A MOMENT WITH THE DEAD,
nn«:mtthMiteßt, ittent if*A
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wAlto^w ■'> ’■■ ■•• '■'T
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,;■) ■ :l <jmd/wHliltlKd)ntU'tfMK*ttUt,■‘ '"I
! 1 yee, r«M jraang—TO. bat $ cJiUd,
I - ■ WII6TO n« then aomßer,
c Stole the eW«*tj of' oar Btuutwr.
' i )Cmferi^iSi™ow! ! vrtilch,
x tyr yvliUeoldTiaft kecpe>on.Jii* w*y r
* ''' Hero brotiww, to dust.i
'O, riledt *le«p«rtl ; rart,‘r«9i on,
?gr thee no moreTUfIWPT >•
Yor wheq a few itort yenre heTfigono
, I iJ{ tab, mmet with yon*teop.‘ ; - Octavio, r
- ■■ ’ Firitn tii OMa-'Purmen
INSIDE OUTWAOD.
!’ OR .THE ; ■
DffMBSNOB .BETWEEN OABHMBHB .AND CAUCO.
ST ; H*LtfM L BOSTWIOK.
‘‘Did I lelV yoif pbgut it, Eunice?”
"About,what?”
•‘My going totlje, city, wrong aitjq outward,”
“What tfo you mean ? ,} said Eunice.
"Oh, I.see you never hpard the, story, so
I. wilj, tell .you.. Two years ago I spent a few
weeks with my friends the Wilmots, near the
city of A .In the family were two
young'ladies who /bund it necessary to.do a
great deal of shopping, and not a little visiting
lathe city, and of course patronized the rail
road connecting their little village with the
Green street Depot, to no trifling extent.
“Now you. shall see what a handsome and
gentlejnaqly conductor we have on ibis
route,” said. Bell Wilmot to me, as 1 took a
luxurious cushion do a crowded car lor a first
■miscellaneous trip to A< ,
“He is my. beau ideal of a conductor/
added Kate.; “let. the car be ever so crowded
he is sure to And. a place for ladies, and never
objects to our band boxes and qarpel bags, as
many ill-natured fellows, drest in a little brief
authority, are apt to do, and if our purses are
short after a shopping excursion, he often —
liiiteVrbapsody was interrupted by the slart
ipg of the train.
"We were whirled into A in about
twenty minutes, yet 1 had an opportunity to
notice that the labeled official was indisputa
bly very considerate to our party. He opened
the window'.which was swollen, by damp
wealhor at a look from Kale, and ordered a
Dutchman, smoking meekly upon the plat
form into the baggage car, at a symptom of
fainmess from Beil. - I could but acknowledge
that Fanny Fern should odd to her-list of
models a ‘model conductor,” taking this one
for her original.
Arrived at our destination, I was again en
tertained with my friends' praises of the va
rious merchants and milliners they were ac
customed to patronize.
“I always purchase silks at Weaver’s ;
tbev are so conscientious, and never try to
naim o(T an inferior article upon a customer.
At Mrs. Lasalle’s you will find a superb as
sortment of gloves and embroideries. The
proprietress is a reduced French Countess,
slid one of the most lady like persons you
ever saw rattled Bell Wilmot.
“And if yotf wish to buy shoes,'be sure and
call at Marvin’s; they are so accommodating;
Kiev never make wry faces, if you happen
to break a string, or loosen a clasp, or any
older such trifling accident,” added Kale.
"This was enough, yet if I needed more
to convince me of the superior excellence of
these aristocratic shopkeepers, that afternoon’s
observation would have furnished it. No
sooner did the rich brocades, and crapes and
ribbons of the fair Misses Wilmot flutter in
side a shop door, than every attendant, from
proprietor to errand boy, proceeded to don
their most obsequious smiles and agreeable
deportment. It was not strange, Eunice.
'The young ladies carried heavy purses, and
weTe-tasily persuaded to lighten them.
The afternoon passed pleasantly and fa
iigumgly enough, to dialling and shopping,
in shaking hands with old acquamiances, and
trying to bow gracefully to new introductions,
and on our return, amid many expressions of
satisfaction as our purchases were enrolled
and exhibited before Mrs. Wilmot and Aunt
Lucy, the'girls forced me to confess-lhat the
A merchants and the A and 0
conductor far surpassed any others io the
known world.
And so it wqs, almost daily, for the first
iorimghi of my stay. At one time we called
on a celebrated dentist for some trifling tooth
operation He was an acquaintance of Bell’s
ana sue presented him-to mens her-friend,
ue was very handsome and his voice and
smile captivating to one who'Couid appreciate
music and sunshine, Eunice, I was amazing
ly pleased with (hat man. I who am so fus
tidinus, I fancied him the impersonation of
skill and benevolence—the head nnd the
Pearl the means and the end—glorious com
binations for those who set themselves up as
ihe world’s healers and teachers. He im
pressed me as one of the few to whom science
may safely commit her priceless treasures,
sure that they would be used only for the
blessing of humanily. Ah, Eunice! 1 had
only seen the silken side I
“Pray go on,” said Eunicq.
One rainy morning I received a letter from
Home, giving notice that my young sister was
about to take a Western tour with a friend.
“New dresses of course, are requisite,”.wrote
my mother, “and I wish you to procure and
send them immediately. Then followed a
hat of the articles needed.
This letler had been longer than usual on
liie route ; that moment, I knew sister Lib,
smid a sympathizing conclave of wailing
milliners, marveled my long delay.
The articles must be.purchased that very,
day, raining as it was* and moreover I must
go alone; Bell and Kate had'•gone to bed
with hair In curl-papers, and hovels under
their pillows.. Toward noon the rain-abated,;
and I notified'my friends of my- determinA
tibn... to go to A—; —, The young ladies'
started with astonishment.
“To morrow, I’ll be at your service,” said.
Bell, but nqt.to day.' VVhy you’re crazy
look'av.the.clojtds—you’ll take a dreadful
cold—don’t get .salimstriped tissue; it frays
shockingly,” . .
I dressed, walkedto.iheislation, Bata few
mds distant,' arid found .myself half an hour
too. early, .Very, soon tho iclouda
and raip fall in ; cataracts; ' Nevertheless, 1
•mbbornly adhered to my determination, the
more stubbornly, that I knew the girls would
Jbr thi Agitator*
.d
'**’ 1 v' 1 * 1 -" 1 -' 'V' '‘-c ' ’y - ■^itf.iuwreaTflv, 1 .- ■-
'iGOBBi STUEtROCE & GO.', -
iJWSLit-
ridicule me without mercy if I returned,. But
1 looked at my dress, and thought of mybon
net, and was thankful that the old brown .veil
f found crumpled in my, pocket would protect!
the latter.' My mantilla was'of watered stilt,'
handsomely lrimmed, apd f femembeped p,
lady told me that water would spot it. How.!
foolish I had been to Wear it,
“Well Eunice, wW do you suppo.se I did ?
I turned it wrongaide outward 1 It was lined'
with the usual black muslin, from which (he
gloss had disappeared in spots., I was (he.
only occupant, of the Ladies’ saloon .and en-.
joyedihefull .benefit of an eight by ten look-,,
dog 8 Ia " a -( 1 in it ind ipwing.wjial.a!
ludicrous figure my old veil and rusty gar
ment made, in contrast with my hoe cash!
mere traveling dress, with its richly trimmed
basque, the idea of going to thecily thoroughly
disguised, at once presented itself. The skirl
of my dress was separate from th? body, apd
I had lined it for comfort in. the winter, with’
an old gingham dress clean and whole, but I
must confess, sadly faded. Well, I turned
this wrong side outwards, also,”'
“You don’t mean to say that you went to'
the city in that style,” said Eunice. .
“1 did, and enjoyed it too, convinced that
[ was doing a sensible thing. But you shall
'hear. Scarcely was my toilet completed,
when the whistle sounded and drawing the
thick veil over my face, 1 made my way to
the nearest car. And now commcuced the
development. The handsome and gentleman
ly conductor nearly knocked me over in the
doorway, in his willingness lo pioneer a lady
in blue silk and four flounces, a satchel, a
bat box, a parasol, and a lap-dog safely out
upon a platform. Returning, while t stood
gazing vacantly at the rows of hats and bools
before me, none of which moved to relin
quish a seat in my behalf the model conductor
pointed to an uncomfortable corner seat, be
tween a black woman with a baby, and a
white woman with two babies. Of course
I expected it, and the cunning pranks of the
little African made my hard seat endurable.
“Well, 1 reached the city, and made my
way lo Weaver’s fashionable store. The
skies were weeping briskly, and I, carrying
a blue cotton unbrella, probably did not call
up golden visions to the eyes of the young
gentlemen clerks who lounged upon the coun
ters, nr sat with feet elevated at alarmingly
acute angles, as I entered. When I enquired
for silk, tissues, gernadines, and fine summer
dress goods, there was one undivided stare.
“It would take too much lime to tell how
some stained silks,, and half cotton beragqs
were first produced','and now I eventually
convinced them ihat i understood their proper
quality. Suffice it to say 1 purchased noth
ing there, though templing articles were fin
ally displayed before me, but suited myself
at less pretentious establishments.
“Next to Mrs. Lasalle’s 1 went, whose
anathemas upon me for detecting the cotton
laces presented me for linen, ('till not repeat,
but must say they were delivered in a very
uncounless like rage, though in excellent
French,
“I did not try the shoe store that day, but
in passing Dr. R’s office, something prompted
me to enter. 1 had been amused and not the
least disappointed by my afternoon’s experi
ences, but now a little anxiety mingled with
much curiosity. I bethought me of a ner
vous loolh-ache that had robbed me of sleep
for a portion of several nights, and which 1
had sedulously concealed from the family,
chiefly because Aunt Lucy’s infallible remedy
in such cases was whisky and ginger, boil
ing hot, a remedy to me, infinitely worse
than the disease. Perhaps Dr. H. could
noma something less objectionable.
“1 rang gently, and was admitted. The
Doctor, who was talking and smoking with
a dashing young man, glanced at my dress
as I entered, and without further notice, went
on with the conversation. Finally 1 institu
ted a slight cough, and he turned toward me
with—
“Well, old lady, what’s (he nuttier with
you 7"
“1 enquired in .a suffering voice, the cure
for an aching tooth.”
‘“Crooked iron, inarm, applied cold, is the
best thing, and animal magnetism is next
best. Ever try it, hey 7” And the moo of
science winked and grinned at his compan
ion, who ejected a quid of tobacco from his
mouth, quite near my poor gingham skirt,
and laughed immoderately. In two seconds
1 was in the street, and on my way to the
Depot, queslioning myself, whether there are
such qualities yet remaining in our world,' ks
uhbopght honesty ind kindness. My doubts
were to be removed. The train stood at the
Depot as I came in sight ‘and I hurried my
steps lest it should depart without roe.
“I managed to gain a seal, but had no
limd to purchase n ticket and when the con
ductor came, I fell for my port monnaie to*
to pay the necessary fare; It was gone.—
An exploration of my pocket to its lowest
depls availed .nothing; and I was in a difem*
raa. I explained the matter'to him, assuring
him' I should leave the train at the next sta
tfen, and would there bdrrdw ih’e amount;—
He left me, muttering hik suspicions' that thb
story' waa a iiej apd went his rounds.
"Soon after, some one touched my elbow
and on looking around, 1 1 was greeted "by a
lank, ragged, uncombed Irishman, : who'
smiled bnd' held something toward me.'' It
was my pbrt monnaie. ' , r
Faith andhav’tit I been sarchin, the, cars;
for ye this ’ bltSs'ed while,’ saldho j
’twas meaeir.that sdw ye'iake yes- handker
chief anfl send thisbre filing
a apiqhing on tne paving jSlbheg. And ye did
n’l seo Pat Cfugatl aftCf if T had’r
been comln tho satfie 1 rpud> jt precioas' hurtt
ye might have had for it.’BleSs the until
idred. uncorrupted Irish heart! J
“And now I was at 0. Station, 1 nnd 1 the
A 'l*
Vv ‘>vJ
WEU.SBOKOUGH, TtOGA CpI'KTY, PA., TlllifiSOAY MORSIKG, KOVBIHER 15, 1835:
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' ,r 'rHK‘ ACrfATiiif 'op 1 imbvGßT ia tbb BBthHnita of 1 1
J'_'l >l..' ; - 1 ' . „ - , ~ ,
" v! ‘ -
[ *1 ,t| * H ,« . ' " * S'* 1 ' .. •• .i, 7 I ' ! T*~
sun, though, it was 16,w weat, was shi
ning., brightjiy*. .I to the La,
dies’ soom, anii.aoon. emerged therefrom a
well dressed lady,,with p. uncovered bpnqel
of.thelatest importation.’ ,As^he-conductor
crpssedihapjatform t? give orders ! stepped ,
upend/tendered ray.fare,“saying my purse;
hadbpen found and.rtetornedlo me. • You .
have a vivid imagination, Eunice picture, the
Countenance of that gentleman:
“ Did you relate' your ■ adventure to the
young ladles ?” said Eunice.
j “No, indeed ! When the goods-cable,
they' word’ delighted witlf them, nffirmiqg thal
;• tfiiS i sillc come from Weaver’s no J othet mer
chant had nnythlng like It, and this
from Mrs. LaSalle’s, they remembered seeing
it thei-e !” I kept ray own counsel; and o6W
Eunice what do you think of it all 7” ' ' "
“I think the wisdom you purchased was
cheep enough at all'events, Yet there is one
other place to which I wish you had gone.”
“And where is that 7”
“To church,” said Eunice I!!!!!! M !!
JtfiuTAßY Literature.— American pa
pers are remarking on the absence of all lite
rary efforts in the Crimea, and are therein
nothing-very much to their own glory—a
charanterislicdifference between the surround
ings.of an English army. The contrast is
fair—the self laudation ia not unjust. Our
readers know that when the Yankees marched
into Mexico, they carried with them la print
ing press, and published a newspaper along
the line of invasion.—Across praries, through
dangerous passes, over mountain ranges,
sometimes on mules, oftener on men’s shoul
ders, occasionally in wagons, traveled!press,
paper, type, and ink,, editors, contributors,
and pressmen, fighting, foraging, writing,:
working onward. Infinite were the uses of
the press. It carried orders through',the’
camp. Every morning the soldier read in
it the story of the previous day. It anticipa
ted the gazettes. It desseminaled orders of
the day. It perpetuated the gossip of the
camp; reflected public opinion in the army ;
made known every wantj supplied every in
formation ; exercised, inspired, and animated
every heart. Had the Americans been in the
Crimea, they would have had daily papers at
Balnklava, Eupaloria, Yenikale and Constan
tinople ; and these papers reflecting the hu
mors, incidents, and life of the camp—would
have ranked among the best historical docu
ments of the war. As it is, our soldiers in
the Crimea are indebted to the Lopdoo Jour
nals for authentic information of what occurs,
In me camp Usclf, a„J a mne ur iWu or
their own tents. Jonathan is far ahead of us
in some respects.— kthenenm.
An Injured Man. — A merchant in a town
near Boston, had a customer more dreaded
who was always ready lo taste early fruit
without buying any, eat raisins by the hand
full dip into (he sugar-barrel (or big lumps
and fill his snuff box from the jar on the
counter, under pretence of taking a pinch.
This game got lo be insufferable. He had a
barrel of choice apple sauce in (he store, a
fact which our sponge discovered, Who seal
ed himself beside it, and when theslorekecp
er’s eyes ware turned he would dip into the
barrel and scoop out a handful! at a lime and
take it down at a gulp. The dealer had seen
lhe whole by means of a looking glass which
reflected the store, and he resolved upon a
plan to fix him.
“John,’’ said be to a young man, giving
him a wink,” why did you not throw that ap
ple sauce away ?”
Without wailing Tor John’s answer, the
sponge broke in with—
“ Why” what’s the matter with ill It’s
first rate, I think.’’
“Yes,” said the storekeeper," it was, but
a cat and four kittens were drowned in it last
night I”
The victim turned pale and moved towards
the door. He felt as if he was an injured
man, and silently vowed not lo patronize that
store any more
How to Spoil a Boy —To spoil a boy,
give him a rich father, this will give him a
taste for idleness, while idleness will give
him a taste- for billiards, ballet dances, fast'
horses, and brawling. This in time, will lead
to br.oken shins and broken heads. The for
mer will belong to (he young man himself,
the latter lo his parents. To do a-person
good,- money should bo earned. Dash inher
ited half a million, but as he did not inherit
the frugality which acquired ft, Dash lost by
tho operation. Dash" goes it stogt” on cham
pagne suppers, pash is now training'(or the
delirum tremens; the effects of which' will
be, that in a year Dash will go to the lunatic
asylum,'because he mistook his house fora
clipper shipend undertook to cast anchor
by throwing his man-servant out of the fifth'
story, into the cistern.
A gentleman, a few evenings since, while
taking' a swim in the lake ; at Buffalo, N. Y.’,
was‘horrified, on casting bis-eyes towards
the beach, to behold h rag-jtieking female de
liberately pin his shirt, white pantaloons,'
stockings, eic./irtlo hor baaket/'aDd vamose.
Pursuit was in vain, and the‘“denuded-one”
was compelled to make upthedeficienoiesof
his wardrobe with blasphemy. In fact, 1 in the
language of scripture, “He clothed himself
tfith turses, ns with a garment.”
i >< ' | 1
“Hill6o, steward 1" exclaifrfed a Tellow itj
cmeoftha'steamboatsf nfler haring yetired to
beiji <Jl ’’ ; '
i ■‘"’p&reVriiaMi;”
“Bring, rne ifie waybill.”
' ‘‘What for, r ",
?I WiiHt to'seelf |hf«e' put' Bpwtt'
their'naVnes'for tbte befiljr l 'didi’V'r
not, I want ’an lurned : oiit. M
»&||a ; **s w! ,!»&?*» v--/»i
:HUrj.’Kt '- ' ■ ■"? T v o‘ tßi,>' ;•»,>■.
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r.\
! ■ A great error prevadeSithe. community in
'reference to. the kind of..an. education .the.;
lyou.ng should receive. Too much, attention,
fa bestowed upon showy accomplishments,-
'Education is valuable just- in-proportion l to its■
usefulness. Theprinciplesof truth' and vir- ■
jtue impressed, with an ahiding-seuse of Chris
tian'duly, upon the youthful: mind, will nefe
essarily produce uprightness of\:onduct and
correct principles of action.' Nothing is re
ally ttoblei in the cenduct of'men, thslisnol
the result of choice, produced by a iCOrrect'
system of entightehrhetS The plodding
outontatoir may, 6‘y a force of circumstances
and fixed habit, move in the path of recti
tude ;i,but this'is the result of accident, not
of choice. 1 The divine spark that should
animate the breast is wanting. There is
none of that soulclevaling sentiment which
prevadps the heart of every freeman, caus
ing him lo perceive the truth and to adhere
with unwavering firmness lo its dictates. An
educated man feels a slinging .remorse when
cver his actions do not'correspond.to the dic
tates of. conscience. The prison statistics of
the United States show that about three
fourths of the convicts cannot read or write.
Observation everywhere proves that it is the
uneducated that idle away their lime and
plunge into ell manner of' excesses and bru
tal habits. Money and time expended in ac
quiring an education is so much capital in
vested towards the future and enduring glory
of our couhtiy. Every minute spent in cul
tivating the mind adds to the pecuniary re
sources of the individual. The following el
oquent remarks frum an eminent scholar
(Ur. Channing,) will meet with a hearty re
sponse from every friend of popular educa
tion
"I am not discouraged by (he objection,
that the laborer, if encouraged to give Ifme
and strength to the elevation of bis mind,
will starve himself and impoverish the coun
try, when I consider the energy and efficiency
of the mind. The highest force in the uni
verse is mind. This has changed the wilder
ness into fruitfulness, and linked distant coun
tries in a benificent ministry to one another’s
wants. It is not to brute force, to physical
strength, so much as to art, to skill, to Intel
ectual and moral energy, that men owe their
mastery over the world. It is mind which
baa-conquered matter. To fear then that,
by./calling- forth.a people’s mind, we shall
impoverish and starve them,: is to be fright-•
eoed.al a aljndow, I believe, that with the>
growth of intellectual ann moral power ro
the community, its productive power will in
crease, that industry* will become more effi
cient, that a wiser economy will accumulate
wealth, that unimagined resources of art and
nature will be discovered. I believe, that the
means of living will'grow easier, in propor
tion ns a people shall become.enlightened;'
self-respecting, resolute and just. Bodily or
material forces can be measured, but not the
Torres of the soul, nor can tho results of in
creased mental energy be foretold. Such a
community wiM tread down obstacles, now
deemed invincible, and turn them into helps.
The inward moulds the outward. . The power
of a people lies in its mind; and its mind, if
fortified and enlarged, will bring external
things into harmony with itself, if, howev.
er, 1 err in this belief, if, by securing lime
nnd means for improvement of the multitude,
industry and capital should become less pro
ductive, I will say, .sacrifice the wealth, and
not the' mihd of a people,
“Nor do I believe that’ the physical good
of a community would in this way be im
paired. The diminution of a country’s
wealth, occasioned by general attention lo
intellectUal'and moral culture, would be fol
lowed by very many different efforts from
those which would attend ah equal diminu
tion brought about by sloth, intemperance
and ignorance. There would, indeed, be
less production in such a country, but (he
character and spirit of the people would ef
fect a much more equal distribution of what
would be produced; and the happiness of a
community depends vastly more on the- dis
tribution than on (he amount of its wealth.
In thus speaking of the future, I do not claim
any special prophetical gift. As a.general
rule, no man is able to foretell) distinctly, the
ultimate permanent result of any great change.
But as to the case before us we ought not lo
doubt. Ills a part of our duty to believe,
that by nothing-can a country so effectually
gain happiness and lasting prosperity, as by
the elevation of all classes of its citizens.—
To qne'stion : this seems’ an approach to the’
end of lime.
“lf this fall,
The pillared firmament is rottenness,
And earth’s base built on stubble,”
Let do one bring forward the plea, that
poverty prevents him frOm storing his mind
with useful knowledge* He might just with
as-much propriety:-say that, he was 100 poor
to follow his; .daily, vocation.-. An educated
laborer becomes.Simore -successful producer.;
A. farmer that adapts his grain to ils proper
soil, andi applies the, rights kindiof nourishing;
stimulantslo; lliaUsoit,.will; earn far, more,'
lhan he who > prepares- and;-sows his- fields
without'intelligepce;—Efercior.
A'vrorrihn iri Bdatdn I has‘ Commenced'suit
of divorce agSinslher'husbandi 1 because he'
wolifd : no^allbw-h : ef i to ;j hpply hhr
the stopper of the molasses jug every lime
shV^sfedlt—a’ pfivlllßgOtVhidh* Wiry; Yan
kee Jfpman considers, sacred.; r :: ,
’ A’persdfr out fn’fdwli
grpss-seed gQtherdd'frbm ijid itj* refctV
! lude.’*
l;as it is m iTlfle traveled 1 "
tilli}'-*'-'
if-v
ijancatloii of tbeioutb.
|[u*
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;b:
. ;5. y-r
Proprietors.
It hM been said, (and I for one think, trnlj,)
That K e’on a cat may glower upon a king I”
And so, perchance, who chooses to, Is duly
. lifceosbd, of hackneyed themofl td rhyme or sing;
And so I slog of that which out of view lay,
Bat just before the fatl'Wltid cum? to fling |
Tho crisp, dead leaves about—a welcome comer,
June's lato-born peer and slater— ljojiak Sumuca.
*T Is bat a narrow rift in Autumn's clouds,
. Through which thy softer skies Just now appear;
A bunt of sunlight through the gloom that shrouds
Thy charms, 0, Second ChiJUbood of (he Tear!
Tor thou ddst type that second bhjth which crowds
The young child's cradle on the old man's bier;
Yet there is healing In thy balmy breath,
That robs tho garner of tho Heupec— Djuthl
Westemlmgentle dalll&noo with June — .
- Wtti ffuira.ttre
With thy blue skies o’ercanopyiug, at noon.
noth’ field add To refit In their Autumn an^cn; '
And }hodgh the birds cume not as then, to tune ;
Nature’s groat harp, and sanctify the scene—
Wo lore tlieo not the loss,—ooch has Its time,
June with its birds and Autumn with its rime.
Tho latest Joy, we mortals love tho best;
Sommer’s last hoar is lovelier than ju first*—
Tho moUier clasps her last bom to her breast, i
The sweetest heart-floWer that whoever nurst ; |
The miser drops UU lost gain In-tho chest i
As best of all—and yet *t U most accursed'
So In thy arms wo seo the year decay, ;
Lfjviog thee hotter as thou fad’st away.
November P, 1855. t M. TI. Copa.
I
Letter from the West J~
Fhiend Cobb; —The “West 11 is a drejary
country to some,'and I will tell you why.
They start with buoyant spirits, bright an ici
pationa and a glowing future before them, but
become weary, sick at heart, and lose I teir
courage long before they reach their place of
destination. Many, perhaps, have never been
a hundred miles from their homes before—
always surrounded by friends, whose hearts
were overflowing with sympathy, yet they
take their, families and start for some point,
perhaps unknown to them, in in the far off
west.
But who, that has ever traveled upon crook
ed railways nnd lake steamers, docs not an
ticipate the many knocks and thumps that
(bey-will receive long before (hey finish their
journey. But they are going west—they Teel
.the weighty responsibility—many hours of
waking dreams have been spent in consider
ing the subject, and many nights of drowsy,
feverish sleep, while their minds were ram
bling away out on some *asi prarie, and there
dreaming of beautiful farms, fields of waving
grain and comfortable homes already occu
pied by their joyous families. They wake
from their dreams only lo run these tilings
through their minds again. Truly it. is a
great undertaking. There is a vast respon-
sibility attached to it; Their success in
the happiness of their families and the ftture
prospect of ciTcit ohiMron nil depend upon that
journey west. With these feelings they pack
their goods, bid adieu to their friends and
start-olfVwhile their tears fall pnd wot the
path in which they are traveling. One would
naturally suppose that so great an undertak
ing should engage the attention and enlist the
sympathy of those whom they meet, but they
soon learn by experience that and
baggage-masters, ticket agents and hotel
keepers, hack-drivers and little, (easing, fruit
and novel pedlars, care little about any one
except lo gel his money. They, perhaps, ex
change a few words of sympathy wi'h a fel
low traveler if they moke his acquaintance,
but he : stops at the next station or takes a dif
ferent route, and they are left alone again.
Nature begins to present a different face —
they see no friends with whom they may
converse, and they begin to look back with
sorrow to the unhappy day when they resol
ved to leave their friends.’ But their story is
not half told yet, for their journey is but just
commenced. It is evening and~they are of
Dunkirk, Buffalo or perhaps Detroit—we will
say Detroit to make the story short, and |i hey
step aboard the cars for Chicago, two hun
dred and eighty two miles distant. Perhaps
they never rode all night in the cars before,
and may think they are going to have a
pleasant lime, but they will gel mistnken.
it is nine o’clock and dqrk as pitch, and
nothing can be seen from the windows now
to excite their curiosity. Conversation has
ebbed except with here and therein individ
ual, who is still trying lo press upon the per
son who sits beside him, the wonderful trans
actions (hat he performed while young, i But
fie fails to'interest him and nothing now greets
' my ear except ihepuff of the engine and the
continued rumbling and rattling of the pars,
together with the pestering babble of apself
conceiled fop silting right before me. AH’ are
growing sleepy and they begin lo nod on the
right and the left. They are weary and
would -be glad to Ije down upon their'seats'
and take a nap, but 'every car is crowded 'to
suffocation and there are four or five of them.
Some are so tired (Hot they occasionally get
into a drowse, bur ore soon roused up by a
voice crying out Battle Creek, Paw. Paw,
TerreCdupee, or some other name ihjw have
not been accustomed to hear. And tho tthey’
edntinue the whdle night, and it is a lorg one
as every one will testify who has experienced
a similar ride.
It is day .-light novi and all are er
lookmg put of the windows upon Lake 1
gun, extending ; as it does hundreds of
1 beyond, the .reach of, their feeble vision
,it a beautiful, scene—new indeed to mi
Tiogian, and, yvhoi ,makes it m? re bej
and. mpre novel, there ,is a terrible gal
now-dashing ..waves' and spray all.ov
docks,.-Neptune.must be very angry
morning.v'A, few vessels, are lying pi
'beach ; and seamen are busy going u|>
downithsir rope-iadders-r-poor honest It
Iheyifeel as if ihey-jrare laboring for.hu
ilyij, Butrhere- wolgo whir;inlo : ChicB
hundred- tracks apparently -on ■.cither
All rush from the cars, while porters, a
of them, themsfelyea to t
| in order, to let.tfhPeleifo'KnoVhoWttUcb
tHo K'(iiiMWh6f''hhvd , fltß hbnbfdf repri
mg dtfeiPi''i'sfiuvild’ ; say , dofei Hwt -pb
A‘ .:*l: 1
NO. 17.
For Oie Agitator.
INDIAN i SUMMER,
(The hack is crowded as full as il can be,and
another gping to the same place. The bar
roornisTnll! of traveler*; and mattyof' thVm
hnya xpaahed tbeqnelve* and are trying to
look,briBkjsbui- ibe poor hungry fellowscan
nptafieciJt.' TwoibirdsMaf them; are sick,
absolutely sicKrryou iato read theword home
(ft ,gJraots ; every face:; It 'rains/.the wind
Wave, everything's wetland dirty, thoyara
hungry, have had no and everybody is
(easing them for their money, and why should
they not be sick 7 To be 'sure that' I am not
mistaken in this estimate of human nature, I
will, get in conversation - with some of thenrn
Sir, you are traveling; allow me to ask
what part, of tho- country you are from.
“In-di-a-na, took the cars last night—l’m
going to Mm-e-ao-ia.” Ab ! do you expect,
sir, to. belter your condition by going away
out in Minnesota? “Don't know; but if 1
had my money back, and was a ihome again,
1 reckon ibis ohlff would stay there.” He
gave this- last a, sort of Hoosier kink, as
much as to say that he had a little indepen>
deuce led after all. But the truth is, the
poor fallow has lost his courage. He rode
last night on the cars—is now in -‘Chicago,
surrounded by stores, groceries, .dockyards
and depots—unable 'to get even a glance at
the country and yet he is sick of it. He is
a stout looking fellow and you would think
'CSpal)lß”Of'latringTf3e»«au,polj4n "a day, yet
the poor boy is absent from nis mother and
his heart is broken. What do you suppose
he will do, if he should go to Minesota?
Well, a good share of those who go west are
as chicken hearted as he is..
’*-r
Perhaps it may bo interesting to some of
your Tioga- readers to stale a few things
which 1 haye seen in the west. I will do it:
la a word I have seen (he most beautiful
country, the most extensive farms and by far
the wealthiest farmers I ever saw in my life.
Some of these farmers, who are now worth
from eighty to a hundred thousand dollars,
came here a few years ago with from two to
three hundred only. They have obtained
their wealth by the growth of the country.
Everything is progressing in this region.
New town's are springing up all along the
railroads. There is about twenty five hun
dred miles of railroad in ibis state—lllinois.
Churbhes, school-houses, academies, stores
and dwelling houses are constantly being
.erected—farms are being purchased, fenced
and cultivated—men are going into business
on every side, and a person traveling through
this country soon loses himself in the gene
ral bustle, and for the lime being forgets that
there is an east. Most of those living along
the lines of railrords are sharpers, and are
bound to get rich out of the traveling public.
Prices.—Pine lumber along tho railroads,
‘from 17 to 825 per thousand feet. Cultiva
ted farms, wiih buildings, shade trees &c.,
from 25 to 840 per acre. Uncultivated land
from 5 to 815. . Praries are not swamps by
any means, but rolling meadows ready for the
plow. This is the character of those lying
between Chicago and Rock River—south of
that they are level. Let a man look out upon
these prairies for twenty minutes, and if he
does not conclude that the farmer, who tries
to plow the hard, stony hills of Tioga, is de
basing manhood, then I am no judge.
Friends, who have requested me to write
to them concerning the West, will please con
sider the engagement fulfilled by this letter.
Respectfully Yours,
. J. B. CASSODAY.
Jbhcl, Illinois, Sept. 25, 1855.
Curious Love Letters.
Madame: —Most worthy of my admira
tion, after long consideraiion, and much med
itation, of the great reputation, you possess
in the nation, I have strong inclination, toi
become your relation. On your approbation,
of the declaration, I shall make preparation,
to move my situation, to profess my admira-'
lion, and if such obligation, is worthy of ob
servation, and can obtain commisseration, it
will be an aggrandization, beyond all calcula
tion, of the joy and exultation of,
Yours, Saks Desidehation.
The following in the reply :
Sir—l perused your oration, with much
deliberation, and a little consternation, of the
great infatuation, of your weak imagination,
to show such veneration, on so slight a foun
dation. I suppose your animation, was (he
fruit of recreation, or had sprung from osten
tation, to display your education, by an odd
enumeration, or rather multiplication, of
words of the same termination, though of
great variaiion, in each- respective significa
tion. Now, without disputation, your labori
ous application, to so tedious an occupation,
deserves commendation, and thinking limita
tion, sufficient gratification, 1 am, without
hesitation, Yours,
Sally Moderation.
i Voltdres. — A letter from the Crimea
tells the following tale: “Vultures are vdry
numerous in the Crimea. They smell the
powder and await the coming of the
throw themselves on their victims. After
one of the recent combats, an English officer
was found on the battle iield, who had .just
expired, pressing in both his arms onp, of
those birds of prey, dead, like himself, and
which he bad crushed in a last effort of
agony 1” t '
As women are more affected by theprevo
lence of Immorality, than men, it is really
strange that they do* not frown down thoso
vices of men, which are so frequent. Many
a female who would nbl refuse to dine 'with
a profligate, would think herself foully in
suited were she Invited to lake tea with a
courtezan; but the only difference bet Ween
the two is, one wears pantaloons 'and the
other pddialeltes—the' moral is the same.
The WorlO’s Shippiko.—The shipping
of the world iS estimate*] at 145,500 vessels,
and the 'nggVeghte Tonnage at 19,500,000. —
Hunt's Magazine estimates that' at 850 a ton
the'shipping’of the worfd is worth the enor
mous amount'of Of this
filteen a'ird'a hairTHillior.s bf tonnage, mote
thrift'ttri' and ; a hair miflions beldng to the
Aagto Saxon race. United States’' 40,500
vfessela.an'd 5,661 , r 416 fonriaigej Grftat Brit
ain', 35,960 vessels, and 5,043,270 •’ toadage.
Concentratiort of thought will always en
sure success upon every subjocti'whetherin
Writing or • speaking. l A randomf ftnd scat l
tcred shot will seldom hiMhe mark. l 1 ■■