Terms of I*nl>Hcalioii. the TIOGA COUNTY AGITATOR ia pub. liahed every Thursday Morning, and mailed lo sub cd to notify every subscriber Wbitf tbe term fbt wMtetf&e bis-paid *faiU have expired, by the stamp Out/’ qdi the margin oflbe’fcat paper. millance be received. By this arrangement no man can be brought in debt to the printer. Tnft- A6rtATOR 'ia Unofficial PopCr bf lhe Coun ly,.wUb aI tr get-and rteadily increasing circulation reaching, ilUo nearly every neighborhood, in the County. V, is seni free of poiiage to any r oat-office the county limits, and lo those living fljtmq the limitsftul whose mbstconvehieiit postofficC may Ife in an adjoining County. - Vf Business Cards, not exceeding S' lines, paper in cluded, fc4 per year. * . i ~ foe Tfcq Agitator, wEVERT HEART K.NWEXH US OWN BITTERNESS." BV KIM M« fc. PO.OP, There Is no broW, hoWevAr gay aud-brigbi, But knows a,shads of caro; There Is no eye, of pert And lustrous light But knowa the horning (ear. there are few hearts bat-hide within their l doopa Sompailentfoupt of grief; Where the ptond spfrtt ’sits alone, anflweepi The woes it will not breathe St± down the spirit*! deop of- deeps there lie yOrcat mines of golden thought; A (housamf forms of gorgeous Imagery, . Which tbo bUdd world ftocs noU And in Us silent chambers, many a joy Sleeps on its early bier; Andover the relic time cannot destroy falls many a burning te&j. And flcrw'rs of Hope have wither'd, droop’d’and died, 'While bursting into bloom And tbo pole phantoms of lost pleasures, glide Around their early tom: Ye know not, as ye mark the smiling brow, Or watch the sparkling eye. The grleft that weigh upon the spirit now, Though roiled when ye are nigh. Penlgonlly, then, with every human heart— AW not one drop oT woe *To tb« full gobleti—■which a roie’» leaf Might cauuo to overflow. Select jHigeeilauiL From the New York Ledger. THE FOUR TRAVELERS. BY AUCBCARY. The night bad shut in with snow, and by nine o’clock the wind which drove gustily from wood \o meadow, and from meadow to wood, had piled a great drift against the door of a small tavern, where sat three men around ns bright a wood fire as ever, with its red sparkles, drove away the thoughts of a black and stormy mg:. ' The snow was ol that fine and flinty quality which strikes against the traveler’s face like needles and the wind of that prying and fa miliar description that ruffles and tumbles hair and garments, turns umbrellas inside out, and causes the luckless wayfarer to peep about him for the friendly glimmer of some wayside ligh’ Our travelers were therefore nothing sur prised when the door opened and a ’stranger entered. He was a little pale-faced man, wim a quiet look ; and having placed his small bundle noiselessly on the floor, and brushed the snow from his thin cloak, he advanced toward the landlord and inquired ir. a voice’ singular!' - sweet and modest whether he could be accommodated with lodgin' “No answered the host, in a tone meant perhaps to be only decided, but which was in reality rude, greatly beyond the requirement of denial, for in truth he liked not the thread bare garments and altogether unpromising appearance of the strangeV —besides, his en trance had interrupted a charming story which one of the three accommodated trav elers wifs relatir,: “ I suppose your little tavern is already crowded,” said the pale, little stranger, speak ing sweetly and modestly as before, “ and 1 ought to have known better than to intrude— pardon mo, my good friendand stepping toward the candle, which shone across the weli-sp'ead table, he tooK from’his pocket a lank purse, and with one hand shook out of ii halt a dozen pieces of silver into the palm of the other The frozen 'expression about the landlord’s mouih began to thaw into something like a smile, as he said " Perhaps, if • one of my guests should eonseni to share his bed, 1 might manage;’’ and me gentlemen at me fire began to draw back their chairs, so as io widen the circle. Not heeding these friendly premonitions, however, the stranger selected the price of a night’s lodging supper, and presented it lo the landlord saying. “ [ looked through vour window, my good sir, and In imagina tion warmed at your hre, and feasted at your tabic—take what t owe you, lor though you blessed me unaware, v am none the less your debtor. And having said this, tie closed the door softly, and stepped oul into the snow. The landlord sat down, grim and troubled—the candle began to crow dim, and the fire which a little while beiorc had blazed so high and so bright, to fall together and darken. “i wish me young man had cursed me,” said me uneasy landlord, breaking silence, at las,, “instead oi leaving me tins silver;” and rising with abiupi energy, he threw the money oul into mo snow, as if the holding of il burnt Ins nanu. “j can appreciate your feeling, my dear sir,’ saul one of me inree trailers, unbutton ing his great coal and (frawing a long breath, gs it to relieve himself of some troublesome moughts. Tnen stirring the hre,he answered me looks of inquiry directed toward hftj) by saying, “One stormy night like this, when I was a lad somewhere about ten years old, mere was a knocking at me door, and I ran to open it, supposing I knew who was coming, tor we lived in a secluded country neighbor noon, and were not likely, especially after night, 10 see strangers. When, therefore, 1 saw by the light of me candle 1 held in my hand, a tali, gaum fellow, with great black eyes, hugging a rifle wnhin one arm, and a tjnapsack in the oiner, 1 drew back with a manner that was unmistakable—the strapeer grinned, and there was a smothered litterbin me circle about the fire. My first glance at mo stranger, as he stepped within ifoe door, was one of flushed apd fiery indignation. He returned ii with a respectful nod, but there were sonje twitches about the corners of bis mouth that showed me hotf njpcb bo enjoyed my confusion "He proved td'be an adventurer—a young back-woodsman in search of his fortune, which ha hfiped to find as the ‘/fired rpap' of some farmer. The night was as wild as this, and it was soon agreed,that the young man should remain with us till mornfhg, and his proposition meanwhile (fe held under con sideration. ■M P MlfP#© ;v n ' « V 1 “ I l i • 1,. *tb ,T ’ i.. ' • » ’t) M'l ',l •; 'j'sW'i' "•f 1 J bi , ' Jtm 1 "* 1 1 111 ■I I ■ ri • i 1 M4f>t avmM jfm&omßnJj m Spread *t ©fnltfts Wmm COI3B, fe CO., VOL. 3. ' . “During the evening!. I .was the -.object- of many n satirical shall—and theyoungman, whose Christian name was Bartlett, suggested that l-wae admirably calcolatedto hunt bears. To keep a steady eye upon one of them crk tarsi he said, and-step- backward from him, just as' 1 bad retreated from himself, was the ■true way.to bow themdown. “Yon blight-imagine that my. first 'preju dice against him was. deepened . considerably by this and kindred allusions, and-that‘l parted from him for the night with, feelings bordering very closely upon hatred. 1 lay awake, 1 . remember, trying' to compose a challenge, and selecting from among my school-mates a boy-who I thought would have ■courage enough to present it. 1 To make (he story short—my father - hired the man-bo was to perform such form labor, errands and chores as were required of him, and to re ceive for a term of three months of this son of service twenty-five dollars, having also his board and washing, but that’s neither here por there. For the- life of me I could not bvercome my first dislike, but it soltened somewhat, and I delayed my revenge indefi nitely.' u “The first week of Bartlett’s apprentice ship I was busy most of the lime in a small shop adjoining the stable, where harness and tools of various kinds were kept, in an at tempt to make a handsled—which was the greatest object of my boyish ambition. Once or twice, when Bartlett stopped at the door, I slammed it in his, face, and by other little at tentions of the same nature> gave him to un derstand that any amicable relations betwixt him and me was altogether out of the ques tion. “At last the sled, a rude and clumsy affair, was completed, and hung up on a peg oppo site the door. “After supper I went to view my treasure once more, and to persuade .myself that it was better than it was, for I had not equalled my expectations,and was very much dissatis fied, notwithstanding my efforts to the con trary. "What was my surprise and indignation to find Bartlett curiously examining my clumsy mechanism 7 “My first impulse was to shut and lock (he door, and having once done it, I was ashamed to undo my work, but went suddenly to the house, resolved that I would return when it was quite dark and set my prisoner at liberty. The key of (he padlock was still in my hand when I entered the house, and for the need of doing something I slipped it over my fin ger, and began swinging it about. Naturally enough, I los» control of it presently—it flew across the room and hit my father in the face—he quietly put it in his pocket, and sent me to bed in disgrace. I might have eiepi on the rack as well—not once did 1 close my eyes, and such fearful imaginations as haunt ed me, heaven grant I may never be troubled with again. “The night was intensely cold—the work shop was open, and in the best winter weather decidedly uncomfortable —perhaps Bartlett would freeze to death! The more I thought of it the more likely it seemed to me that he would j then, of course, I would be taken to prison, and in the end either have my head cut off, or be hanged I 1 wished I had never seen Bartlett, and, above all things, I wished [ had not locked him up in the workshop I That night was so long, I thought I could have walked around the world before the first glimpse of daylight. Be surd I was up at cock-ciowing time, and at the door of the workshop a minute thereafter, trembling in every limb. I listened, but not a sound could 1 hear. Bartlett was, no doubt, past making any noise. At length fear lent me courage, and ) called—no answer; then 1 knocked and shouted —still no reply. At last I fell on my knees and wrung my hands, and prayed with all my might. The cold was certainly very intense, were stiff, as with the whitening dayligKrhpressed my face against the cracks of the door, to see if 1 could discover the corpse of Bartlett, “Presently my eye began to distinguish objects, and it was not long in fixing itself upon one—not Bartlett, but (he most work man-like and beautiful new sled imaginable, hung up in the close neighborhood of my poor and unsatisfactory one. “While I stood lost in wonder and admira, lion, ( heard a footstep, and turning round, stood face to face with Bartlett, wj>o, safe and sound, was coming into (he barn-yard to attend to his morning work. Beseemed not to observe me particularly, but went about his chores as if nothing had happened. “Shame, mortification, and sorrow weighed me to the earth, and in spite of the desperate effort I mac|e to divert myself, by picking the burs from the tails of the ojfeo, I finally burst into tears. “ ‘Why blesa.me, my little man, what is the matter? Are you freezing?' exclaimed Bartlett, approaching me; and dropping from beneath his arms two bundles of oat-straw, which ho carried preparatory to feeding ihe sheep, he began to chute my hands, while he bent over rpa in the tepderesl apd most affec tionate manner. “ ‘I am DQf freezing, partied,' I sobbetf at last. 'I am crying because you worked in the cold and made me such a nice sled, and after I bad locked you up, too !’. “*0 never mind the locking up,’ said Bartlett j ‘if I never have a' worse jailor I may thank my stars—but come, let 1 us try the new sled P and bringing it out of the workshop (he had the key in his pocket) he placed me,'together with (ho two bundles of sllraw upon it, and away be rap, t|fagging iflfi aflerhim, down the hollow, api) up tlje hill to the sheep-pasture, my flne'neiv tfleti dividf ing Hocks of gobbling turkeys antj gabbling geese, as we went. ' WEU.SBOEOU6H, TOGA COT'NTV. PA., THTROJAT HORSING, MARCH 19, 1857., : • V .. A .A't V. I'- 1. „/ i ' It . ... • .. t-- - . ’■ ? * *’ ' ‘•After that ybpmay be sure that Bartlett never did ’the' morning' 1 chores hlonbi and uUirbately tAd mprtis|ng of thd sled was not raortiarm th4(n (hat 'Whfchjoined our hearis.” ! “How' did HeOltbajfe frain ybtif ifrishn 1” ashed Ana of' rtjer three travelbre. With• 1 a pe culiar expression of (hoe Avhich showed that some secret feeling of his oWn ha'd found sympathy. . . ‘ 1 “ ' ‘‘Ah, I forgot that,” replied the story- One end', of the woskshop there was a window not mUch‘ higher' front the ground than a man's head, from Which I always supposedJie lei Himself down; I'never really knew, for the stibjdct w&a one which I was very careful not to revive. I would give a great deal to see Barllstt now; musingly concluded the traveler,' It must be twenty five years since we parted; but I have the little sled at home in a state of perfect preser vation.” “Ha ha,” laughed Ihe third traveler, who had hitherto gat silent in the dimmest corner. "I am very glad to hear it, sir, for I consid ered it quite a triumph of ingenious work manship, at the time; especially in view of the circumstances under whicji I wrought— my only light being manufactured from a rag and cup of grease, previously used for bright ening up the harness!” As he finished speak ing, he arose end shook hands with the story teller so heartily, that all present must have recognized by it the generous maker of the sled; even without the confirmation of words. The landlord punched the fire with terible energy, and having turned toward it, back and face repeatedly, said as he hastily drew on his overcoat—“its no use!—all the fire in the World could not make one warm while that poor young man is out in this miserable storm.’’ And opening the door without more ado,' he dashed out into the night and the snow. “Your story reminds me,” said the second traveler, “of an early experience of tiny own whichlias probably had a greater influence on my life and character than any other sin gle event of my life, but ifie confession involves a degree of guilt on my part which ["might well shrink from, were I not sure that it links itself to no similar transgression anywhere along my subsequent life.” “Your face sufficiently attests that,” re marked the old sled-maker, encouragingly, and the third traveler went on : “When I was about thirteen years old there came to live in our neighborhood a rich man— a Gen eral Brown. He had wife, children, and servants-—horses, carriages, and dogs; but of these I have more especially Ip do with two—one of the daughters—a beautiful and saucy little girl of ten years—and one of the dogs—a beautiful and saucy little puppy—the IdttQr | itio prujraity wf -\|i« Cmmap.... . “I was a poor boy, but independent in dis position, and perhaps from a set se of disad vantage, a little insolent in bearing—especi nll/towards my superiors. Il happened that I passed General Brown’s house twice every day as I went to, and returned from school, and this little puppy barked at me regularly, morning and night, with a degree of malig nity which I construed into a pointed insult from the whole from Miss Jeuuy, the mistress of the offending puppy. She was often in the door-yard, and it ap peared lo me that she look pleasure in the belligerent manifestations of her favorite. — One day whence flew at me with unusual demonstrations of ill will, I shook my fist in his face, which so angered him that he fol lowed me some distance down the road snap ping at my heels. Seeing (hat Miss Jenny was watching us from the grass-plot, and ap parently enjoying my retreat, I picked up a sharp stone, and sent it at the young tiger with such force as to send him back limping. Truth is, I construed the ill-manners of the puppy'into an insult from all the members of General Brown’s family, as before remarked. “The spirit of Pet, for so his mistress called him, was not at all subdued by the blow 1 had given him; on the contrary,! found him more troublesome than before, and once when he look me at disadvantage and startled me into a betrayal of fright by growl ing suddenly at my heels, his pretty little mis tress clapped her hands in a most provoking way. “That day I determined on revenge, and it was not long in coming—l stole the dog, and sent him opt of' Ihe neighborhood! Two years afterwards he was brought to me, as noble a specimen of his species as ever' was seen. He soon grew very fond of me, and I, notwithstanding my old dislike, came to be lieve he was the best and bravest creature in the world. “I had seen Jenny Brown a great many times, meanwhile, for as she rode in her car riage to the' academy, and I walked behind to the district school at moch about the same hour, it not unfrequently happened that we met, but we had never bestowed upon one another so much as a recognizing glance. “When the weather was unusually fine, Jenny would sometimes walk home in the evening. Upon one of these occasions, and by one of these ordinations that mete opt jus tice to alt. 1 my dog, that I had named Snarler, jn remembrance qf his old tricks, flew at Ihe little girl and bit one of her hands severely. Forthwith be was reported mad, and the in dignation of the whole neighborhood was di rected, not only against my dog, but against myselPrr“What business had the little rascal to keep such ah ugly great brute, at any rate 7” was the general exclamation. Some went ad far as tq say it was a pity it had not been me who was bitten instead of (be dear Ijitle girl, while others declared that the? oply wqitet) llje opportunity pf- seftipg their owp dogs qpoq tpa. Poor §narlef ha(j tq his life for bis bSd behavior, InvSin [plead for him—in vain I proposed t(r confine him j rrtid {■ v:! I .* .'nt ufi 'jV-vl;*'! >-1:! -i; y ■ vryi“s> f v » i “THE AGITATIOH IS THE BEOISHTHO OP VflM>OJlj” ti . . ‘ i i V 1 i» x . >• ""“i-jK "" ' ' 1,1- M thal he could do no farther hajrm.for I oould not at first be persuaded fhat-.my braye and beautiful favorite was really mad. Pub lic opinion ran,against 1 me with such despe ration, however, that,l was forced, to, yield, and: indeed my own ,fears were so wrought u ß°n by repprts of Jenny's,critical condition, that I,would scarcely have objected to lay my head on (he block. My apprehensions were carried up to the point of .distraction almost, when I learned that the gneat Dr. ——, who lived fifty miles distant from General Brown’s bad been sent for to visilhts daughter. Night after night I lay fewake, and I cannot \hinlc that the sufferings of any martyr who'ever felt the fire' wrapping about him a sheet of fid me, can have exceeded what I endured. There was one reflection of peculiar bitter ness in the circumstances—l had stolen the dog! (hen, too, by causing him to (beget his mistress, I was the occasion of his bringing her to the most horrible of deaths, If there had been in the neighborhood a confessor to whom I might havd gone with the terrible truth that was j 1 rising the very life out of me, it would have beep the great est jmagiuable relief, but with that awful se cret stifled iu my heart, it seemed to me that I must'die. When it was told me one day that Gen. Brown hadjuat driven up to the door of our house, in his carriage, | positive ly trembled with agitation and fright—and even after he had shaken hands and spoken kindly with me, I could qot help fearing be had a hangman’s rope concealed beneath his cloak. “He came, simplyto ascertain bur opinion as to whether the dog was-snadjjr not, and also to assure me of his deep interest in. me, and sympathy for me. ‘Suppose you ride' over with me,’ he said, when he was about to take leave; “il would be a great relief and comfort to Jenny to hear you, yourself ex press the belief that the dog was not mad." “I was an awkward youth, and my em barrassment rendered any sensible apology utterly out of the question, and if the Gene ral had asked me to accompany him to Lon don, I must have done so. “Through a great hall, and up a wide stair case 1 was conducted, seeing nothing distinct-' ly, but feeling almost overborne by a dim consciousness of magnificence, and thence into a room of such luxuriance elegance of furnishing, as might, 1 thought at the lime befit a queen. Thera reclining on a low bed, pale almost as her white dress, was the un fortunate Jenny, She lifted herself up-when she saw me, and, Teaching forth her hand, smiled so. sweetly as to make my evil doing seem darker than it had ever seemed till then.. I thought she was an angel, and I a devil, and resolved that I would not add hypocrisy to y wickedness. I strip! off the mask the first moment I roUifd iiryseir atone —tit. her, and showed myself in all my evil de formity. Hearing the footsteps of her father approaching, she hurriedly, and with a look of sweet trouble in her face, lifted up one little white hand, whispering at the same time the softest of hushes! There was something in the tone and the manner that unlocked a deeper deep in ray heart than had ever been touched before—something that said as plain ly as words could have said il-=-'fdon’t let father know how bad ypu are—l don’t care anything about it,” “A secret of any sort between two young persons is dangerous—we found this one of ours so, extremely, for it led to another one before long, the revealing of which would have been the spoiling of all our happiness. When Jenny was fifteen, we were engaged, Mrs. decision to the contrary notwithstanding. She had brought her bus, band a good deal of money, and though she had chosen a man with no fortune whatever, she was violently opposed to having her daughter follow the example she set. What the result was you can all guess—we stole away one rainy midnight, and at sunrise were man and wife; and -Jenby, God bless her, notwithstanding the bite of Ihe dog, has nev er to my knowledge been mad for a single in stant.” “And were the old folks ever reconciled 7” asked the first traveler. “Heayep only knows,”-=-rep!ied the happy husband. I have never seen the face of either of them Since —but I have no doubt that our runaway match was the best thing that could have happened—it threw me upon my own energies; fortune smiled, apd I rather think,” concluded our traveler, leaning back in his chair complacently, “that I could buy Gen. Brown’s grand estate to-day, without much inconvenience to ipysplfl” “Apd his good will you always bad,” ex claimed the old sled maker, coming out of the shadow in which from the' beginning of the story he had been silting, and shading hands as heartily as he had done with the first trav eler. “How is Jenny 7 how is my little run away 7—bless her dear soul I” Teat's were ip (he old man’s eyes, as he spoke, which pei tfrer of the yopnger travelers thought incompatible with the dignity of his grey hcsrd.asthey fell and glistened upon il. At this juncture there was a great stamp: ing at the door, and fh 6 instant it. qpened and our host entered, followed Jjy the Ijule pale mao, smilipg pi the good fortune which had overtaken him. If the storm howled after that, nobody heard it, and four more genial travelers peyer -sat down to a good supper with better, appetite, than did those we write of, and never landlord brushed (he cohr webs from old wine bottles with a readier hand, that) d;d our host of the tyayside tav ern. Theory is contiriually the precursor of truth; we must pass through the twilight and its shadowsi to'UffirS at thß fulKkn'd' perfect light of day; ■' JJf.fl j£flU 0 & PROPRIETORS. Communications . f i. * ‘‘* Por TRo -ffitotor. Thelibiiatlon, Main tenance of Oomkoi) Ro&dq; , An eminent, engineer. gg4 pays on this subject, that, ".The common roads o/tffe United. States tiff, inferior to those of any other ciptfized country., 1 .Their /nulls, ,■ are those of direction, slope, shape, surface and generally of deficiency in a/f'the'attributes of a goad road ; moat Of‘Which ariaeTrorn a wanfqf jjtß tree principles of road-making, qf bf tHo advantages of putting them into practice',” y ' ■ The faults oif direction and slope are inva riably connected, for if there is a laultimhe latter it shows a fault in the former, as the slope is increased or diminished fay the direc tion of the road in ascending Ifaat slope. As there is always more or less hill to be overcome in every route, we must consider how much hill, or how stefep a slope is admis sable, and how these can be overcome to the best advantage. There is a variety of opinions concerning the greatest allowable slope, varying from three degrees to as high as seven or even ten degrees. Those who laid out our old roads seemed.to have had no limiting angle, and in fact, no fixed principle of road>makipg at all, but like Marshal Wade had “formed the heroic determination of pushing their wa'y through, aqd of defying nature and wfaeel-carriages both, in one voiianl efiurl of courage and science,*’ Many limes they seemed to act on the principle that the- bale of a kettle is much shorter when turned in a vertical position than when lying horizontal; and to such an exTeßt~waajhis often carried as to make the road absolutely more crooked to keep within this all important principle. They intro, duced Hogarth’s "line of grace” l 6tievery possible occasion, and often remind us of how ‘TThe king of Fmnce with forty thousand men, Marched up a hill, and theft vfafchtH (jowit ayain." Bui because roads were laid, having steep slopes in them, it is no reason why we should adopt that in our new ones, or even follow the old ones, as if all their makers did was as .unalterable as the laws of the Medes and Per sians. The greatest allowable slope varies slightly when considered as an ascent or a descent. In the latter it should never exceed the “angle of repose” in mechanical science, which is the angle made with the horizon by the steep est plane, down which .a body will .not slide of its own accord, its gravity just balancing its friction, so that (he least increase of slope, or the least force applied, will cause (he body to descend with a uniform and unaccelerated velocity. This slope will of course vary with the nature of the surface, being much less on it smouilr ihon an uneven one. But as we earnestly look forward to an 1 improvement in surface, it is best to take such a surface for our data, as would do credit to any community to possess. Qn the very best class of broken stone, or plank roads kept in Ihe best order, this limiting slope is, according to experiments by Sir Henry Parnell, 1 in 35, or falls 1 151 feet to the mile, which therefore should be ihe maximum on such roads, and if this slope be much increased, the speed must be slackened t»r there is danger of injury to the animal or carriage. If the slope is increased so a carriage cannot be driven down it with safety at a greater speed than four miles an hour, there evidently is a loss of [etj minutes in. every mile, and therefore it would be true economy in time saving to adopt a level route Ibree times as long as the steep one. Considering a slope as an ascent, its maxi mum will vary according to the amount of extra exertion a horse can put forth. This is not very well ascertained or defined, and depends very much on the length of the as cent, hut is assumed by Cayffier to be double his usual exertion. Assuming the same class of roads as before, it is found that on such, the amount of power necessary to draw a load on a level is about one thirty-fifth of the load, and if the horse is capable of exerting twice that amount, the slope that would re quire that extra power to overcomejthe force of gravity, is found to be just 1 in 35, hence on this hypothesis, this would be the maxi mum. These two results become equal be cause the amount of extra exertion is assumed as double the usual force of traction, although fora very short hill, a horse js capable of ’exerting six times his usual force, still about twice his usual exertion seems the most rea sonable. Hence the greatest allowable slope, should never exceed 1 in 80, or } in 35, which is one degree and fifty-eight minutes, or 6he degree, fifty-five minutes, The laws of Pennsylvania fix the slope ?t “five degrees whenever it is practicable, (e*- cepf’at the crossing of ravines qnd streams) where, by a moderate filling and bridging the inclination can be kept within these limits.”— (See Roads, Highways and Bridges, Sec, A, Art 3d.) This, nngle gives us a slope ol ope in eleven, up which, the same force of trac tion will draw only one quarter the load that can be drawn on a level road, of the sarpe quality of sarfupe. The passion tor straightness which is the predominant one at present, is too apt to make the viewers think it is ‘impracticable' lo keep the road within the |iniit of Rye degrees, and thus it is we have mapy roads with slopes of Irpm thf.ee tq eight flr lep degfees. The writer quoted at the commencement of this ayt’ple says, “Il cannot be too strongly im pressed op the road-maker that straightness ■3 no t the highest characteristic of a good road, but should in all eases be sacrificed to make aroad level, or lessstepp, ’’ which may often be done without a| all lengthening the route. .For jnsfance, (ei ha)f an egg ho Hid ppq(ab|e, ant) - lei il pe required to draw a |‘ihe (rOih 6np end to the other passing oVer Bates of Advertising, ~ AdvertltemenU will b« charged SI per square of fourteen lines, for on®, or three iMertiooiAnd 95 pent* fur evbry •nbseqobnt Insertion. All aOUttWl menu of lest'Utah ftuheoa ‘lines’ottftdertt) ai a' Muaie, _ The _following rale, will be chained for Quarterly*HalCtearljr dnd Yearly advertising V ■ 3 months. 6 months. 12 *oo’i 1 Bqoare, (14 line*,) .*3 50 ' #4W 1 V 00 9 Square*,'- - . - . 400 6 00, 800 Ifolumn,;- 10 00 }sdo BOflq 1 column, 18 00 30.00 4,0 00 r ; ; ; M V f • ’ k. ? ;* All adverliaomenU not having the number of in sbrtte'nb (rt»a KQ. 3*. the lop. This line would appeal straight when drawh on a ! map, qfhi|e a level Jifle 'traced round" ihp ,ba§e of ihe. pgg wou|d ap ; pear cmokfd, and of greater length, while both are equally crooked and of equal length. But suppose the apparent straight route to be the Shortest, but to have a number of steep slopes, would it be an advantage to lessen .these by a moderate increase of length 1 The 'tnefesl tyro in foad-ipqking roust answer in the aflirmaiive, Then, how far may we with strict economy increase.the route ? This toe, will very witkifie,amount of friction assumed, hut "as q general rule,” says Qillespls, ‘‘it mqy be increased to avoid qp aqcept, to at least twenty or thirty times the height of the j-l s|opp.” Thus if a road up a elopp has q bori- ’ zontal distance of 500 feet, and arise of 100, that is a slope of } to j}, it would be good economy to adopt q (pad 2000 or 3QOO feet longer in its stead, if such a road ip level, or in ihSi proportion to obtain one of an easier slope, which can be done either by winding around the hjil or ascending the slope by a zig zag line. One of these methods should always be adopted on islopes greater than our maximum. By the latter ipelhod any de sired grade may be obtained, as the line can be made of any length, qqceeding the line di rectly up the slope. Thus we see the advantages of making curves instead of straight lines fop rpnds'dl) this billy region. Coleridge says, '‘Straight forward goes The lightning’s flash, and straight the fearful path Of the cannon-ball." But adds in striking contrast: ‘The tho Aumun being travels, That on which blessing comes and goes, doth follow The river’s coarse, tho valley’s playful windings. iJurvtt rotyqd the cornfield aqd the UU of vines.” More in the future, C. If. HOYT, What Makes Old Maids and Bachelors. We will pajpt a picture—one in which the lights and shades appear strong, perhaps, but whtch every one will recognize as not out raging the timnr'of-nature. There are two houses built side by one dwells a widow and her daughter, fair, light-hearted, the sunshlpe of her mother's declining years, but alas! not rich. With all the affectionate instincts of a woman’s heart, with all the ca pabilities to create happiness in a man’s house, she remains unseen and unchosen. As time passes on, she gradually deepens into old mnidism. Where once she was heard singing about the home, like Una making a sunshine in the shady place, her voice is now heard shrill in complaint; parrots and cats accu mulate, taking the place of a more human love, and her words are those ofj sharp re proof and spile against those very instincts of maternity which have beep so long the master-spirit of her thoughts. .Her affections. 1 after in vain throwing themselves out to seek some sympathetic answer, turn tn with"bitter ness upon her own heart, and she remains tint most melancholy of all soectacies—n nature with aspirations unfilled. In the-next house lives a bachelor—yefung, open-hearted and generous. Busied in lid struggle of life, he has perhaps no lime for parties ; he sees little of society, the female portion of it es, pcoially ,• a knowledge of his own brusque, ness of manners at first prevents him from coming jn contact wjth womankind, apd this shyness in time becomes so strong as not to be overcome. It might seem strange, but we are convinced if is the fact, that some men are much more afraid of women than women are of men, apd fearing “to break the ice” is a fruitful cause of old bachelorism. Grad ually age grows upon him, chalk stones galh: er in his knuckles, gout seizes hold of his toes; served by menials, he is a stranger to the soft and careful hand of affection ; and he goes to the grave, his death not only un, lamented but absolutely rej iced over by his heir-at-law. A wall of but six inches thick has aD this time divided these two people.— Society does not alldw them even a chink, which, like Pyrames and Thisbe, (hey might whisper through, although by nature. vhey might have been formed to make a happy couple, ipstead of'two miserable units. Killed more than his Ma^.t—You have heard of Dr. Thompson, the waggish propri etor ol the Atlanta Hotel, in Atlanta, in this State. Well, once upon a time, two gentle; men, (the one decidedly under the influence of spiritual presence, and the other approxi mating the same condition,) stopped at tAa Doctor’s hotel. In consequence of »orqe e* : traordinary manifestations on the part of lt)e “tightest” gent, he soon found himself “nigh unto a ijiuSs” with the Doctor. His friend, boweyer, canted him off before matters had reached a crisis. After slowing him away, the friend returned, and accosting the'proprU etor, said very emphatically, “Sir. you have beep treading pn dangerous ground; that iqan is not to be Iri/led with, sir; do you know, sir, that he has killed his man, sir 7” “Killed his man!" says Thompson, with a voice tike a thunder clap, and a most intense expression of contempt upon bis pfiiz, “Byt Jove I ?ir let me infortp yoq that I have prac ticed medicine for twenty years, and you musn’t attempt to frighten me with a chap who has oqly [tilled his man. Bah I sjr, it won't begin to do. - ’ The fellow “collapsed,” and forthwith settled his bilk $ neighbor of purs, pot long since, intro duced to hjc sop, about six years of age, a little brother, who had just arrived in this .world, Which all-agree ip abusing, but none like to part with, even in exchange for abet ter. The boy looked at bis infant brother with some perplexity, and then raising hi eyes to his father, infjujred—“ VVhere did you gel it ?7? “ Bought it, my son,” ex claiming the father, with a laudable gravity. 4gain tlie boy looked at lj]e baby, and after a ‘‘abort lime, sagaciously asked, “ Why didn’t you pjok out"a white one, father t"