Terms of Publication.
THE TIOGA COUNTY AGITATOR is pub.
every Thursday Morning, and mailed to sub
scribers the very reasonable price of On* Dol-.
per annum, inwiKaWy in edwtnee. It Is intend
ed .to notify every, subscriber when the > leror ifor
.which be bos paid shall 'have-expired, by-the stamp
—“Time, Out,**, on the margin of tiie last paper.
The paper wilftben be slopped until a further re
mittance be received. 'By this arrangement no man
canbc brought in debt-lo the printer.
, r Tfitt Agitator is the Official Paper of the
ly, willi a large and steadily, increasing circulation
reaching into nearly every neighborhood in the
County. It is sent free if potlage to any Post-office
within the county limits, and to those living ttflhiD
the HmUs,bol whose mostconvenicot postoffice may
be in an adjoining County.
Business Cards, not exceeding 5 lines, paper in-,
eluded, $4 per year. ,
lines:, ;■
ON BEING ASKED IFJ XIApA SISTER.
Have I a sister ? None. I once had one.
Yes; a lovely, smiling one, whos&merry laugh,
Awoke new Joys and did thus bid
Pull care begone. Those auburn ringlets
Felt adown her neck lily white.
And in rich profusion bung waiving in
The breezy air. O bow 1 loved her ! not
Tpo well. Perfection pure, did seem to be
. A properly her own. And beauty was
A simple ingredient, to be prized the more
Because a sister *t was. But oh, alas !
How soon one's joys flee beyond his grasp—
Possession lost, gone! aye, forever gone.
Anon the latent powers of sleeping
Memory arc waked, to think o'er and o'er
Time past, friends gone, and weep their loss.
'Tit so with me. My sister—mine only srstcr,
Was felled to earth by the dread destroyer
Of our race; fled, and I do mourn. ,
To fill her place there's none. And thus my wp
Is doubly hard. Adamantine indeed.
That heart most be, which feels not a loss
Like mine—so deep, and lasting doubly long.
My friend, hast thou e'er dipped thy tiny
Finger in the cheerless stream of mourning grief ?
It not, thou dost not know the pang I felt -.f
When bereft of a kindred love. Heaven !
What a piercing wo! The loss none may, can,
Nor will feci, till providentially,
Bike me, poor me, disconsolate become, “•
Andf ne'er more share a sister's blissful smile.
Butjah I an aching void fills up the strong
And despairing hemisphere of my
Grief-bound heart. No sun to shine, to illume
To melt the gathering icc of deep grief,
Nor dispel the pad, gloomy monotony
Of a brother’s wo.
Yes. she*s dead-! dead
To nil but Heaven’* paradisaiocal joys !!
Welltftoro , April , 1857. backwoodsman.
AN INVESTMENT:
oa, THE TWO -MERCHANTS,
“Can you loan me two thousand dollars to
establish myself in a small jelail business?”
inquired a young man not yet out of his
teens, of a middle aged gentleman, who was
poring over a pile of ledgers in the counting
room of one of the largest establishments in
Boston. The person addresred turned toward
the speaker, and regarding him fora moment
with a look of surprise, inquired :
“What security can you give me, Mr.
Strosser?” '
“Nothing but my note,” replied the young
man promptly. ’
“Which, I fear, would be below par in the
market,” replied the merchant, smiling.
“Perhaps so,” the young man replied, “but
Mr. Barton, remember that the boy is not the
man : the time may come when Hiram Stros
ser’s-note will be as readily accepted os that
of any other man.”
“True, very true,” said Barton mildly,
“bul you know business men seldom loan
money without adequate security—otherwise
they might soon be reduced to penury.”
_ At this remark, the young man’s coun
tenance became deadly pale, and having ob
served a silence of several moments, he
inquired in a voice whose tones indicated deep
disappointment:
“Then you cannot accommodate me, can
you ?”
"Call upon me to-morrow, and I will give
a, reply,’’ said Mr. Barton, and the young
man retired.
Mr. Barton resumed his labors at the desk,
htil his mind was so much upon the boy and]
the singular errand, that he could not pursue
his task with any correctness—and after
having made several sad blunders, he closed
his ledger look his hat, and went out upon
the street. Arriving opposite the door of a
wealthy merchant, in Mill street he entered
the door.
“Good morning, Mr. Hawley,” said he,
approaching the proprietor of the establish
ment, who was seated at his desk, counting
over the profits of the week.
“Good morning,” replied the merchant
blandly, “happy tg see you—have'a seat?
Any news ? how’s trade?.
Without noticing these interrogations Bar
ton said : •
“Young Sliosseris desirous of establishing
himself in a small retail business in
Ington street, and called this morning to se
cure of me ‘a loan of two thousand dollars
for that purpose.”
■ “Indeed !’’ exclaimed Hawley, evidently
surprised at this announcement, “but you do
not think of loaning that sum, do you ?”
“I do not know,” replied Barton. “Siros
ser is a young man of business talent and
strict integrity, and will be likely to succeed
in whatever he undertakes.”
“Perhaps so,” replied Hawley, doubtfully ;
“but I am heartily tired of helping to re-*
establish these young aspirants for commer-*
cial honors.”
“Have you ever suffered anv from such a
course?” inquired Barton, at the same time
casting a rough glance at Hawley.”
“No,” replied Hawley, “lor I never felt
inclined tomakean investment of that kind.”
“Then there is a fine opportunity to do so.
It may prove better than the slock in the
bank. As for myself, [ have concluded that
if you will advance one thousand dollars, I
will contribute an equal sum.”
“Not' a single farthing would I advance for
such a purpose; and if you made ah in
vestment of that kink, I shall consider you’
very foolish.” J
Barton observed a silence of several mo
ments'and then rose to depart.
“K you do not feel disposed to share with
roa m this enterprise, I shall advance the
whole snm myself.” Saying which, he left
the store. -
*'■*'* * * * •
Ten years have passed away since the oc
currenfce of the conversation before alluded
to, .and Mr. Barton, pale and agitated, is
standing at the same desk as when first in
troduced to the reader’s attention. As page
a ter page of the ledger was examined, his
cEd . be “- 9 per til - 1 last, he'cx.;
THE AGITATOR.
Bcbotcß to the Syteitatott of tbe &vtn of iFmbont anU the Spveab of healths Utioxm
COBB, STURROCK & CO.,
VOL 3.
,“•! am ruined—utterly ruined!”
. “How, so?” exclaimed Hiram Strosser.
who.enlered.the counting room just in Reason
to .bear Barton's remark.
The. last European steamer brought news
of the failure of the house of Perleh Jackson
& Co., London, who. are indebted to me in
the sum of nearly two hundred, thousand
dollars. News of the .failure has become
general,.and my creditors, panic-stricken, ate
pressing in my, paper to be cashed. The
banks refuse me credit, and I have not the
means to meet my liabilities. If I could pass
this crisis, perhaps I could rally again ; but
it is impossible. My creditors are importu
nate, end I cannot much longer keep above
rhe tide,” replied Barton.
“What is the extent of your liabilities.”
“Se»enty : five thousand dollars.”
“Would that sum be sufficient to relieve
you?”
“It would.”
“Then, sir, you shall have it,” said Slros
ser, as he stepped up to the desk and drew a
check for twenty thousand dollars.
“Here, lake ibis, and when.youneed more,
do not hesitate to call upon me. Remember
that it was from you that I received money to
establish myself in business.”
“But the debt was canceled several years
ago,” replied Barton, as a ray of hope shot
across his troubled mind.” •
“True,” replied Strosser, “but the debt of
'gratitude I owe has never been canceled,
and now that the scale is turned, I d ( eem it
my duly to come up to the rescue.”
Barton’s paper was taken up as fast as it
was sent in, and in less than a month he had
passed .the crisis, and stood perfectly safe and
secure; his credit increased, and his business
improved while several other firms sunk
under the blow and could not rally, among
them was Hawley, alluded to at the com
mencement of our story.
“How did you manage to keep above the
tide?” inquired Hawley of Mr. Barton, one
morning, several moifths after the events
last tecorded, as he encountered the latter
upon the street while oa his way to his place
of business.
“Very easily indeed,” replied Mr. Barton.
“Well, do tell me how,” centinued Hawley,
“I lay claim to a good degree of shrewdness,
but the strongest exercise of my wits did not
save me; and yet you, whose liabilities ate
twice as heavy as my own, have stood the
shock and have come off even bettered by the
storm.”
“The truth is,” replied Mr. Barton, “I
cashed all my paper as soon as it was sent
“I suppose so,” said Hawley regarding Mr.
Barton, with a look of surprise, “but how did
you obtain the funds? As for my parti
-could not obtain a hollar credit.; the banks
refused to take my paper, and my friends
even deserted me.”
“A little investment that I made some ten
years ago,” replied Mr. Barton,smiling “has
quite recently proved exceedingly profitable.
“Investment!” echoed Hawley, “what in
vestment?”
“Why do you not remember how I estab
lished young Strosser in business some ten
years ago ?”
VO, yes, yes,” replied Hawley, as a ray
of suspicion lit up his countenance, “but what
of that?”
“He is one of the heaviest dry good deal
ers in the city, and when this calamity came
on he came forward and generously advanced
me seventy-five thousand dollars. You know
I told you, on the morning I called to offer
you an equal share in the stack, that it might
prove much belter than an investment in the
bank.”
Duriqg this announcement Mr. Hawley’s
eyes were bent intently on the ground, and
drawing a deep sigh, he moved on dejected
and sad, while Mr. Barton returned to his
place of buslnes with his mind cleared and
animated by the thoughts of the singular in
vestment.
Wn at’s the Matter. —A gentleman was
once traveling through Alabama, where water
was not the most abundant article, when he
discovered a specimen of a one mule cart —
such as some of the good citizens of North
Carolina use for the purposes of emigration,
when they ace necessitated to seek a new lo
cation, in consequence of the supply of mate
rial for the manufacture of ttir failing in the
old homestead. Every appearance indicated
a camp for the (heonly person
moving was a “right smart chunk of a boy,”
who was evidently in trouble. The inside of
the cart gave a constant strain of baby music,
and a succession of groans, indicating deep
distress. This and the .grief of the boy
aroused the sympathies of the traveler, and
he rode up and enquired if anything was the
matter.
“Is anything the matter ?” replied the boy.
“Do you see that old fellow laying there,
drunk as thunder ?—that’s dad. Do you hear
them groanings ?—that’s the old woman; got
the ague like blazes! Brother John he’s gone
ofTin the woods to play poker for the mule
with a stranger; Sister Sal has gone scooting
through the bushes with a half breed ingen,
and —— me if 1 know what they are op to ;
and do you hear that baby ? don’t he go it
with a looseness ?—well he does that—and
he’s in a bad fix at that, and it’s a mile to
water, and there isn’t the first drop of liquor
in the jug, ain’t that matter enough ?—won’t
you lighf.stfa'nger? Dad’ll get sober, and
Sak'wilf be back after a bit—Darn’d if this
ain’t moving lhough. •.
Is anything the matter I shouldn’t think
there was much, no how. Give us a chqw
of lerbacker,' will ye, slrarigef V’—Spirit- of
fhfTims. ■
Short''Patent Sermons.
BEAUTIES OF AN EVENING TWILIGHT,
BY DOW, JB.
Melhinks it were no pain to die,
■ J On each hn eve, when such a shy
O’ercaoopiea the wesU
To gaze my ,6U on, yon calm deep.
•AhtF like an iirfihif. Sink io'sleep
On earth, my motber’shreast.
: There’s peace and welcome in yon sea
' Of endless blue tranquility—
Those clouds ate living things;
I trace their veins of liquid gold,
I see them solemnly unfold
, Their soft and fleecy wings.
My Hearers — lf you don’t say that my
text is most magnificently beautiful then there,
is no poetry in your heads, nor music in your
souls. I’m a pretty good judge of horseflesh,
but a belter judge of poetry ; and I solemnly
declare that you can’t find in the whole sweep
of the English language such beautiful sim
plicity, and at I he same time such easy-winged
sublimity as it contains. 1 feel as if it were
a subject too sacred to be hacked up by my
buck-saw eloquence ; but I have laid it on
the altar of sacrifice, and must do the deed.
My dear friends—as to whether it is ac
tually a pain to die, is more than I can tell,
as I never have died in ray life, and am there
fore not experienced in the business; but
when I come to philosophize on the matter, I
am pushed into the belief that always more
or less pain is felt when- the soul and body
are compelled to dissolve' partnership, and
leave their accounts to be settled up. by the
Great Arbitrator of all liuman affairs. I
know that nature will struggle dor a hold
upon existence till the very’lasl; and if the
spirit is loth to or afraid to depart, it makes
it ten times as bad. On the other hand,
when the soul has grown weary of the world,
tired of its lime shattered tenement, and longs
to be away—then, my hearers is the pain of
dissolution lessened] When hope and faith
—those twin-sisters of love—descend from
heaven to invite the mother Spirit to lea, —
Nature’s fretful babe falls gently asleep in
the cradle of the grave, and sweetly
slumbers till lifted out by the arms of Immor
tality.
My friend^ —a calm summer’s evening does
considerable toward coaxing the spirit of man
from its earthly home. When twilight throws
down its witching smile, the soul flutters to
be released from its comfortless cell—to break
the bondage of a sorrowing exile, and return
toils own natiyfimalms. Oh I there is some
thing so fascfhaling in the first blush of even
ing, just after the sun has shaken his last gol
den feathers upon the hill lops! It’s enough
10 make a man strip off his jacket of mortal
ity, and swim the gulf of death, for the sake
of reaching the splendonferous splendors that
decorate the opposite shore I 1 have seen
some evening twilights, my friends, that take
the shine off of everything below, and clap
on a few extra touches of their own. I have
sat and admired the western firmament, when
it seemed as though ten thousand dye-pots of
glory .had been upset in the chamber of
heaven, while their gorgeous contents leaked
through and stained the fleecy clouds beneath
with colors not to be mocked with the daub
ing pencil of art. Then'my imagination
would lake wings and play truant aloft, like
a wayward child ; bnl always sure to return
with a sprig of comfort, plucked from the
-evergreen of ideality. Oh! there is inviting
peace in yon ocean of blue tranquility I 1
can’t look upon it without feeling my suspen
ded stretch. I’m sure if they were to give
way, I.should go up like a balloon, and leave
nothing but my breeches and boots behind I
Those clouds are living things. The lesser
ones are gold fish, swimming about in the ce
lestial sea. The larger ones are the dying
dolphins of heaven, disclosing new beauties
with every wave of the fin, and brightening
as they expire in the dark billow of night.—
Below them is the mud of corruption, in
which we, poor mortals lie morally rolling;
but above them, my hearers, is an eternal sky
of purity. There no lightnings flash—no
thunders rolll—no tempests lower—no angry
elements pick quarrels with one another, and
kick up rows in the sacred attic of the uni
verse. All, all there is continual peace and
quietness. It is an immense region of glory
—broader than it is long, and longer than a
streak of sunshine. Its boundaries have
never yet been laid down on the chart of hu
man conception, and never will be. Ft won’t
answer for a child to think of it; for the
thought of a full grown man has to stop and
rest by the way a hundred limes; and then
it is apt to get forever lost in such a wilder
ness of immensity. There are millions of
worlds all rolling in their respective circum
dicumferences—one apiece for all the inhabi
tants that ever lived, or ever will live.
But I’ll tell you what, my friends; you
may never :be lucky enough to lodge on a
single one of them if you don’t behave your
selves properly, and leave off cutting up such
didos as you do.. You love money too well;
you worship the earth for a God and the
things belonging-to it; you are too fond of
cheating—and 1 have no doubt but you would
cheat, if you could, your Maker out of six or
seven years of existence; but you can’t come
it. There is a stick stuck up where each,of
your graves is to be dug, and there is no- Re
moving it. So make the most of-life while
you have it, and brush up a little hereafter.
Pul the ladder of faith against-yon golden
cloud ; let deeds of honesty and uprightness
prop it at- the bottom] and your- way to hap
piness is-completed at oqce. So mote it be.
“Mother, mayn’t I have. the big, Bible in
your room I” “Yes, my son, and lam gM
to see you desirous pf perujing . lhqt good
book. What,do ( yoti most want lb see in it 3”
Vl-onl// want tp see whether I can smash
flies in il, like 6)11 Smith (Joes aj school.” .
“THE AGITATION OF THOUGHT IS TjaE BEGINNING OP WISDOM.”
' NO. 43.
: > and Gratitude*,
The most eminent surgehn of Paris, Dr.
M , is. just now the defendant in a very,
curious lawsuit.
In bis daily visit to the Hospital, the Doc
tor passed for a considerable time,
beggar, by whose pathetic complainings he
was invariably touched. . He always dropped
the expected trifle into his hat.
One day it'uccurred to the benevolent prac
titioner that be would slop and examine the
opthalmic difficulty of the unhappy man. —
He looked at his eye accordingly, and saw
that it was indeed a cataract, but one that
might possibly be removed. He was about
leaving town to pass a few days at his coun
try seal near Paris, and thinking it a good
opportunity to bestow the necessary leisure
upon the case, he proposed to the beggar-to'
get at once into his carriage and go with him
for a few days where he would be well taken
care of.
The blind man willingly consented.
Dr. M , from a feeling of delicady,
promised nothing as to the restoration of
sight; but explaining his interest in the case
by a physician’s curiosity as to the cause of
blindness, he left the poor man the pleasure
of a surprise.
With his remarkable skill the operation
was a quick and almost painless one. He
bandaged the eyes of the sufferer, and, after
a day or two's attention to him, took him
back to Paris, instructing him not to remove
the bandage for a certain lime, and then
call on him at the Hospital near by.
Eight or ten days passed, and, absorbed
by the pressure of his cares, the kind Doctor
had almost forgotten his blind patient, when,
one morning, a professional looking gentle
man entered his office at the hospital. Very
busy, the visitor’s errand was the first thing
to know.
“Have you called for advice?”-asked the
Doctor.
“No !” said the stranger, “I come on the
part of the blind man on whom you have ope
rated.”
“To offer some reward, perhaps. But ex
cuse me, and (ell the poor man that my in
terest in his case was my sole motive in the
affair. If he sees clear, lam sufficiently re
warded.”
“But that was not my errand,” said llie
visitor.
“No? What—has the operation proved
unsuccessful then ?”
“On the contrary he sees perfectly well.
If he had ever learned to read be could read
without spectacles.”
“Briefly, then—for I am very much occu
pied, what do you wish ?”
“I come to you to inform you that the once
blind man demands of you a pension for his
support. He had been blind from childhood
up—has gained his living by the pity it exci
ted—and by restoring his sight, you have de
prived him of his means of support.
his lawyer, and he lays bi< damages at twenty
thousand francs. May I know at
er you will give me security for the amount
or await action ol law?”
Dr. M recovered presently from his
astonishment, pointed the lawyer to the door,
and at present awaits the first summons of
ihjs lawsuit. —Home Journal.
The Man that Wouldn't Pay his Fake.
—The authenticity of the following “river
item” is vouched for bv a gentleman who was
an eye witness to it. It appears that a new,
second clerk had just been engaged by the
steamer in question, who was anxious to
please, and accordingly determined to distin
guish himself by a rigid discharge of his du
ties on the first trip. When he entered the
engine room, on his collecting tour, he found
sealed there a*>number of men, all apparently
belonging to the troublesome class of “deck
ers !” Approaching one of them, who was I
arrayed in a cheeked shirt, and old white hat, j
the clerk demanded his fare. The fellow np- j
peared at first somewhat confused, but finally i
very seriously proceeded ,to inform the clerk ;
in an “illegaot brogue,’’ that he had no mon- 1
ey. The latter, naturally indignant at this ;
palpable attempt to practice on his innocence,;
demanded how he expected to travel on a .
steamboat without money. The man an- |
swered imploringly : “Sure, and mabby yer
honor would be kind enough to let a poor
mon ride a few miles lor nothing! His hon
or, however, was not to be blarneyed. He
was convinced that the fellow had money,
and persisted in his demands ; the other re
pented bis protestations and entreaties. After
affairs had been in this posture for some min
utes, the refractory passenger picked up a
slick and touched the cock of the boiler.—
“Stop that!” thundered the clerk, “the engi
neer will throw you overboard it he catches
you at that I The fellow desisted, with great
seeming contrition, and the clerk, determined
to waste no more words on him, collared him
and led him forward to the Captain. ‘’Cap
lain,” said he, “I wish you’d land to pul this
fellow ashore!' He has no money, or if he
has, won’t pay.’’ To his amazement, the
only reply was a vociferous peal of laughter.
He loosed his hold ; and looked at the captain
for an explanation of this novel mode of
treating such a communication. “Why,”
said the latter, about dying, with laughter—
“Ae’j the engineer I”—Missouri Democrat.
A lady’s maid hooked one of the best of
her mistress’s dresses the other day, but the
affair was passed over because it was done
behind the lady’s back—so there was nobody
to testify to the fact. 1 .
A correspondent of' a New York paper
wants to know which side of a'lady a gentle
man shquld.iake when,be.walks out with her.,
'We sthcmld say, keep nn the right sid? of.a
ladv.
Fashion.
Rules of Advertising.
Advertisement. will be charged 91 per square of'
fourteen lines, for one, or three insertions, and 25
cent*for «*ery.subsequent inneoion. ■ All advertise
meats of less than ibopltta .lines coiuiderOd as a
,Tbe following ales,will be charged for
Quarterly, 1 BalfcYearly and Yearly advertising
. ' ‘ 3 months. 6 months, 12 »no*s
1' H lines,) - 82 50 $4 50 $6 00
2 Squares,- * ..400 600 800
& column,;-; - - • 10 00 15 00 -90 oft
1 column.. . . w .18.00 30 00 40 00
AH advertisements not having the camber of in.
tertian'* marked upon them, will be kept in omit or
dered out,and charged accordingly.
Posters, Handbills, Bill,and Belter Heads, and all
kinds of Jobbing done in country establishments,
executed neatly and promptly. Justices*, Cnnsta*
bles* and other BLANKS,constantly on hand' and
to order.
It ceases cot to be .a wonder that so many
menandwomen exist in this practical age,
who are not what they appear-to be, when
we look around and see the glare and gross
extravagance which surrounds,' In vain do
we ask, are these descendants of Pilgrim
Fathers, or daughter® of mother® who spun
substantial homespuns, and greater still, were
not ashamed to wear the bright fabric they
hid woven?
Look at that butterfly of the ball room, n
devotee of fashion. The bright illusion of
laco and flowers adorn a form whose graceful
motions are soft and swaying as the bending
willow. Those wavy rivulets of banded hair
are finely contrasted to the glowing cheek;
no discordant note of sorrow issues from the
rosy lips, but smiles and soft tones with sil
very sweetness fill the air. The snowy arms
are glittering wirh jewels the tapered fingers
ore loaded with gems. Behold her later still,
when the incense of adulation has brightened
the eye, tinged the rosy hue of the cheek to
the carnation’s deepest dye. Repartee springs
brilliantly from her ready-witted tongue. /Tha
pearly teeth glisten ns the flashing smile de
coys some new adorer to her side. Did
Michael Angelo ever paint nn angel form and
face more bewitching than the charms and
graces of a ?
j “She’ll do to twirl in mazy dance,
1 She'll do ior giddy pleasure ;
She'll live to mele out folly’s gauds.
With fashion's line and mcaaorc.”
The scene changes; if we look her
after her evening’s amusement. The heavy
eyelids unclose with a shiveiing sigh ; thinks
she must dress again ; with a long yawn she
rises to see but jconfusion worse confounded,’
slippers ate hurried over the loeless stockings
—dabbles slightly in the water —dashes on
the loose or morning wrapper, open .all the
way before to avoid the unusual exertion of
raising ,tt over the shoulders. The hair is
easily arranged now, for two-thirds of those
tresses we so lately admired are hanging be
side the mirror, and half the other is in
mussed ringlets underneath. And ye lilies
and roses, where are ye? Fled to the gar
dens of Shulls or vale of Cachmere. Mrs.
Partington points with the exclamation finger
to the box of lilly white and bottle of rouge,
averring, “That tells the whole story !”
Those ftiiry-like graces of figure and move
ment of that now motionless, laperless form
are also vanished. But look around upon
the whalebone skirts, the corsets, with a layer
of wadding in one place,a seam lightened in
another—see the numerous flowing skirts of
muslin. Do not all.these answer where?
The pearly lee'h, which'made the dazzling
smile so Cascina'ing, are, perhaps, glistening
in a goblet of water. The snowy arm does
not look, so rounded without- the massive
bracelet which so lately decked it. Tight
kids can only make a hand or foot look smalf
when encased ’ within their neatly sewed
seams. Oh, saints and angels, look-down in
pity upon a poor sinner Who is wedded to
one of these parlor ornaments? Forgive him
if he seeks the club room or billiard table, in
stead of the fireside of home with its rational
unfading enjoyments.
No meek and gentle woman
Has he to guard his home,
An angel in her purity—-
Bat in her love a human.
A Strong Imprecation-. —The Sacramen
to (Cal.) Age chronicles a curse almost as
bitter as that of King Lear upon his two un
grateful daughters. It says:
An individual neat in form and apparel,
attempted to cross an alley, slipped from a
plank and fell front foremost into the mud,
and stood propped up by both arms, which
were inserted to the elbow in the sod earth
en ware. straightening himself up,
he gazed at his spoiled sleeves, walked to the
nearest sidewalk, turned, and looking at the
cause of his humiliation, said : “1 herebv
curse that plank, the tree it came out of, the
soil it grew on, the outside bark, the inside
also, the roots, ■ the limbs and knots, the
boughs and the birds that have roosted there
on. And 1 furthermore curse that plank, the
man that chopped down the tree it came nut
of, the saw that sawed it, the man that tended
the saw, the water, or steam, (as the case
may be,) which put that saw in motion, and I
curse all.Uhe surrounding trees and hills,-and
I also say that the city authorities of this
town, village, burgh or borough, countenance
more dirt than is necessary for the health,
neace and prosperity of the community.—
Hcstdcs this, I blame, denounce and abhor
that unreliable piece of pine, or whatever
kind of wood it may look at rnv
hands!"
“Dennis, darlinl; och Dennis, what ia’t.
yer doing?" * Whist, Biddy, I’s trying an
imparimenl.” “Murder! what is it?” It’s
mesilf that’s giving hot vyalher to the hens so
they’ll lay fail’d nigs.”
“I always sing to please myself,” said a
gentleman who was bumming a tune in com
pany.
“Then you are not at all difficult to please,’’'
said a lady who was sitting near him.
Midas was so great a mao that everything
be’looched turned to goltf; altered case now
—touch a man with gold and he will change
into anything.
“A peony for your thoughts, madam,”
said a gentleman to a pert beauty.
“They arenot worth a farthing, sir,” sho
replied. “I warthinking of you.”
‘•Patrick, what do yoa say to the indict,
meat—are you guilty* or not guilty ?"
, “A/rah, yer worship, bow can I toll till J
hear the ividen.cel
PUBLISHERS' & PROPRIETORS
WRLLSBOROUGH, TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING. MAY 21, 1857.
:j:.!" ; . . 7 i
The Boy onthe Witness Stand.
Judge Grosh, of Pennsylvania, communi
cates the following to the “Ambassador
After the plea “not guilty” was entered,
and the jury was sworn or affirmed, a small,
very intelligent looking boy was called to the
witness stand. The defendant’s attorney ob
jectrd to his testifying, on account of his age,
&c.~ The attorney for the commonwealth
said the boy was unusually intelligent, and
requested the Court to examine his compe
tency, and I proceeded accordingly, very
mildly;
Judge—What is your name, my son?
Boy . (Giving his name
very distinctly, which I do not how remem
ber.)
Judge—Where do you reside, ray little
man?
Boy—ln the city, sir.
Judge—Have you a parent or parents alive
and residing here ?
Boy—Only one; ray mother.
Judge—Do you attend school, my son ?
Boy—Yes, sir.
Judge—l presume from your intelligence
and praise-worthy conduct here, that you will
soon be allowed the High School, and become
A useful man, and (if necessary) assist your
good mother.
This drew tears of pleasure to his eyes,
and he replied that by the favor of the School
Directors, he had attended the High School
for the last six months.
Judge—How old ore you my, good boy ?
Boy—My mother says that on to-morrow
I will he thirteen years old.
you here to give evidence to
the Gourmand Jury in this case (naming)?
Boy—Yes, sir; if required so to do.
Judge—Do you know the solemnity of the
obligations of a judicial oath, my son ?
Reflect before you answer.
Boy—(Very modestly.) 1 think I do.
Judge—What will be your punishment,
my dear boy, if you swear falsely, or speak
a lie on oath ?
Boy—l will be sent to the penitentiary,
(weeping) and thus break my dear mother’s
.heart. (There were other dVes beside his in
that house, overflowing with tears.)
Deft’s Attorney—(Frowning.) Boy, don’t
you know that if you tell a lie on your oath,
when you die you will be endlessly tortured
in a fiery pool"?
Boy—That would be an additional induce
ment to speak the truthi the whole truth, and
nothing but the truth ; but that punishment
can be avoided by a timely repentance ; but
repentance will avail nothing to keep me out
of the Penitentiary.
Judge—You ore a noble boy ! who gave
you these excellent instructions ?
Boy—My mother, sir.
Judge—Such a mother deserves such a
son ! may our heavenly Father bless .you
both ! Mr. Clerk,’qualify the witness. He
has, in this examination, given us more com
mon sense information on the binding nature
of judicial oaths, than all the musty books in
the court-room coul.d do. Repeal your laws
for the punishment of perjury, and (else
swearing will be as common as it is now rare.
An honest person will speak the truth with
an oath j but a dishonest one were it not for
fear of immediate punishment, would never
testify truly, if a lie would in his estimation,
benefit him more than truth.
The Dangers of Flirting.
The correspondent at New York of the
Charleston Evening News tells this amusing
story of an affair that come off a few days
ago, in front of one of the up-town hotels in
New York :
A young lady, very pretty, very vain, very
siily and very coquettish, met, in an omni
bus, a young man, very well dressed, very
spooney and very much inclined to think no
small beer of himself. This young man
looked at the young lady, and the young lady
looked at the young man, and the young
man smiled, and the young lady smiled in
return. The young man observed to the
young lady that it was a fine day, and the
young lady, doubtless struck' by the origi
nality of the remark, assented to the truth
of the proposition- The young lady got out
of the omnibus—the young gentleman got
out 100, and followed the young lady to her
hotel, when they exchanged cards and parted.
The next day the young man passed by the
window of the hotel, and kissed his hand to
the young lady; young lady returned the
salute ; young man wrote silly nonsense on
a card and sent it to young lady. But the
young lady’s brother, being in the room when
the card was presented, had the impudence
to read it, and then had the further audacity
to inquire what it meant.
Young lady told him the joke—brother
thought it was no joke, rushed out, while
young lady rushed to the window and sig.
naled young man to go away. Young man
mistakes the signal and kept on kissing his
hand, and otherwise making a fool of himself,
till'he finally crossed the street and was in
the act of going into the hotel,■ when indig
nant brother rushed out. Young man fled,
indignant- brother pursued, both .coat tdils
fluttered in the breeze, for awhi.le, but at last
indignant brother caught foolish young than
and applied a cowhide overhis eyes'and face.
Clinch, tussle, roll in the mud, interchange of
blows. Yoking man got up, peepers closed,
coat torn, covered with- mud; indignant
brother flushed find furious, some j slight
scratches on his face; coat soiled, pants airy,
but otherwise in preliygood condition.’ In
dignant brother inquired vyKelher silly young
man wanted “any more.” Young man .said
be didn’t. - Exit indignant brother inlohotel.
Silly young man went away in a carriage to
repair damages. ,Little boys Imrrahdd and
crqdi«po?sed..io' sirilVe tye wqerT
or n*p
>K>s x