Terms of Publication. THE TIOGA COUNTY AGITATOR is pub. hsbed every Thursday Morning, and mailed to sub scribers at the. very reasonable price of One Dol-- lar per annum; tneartaHy in arfnmee. It is intend ed to notily every subscriber, when the..term, for which he has paid shall Have expired, by the'Stamp, “Time Onl,” on the margin of the last paper. The paper will then be slopped until a, further rori miltance be received. By this arrangomenfno man, can be brought in debt to the printer. Tim AoiTAToa is the Official Paper of the Cohn ty with a large and steadily increasing circulation reaching into nearly every neighborhood in the County. It is sent fxte of potlage many Post-office, within the county limits, and tothose living, within the limits, bat wliose most convenient postoffice may be in an adjoining County. Business Cards, not exceeding 5 lines, paper in duded, §4 per year. A River' Adventure. In the summer of 18 ~L was engaged with a' young, mannarned Lyman Kemp, in (locating, land lols along the Wabash, in Indi ana-. I had gone-'out partly for my health, and partly to accommodate one who.had, ev-. or been a noble friend to me, and who had purchased a great- deal of government land. At Davenport be was taken sick, and after watching with him for a.week, in.hopes that; be.would- soon recover, I found that he bad a settled fever, and as the physician said be. voilld not probably be able to move on un deco month, I determined to push on alone. So I.obtained a good nurse,.and. having seen that my friend had everything necessary to his comfort which money could procure, I left him. As good fortune wottfd have it, I found a party of six men bound on the very route I was going, and I waited one day for the sake of their company. At length we set out, with three pack horses-to carry our luggage, and I soon found 1 had lost nothing by wait* ihg, for my companions were agreeable and entertaining. They were going on to St. Joseph’s where they had land already located, and where they, had mills upon the river, in tending to gel out lumber during the remain der of the season. .On the third day from Loganport we. reached Walton’s settlement on the Little' River, having left the Wabash on the morn ing of that day. It was, well on into the evening when we 1 reached the little log-built inn ol the settlement, and we were glad enough of the shelter—‘for ere we had fairly got under cover, the rain commenced to fall in great drops, and thickly too. And more still had I to be thankful for. My horse began to show a lameness in one of his hind legs, and- when P'/eaped from the saddle I found that his foot pained him much, as I child tell by the manner in which he lifted it from the. ground. I ordered the ostler to bathe it with cold water, and then went into (be bouse, where we found a good substantial, supper, and comfortable quarters for the night —that is comfortable quarters for that section, qpd that lime. About ten o’clock just after I had retired, and just as I was falling into a grateful drowse, f was startled by the shouts of men and the barking of dogs, directly under my window. jVs the noise continued ; I arose and threw on my clothes and went down. “What is it ?” f asked of the landlord, who stood in the entry way. “Ah—don’t you know, stranger?” said the host, returning. “You’ve beard of Gus tua Karl, perhaps !’’ ' Who in the West at that time had not heard of him?—the most reckless, daring, and murderous robber that ever cursed a country. I told the host 1 had heard of him often. “Well,” he resumed, “the villain was here only this afternoon, and murdered and robbed a man just up the river. We’ve been out after him, bat he’s gin us the slip. We tracked him as far as the upper, creek, and there he came out pn the bank, fired at us and killed one of our horses, and then dove into the woods. We set the dogs on, but thpy lost him.” “And you’ve come back bootless?” I said. “Yes,” the landlord growled. “But,” he added, with a knowing shake of his head, “ha can’t run clear much longer. The country is in arms, and he’ll either leave these huntin’s, or be dropped,” “What sort of a man is he ?” I asked. “The very last man in the world you would take for Gus Karl. He is small—not a bit over five feet six; with light curly hair, a smooth white face, and not very stout. But, love ye, he’s quick as lightning, and his eye’s got fire in it. He dresses in all-sorts of shapes, but generally like a common hunter. Oh ! he’s the very devil, I do believe.” After the tub full of whisky and water which the host had provided was all drank, the crowd began to disperse, and shortly af terwards I went up again to bed, and this time slept on uninterrupted till morning. I had just eaten my breakfast, and had gone out to the front door, when a horseman came dashing up to the place, himself and animal all covered with mud. It had been raining all night. The first thing the new comer did was to inquire for me. I answered at once to the name, and he then informed me that Lyman Kemp could not live, and tha|t ho wished to see me as soon as possible.” . j’The doctor says be must die,” said the messenger, “and the poor fellow now only asks for life long enough to see you.” “Poor Lyman!” I murmured to myself. “So young—so hopeful—with so many friends and relatives in his far-off home— j * a * ten down to die in a strange land!” told the man I would set out on ray return as Possible. He ate some breakfast, Md then resumed his journey, being bound as far up as the Pottawatomie border. .. *»?: kill, and then sent for my a k’ ,!er disappointment awaited £ ‘ fo “1 d the . anlmal ’s fool swollen very badly, and tt pained him so that he could I shn^t/t '’V 1, ® ad [ he road been good have keen lempted to try him, but I Knew m some places the mud would be deep, t went to the host and asked him if he could «■ or . sell me a horse. Hecould do neither. bafiiML s P? re . ho »e had been shot the night not i *ke Wabash robber. There was anv a m ° rSß ' n *ke P^ ace to be obtained for siahl* i°H nt raone y- I returned to the [( my horse out, but he could not not Wll * l an y degree of ease. I could 1 was in despair. . nn 7 oo * t e " “id mine host, I began to des pona, “can t you manage a canoe 1” les—very well,” I told him. THE AGITATOR. m&mxf to t&e 3S*tttt#ioft (if tfce of iFmfcom tin of ©taUD# itrfovm. WHILE THERE SHALL BE A. WRONG UKRIGHTED, AND UNTIL 11 MAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN” SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE. VOL. IV. ‘•Then that’s ydur.besl Way., The cuirent is strong ibis 'morning, and without a stroke of the paddle ’twould lake -you along as fast as a Korso would wade tnrough the mud. You shall have onfe of my canoes for just what it is worth, and ye can sell it at Lo gonport for as much.” ; • I caught the proposition instantly;' for I saw it was a good one. •' ■ “If ye daren’t shoot the rapids,” added the landlord, “you can easily shoulder the canoe, andback it round. ’Tisn’t far.”' 11 I found the boat to be’ a well fashioned dugout," large enough to’ bear four men with ease, and I at once paid (he'owner his price —ten dollars—and then had my luggage brought down. I gave directions about the treatment of my horse, and then put off. The current was quite rapid—say four or five miles an hour—but not at at all turbu lent, and I soon made up my mind that it was far better than riding on horseback. The banks of the river were thickly covered with large trees, and I saw game in plenty, and more than once I was templed to fire the contents of my pistols to some of the boldest “varmints but I had no time to waste, sa I kept on. Only one thing seemed wanting, and that was a companion ; but I was des tined to find - one soon enough. It was shortly after noon, and I had just eaten my dinner of bread and cold meat, when I came (b a place where the river made an abrupt bend to the right, and a little further on I came to an abrupt basin where the currents formed a perfect whirlpool. I did not notice it till my canoe got into it; and found myself going round instead of going ahead. I plied my wood paddle with all my power, and soon succeeded’ in shootihe but from the current; but in doing so\ran myself upon the low, sandy shore. The effort had fatigued me a little, and as I found myself thus suddenly moored I resolved to rest a few minutes. I had been in this position some ten min utes when I was star led by hearing a foot ball close by me, and on looking up ( saw a man at that side of my boat. He was n young looking person, not over two-and thirty, and seemed to be a hunter. He wore a wolf-skin shirt, leggins of red leather, and a cap of bear skin. “Which way are you bound, stranger?” he asked in a pleasing tone. “Down to Loganport,” t replied. “That’s fortunate. I wish to go there myself,” the stranger resumed. “What say you to my taking your second paddle, and keeping, you company ?” “I should like it,” I told him frankly ; “I’ve beep wanting company.” .•* “So have I,” added the hunter. “And I’ve been wanting somo belter mode of con veyance than these worn out legs through the forest.” “Come on,” I said, and as I spoke he leaped into the canoe, and having deposited his rifle in the bow, he took one of (he pad dles, and told me he was ready when I was. So we pushed off, and were soon clear of the whirlpool. For an hour we conversed freely. The stranger told me his name was Adams, and that his father lived in Columbus. He was out now on a hunting and prospecting expe dition with some companions, who had gone to Loganport by horse and having got sep arated from them in the night,'had lost his horse into the bargain. He said he had a great sum of money about his person, and that was one reason why be disliked to travel in the forest. Thus he opened his affairs to roe, and I was fool enough to be equally frank. 1 ad mitted that I had some money, and told him my business ; and by a most quiet and un presuming course of remark, he drew from the the fact that I had money enough to pur chase forty full lots. Finally the conversation lagged, and I began to give my companion a acftni ny. I sat in the stern of the and he was about amidships, and facing me. • He was not a large, man, nor was he tall. His hair was of a flaxen hue, and hung in long curls about his neck; his features were regular and handsome; and his complexion very light. But the color of his face was not whut one would call fair. It was a cold bloodless color, like pale marble. And for the first time, too, I now looked paiticularly at his eyes. They were grey in Color, and had the brilliancy of glaring ice. Their light was intense, bvt cold and glittering like a snake's. When I thought of his age I set him down for not much over thirty. Suddenly a sharp cold shudder ran through my frame, and my heart, leaped with a wild thrill. As sure as fate—l knew it —Ihere could be no doubt—l had taken into roy ca noe, and into my confidence, Gustus Karl, the Wabash Robber! For a few moments I feared my emotions would betray me.- 1 looked-carefully over his person again, and I knew I was not mistaken. I could look back now and see how cunningly he had led me on to a confession of my circumstances— how he had made me toll my affairs, and re veal the state of my finances. What a fool I had been! Bui ’twas to late to think of the past, I had enough to look out for what was evidently to come. I at length managed to overcome all my outward emotions, and then I began to watch my companion more sharply and closely.— My pistols were hoth handy, and I knew they were both in order, for I had examined them in the forenoon when I thought of firing at some game. ' They were in the breast pocket of my coat, which pockets had been made for them, and I could reach them at any instant. An other hour passed away, and by that time I had become assorted that the robber would WELLSBORQ, TIOGA COLKTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING. OCTOBER 15, 1857. make do attempt upon me till after night-fall. He said that it would be convenient-that we were together, for w 6 could, run. all night,, as one could steer while the other slept, “Aye,” 1 added with a smile;: “that is good for me, for every hour is valuable. I would not miss of meeting my friend for the world.” - ‘tOh 1 you will meet him, never fear,” said my companion. - Ah—hespokethat with too much meaning. I understood it well. I knew wbiit that sly tone,dnd that strange gleam of the eye meant. He meant that he would put me op the- road to meet poor Kemp in the other world I 1 wondered only now that I had not detected the robber when first I saw him, for the ex pression of his face was so heartless, so icy— and then his eyes had such a wicked 100k — that the most unpracliced physiognomist could not have failed to ’ delect the villain at., once. During, the rest of the afternoon we con versed some but not so freely as before. I could see that the villain’s eyes were not so frankly bent on me as he spoke and that he seemed inclined to avoid my direct glances. These movements on his part were not stud ied, or even intentional ; but they were in stinctive, as though his very nature led him thus. At length night came on. We ate our supper, and smoked our pipes, and final ly my companion proposed that I .should sleep before he did. At first I thought of ob jecting, but a few moment's reflection told me that I had better behave as though I was an honest man ; so I agreed to this proposition. He took my seat at the stern, and I moved further forward, and having removed the thwart npbn which my companion had been sitting, 1 spread my cloak in the bottom of the canoe, and then having placed my valise for a pillow, I lay down. As soon as possi ble I drew out one of my pistols, and beneath the cover of a cough I cocked it. Then I moved my body so that my arril would be at liberty, and grasping my weapon firmly, with my finger upon the guard, {- drew up my mantle, slouched my hat and then settled down for my watch. . Fortunately for me the moon was up, and though the forest trees threw a shadow upon me, yet the beams fell upon Karl, and I could see his every movement. We were well ~int o the Wabash, having entered it about three o’clock. “You will call me at midnight,” I said, drowsily. “Yes,” he returned. “Good night.” “Good night—and pleasant dreams. I'll have you further on your way than you think ere you wake up again.” , “Perhaps *6,thought I to"myself 1 , as I lowered my head, and pretended to lower myself to sleep. For half an hour my companion steered the canoe very well, and seemed to take but little notice of me; but at the end of that time 1 could perceive that he - became more uneasy. 1 commenced to snore with a long regularly drawn breath, and on the instant the villain started as starts, the hunter when he hears the tread of game in the woods. But hark ! Aha—there was before one lingering fear in my mind that I might shoot the wrong man but it was gone now. As the fellow stopped the motion of the paddle, I distinctly heard him mutter : “Oho, my dear sheep—you little dreamed that Gus Karl was your companion. But he’ll do you a good turn. If your friend is dead you shall follow him, and I lake your traps to pay for your passage to Heaven!” I think these were the very words. At any rale they were their drift. As he thus spoke he noiselessly drew in the paddle, and then rose to his feet. I saw him reach over' his left shoulder, and when he brought back his hand he had a huge bowie knife in it. t could see the blade gleam in the pale moon* light, and I saw Karl run his thumb albng the edge, and then feel the point I My heart beat fearfully, and my breathing was hard. It was with the utmost exertion that I could continue my snoring, but I managed lo do it without interruption. Slowly and noiselessly the foul wretch approached me. Oh I his step would not have awakened a hound—and his long gleaming knife was half raised. 1 could hear his breathing plainly, and I could hear the grating of his teeth, as he nerved himself for the stroke. The villain was by rny side and he mea sured the distance from his band to my heait with his eye. In his left baud he held a thick handkerchief all wadded up. That was to stop my mouth with. Every nerve in my body was now strung, and my heart stood still.as death. Of course my snoring ceased and at that instant the huge knife was raised above my bosom ! Quick as thought I bro’t my pistol up—the muzzle was within a fool of the robber’s heart—he uttered a quick cry —I saw the bright blade quiver in the moon light, but it came nol-upon me. I pulled the trigger and the last fear was past. 1 had thought the weapon might miss fire, but it did not. There was a sharp report, and as I sprang up and backed I heard a fierce yell, and at the same moment the robber fell for ward, his head striking ray knee as it came down. Weak and faint I sank back, but a sudden tip of the canoe brought me to ray senses, and I went aft and took the,paddle. As soon as the boat’s head was once more right, I turned my eyes upon the form in the bottom of the canoe. I saw it quiver—only o slight spasmodic movement —and then all was still. All that night I sat there at my watch and steered my bark. I had my second pistol ready, for I knew not surely that the wretch was dead. He might be waiting to catch me off my guard, and then shoot mo. But the night passed slowly and drearily away, and I when the morning broke the form had not moved. Then I stepped forward and found that Guslus Karl was dead ! He had fallen with bis knife true to its aim, for it had struck very near where my heart must have been, and the point was driven so far inlo. the solid wood that I had to work hard to pull it out, and harder still to unclasp the marble fingers that closed with dying madness about the handle. Swiftly Sowed the tide, and ere the sun again sank to rest I had. reached LoganpotU The authorities knew the face of Gustus Karl at once, and when I told them roy story, they poured a,thousand thanks on my head. A purse was raised, and the offered reward put with it, and tendered to me. I took the sim ple reward from the'generous citizens, while the remainder I directed should be distributed among those who had suffered most from the h robber’s depredations. sick and miserable. He iind the doctors had well mao I foun3"Kena£ was burning with shut him up in a room wl must soon have suffocated. -> “Water—water! give mo water I” he gasped., “Haven’t you had any?” I asked. He told me no. -I threw open the windows —sent for a pail of ice water, and was on the point of administering it when the old doc tor came in. He held up his hands in horror and told me it would kill the sick man. But I forced him back and Kemp drank the grate ful beverage. He drank- deeply and then slept. The perspiration poured from him like rain, and when he awoke again his skin was moist, and his fever was turned. In eight days he satl in his saddle by my side, and together we started for Little River. , At Walton’s settlement I found my horse fully recovered, and when I offered to pay for his keeping the host would take nothing. The story of my adventure on the river had got there ahead of me, and this was the land lord’s gratitude. A Fighting Turk. During the operations of the allies in the Crimea, it was resolved to carry the water in from a beautiful spring of the finest kind to the camp. Leather pipes, or hose, were em ployed, which -were laid on the ground. One morning while the water was being supplied, the minaret sounded to prayer, and one of the Turkish soldiers immediately went flop on his knees to praise Allah. Unfortunately he went down right upon the hose, and bis weight consequently stopped the current of that “first of elements.” “Gel up,” cried an English soldier.— “ Voules vous aces la bonte, mon cher Mon sieur te 'l'urque,'' cried a Frenchman with his native politeness, "to gel up. “That ain’t the way to make a Turk move,” cried another; “this is the’dodge." 'So say ing, be knocked his turban off. Still the pious Mussulman went on with his devotions. “I’ll make him stir his slumps,” said an Englishman, giving him a remarkably smait kick. To the wonder of all, still the untur baned, well-kicked follower of the Prophet went on praying as though he was a forty horse parson. “Hoot away, mon—l’ll show you bow we serve obstinate folk, a auld Reekie,” quietly observed a Scotchman. • He was however, prevented, for the Turk having finished his “ Allah-ms-en-allah rose and began to take off his coat—then to roll up his sleeves—and then to bedew his palms with saliva, and then to put himself in the most approved boxing altitude, a la Yankee Sullivan. He then advanced in true 'Tom Hyer style to the Englishman who had" kicked him pn the lumbar region. “A ring! a ring!” shouted the soldiers and sailors, perfectly astonished to see a Turk such an adept in the fistic art. The Englishman, nothing loth to have-a bit of fun with a Turk of such a truly John Bull stale of mind, set to work, but found he had met his toaster —in five minutes he had received his quantum suff. As the Turk coolly replaced his coal and turban, he turned round and said to the admiring by atanders, in the pure brogue— “ Bad luck to ye, ye spalpeens ; when yere. afther kicking a Turk, I’d advise ye the pext time to jist be sure he’s not an The mystery was solved—our Turk was a Tiperary man. 'Arsenic Wouldn’t Kill Him. —Jenkins is, a soaker of the most inveterate type.— “Blue ruin” flows as smoothly down his ali mentary canpl, as prayers from the lips of one “embarrassed” treasurer, and ns the steps ,Canada-ward of another,- He had discovered there was a “Bourbon”among us, and had visited the prison many times.— But the human system will rebel against op pression, some day or other, and at last little wriggling snakes began to crawl up from the soles of -Jenkins’ boots, growing larger as they crept higher. He tried to slaughter them with whiskey, but that was their natu ral drink, and the more he dosed them the larger they grew. Jenkins got tired of life, and taking a mighty dose of arsenic, laid himself down to die. It was a hard struggle, but at length the mineral succumbed, and the old soaker once more got up to figbtiho bat tle of life a little longer. An acquaintance, hearing of the unsuccessful falo de se, shook his head contemptuously; and remarked, — “Stupid fool, to have been- drinking dock whiskey for twenty years and then think arsenic would kill him.”— Cleoe. Herald, “Pbax, Miss C.,” said « gentleman the other evening, “why aie the ladies s.o fond of officers'!” “How stupid,” replied Miss; is it.nol perfectly proper and natural that a young lady should like a good offer sir!” . <£otccsj)onOrncf. Pabkville, Mo., Sept. 19, 1857, Friend Cobb: As I happen to be in a border town in Missouri- ro-day, { will write you a Tew' lines so you can see what “speci mens of humanity ”we have out here. The only topic with them just now is, cursing the “d—d abolitionists” and drinking whiskey and playing cards. I have seen more drunken men here lying about the streets'to-day than I have before since my arrival in the West. This is one of the strongest Border Ruffian towns of its size I ever saw. Many of its citizens participated in the- struggle which has passed in and are.just as ready ns ever to go over and work in their “holy cause.” The place contains about 600 inhabitants, and is a little larger in size than Quindaro, which is about five mites bielow here/ It is an old place—about eighteen years since the first building was erected. The leading man—Col. Geo. S. Park, is one of its oldest settlers, and to him the place is much indebt-. ’d'fetjjisenlerpri3e„ He was formerly editor —a conservative so to suit its ~pttehe4jijs of tho'^ar paper—and most to? patrons, and they accordingly press and type in (he bottom of the Missouri River where it now lies. [ The site of this town is very good, but sadly In deficient of n good landing which is the main-slay of,a| town on this River. There are two hotels here, several stores, any (quantity of - grog shops, a printing office, church, school, &c. There seems to be considerable talk in regard to the Parkville & Grand River Rail road. Many think that this Road will be built to intersect with the Hannibal & St. Joseph Road at P/allsburgj When completed these will both be paying Roads, for over them will pass (he entire travel from Kansas and Northern Missouri to Chicago, The I trade from this section must, till these Roads! are-finished, all.-ga to St. Louis. Millions of dollars are paid Snhually to St. Louis, which would go to Chicago if these Roads were completed. The Hannibal & St. Joseph Rond is expected to be completed by |he Ist of July next. i Since Quindaro has been started this place is very dull. They depended Upon the Wy andotte and Delaware Indians principally for. their support, and (be greater part of them now, instead of crossing the river to trade at this place go to Quindaro. A Steam Ferry -Boat is on the way from Cincinnati, and will be here in about' three weeks to ply between these two places. ! - - The emigration to Kansas this fall will not be as large it s wasj anticipated. The approaching October Election looks gloomy and will frighten many from coming before next spring. It is impossible (o tell what will be the result of thjis Election. If the Free State men "have a fair chance, and they are pledged to have by Gov. Walker—their majority will be almost! triumphant. The Missourians are making preparations as usual) to invade Kansas, and no one can tell what i the result will be. i | But I must close soon, ] for I don’t want to stay in this confounded town any longer than is necessary. Yours for Freedom. . I F. A. ROOT. Did Habits. A gentleman one day!overtook a traveler moving very slowly along under the great in convenience of a heavy stone in his pocket. “My friend,” said the gentleman, os he ob served the stone weighing his coat down on one side, and greatly impeding his progress, “why do you travel with such a heavy bur. den at your side 1 I perceive you walk with much difficulty." I “What! this stone in.my pocket,” said he, “I would not part with it for anything.” "Would not! why P’fsaid the otjier. “Why !” said he, “because my fatbsr apd my grandfather carried jit before me. They got along very well with it, and I wish to fol low their steps.” j “Do you derive any benefit from it 1” asked the gentleman. ! “None that I know of, only keeping up the good did custom,” said he. “Did they derive any V’ asked the other, “1 don't know, only they always carried it,” said he, “and so will I.” The gentleman, walked on, saying to him self, “I love, indeed, tolsea the-good old cus toms of our fathers honored, if it were only out of respect to their memory ; but, really, if my father had carried a stone in his pock et, 1 think 1 should pay a greater respect to his memory in laying] it aside, and saying nothing about it, than! by carrying such a testimony to his frailtyiwilh me through life.” As ho still walked; he began to think, “now this man, unwise as it seems, is not more so than many others, perhaps not more so than myself.” 1 So he began to cqst about in his mind, what habitsme had which were no better than stones in pocket, i - “Here in the first’place,” said he, is the use of tobacco, dieting, smoking, taking snuff—old habi's—of iwbat use are they to ;me ?—Mere stones in my pocket—worse than ! lhal—they injure my health, render me disa greeable, are the very opposite of neatness. Til away with them all. Here is the snuff box—stay—it bears {my father’s name.'— Well, the snuff may go to the four winds'.— The box, I will lay’aside, but tobacco, in any of its forms 1 will use no more. Thanks to protecting Providence my father left no tip pling habits to ruin me and stain my memory. Now there is one slope thrown away, and if I have any more bad, habits kept up for cus tom’s sake, how much soever I may become attached to them, I [desire they may share ike same fate.” , j - Rates of Advertising. Advertisements will be charged 31 per square of fourteen lines, for one, or three insertions, and 2S cents for every subsequent insertion. AU advertise, moots of'less than fourteen lines considered as a square. The following rates will be charged for Quarterly, Half-Yearly and. Yearly advertising:—. 3 months. 6 mouths. 12 mo*a 1 Square,<l4lines,) . S 3 so §4 30 36 00' , 2 Squares,. - . - .4 oo 600 BOQ i column, - - - . 10 00 15 00 20 00 - 1 column,. - . -19 00 30 00 40 00 Ail advertisements not having the number of iq, sert/ons marked upon them, will be kept in until or. dcred out, and charged accordingly. Posters, Handbills, Bill,and Letter Heads,and all kinds of Jobbing done in country establishments, executed neatly and promptly. Justices’, Consta, hies’ and other BLANKS, constantly on hand and printed to order. no. nr. When that Note was Due. A.man in Boston (of course) was sorely par. secuted by no avaricious business acquaint ance, to pacify whom he was obliged to “settle,” and not- wishing to pay over a few hundred dollarsiu cash, he drew up a note obligating himself to discharge the account after a specified date or time. The creditor, who was not noted for bis ‘‘ticking princi pies,” was not, in justice, really entitled to the money, but when “thirty days after date” were expired, ha anxiously presented the note for payment: The debtor, instead of meeting it, replied : “The note is not yet due, sir.” “Bui it is,though, it reads, “thirty days after date, I promise to pay” so and so, and tbir.ty.ona days have elapsed since the date thereof; and so ’ “I don’t care if tbiity-one years have elapsed since the. date of the note, I shall still contest for its immaturity,” answered the debtor, interrupting the not very good-hu. raored note bolder, who soon_msde his exit, slamming the street-door after him, mutter ing incoherently, about law, judgment, exe. cutions, &c. i In a few days both parties were before a magistrate, who, upon concluding the inves tigation, proclaimed that he must certainly award “judgment” against the debtor for the full amount of the note, and the cost of pros ecution besides. “And what then ?" inquired the defendant of the judge. . “I shall isue-an execution, if the plaintiff desires it,” returned his honor. “To be sure—l want one immediately,” bawled the plaintiff, whose countenance re vealed his delerminalon to allow no mercy, as he ufged his way as near the judge as possible.; . . ~ ' “You ; bra resolved upon judgment and exe cution 1” demanded the defendant. : “I am,” replied the judge, taking up his pen to record the same. “To be sure we are,” coincided the plaint iff, with a chuckle. “I presume your honor can spell cor rectly said the defendant, as he picked up his hat and sent it farther upon the table before him. “Insolent!” exclaimed the judge,'choking with rage. “Will you oblige me by carefully spelling, and reading the first line in that ‘valuable document,’ urged the defendant, disregarding the anger of the^ magistrate, and directing his attention to the note that lay before him* The judge looked at the Dole, and then at the defendant, but probably thinking it was best to take it oooly, proceeded to do as requested, amt toad aloud, in a very lucid style : “Thirty, days after dale I prom ’ “Stop” shouted the defendant, “you don’t read it right. “I do 1” teas the Judge’s response. “You don’t 1” returned the defendant, “I thought you couldn’t spell.” The Judge was now boiling over with rage, and smote the desk before him so violently with bis clenched hatjd as to cause those who stood aboin him, including the expectant plaintiff, to retreat a few paces in double quick lime. '» “Keep your temper, Judge, or we shall be obliged to have' the case transferred to an other court, where the magistrate understands the art and qiystety of spelling words of one syllabic, and don’t make a fool of himself by kicking up a row and smashing up office furniture. There, you may keep your seat, and and tell those present what' the first tine of that note says,” said the defendant with a coolness that surprised the audience and puz zled the judge. Having again glanced at the document, and appearing to detect something that had moment escaped his perception, the Judge proceeded to read: “Thirty days after death I promise to pay—’ “Right !'*. exclaimed the defendant; “you can'spell, I see.” “The note is not due, gentlemen, until thirty days after death” proclaimed the magistrate; the case is accordingly dis missed, and the court adjourned until to morrow morning.” w ' “What!” screamed the ■aintiff, “am I thus fooled 1 Villian !’’ ”, The unexpected and ludicrous conclusion of the suit threw the whole assembly, save the unlucky plaintiff, into an uproarious fit of merriment, which having subsided, they separated and dispersed. The note is not due yet. Why not Successful. —The young me chanic or clerk marries and takes a house which he proceeds to furnish twice as expen sively as. he cdn afford, and then his wife, in stead of taking hold to help him to earn a livelihood, by doing her own work, must have a hired servant to help her spend her limited earnings. Ten years afterwards, you will find him struggling on under a double load of debts and children, wondering why the luck was always against him, while his friends regret his unhappy destitution of financial ability. Had they from the first been frank and honest, he need not have been so unlucky. The world is full of people who can’t im agine why they don’t prosper like their neigh bors, when the real obstacle is not in banks .or tariffs, in public policy nor hard times, but in their owu extravagance and heedless osten tation. A gentleman advertising for a wife says : “It would be well if the lady were possessed of a competence sufficient to secure her against excessive grief, in case of accident occurring to her companion.”
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers