Terms of piiMlcailoiL TUE TIOGA COUNTY AGITATOR is pub. .ished every Thursday Morning, and mailed to sub scribers at the very reasonable price of On* Dot? ■lAi-per annum; invariably in advance. It is inlend .sd‘to noiiiy every subscriber when the term foe which he lias paid shall have expired,, by the stamp. — u Time Out,'* on'the margin of the last paper. The paper will then he slopped until a further re mittance be received. By this arrangement no roan can be brought In debt to the printer* Agitato a. i» the Official Pope? of the-Coun ly, with a large and steadily increasing circulation reaching into nearly, every neighborhood in the County.- It is sent free of postage to any Post-office within live county limits, and to those living witbui the limits,bat whose mostconvenieot postoffice may be in an adjoining Coupty* Business Cards, not exceeding 5 lines, paper in cluded, §4 per year. . . PSALM OF LIFE , >V H. W. LONGFELLOW -Tell me not In mournful numbers, - u Life is but aa empty dream 1? Tor the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what tbey seem. Life is real! Life is earnestl And the grave is not its goal. “Bust thou art, to dust relumest,** Was not spoken oi the soul. Not enjoyment and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; Buf. to act—that epch to-morrow Find us belter than to-day. Art is long and time is fleeting. And our hearts, though strong and brave, SliU, like muffled drums are beating, Funeral marches to the grave. In the world’s red fleld of battle— In the bivouac of Life, Be not dumb, like driven cattle 2 Be a hero in the strife I Trust no future, howe'er pleasant. Let the dead past bury Us dead ! Act—act in the Living Present! Heart within and God overhead. Lives of great men all remind os We can make our lives sublime, 'And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of Time, Footprints that perhaps another. Sailing o'er life's solemn 'main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother. Seeing, shall lake heart again. Let us, then, be up and doing*, With a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait. MY LITTLE BOY. CHAPTER 1, I was but a childish mother. I had not forgotten the merry laugh of my girlhood when they laid my baby on my breast, and 1 looked upon him more as a ebrious plaything than as a human soul given into my hands for its earlbiy training. But my husband— ah he was grave and wise enougli for both— mother and child alike. My husband was many years older than myself. He had known many a joy and sor row long before I was born—and on the very day my nurse was holding me (a helpless, laughing, crowing baby) out to pick the dai ses for my birth-day garland, he was bending •tearfully over the grave of one who had made his home happy for years—the wife of his youth and the mother of his children.— Strange that 1, who had no knowledge of sorrow, was yet to dispel his, that ha who had never gazed upon that child’s face of mine, was one day to lake its owner to its heart, as the light and joy of his declining years. 1 Long, long before I met my husband I knew him well. The name of Arthur Haw thorne was familiar to me from my earliest years, and the poems he had written were among the choicest of my treasures. In my secret heart I had the wish and hope to meet him—some day. I would steal one look at his face—it may be,touch the hhnd that had penned those beautiful thoughts, and then go away and .remember him all rny life, while be forgot me! This was my dream!—how different the reality! We met suddenly, unexpectedly, erobarras ingly! I had looked for a sage—a philoso pher—a man who had outwitted the passion of life, and was kind and benevolent to all. But when I raised my eyes to the handsome face, and saw it marked with lines of care and sorrow — when I saw the luxuriant flow, ing hair, the erect and stalely forehead—and more than all when I met the glance of those eyesopfire (could it be an admiring gaze -that rested upon my girlish face and form t) my own dropped, my heart beat quick, and I stood before him. timid, blushing and trem bling, like a frightened bird. I, who had scarcely dreamed of love, won his! I, who knew nothing of the great world beyond my home, pleased him who had seen its fairest wiknen ! I, who had no beauty, no grace, no talent, won liim who had all, and won him 100 from a throng who were far more worthy. And yet—were they 1 — They were lovely—they were weallhy and fashionable, but they had grown cold and hard in a long apprenticeship to fashion— and 1 gave him a heart that was as fresh and pure as the mountain daises I had loved so well. They would have given him that love they could not lavish on thejir diamonds and ‘equipages—l gave him all! To them he would have been a man—to me he was a God. Did not my perfect love, my faith, trust and sincerity, outweigh their more glittering qual ities 1 Perhaps I felt it then, and here to-day when the years have made me older, and the world has made me wiser, I believe it from roy very heart. Our home was a liitle paradise beside ihe eea; a small, low roofed, browo collage, with a- rustic porch and latticed windows over grown.with climbing trees. The low mur. mer of the ocean soothed me into a happy sleep each night—the sweet song of the swal low waked me to a happy day each morning. And here in the pleasant summer time, my blue-eyed boy was born, and my cup of Joy was full to running over. My boy, like all other’s boys, was beauti. fel. And yet his loveliness made my heart ache. So frail! so fair! His colorless, waxen cheek, his slender form and and melancholy blue eyes, filled me with a thou sand fears, How often have I bent above fa, .‘£ as had laid upon my lap, and prayed wifh all a mother's earnestness that his "life might be spared. It was a foolish prayer, an unwise one, but then I could not see it. My very life seemed wrapped up in that of ra f -■ With him by me every day I could not see him fading, and the moaning sea could Jell no-tales. But now and then a shadow (main over his fatherVbrow as he watched ys Ifyat pot even my kisses could THE AGITATOR Beboteur to the SEyt«ttU§u of the of iTmbom a«u the of altbs mefovtu COBB, STURROCK & CO., YOL. 3. quite drive away. I thought him growing stern and cold but oh, I wronged him ! Never had he loved us both so tenderly be fore. . Weeks passed On. My baby’s eyes looked intelligently inlo..(nihe, and the little rosy lips smiled whenever I came. But still those little lisping utterances that thrill the heart, so deeply were silent, and all my laving lessons fell on an unheeding ear. ' The shadow on Arthur’s face grew deeper as he watched my unceasing efforts. At last the blow came. I had been silling in the door way with little Ernest in my arms, try ing to teach him to say “Papa.” His large blue eyes were fixed upon me with a wishful expression, but still the lips were mule, and vexed and disoppointed, I heaved a deep sigh, and laid him back in hisciadle. Something in the look my husband gave me startled me. I went beside him, and put my arms about his neck. ' “What is it, Arthur?” I cried. “God help you to bear it, Mary !” he an swered “Our child is dumb!” chapter n. Dumb! Could it be possible? What have I done that so deep a sorrow should be sent to chasten me? Other mothers might hear their children’s voices calling them, but mine would be forever silent. It was so long a word! Had it been for weeks, or months, or even years, I could have borne it ; but to know that it could never be—that through childhood, youth and manhood he could never speak my name—oh I it was ,too much to bear. Autumn and winter passed away, and my 1 baby and 1 threw daises at each other on the lawn before the cottage, while Arthur looked smilingly from his study window. 1 had not grown to the great misfortune, only accus tomed to it, and the mute kisses of my child were almost as dear to me as his spoken words could have been. It was a strange task to leach that soul how to expand its wings. It was strange to learn that child his little evening prayer by sign, and yet as he clasped his small hands, and raised his sweet blue eyes io Heaven, 1 often wondered if any labored supplication could have gone more quicky to the Throne of Grace, It was strange to see him sit si lently above his playthings, to hear no sound from him except the plaintive, half stifled cry he mtered when in pain, to feel the delicate hands clasping mine when something new had puzzled him, to see the wishful, observant look with which he regarded every one who conversed around him. No wrong or impure thoughts could over enter that little breast. He was as one set apart to show us what an early childhood should be, as stainless and innocent as when the Maker’s hand first sent the little spirit fluttering into its earthly prison. Could I ask for him happier destiny than this, to pass through life shielded by my unfailing love, and safely sheltered by the snowy wings of the guardian angel ever by his side. We make idols for ourselves out of clay, and they are taken from us. I needed the one lesson more. My little boy- failed slowly before my eyes, as the summer came on. It was not so much with him a painful sickness as the gradual wasting away of the spring of life. The mission he was -sent to fulfil was accomplished. Many days before he was taken I knew" he must go. I was with him by day andi.by night. I sang him to sleep, and wet the still golden curls with tears when he was slumber ing quietly. Day by day gathered up my strength for the parting which I knew must come, and day by day my heart sank within me, and the blood forsook my cheek if the slightest change took place. We sat beside the bed of our boy j the languid head was resting on my breast, and" the liny transparent hands lay like two lillies in the broad palm of Arthur. I sang in a hushed voicb the songs he loved the best, and the setting sun sank slowly in the sea. Cool breezes, the plash of oars, and the rude songs of sailors down the bay, came floating in upon us. My darling lay and listened. I could not see that-his breathing grew fainter and fainter, and that the lids of the blue eyes were drooping slowly towards each other. At last they closed, and think ing he slept, I laid my weary head upon my husband’s breat and tried to sleep also. A strange drowsiness, which was not slumber, crept over ms. I started from it suddenly, at last, with an instinctive feeling that all was not well. Tears fell from my cheeks as I lifted my head, They fell from the eyes of Arthur, who had,sat and thought while we were still. I bent over my little boy. The little cheek I had kissed seemed growing cold, and with suspended breath I listened to hear the beat ing of his heart. He moved slightly as I called his name, and then looked up in my face and smiled a gentle smile. . It failed soon, as he seemed to be, strug gling with some terrible pain. His lips were drawn back, his eyes upturned, and his hand clinched, 1 could not bear to look at him. 1 turned away and groaned in agony. “See, it is all over now I” said Arthur, as he put his arm around my waist and held me firmly to his heart. 1 looked. My darling raised; his feeble arms and as he bent my head, tfiey felt heavi ly, around my neck, his pale lips met mine in a last kiss. A sudden trembling seized him. His eyes lit up with a happy light, his cheek flashed, his half opened lips seemed to speak for the first time. Did 1 hekr, or dream 1 heard the one word I had vaioly tried to learn; him I “Mother ?” I could not tell. For the nest moment the rosy flush faded, the Ijttle breast-heaved with WELLSBOUQUGH, TIOW COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING, MAY 14 1851. one short sigh, and my little boy had left os. Was that little life in vain ?■ Was no lesson taught, no lesson learned, in.that' brief year of companionship with an angel 1 Oh, yes! a lesion which the mother’s heart can never farget, while it beats with the love it has felt for the “Dearer is earth to God for his sweet sake,” dearer to me, because he loved its bdauty so. Many years have passed since my little boy fell asleep. Other children play around the door of my cottage, nnd koeel each night at my knee, to say the prayer be only looked ; another Ernest, with bright dark eyes and golden hair goes singing through the house, but still' my heart is most with him. My children stand outside that grave and listen with serious, faces, when 1 tell them of the little brother who died before they were born, and then steal away silently and leave me there beside him. I have gtown old and careworn; the cheek he kissed is thin and faded, and the sunny hair with which he used to- play is streaked with silver. But my child will know me when I meet him, and 1 shall bold him to my heart the same as when he left me, an infant angel, freed from every taint on earth. ' No barrier then between us, no weak, im perfect .utterance, nr look of pain,'lor in Heaven my child will speak, and the first word I,shall hear him utter there will be the word that lingered on his lips when he was dying. He will call me “Mother” there as well as here. Else I could never have given him up through ail these weary years, and fed my heart upon the hope of hearing that half-uttered word breathed freely when I die. The Saoramenlo (Cal.) Age publishes the following singular statement, under the cap tion of “how our first church was built.” The history of almost everything presents curious facts. Were we to say, a correct history of Sectarianism in Sacramento could not be written, unless it admitted that gam blers helped to build the first church, the statement might appear wicked and absurd, but this would not impair the truth of an in cident which occurred before the “big floods” and before the “big fires.” A preacher ar rived here among those who unintentionally contributed toward founding a flourishing city, and after a while, when persons were afflicted with a oombinalion of worldly fevers, such as winning and losing at several popu lar games, he concluded that nothing would be so praiseworthy as an endeavor to estab lish a religious society. He soon discovered that practical Christianity was not a feature near so prominent as others, which gosper rules are not supposed to countenance. But he persevered and at length found a few who approved of his plan. Frequent consulta tions were held, and finally they were deter mined to erect a church edifice, if money enough could be obtained for the purpose.— Those belonging to the little “moral” at once subscribed all in their power to give, but not half of the required sum was received. The old preacher—we should have referred to his age before—took his subscription paper one day, and walked towards the Sacramento, whose waters were not soiled as now by the gold washers. In passing a crowded, noisy gambling house, where he saw heaps of trea sure in “bank,” and many with bags of“dust” in their hands, a wonderful thought came hur riedly to him, and not allowing it permission suddenly to depart, he hastened to stand in the midst of the reckless gamesters, and to commence telling them how much-he wished to build a church, and needed their assistance. Scarcely had he ceased speaking when large pieces of gold were thrust into his hands; all made liberal donations, and in a few minutes he had collected nearly a thousand dollars.— Thanking his ‘ friends,” he was about leaving when one belting at monte called to him in a loud voice, saying: “Hold on, old feller; I’m goin’ to bet two hundred on this card, and if I win, by G , I’ll give ye a clear hun dred !” The money was staked, the gambler won, and the promised “clear hundred” was passed to the minister. This is how our first church was built—good came of evil ; but the sequel to this story let thb present and future tell ! A Hard Swearer. — A good story is told of n tall, raw-boned fellow, who went into a market house at Boston—perhaps the Quincy —and seeing a large ; hog on exhibition, was mighlly struck with it. “1 swear,” said he, “that’s a great hog. I swear I never saw a finer looking one in my life, I swear what short legs he’s got. I swear-..—” “Look here, friend,” said a liittle dry. looking individual, trotting up, you must not swear so.” “1 swear I should like to know why,” said the hard swearer, with an ominous look. ‘•Because," said the little man, “swearing is again the law, and I shall have to commit you !” drawing himself up. “Are you a Justice of the Peace?” in quired the swearer. “Yes, sir,” was the reply. “Well, I swear,” said the profane one, “I am more astonished at that than 1 was about the hog.” The census of the United Slates shows that yye have two millions and a half of farm ers, one hundred thousand merchants, sixty four thousand masons, and nearly two hun. dred thousand carpenters. We have fourteen thousand bakers to make our bread ; twenty four thousand lawyers to set us by the ears ; forty thousand doctors to “kill or cure,” and fifteen hundred editors to keep this motley mass in order, by the potent power of public opinion, controlled and manufactured through the press.— Lchtgk- Rfgis'er, 1 “THE AGITATION OP THOUGHT IS THE BEGINNING OP WISDOM.” t ‘ ...... Singular Circumstance, From Putnam's Magazine. New Defense of Slavery. The Right Reverened John Heory Hop hips, D, D., Bishop of the Protestant Episco pal Church in the diocese of Vermont, has published a work (Pudney & Russel), in which he states that he thinks it wrong for the American citizen to dance the polka, but perfectly proper foe him to hold his brother in says, he holds “con versation parlies’’to~be-inxtgcenl, and equally so the selling a, child from its mother. H e says, that Canaan was cursed, and, therefore, Governor Wise may dispose of black men and women at the highest rates. The Right Reverend John Henry Hopkins has written some four or five hundred pages to show that the citizens should obey the law; but omits to state whql his pastoral advice would have been to mothers wyh babes two years of age in the latter days of Herod of Judea. He also does not find room in his prolix dis quisition upon .the duties of the American Citizen, which is the title of his book, to in form his pupil what he is to do when the law of the land contravenes the plain law of God. For it is evident that, if a law is to be obeyed, because it is a law, a regulation to lie, or to steal, or to deliver up the fugitive, so it be le gally enacted, has the same authority as one to collect taxes. But if the discretion of the ci(i?en or his conscience are ever to interfere, or, in other words, if there be the individual and collective tight of rebellion, it would be oqly complaisaql in a bishop, who writes a book in which he finds room to discuss the propriety and morality of dancing, to indi cate when that right may be asserted. ' The single point of interest in the American Citi zen is the elaborate reiteration of the scriptu ral argument for slavery, which is easily enough refuted by the younger classes of Sunday-school girls, and which falls at this day, and in this country, with peculiar edifi cation from the lips of a high dignitary in the church of Him who said, “Do unto others as .ye would they should do unto you.” Bish op Hopkins anticipates a millenium when “the whole world shall behold fruits of slavery in the regeneration ofAfrica from her long bondage of barbarism and idolatry.’’ If it were not so tragical, this woulff be -too ludicrous. Let this gentleman consider one question: Even if you knew that some of the Africans, who should survive the horrors of the slave,ship, and the lortg, dreadful, compulsory labor in swamps and fields, the gradual imbruling of human beings treated -as canto, with every natural right and affection out aged—even if you knew some could survive it all and attain a kind of fond and ignorant feeling that you would call Christianity , do you, as a man, not as a Bish op, believe for one moment that the the trader, who, paid money for a single one of those victims, was doing anything but an accursed act? Do you think that any honest Chris tian man supposes for o solitary instant that trader to be any better than a a servant of God only as all criminals are?— Of course God will bring good out of it. God brings good out of everything. Would that reflection reconcjle Bishop Hopkins to having his house burnt down and all that was dearest to him in it? There was one who said, ‘lt must needs be that offences come; but woe to him by whom the offence cometh.” With the usual inconsequence of the south-side of the slavery discussion, after having made slavery the instrument of the Christian regen eration of Africa, the bishop undertakes to show the inexpediency of slavery. But let the bishop take comfort. If the Lord has made slavery right, he will also, in view of its hold upon the country, make it expedient. And if it he the Christianizing process for Africa, what right fibs Bishop Hopkins or any other pious man to resist the due opera, lion of that process? Excepting the portion of the volume we have indicated, which at-; tracts attention solely by its subject and not 1 at all by the ability with Which it is treated. The American Citizen is like a series of a country clergyman’s weekly lectures. -We do not advise any American who wishes to improve himself as a man, a Christian, or a patriot, to leave his South, Tillotson, Herbert or Jeremy Taylor, and lake to Hop kins. The Love of Children.— Tell me not of the trim, precisely arranged homes where there is no children—where, as the good Germans have it, “the fly-traps hang straight on the wall;” tell me not of the never dis. lurbed nights and days, of the. tranquil, un anxious hearts where children are not; I care not for these things. God sends children for another purpose than merely to -keep up the race—to enlarge our hearts, to make us un selfish and full of kindly sympathies and affections; to give our souls higher aims, to call out all our faculties to extend en'erprise and exertion ; to bring around our firesides bright faces and happy smiles, and loving lender hearts. My soul blesses the Great Father every day, that he has gladdened the earth with children. —Marv Howilt. Loveliness. —It is- not your neat dress, your expensive shawl, or your pretty fingers that attract the attention of men of sense. They look beyond these. It is the true love liness of your nature that wins and continues to retain the affections of the heart. Young ladies sadly miss it who labor la improve their outward looks, while they bestow not a thought on their mind. (Fools may be won by the gewgaws and fashionable showy dresses, but the wise and substantial are nover caught bv such traps. Lot modesty be your dress. Use pleasant aqd agreeable language, and though you may not be courted by the fop and the sop, the good and truly great will love to linger in jmur steps. PUBLISHERS ,& PROPRIETORS, TWILIGHT HOGS. The golden' sun has sonic to rest. His rays are fading frojn (he west. The singing birds have sought repose And eVeVbflght star inbeauty glows. £iwee\ hour is come. ] Twilight hoar, will* joy I greet thee, J When the day with evening blends; gladly, then, my liearl doth meet thee. When the dew from heaven descends. In the pleasant twilight hour. *T was at twilight when the Savior Sat in sad Gelliscmanc; Hear him crying—* 1 O, My Father= he died for vou and me ; See onr Lord In prayer, pan we, Ipcfs thb blessed Jesus, Say 44 Thy will,o Lord. be done! 1 * When the storms of life assail us, Can wc trust the Faithful In the tdflight of the soul Seeking God in prayer? Sweet the lime for heart communion And for songs of praise and love And we hope for a reunion j With oar blest loved ones shoved Pray we, then at twilight hour, G.od hear our prayer. Tioga County, Pal Ross. [The above is a very pretty poem/as d the author, evident* ly napracticcd, will do well to persevere; but sbo is request* ed to forward her real name to us, not for publication, but in to our rule in like cases. Ed. Agitator.] How we Treat our feet, bonking, a short lime since, at -a statue represent ng a Roman lady, my aUepl;on was attracted to her (eel, on which she wore shoes nearly resembling .those now in use. They were=somewhat clumsy, it is true, for the Roman shoemaker did not possess the art of our sons of Crispin, of moulding the upper leather to the shape of the foot r but .laid it over, tyhere necessary, im a fold, and so joined in to the sole, which was m this case at least half-an-itich thick. It was easy to perceive that the Roman ladies vyere not more accustomed to pinch their feel than their waists, and that they were content to let both retain the shape given to them by nature. 1 could not help contrasting the easy, clumsy looking Roman shoes with the neat but arti ficial ly-lbrmed productions of a fashionable shoemaker. Surely, I thought, corns aqd bunions must have been unknown in those days of fooufreedora. ■ And why should we have thege deformities and inconveniences now 7 Simply because the shoes are not shape of the feet, and because we endeavor to confine the latter in a case which is too small fop them. As long as the infant remains in arms, the shape of its foul is preserved ; bui as soon as it begins to walk, and the assistance of the shoemaker is called in, it is thought necessa ry to improve the shape of the foot by forcing it into shoes which are too narrow for 41. Jn order, also, to, diminish the apparent breadth of the foot, the shoe is made to extend in length full three-fourths of an inch beyond the toes. The immediate effect of the nar row shoe is to preSs the toes firmly together; the ulterior, to change the direction of the toes and occasion corns and bunions. Let us cbnsider, now, the change induced in the shape of the foot by the compression of the toes. When the naked (oot is firmly planted on the ground, as in walking, the toes separate, especially the first and second, and by ex tending the base of support, give additional firmness to the position- The inside line of the shoe should be nearly a straight line, to* allow for this expansion of the toes, which, in a fashionable shoe, is impossible. Let us now consider the consequences of the compression of the toes intoAhe small space provided for them by fashion. When the toes are pressed together by the shoe, they not only ride on over the other, and thus occasion corns and crooked nails, but the direction of the bone of the great toe is altered by the ends being forced closer together; the joint becomes enlarged, and a, bunion, with its pain and delbrmity, super venes. The reader who would avoid these deformities, should rigidly examine the shape of her own feet, and if the direction of the first toe is changed, should lose no lime in endeavoring to restore it to its former posi tion. In youth or middle age,- when the dis tortion is not excessive or of long standing, this may be easily done by placing between the toes a lump of wool sufficiently thick to toe to resume its original' position.. By tfShslanily keeping the wool there, and attending to the shape of the shoe, the toe will at last recover its proper place, and the enlargement of the joint will be so apparent, neither wrtttl increase.' The same ample means may be adopted to restore the other toes to their normal shape. If corns should be formed, the-most effective cure is to be found in the application of a circular disk of felted wool or of cotton with a hole in the middle to receive the corn. This may be purchased at any chemist’s. It is made to adhere by brushing one surface of the wool with a solution of isinglass or similar pre paration. This relieves the corn by removing from it the pressure of the shoe ; and, by persevering in this simple treatment, the corn will, in lime, entirely disappear. From these observations it will be seen that shoes which are cut very low in .the quarter will spoil the shape of the fool. They will not keep on without the support of san. dais, unless they are tolerably tight, and they cannot be lightened across the toes without compressing them and impeding the freedom of movement. Those shoes are best for the fool which cover the whole of it, and press equally, but no* excessively, upon every part of it. The piece of elastic introduced near the instep was a valuable addition to the modern shoe. It were w ell if it could bo carried all the way to the end of the toe. }n consequence of our qinl-tfeatmcpS-the Rates of Advertising. . will be charged 81 per square of fi urleen lines, for one, or three insertions, and cents for every subsequent insertion. All advertise, n eots of less than fourteen lines considered as a square. The following rales will be charged for • Quarterly, Half-Yearly and Yearly advertising;— • 3 months. S mooths. 12 ton's. X Square, (14-Hnes,) • 82 50 84 50 $6 00 ... 2 Squares,. - - > 4 00, 600 800 *2s.'*“ £, column, .... 1000 1500 2000 . 1 column, 1800 30 00 40 00 Ail advertisements not having the number of in. sertions marked upon them, will be kept ia until or* dered out, and charged accordingly. Posters, Handbills, Bill,and Letter Hoads, and all kinds of Jobbing done in country establishments, executed neatly and promptly. Justices*, CoostS. bles* and other BLANKS, constantly on hired and printed to order. NO. 42. nails frequently become deformed and some times grow imo the flesh. The first care will lie to preserve them from pressure ; the next to remedy, the deformity. When the flesh grows over the nails the' proper course to to pursue is, instead of culling away the cor ners, to cut a notch in the centre of the mil, or to scrape it thin in the middle. Nature, then, in her efforts to remedy this accidental defect, promotes the growth of the nail in tie central thin parts, and thus the extremities, v'hich ate .imbedded in the flesh, are left to recover their former position. This simple and very ingenious plug has been found far nore efficacious than'removing the nail by a painful surgical operation. Turning from the consideration of the toes u the heels, 1 have to notice another source qf distortion, and one whicb'it is feared may increase. 1 allude to the high heels which are now worn, and which formerly attained an altitude, of four and a half inches. The treason why high heels are so injurious isevi dent. We do not require to be told that nature, when she finished the limbs support ing the weight of the body Upon arches, in tended us to rest io a general way equally, or when in movement alternately, upon both ends of the arch, namely, the toes and the heels. By this means the weight is equally sustained, and there is no stress upon either Ijiart in particular. But when the heel is raised, as in dancing, the equilibrium is dis turbed, and the weight of the body is lhrown forward constantly upon the toes. When tjhese are; thrust fora length of time into qhoes, which, on the inside, form inclined planes, especially when the inclination is great, the sensation is extremely painful, for tlhe weight of the body is thus made to rest on itpe toes, the muscles of the instep and front of the leg are also stretched, while those qf the calves become permanently contracted. The high shoe, so thoughtlessly adopted, then tecomes absolutely essential; for the wearer, once accustomed to them, cannot do-uitboul them. Lei all persons of sense, then, abstain vvhile it is; yet lime from following this very absurd and unbecoming fashion.. The small additional iheight which it communicates to t[he figure does not surely compensate for the deformity which it induces. | In conclusion, then, let those who ape de sirous of preserving the perfect use of their apd the purity of their form, give their serious attention to the subject. The reme dies are in their awn bands, and the results will amply repay the labor attendant on car rying out the suggestions I have ventured to make on this very important subject. j | Hoqps ;anij High Heels is Cncacn.— jThe Richmond Whig says : A few Sundays ago, a modest young gentleman of our ac quaintance attended the morning service in pne of our fashionable churches. He was kindly shown into a luxuriously cushioned pew, and had hardly settled himself, and ta ken an observation-of his neighbors, before a beautiful young lady entered, and with a graceful waive of the hand preventing our friend from rising to give her a place, quietly sunk into the seal mear the end. When a hymn was given out she skillfully found the page, and with a sweet smile that set his heart a thumping, handed her neighbor the book. The minister raised his hands in prayer, and the (air girl knelt, and this posture perplexed her friend to know which most to admire, her beauty or her devoutness. Presently the prayer was concluded, and the congregation resumed their seats. Our friend respectfully raised his' eyes from lhe fair form he had been so-earnestly scanning, lest when she ooked up, she should detect him staring at per. After a couple of seconds he darted a fugitive glance at his charmer and was ns, (onished lo see her still on her knees; ha jooked closely and saw that she was much affected, trembling’ in violent agitation, no doubt from the eloquent power of the preach, er. Deeply sympathizing, he watched her plosely. Her emotion became more violent ; Reaching her hand behind her, she would con, vulsively grasp her clolhipg, and slrain, as it tvere, lo rend the brilliant fabric of her dress. The sight iwas exceedingly painful lo behold, but he still gazed, like one entranced, with wonder at|d astonishment. After a minute, the lady raised her face, heretofore concealed in and with her hand made an unmistakeahle beckon lo her friend. He fpiickly nrioved_along the pew towards her, and inclined his ear as she evidently wished lo say something. I "Please! help me sir,” she whispered, “my dress has oaught, and I can't get up,” A brief examination revealed the difficulty ; the fair girl wore fashionable high,h<teled shoes ; kneeling upon both knees, these heels of course stuclLpul at-right angles; and in this position the highest hoop of the new Tangled |kirl caught over them, and thus rendered it Impossible for her to raise herselfpr straight en her limbs. The more she struggled the tighter she was hound ; so she was constrain ed lo call for help. This was immediately, jf not scientifically rendered ;' and when the next prayer was made, she merely inclined herself upon the hack of the front pew thinking no doubt that she was not in kneel ing costutae. Arehimides said, “Give me a lever long pnough, and with mv own weight I will move the world.’,’ “Bui,” says Dr. Arnoti, “ho would have required to move wilh the velocity of a cannon ball for millions of years, to alter, [the position of the earth a small part of an inch. This feat of is', in mathe matical tru h, performed by every man who leaps from the ground; for he kicks ihe world away from hm whenever he rises, and attracts it again When he fulls.’! Tho vaga ries of, science are sometimes as attractive as its truths. IK mi
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers