beet
stenk."
" You ordered it yourself, from the market,
so you needn't find fault with me on account of
it I knew it was tougli the moment I looked
at it."
" Then why didn't you send it back?" I
inquired.
" Because, as it was your selection, I sup
posed you wanted a tough one ; besides, if I
had returned it, you would have found fault
with me fordoing so."
\Y oil, I can t oat it, that's certain,' I said
"so it had better be taken off of the table. I
shan't throw any more money away on beef
steaks."
" Oh, it will answer for hash," said my eco
nomical wife, "and you can have it for din
ner."
"Hash! I exclaimed. "If there be one
thing I dislike more than another, it is hash.
Hush is only fit for childreu and old people
without teeth. Besides, it is a popular dish at
boarding schools and boarding houses ; and
when I was a boy, and afterward, while a
bachelor, I ate my share of it, and I'm not
going to eat any more. No,we'll have a turkey
for diuuer."
\ ery well,' said my spouse, "aturkey let
it be. Shall I see to getting one ?"
" I think not," I answered. " The fact is,
that all the turkeys you select, turn out to be
like the celebruted cue cf which Job was the
reputed owuer— poor and tough. No,l'll buy
the turkey, and you can cook it."
"Very well," said the imperturbable lady.
" But how will you have it cooked ?"
" Oh, any way ; suit yourself," I answered.
"Then I think I will roast it," she replied.
" Roast it !" I exclaimed. "That is just
like you. Now, you kuow that if there be one
thing I dislike more than another* it is to have
a turkey roasted."
" Very well, then," said the accommodating
woman, " I will boil it"
! " Boil it !"I said, aghast. " Boil soup, bci!
j lamb chops, boil cherries, if you like, but never,
; for me, boil a turkey."
j " Pray, thcD, bow will you have it cooked ?
Only tell me, and it shall be done."
" Why—why—well—fricassee it, of course,"
I answered, triumphantly.
" Very well," said the lady, looking, bow
ever, as if it were not very well.
" Why can't you say something else besides
' very well 3"' 1 asked. " What a provoking
woman you are, to be sore."
" Not half so provoking as you are," she
replied.
" Now, then, yon wish to tnnko me dn'£rT,l
suppose : but you can't do it," I said. " I have
put up with everything all through breakfast,
and 1 am not going to be povoked as I am
finishing."
" I am sure I don't wish to provoke you,"
my wife said, in a most innocent and aggriev
ed manner.
" But you certainly do provoke me," I re
plied.
"Then I r.m sorry for it," she answered, in
a softening tone, " for such was not my inten
tion."
I looked across the table at my wife; some
thing like a tear rolled down her cheek.
"Goodness!" I whispered to myself,"l have
made my wife weep. What—a—what—a—
brute I am."
Then, speaking aloud, I exclaimed:
" Darling!"
" Well," was her calm reply.
"Do you know," I continued, "that if there
lie one thing I dislike more tliaQ another, it is
a tear."
Sho answered simply with a sad smile.
"Sweet-heart!" I said.
" Well."
" Cook the turkey any way you p'ease."
She shook her head.
I left my seat, (havingfinished my breakfast)
went to her side, and smoothing her pale, wan
cheek with my hand, I kissed it and said:
" Forgive me, dear, litis time.
She smiled dubiously, as if " this time" was
only one out of the "seventy times seven" which
she would be called on to forgive during our
matrimonial career; but, nevertheless, the
pressure of her hand, which I had taken, as
sured me that peace was made.— llome Jour
nit I.
NEVER MADE HIS MOTHER WEE?— " My son
is now twenty-five years old," said a mother to
a friend, at the same time wiping tears of grat
itude from heir face, " and he lias always re
membered what I taught him in his childhood.
He lias the name of being a good boy. He
has never brought a tear to his mother's eye.
Boys ! of how many of you can your moth
erssay the same? And if any of you feel that
it could not with truth be said,who will resolve
to-day, " From this time I will do nothing that
shall bring tears to my mother's eyes."— Child
at home.
FST* A certain little fellow had been doing
■ something very naughty. The awful wieked
-1 uess of his conduct had been piously pointed
out to him by an " ancient maiden " aunty,
and in a very penitential frame of mind, the
young offender sought his room to make bis
peace with a higher power than that of aunty.
His mother passing the door, heard the lit
tle voice entreating. She listened and heard.
" I am sorry I hurt the poor little pig. I'm
sorry I cut off his tail. I wish nobody had
told me that pigs' tails were so good to roast.
If you'll please to 'scuse me, Mr. Got), I'll nev
er do so again. A men I"
ONE DROP AT A TlME. —Have you ever
watched an icicle as it formed ? You noticed
how it froze one drop at a time until it was a
foot long or more. If the water was clean,
the icicle, remained clear, and sparkled bright
ly in the sun; but if the water was but slight
ly muddy, the icicle looked foul, and its beau
ty was spoiled. Just so our characters are
forming—one little thought, or feeling at a
time adds its influence. If each thought be
pure and right, the soul will be lovely, and will
sparkle with happiness; but if impure and
wrong, there v ill be final deformity and wretch
eduess.
ftST" A schooima'am in one of onr district
schools, was examining a class iu orthography.
" Spell and define flowpret," she said.
" F-l-o w-e-r-e t, a little flower," weut off
a tow head in a perfect streak.
" Wavelet,"
" W-a-v e-I-e-t, a little wave," was l,he
prompt return.
" Bullet."
" B u-1-1 e-t, a little bull," shouted urchin
number three, who was innocence personified.
Schooima'am caved.
SPEAKING of the First Vermont Regiment
the Rutland Courier of last week says :
While they were in camp at Rutland the
first ten men in one of the companies took a
fancy to see how much ground they could
cover. They accordingly formed a continnous
line upon the earth, aud measured sixty-seven
feet and six inc/ies.
The b6y who was 'caught 1 ooking into
the future, has been arrested for trying to see
the show without paying.
ZSSF" A Yankee Doctor lias pot a remedy
for hard times. It consists of teu hours'labor
well worked in.
tSF Hartley Coleride, when asked which
one of Wordsworth's productions he liked
best, replied, " his daughter Dora."
The quickest way to mako a tall man
short is to borrow all the mouey he has
got.
A5T* The Injustice from which a man bn
moat to fsarls bis o*fl.
vol.. XXII.- —XO. 3.
flciwraftonal gtpriiittut.
Pennsylvania State Teachers' Associa*
tion
The next annual meeting of this Association
will be held at Lfwisburg, Union county; on
the 6th, 7tb and Stb of August, 1861. Ar
rangements will be made with all the principal „
railroads, to convey teachers at reduced rates.
Accurate and reliable information will be
given to the teachers, as soon complete ar
rangements can be made.
J. P. Sherman;,
PotUvillc, April 10,1SG1. Chairman.Ex. Com.
It Is hoped that a Itirge delegation of tetach
ers from tuis county will attend this meeting.
Let them make their arrangemeuts early, so
that they can be when the time shall
arrive. The Association will uot be likely to
hold another meeting in this section of the
state fo: several years,and every teacher should
attend if possible. They will there have an op
portunity of forming an acquaintance with the
prominent educators of the State,which can be
had in no other way. Femules have always
been entertained gratuitously, and wc have no
doubt the same will be done this year, for wa
learn that the good people of Lewisburg know
how to do up such thiugs, and further, that
they are at all times ready to do it.
The attention of teachers is directed to tho
following extract from the official department
of the School Journal for May. They will find
it for their interest to post themselves, upon
the subject* therein spoken of, and there take
this opportunity to advise them to procure some
good work on the theory of teaching and study
it as a text book. Special pains will be taken this
fall to give instruction on the science of teach
ing aud governing schools at the several Insti
tutes. Perhaps Page's Theory and Praticeof
Teaching is as good a work on the subject as
eau be procured.
_ 2
Theory and PracUce of Teaching.
County Superintendents ore hereby instruct
ed to grant no certificates, after the first Mon
day in June, 1861, without an examination in
the Theory as well as the Practice of Teach
ing; and to mark the proficiency in both, in
the cirtificate, according to the same scale
(from 1 to 5) with the other branches. The
standing of the candidate in the Theory , is to
be written into tho certificate when that docu
ment is issued, and is to be based on the pe
rusal of standard works, or a knowledge deriv
ed from Normal Lectures, on the science. But
standing in the Practice, is not to be marked
in the certificate, till after careful visitation of
the candidate's school by tue County Superin
tendent.
The present form Provisional certificate does
not provide for the proposed division of the
subject of Teaching; but till a new edition shall
be issued the-certificate now in use can be made
to suit,by writing the words "Theory of" after
the word teaching where it BOW occurs in the
body and the margin of the certificate, and by
adding an additional line for the " Practice."
It will then stand thus ;
, Teaching—Theory jof ■ .
Teaching—Practice of .
This division of the subject and a special ex
amination on the principles of "Teaching,"
will cause candidates for the honors and re
sponsibilities of the profession, to study the
science more than is done at present, —a result
most desirable and to be promoted by every
available means.
r> *
What a Teacher Should Do>
The qualifications necessary to make a good
teacher are very numerous, and generally very
well understood by every body. Neverthe
less, for fear some might be ignorant of the
great characteristics of this class of the genus
homo, we will give a fav of the leading feat
ures that are generally expected to adorn the
character of that very important personage.
In the first place, he must be a very good
natured fellow to take charge of from tyventy
to one hundred children, of all cges and con
ditions of life, and to garefully note out to each
one, his or her appropriate share of admonition
advfte, and other attention which he, (the
child of course,) shall, after carefully consider
ing some things, deem his due. lie must always
be mild in bis demeanor and language to the
children ; always remember that they are hu
man beings ; and carefully avoid all things
that would wound their tender feelings ; and
at the same time, endeavor, to forget that ho
has any sensibilities that could possibly be
wounded, or that he has any sympathies in
common with the rest of mankind. If the
scholars throw paper balis at him or his mates
or transgress the rules of the school, be must
mildly reprove, but never punish them. If, bow
ever, he finds it positively necessary to punish
them, he mu-t be careful whom he selects to
make an example of, always bearing in mind,
that parents are willing that be should chas
tise any child than theirs.
lie must never complain, if children are not
sent regularly to school,but ba able to advance
a child as fast, when be stays at home half rhe
time, as when at school every day ; and "if
any odds," a little faster. He must not
whip, for that would be using brute force ; he
must not scold, for children never like a scold
ing teacher ; he must maintain good order in
the school room nevertheless, and he careful to
win the affections of every one placed nnder
his charge. When out among the patrons of
the school, or yonng people, he must not be
reserved or distant, for that proves he is "stuck
up," and feels himself above those around him;
he must not be free and sociable with all whom
he may meet, for that proves a looseness of
character entirely unworthy of the high posi
tion he fills.. He must "do all the sums,"
work all the pozzies, answer all the questions,
and do anything and every thing every body
else either can or cannot do; and, finally, ho
most be willing to work for nothingy " board
around," and then wait for his pay.— Jefftrson
Sin*.
"P. P. 8.,* of Rome, anwred next week..