Terms of Publication* TflE TIOGA COUNTY AGITATOR 13 put. 1 „i,«t every Thursday Morning, and mailed to sul> 1 Z'Vtl tto very re«Kfflabfc price .of One Dor, „ pemnnum, intariablyin advanct.lt is intend- rtotifv every subscriber wbeQ.tfto term for Ich he hi JSJ Shall bare expired by the stamp —"Time Oa£" on the margin of Uie teat paper. The paper wiUU.eo bc mopped unUl a further re mittance be receded. By this arrangement no man lt ia sent/r« 0/ i»riog« to any Post-office will,in the county limits, and to those living within Uie limits, but whose most convenient postoffice may be in an adjoining County. Bosinesa Cards, not exceeding 5 lines, paper IB eluded, H P* r year. STORY of grace darling. BT GREENWOOD. On the lonely little island of Brownsman, one of the Fame group, on the coast of Nor thumberland, Eng., lived William Darling, light house keeper, a brave, honest, intelli gent man. Grace, his daughter, the youngest of seven children, was courageous like her father, goodand .gentle like her mother. She was a modest girl, with a slender form, a beautiful face, and the sweetest smile in the world. The Fame Islands are very wild and deso late, being little better ..than piles of black rocks lowering above the dismal, roaring seas of that stormy and perilous coast. In calm weather they are surrounded by a fringe of while surf, and in times of storm (hey are almost overwhelmed by the great raging sur ges. Through the channels between these islands the sea rushes like swolle.n torrents ; and here, before beacons were built upon the rocks, occurred many shipwrecks. Even now they are very dangerous spots, for in spite o( these friendly lights glimmering through the blackness of (he tempest and the ni.'ht, the force of the gale will sometimes drive vessels headlong upon the rocks, dash them to pieces, and scatter them over the boiling deep. The Btownsman was the outermost of the Fame Islands —the last rocky foothold of human life: and beyond it was a vast ex panse and an awful depth of sea. It had scarcely any vegetation, but stood out from the water, bare, and black and bleak. The jagged cliffs, and dim, sounding caves, were alive with sea birds—almost the only living creatures to be seen on the island, out of the family of the lighthouse. v ln this strange, lonely place, Grace Darl ing passed her earliest years. She was a shy and thoughtful child, and learned to take pleasure in the wild and dreary scenery around her. Shut out from the world as she and her dear ones were, it seemed to her they were all the nearer heaven—denied social pleasures and consolations even when living, toiling, watching for their fellow beings, she fell that God would remember them and pro tect them. To her the black stone hills of those desolate islands, standing bare-headed under the gray sky, were grander than tow. ors or cathedrals could be ; and the stars and the moon shone as tenderly above the wild, rough perch on the light house rock, as on palaces and sweet Italian gardens. She loved the lighthouse, the guide and savior of terr. pest-tossed mariner. She loved the labors of her brave father, and the sports of Her hardy- brothers; she loved the shy sea bird —some of these she tamed, by gentle advan ces and companionship, till they would sdoop rheir swift wild wings to her hand. She loved the sea when it was calm when the bright waves came running up the sandy beach, and seemed lo prostrate themselves before her, caressing her small white feet with soft, cool kisses ; and in storm she did not fear ,t. When it would break on the rocks with a hoarse, threatening sound, and dash over her a shower of angry spray, she would laugh and say, “Roar away, old sea ! 1 am sure you wouldn’t be in such a rage if the winds hadn’t provoked you. By-and-by you will get good, and feel sorry, and creep up the sands all calm and smiling, lo make friends wuh me again—and i’ll forgive you, you dear uld sea, if you won’t do any mis chief now, and leave ms , ail the ptetty shells and mosses you are throwing upon the shore.” And Grace dearly loved mosses and shells. She knew all the little oaves and coves and sandy nooks where they were lo be found, and the best tune lo look for them, and used lo come home from her solitary rambles with her (title apron full of treasures dearer 10 her simple heart than rare exotics, or costly gems She said the bright-colored mosses were sea. flowers, loro by the thieving waves out of Ihe mermaids’ gardens—and that the shells were the houses or pleasure-boats of the little sra-fairies. So it wag that Grace Darling was not dis contented with her lot, nor with her Innelv home, where love and God dwelt—did not fear tempest, nor night, nor raging seas, nor the world ; but grew up courageous, trustful, unselfish and pure in heart. When Grace was about eleven years old, her father removed from the Brownsman to that of the Longstone, a neighboring island. And here it was that on the 7th of Septem ber, 1838, when she was about twenty.two, •he performed the heroic act which made her sweet name a “household word” the world over. The steamer Forfarshire, on her voyage from Hull to Dundee, in a terrible gale, struck on a rock amidst the Fame Islands, mtnedialely,a portion of the crew cowardly so selfish men, lowered the long-boat, ' a P e into it, and left the captain his wife, an d Q ll the passengers to their 6 ' . n o short time, a hoge wave lifted up (irnt Dllre Vesse '’ ’hen. letting it fall violently oi, 811 ln lwo Parts upon the sharp rock. ■r 8 P ar, > °n which was the captain, hie f’ an “ roony passengers, was carried off soon dashed to pieces—rthe forepart, on ich were five of the crew and our passen -8 r«i remained on the rock. In the little lore the' 11 ' IDI ° ever y nnw and then washed g T** es i was a woman by the name of and ■ wson > w '*h two young children— lbose P ''^ S,y * lour *® er b°ur, came up lo Great c ' < > the frightened cries of the poor alone M p own there in thecold and dark amt Bul ,by and-by those cries died awsv ana were sun. - ■ \ remained on the wreck, ejr int? pu<.° lhe . fur y thh tempest atrd-expect tFy tn . lnme to he washed away, atl that o- o| 'g night. In the morning thev were THE AGITATOR. to tfte Sxttnsion of tfce of ifmjjom aus tfce of Reform. WBIEB THERE SHALL BE A WRONG UNRIGHTED, AND UNTIL “MAN’S INHUMANITY To MAh” SHALL CEASE,' AGITATION MUST CONTINUE. VOL. IV. seen from the Longstone lighthouse, about a distant. Only Mr. Darling, his wife, and daughter Grace were at home. The storm had somewhat abated, yet the sea ran high, and the surf around the islands and hidden cocks seemed dashing up into the very clouds. It was dark and misty, and the sufferers on the wreck could be but dimly seen through the distance and theslorni. Yet Grace saw them clear enough with her ten der sympathizing heart—saw all their peril, their feat, their agony, and looking into her father's face, she said firmly : “Papa, those poor people must be saved !” Mr. Darliogshook his head sadly, and then shs added : “You and I must do it. We will go lo them in our boat—we can perhaps bring them all away in that.” “Impossible, my child—no boat could live in such a sea. We must leave ihem in God’s hands !” “No, papa. God has given them into ours ; and Be will protect us in seeking to rescue them—we can.-bul try.” So Grace won over her father to her noble undertaking, and they two launched the boat, and rowed off bravely towards the wreck. Mrs. Darling did not object to their going, though she knew all the dreadful peril of their enterprise, but helped launch the boat. I think she was not less heroic than her hus band or her daughter. It was ebb tide, or the boat could not have passed between the islands—but it wonld be flowing before they could hope lo return, which would render it impossible for them to row up their island alone—so, unless they could reach the wreck, and get rowers from there, they would be obliged to slay outside till ebb tide, exposed lo the greatest peril. All this they knew. They reached the wreck in safety, to the unspeakable joy and amazement pf the poor people there. In the cabin, they found Mrs. Dawson nearly dead, with her arms clasped about her two children, both quite dead. All were lowered into the boat, and safely rowed lo the Longstone, where Mrs. Darling re ceived them warmly, and cared for them with motherly tenderness. The storm continued so violent that they were obliged to remain at the light house for several days, as were also a boat’s crew who came lo their rescue from North Sunderland, 100 late, and could not all return. Yet all were treated most hospitably and kindly—Grace gave up her bed lo poor Mrs. Dawson, and slept on a table. At passed over, and was succeeded by calm and sunshine —the ship wrecked guests went lo their homes, and all things at the lighthouse lull into their old way. Grace,-(Darling and her fur he r would soon have forgotten their heroic act had they been left to do so. But the people she had saved, in Ihefr gratitude and wonder, told the story wherever they went. Accounts of H appeared in all the papers, and flew over the world. The bleak island and lonely light house were visited by thousands, eager to get a sight of the noble heroine and her brave old father. Cosily presents and tributes of admiration poured in upon them from all quarters. The Duke and Duchess of Nonh umoerlnnd invited them over to Alntck Castle, and presented her with a gold watch; the Humane Society passed a vole of thanks lor her heroism, and sent her a handsome piece of plate. A public subscription was raised for her benefit, and amounted lo about seven hundred pounds—some three thousand five hundred dollars. All this fame and applause for what seemed lo her a simple act of hu manity, surprised and almost overwhelmed the modest girl. She shrunk from the curi ous looks of stranger's who thronged to see her. and became more shy and reserved than ever —she refused all invitations lo go out into the world—but dividing many of her oifts between her brothers and sisters, s he remained with her lather and mother at (he lighthouse, cheerfully fulfilling her hu m ble domestic duties. God had made her very noble and the whole world could not spoil her. Bui not long was her beautiful heroic life to brighten ihat lone and desolate spot, fn the fall of 1841 she fell into delicate health, and symptoms of consumption soon manifest ed themselves. She was removed to the house of her sister at Bamborough, on the coast. It was thought she would get belter ivhen the Spring came—but it was not so. She continued to fail—to fade, and fadeaway. She was taken to Alnwick, from which she was to proceed to Newcastle for medical advice. While at Alnwick, the Duchess of Northumberland treated her with all a sister’s kindness—‘sent her own physician to her— supplied her wiih everjr luxury, and, belter than all, went often to See her, very plainly dressed, and without a single attendant. She had the good sense to lay aside as it were her coronet—forget her title before the belter nobility of thai dying girl—and so proved herself far greater than a Duchess—a true and loving womau. Grace was soon taken back to Bambor ntigh, that she might meet death with all her loved ones around her. And there in the place where she was born, she died on the 20th of October. 1842. She took leave of all bet; friends calmly, and very tenderly— giving to eaqh one something to keep in re membrance of her—then meekly folded her hands on her breast and slept in Ood’s peace. She was buried within sound of the sea she loved —within sight perhaps of the lighthouse, and the' rock of the Week—and the sea seems to m°uip for her now, anti the light* house' and rock are her monuments. The Ladies—may we kiss the girls we please, and picaso the girls we kiss. " WELLSBOEO. TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THUESDAY MOENING. MAECH i, 1858. The following beautiful Arabian legend we copy from the “Voice of Jacob.” The site occupied by the temple of Solo mon was formerly a cultivated field, pos sessed in common by two brothers. One of them was married and had several children ; the jolher was unmarried. They lived to gether, however, in the greatest harmony possible, cultivating the property they had inherited from their father. The harvest season had arrived. The two brothers bound up their sheaves, made two equal stacks of them, and left Ihem on the field. During the night the unmarried brother was struck with an excellent thought. My brolher, said he lo himself, has a wife and children to support; is it just lhat my portion of the harvest should be as large as his? Upon this he arose and took from his slack several sheaves, which he added to those of his brother; and this he did with ns much secrecy as if he had been committing an evil action, in order lhat his offering might not be rejected. On the same night the other brother awoke and said lo his wife, “My brolher lives alone without a companion ; he has none In assist in his labor nor lo reward him for his toils, while God has bestowed on me wife and chil dren ; is it right that we should lake from our common field as many sheaves ns he, since we have already more lhan he has— domestic happiness. If you consent, we shall, by adding secretly a number of our sheaves lo his stack, by way of compensation, and without his knowledge, see his portion of the harvest increased. This object was approved and immediately pul in executian. In the morning, each of the brothers went into the field, and was much surprised at seeing the stacks still equal. During several successive nights ihe same contrvance was repealed on each side; each kept adding to his brother’s store, the stacks always re mained the same. But one night, both hav ing stood sentinel lo divine into the cause of the miracle, they met; each bearing the sheaves mutually designed for the other. It was thus that all was elucidated, and they rushed into each other’s arms, each grateful lo Heaven for having so good a brolher. Now, says the legend, the place where so good an idea ‘iod simultaneously occurred to the two brothers, and with so much perti nacity, must have been acceptable to God. Men blessed it, and Israel chose it, there to erect the house of the Lord. Fortune Or and Down. —The Boston Ledger of a recent dale, publishes the fol lowing: In 17371 a youth, then residing in Marne, owned a jack-knife, which he, being of a somewhat trading and money making dispo sition, sold for a gallon of West India rum. This he retailed, and with the proceeds pur chased two gallons, and eventually a barrel, which was followed in due lime with a large stock. In a word, he got rich, and became Ihe’Squire of the district through the pos sess’on and sale of the jack-knife, and an in domitable trading industry. He died worth properly, in real estate and money, valued at 880,000. This was divided by testament, among four children—three boys and a girl. Luck, which seemed to have been the guard ian angel of the father, deserted Ihe children ; for every folly and extravagance they could engage in seemed to occupy their exclusive attention and cultivation. The daughter mar ried unfortunately, and her patrimony was soon thrown away by her spendthrift of a husband. The sons were no more fortunate ; and two of them died of dissipation and in almost poverty. The daughter also died. The last of the family, for many years past, has lived on the kindness of those who knew him in bis days of prosperity, as pride would not allow him to go to the poor farm. A few days ago he died suddenly and unattended, in a barn where he had lain himself down to lake a drunken sleep. On his pockets being exam ined, all lha! was found in them was a small piece of siring and a jack-knife / So the fortune that began with an implement of that kind, left but its simple duplicate. We leave the moral to be drawn, in whatever fashion it may suggest itself to the reader—simply stating that the story is a true one, and all the facts well known to many whom (his re lation will doubtless reach. Contentment. —As for a little more mon ey, and a iillle more lime, why ’listen to one if either would make you a whit happier.— If you had more lime it would be sure to hang heavily on your hands. It is the work ing man who is the happy man. Man was made to be active, and he is never so happy as when he is so. It is the idle man who is the miserable man. And, as for money, don't you remember the old saying, “Enough is as good as a feast!” Money never made a man happy yet, nor will it. There is noth ing in its nature to produce happiness. The more a man has, the more he wants. Instead of its Biting a vacuum, it makes one. If it satisfies one want, it doubles and trebles that one want another way. That was a true proverb of the wise man, rely upon it, “Bet ter is little, with the fear of the Lord, than great treasure and trouble Iberewilh,” Resigned to his Fate.—-“I shan’t be with you a great while, Jane,” said Mr. Meller, “I shan’t slay here a great while.” “O! Mr. MeJter, how can you talk sol” said Mrs. Melter, with a lugubrious express sion of face. V’flecause,” said he, “I feel as if I was most gone, and that I am just passing away, like a cloud before the morning sun.” Mr. Matter verefied hia prophecy the. next day by running away with atbuxom and sym pathizing feminine neighbor. The two Brothers. For the Agitator, Turkeyatical Reflections. BY A BENEDICT. ' Our Vrow has gone out with sundry cous ins on a visit, and we while comfortably toast ing our feet by the fire, have picked up a pa per to while away a few idle moments and perchance light on a stray item previously unread. It is an old number of the Agitator, end the first utricle that meets our eye is on turkeys—general and particular. It ia sug gestive. It brings back the olden lime when we, a liny lad of six years, had a diabolical monster in the form of a large Tom for a persecutor; an old, long-bearded, pompous bully who was the living nightmare of our daily walk to 1 school and back—-who missed no opportunny oi charging at our unprotected legs in the most malicious and savage manner —who seemed lo lay off around corners in “short boy” sty le, on purpose lo take us una wares—who darted at us, malevolently from behind stone fences and other unsuspected places, and who was a source of more real trouble and terror lo us lhan the school mas ter himself, it was all very well for big, long-legged boys and young men lo guffaw and shout, “go it Tom !” “go it duck legs!” Of course we went it ; but what was the use when Tom went it two (eet lo our one, and could whip us easy besides when he caught us. We were advised in general terms not lo be such a little coward, but to lake a stick and “go in”; which we did, and got worse whipped lhan ever; Tom getting us down in a tangled mass of pig weed at the first round, and utterly disregarding all rules of the ring, pounding us nearly to a jeily while down. We gave it up. He could both outrun and whip us, and our only chance for happiness seemed to us to be founded on the premature death of lhat baleful gobbler, or ultimately outgrowing and whipping him. We had ah aunt —a maiden lady of years and precision, w hose advice was supposed lo be most excellent on any matter not particu larly concerning hersell. We thought her Ihe wisest of women when she suggested that our old red comforter was probably the chief cause of offense, stating at the same lime lhat the male turkey always construed an article of bright scarlet as a personal insult. We stood informed, and the first lime we found ourselves under the necessity! of passing neighbor M’s we lucked the offeqding article under our jacket meekly, and attempted lo pass his lurkeyship in peace. It was no go. No sooner did he catch sight of our comical little legs, than, unable to abide us under any circumstances, he charged furiously, punish ing us luirly in a race of a hundred yards, and keeping the red comforter which we had dropped in Ihe fight, as a trophy. We did not even succeed in passing the house, having been headed off“by circumstances over which we had no control.” We recollect the sarcasms of that maiden aunt on “brave boys who got robbed and chased home by birds”; the smothered laugh ter of a full grown, full blown, black eyed female cousin, who was on a visit for a gene ral romping lime in the country ; the mili tary expedition which was filled out with my aunt as commander in chief and ourself as light infantry, which was instantly filled out at her suggestion to reclaim the lost comfort er, and our earnest prolesl of ihe inadequacy of said forces for any such purpose. We have a vivid recollection of the order of march ; of coming in sight of the enemy who was standing guard over the spoil, and who valiantly refu-ed lo be “shooed’’ off; of the laughter of the black eyed cousin who acted ns corps de reserve ; of our surprise at a decidedly retrograde movement on the part of the general ; of a plucky charge on the part of the enemy, partially ' repelled by a coal-scuttle bonnet in the hands of the com mander in chief; of a dastardly flight of the infantry who valorously look refuge in a large corn basket ; of our valiant general with a skinny ankle on each side the top rail of a slake and rider fence, hanging on to a stake with one hand, and desperately plying the coal-scuttle bonnet with the other In keep the enemy from scaling the works, which he seemed determined to do or “perish in ihe attempt”; of a relieving party from the house, headed by Mrs. M. with a splint broom; our chop fallen retreat homeward ; the un merciful laughter of the black eyed cousin, who refused to be considered as belonging to the military part of the expedition ; of the unmerciful box given us on the ear by the general for hinting something about old maids who lost their bonnets and. got “drove home by birds,’’ and the huge delight of the cousin thereat. .Are not all these things graven on the tablets of our memory, to be recalled from time to lime, when other and later matters of much more importance shall have been long forgotten. | While we are about the lurkev- we may as well finish him ; not only because his history rightly considered is instructive, but because, ethnologieally speaking, he was of much im portance to us and our affairs then and after ward. What made the misunderstanding between Tom and ourself more inexplicable to us then, was the fact, that to our friendship and assist, ance he owed bis life. Yes, Tom, to your shame be it said, when you were left hope lessly and helplessly behind, on a chilly, wet May morning, did wp not extricate thee from the tail, wet grass, led thither by thy feeble pipings! VVas it not owing to this and this only that thou wast made a pet of; led from the hands of thy .mistress; allowed the run of the house ; pampered .even as a, favorite child i And what thy base return 1-r* Even in thy first year didst .thou wax saucy, pitching battle with roysteriug roosters, put ting to flight garrulous gccre. driving from the pleasant fireside, with raised bapk;and ampli fied continuation, the meek and unoffending tabby who had for years held undisputed pos session of her corner, and, “mosf unkindesl cut of all,” pitching incontinently into us, thy best friend, and the protecior of thv worthless life!—us; a smallj duck-legged specimen of bipedal humanity,! with no big brothers to take our part; unablejfrom a con stitutional shortness of legs to avjold, and lacjt't ing the weight and muscle to repel thy dak tardly attacks! Ah! ThomaslJefferson, thy very democratic owner would call thee) it was not well. J ;i A Giootuv Bridal. —We Have heard of some dark scenes, but rtirely encountered anything so utterly deficient in; sunshine and whitewash as the following. It reads like a yard of crape : j j “Gloom was upon her countenance and upon his. The man whose holy'office it was to unite them in bonds never Uv bp lorn asun der, stood like at) executioner before the bride and the bridegroom, and they, thp pair wait ing to be blessed, bent down-their heads like criminals before him.-- I [ In vain might the eye wanddr round the assembly in search of sunshiny upon a single countenance; all was black add dreary, and assistants as well as attendants at the cere mony were alike shrouded in tine dark over shadowing pall of rayless gloomj Ah, joyful should ever be |the linking of young hearts together, and terrible must be the feelings of those around whom the shad ows of fate are gathering eveniaf the thresh old, which should hlaze in all the gorgeous coloring of hope and promise.! ! let the same sombre shddp, the same gloom of hue,; the depth of darkness was sealed upon evtry feature. Noj sudden blush ing o( the rose, no swift succeeding of the Idly, no fitful changes telling of youthful pas sion, and warm bright hope, were seen in the bride’s cheek ; but one unvarying shade of funeral gloom possessed the bjade, possessed the groom, possessed the preacher; in fact they were all possessed. ! I Reader, they were Timhuclooi darkies. A Fatal. Case.—Old Polly; Smilh was a terribly plain woman. She wotiltl have borne off the jack knife from all cqmfpetitors, and given them the odds of fifty in the race. She was endlessly complainipg of her ail ments of various kinds, was Mtjs. Snnith, to the no small annovance of such listeners as she claimed to hold, as did the ancient man ner the wedding guest, by the spell of her “glittering eye,” and no one -rwas more an noyed than old Dr. Bolus, a cynical old fel low of her? neighborhood. Meeting Mrs. Sriaith one 'morning, he venttitjed to salute her with the.ysual compiimenj of the morn ing, with the accus'omed “Howl d’e do Fatal mistake! “Why, doc)or, feel puny mizable, lhank’e. My old corn[daint is an noying me. There never was ,'a poor crea ture that suffered more than I jloi Pains and aches and aches and pains arj the time!”— “But,” interrupted the doctor, growing impa tient, “you don’t look very sick.” “No,” replied she, “t know I don’t, blit !F feel a gnod deal worse than [ look.” “Goolj heavens !” cried the doctor, throwing up Ins hands, “then you had belter mike haste |home, for you can’t live an hour !” Mrs. Stjaith had the good sense to know what he meant, artd nev er.made anv more complaints)hj him. The I. E Mania. —“VVej rjeally cannot comprehend,” says an exchangd, “why that respectable letter Y should be from the termination of Christian names, and the two letters I and E substituted.j It does not save lime, and it is positive i e, ps an ending is not a bit more refined or elegant looking, than a noble y, with its tail winding off into a graceful flourish.” VVe have "before us a catalogue of the young ladies t|f a “Female, College,” located less than a llhiousand miles dislrtni, and find the good old jYt knocked out At present i( is Bettie and Ppljie, SaMie and Mollie, Fannie and Maitie, Peggie and Paltie, Marie and li.ittir, Addie and Millie, Jennie and Nettie, and Josie and Hattie, and many others. But the grand finale plj this I E ver svs Y mania is that the other sex are adopt ing it—Substantial Billy Moodje having re cently effeminized himself into Billie Moodie, Esq.” . IJ A Sportsman, by touching his horse near the withers with his whip, laugh|t him to kneel immediately. When shooting 1 , and a dog came to the point, he made lhe| horse kneel, and persuaded those present that the horse was an excellent pointer. A gentleman hav. ing purchased was fording the river with him, when, having touched hia withers, he was true to the touch—ddwn he dropped into the stream, and soused bis new master in the water. The lailer, in a great passion, asked the former dwfner whit he meant by selling him a borsejiltal played him such a trick in the water ? ! ! “Oh !” said the other, you bought him as a pointer, and at the lime when he went on his knees he was poiniing a salmon.” Goins in on Shakes. —f'Bny where did you come from, and how do lydu live I” “Come from Pennsylvaoyf and lives by eating.’’ | “Would you like something [to do I" “Don’t care, if ’taint hard] work." “Well, boy, if you like, Ij sei you up in a business (hot will prove I both pleasant and profitable.” ' ! ’ ‘•‘Drive ahead, I’m a lissenea.” ‘‘Well, you go somewhere and steal a bas ket, and then go around begging for cold victuals, and may have'hilf yob get.” A t.a ball, i||« I oil a wins notice was potted on l.hp dpor.ppil; ; f - “Tickets T&fiy cent?. Npj arivmiea .admit ted un'e.-- he coimy h"H;£lil' > j Advertisements will be charged $1 per square of fourteen lines, for one, or three insertions, and 25 cents Cor e very subsequent insertion. All advertise* menu of less than fourteen lines considered as a square. The following rates will be charged fop Quarterly, Half-Yearly and Yearly advertising:— 3 months. 6 months. 12 mo’s Square*(l4Unes,) - $2 50 $4 50 $6 00 2Square?,. . . . 400 600 800 £ column, .... 1000 1500 20|00 column, igoo 30 00 40*00 All advertisements not having the number of iiu sertions marked upon them, will be kepi in until oi« dered out, and charged accordingly. Peters, Handbills, Bill,and Letter Heads,and all kinds of Jobbing done in country establishments, executed neatly and promptly. Justices’, Consta bles’and other BLANKS, constantly on hand and printed to order. i NO.! XXXI, The west!—where is the west ? Who ia there among your number who has fell the keen, piercing blast of forty winters, that can. not disiinctly remember when a journey over the Alleghenies gave to the young adventu.' rer almost ihe character of a discoverer?— Then the west rested hardly beyond the Blue Ridge, and stretched thence far, far away in. to the dim, dreary and searce-tredden forests of Ohio and the Bloody Ground. Explorers and hunters might have realized half a century ago the extent of our posses sions beyond the Father of Waters; but what simple minded husbandman or quiet ci tizen everthought that his cotemporarics were desperate enough to explore Ihe broad prairies of Missouri or to sweep in his birehen canoe down the great artery of our continent to the bayous and swamps of Louisiana. Occasion ally a solitary Indian agent, specially com missioned by government to traffic with the untutored savage„mighl have been seen wend ing his way beyond the border of civilization ; but farther than that, the masses were totally ignorant of our then unexplored domain.— The matter of territorial Extension and terri torial possession had not then become a ques tion of significance and interest. Then tfao bold and reckless hunter chased the panting deer Ijhrough the dense, dark woods where now d thousand church spires glitter in the sunshine. He had slept by night to the lul. laby of howling wolves where now are ns. sembled senates to deliberate on the affairs of stale. He hpd killed the huge buffalo where now the grave professor descants on the deep truths of science. He had seen the far, Tar west. But this was yesterday. Where is the west of to-day—or'what do we call the we-st ? _ Scarce twelve years since, when notional dignity became alarmed at the increasing and oft repealed encroachments upon nur soil, the then existing administration look measures to bring about a speedy settlement of the vexed question of national abuse and governmental right. The events of 1846 will” long be re membered by the citizens of this confederated Repnblic. The conquest of Mexico, and the treaty with Gteat Britain will not be soon for gotten. .The resullof that war will undoubt edly leach Mexican officials the absurdity of oriental Bombast and daring insolence, while we received a very handsome addition to our empire of the west —an addition which serves to increase our knowledge of-lerntorial or ganization and utsern boundary, as well as increased national wealth. If the spirit that smiled at the defence of Oregon, as a region of no importance to the present age, had been heeded by, I he statesmen of the hour—had the question of boundary continued open between us and England un til some wandering Anglo Saxon had seen the glittering sands of Sutter’s tail race, where then had been the west 1 ."-Inevitably Great Britain would have taken possession of the defenceless treasure, and foreclosed for years our highway, to the fnr-ofT Pacific. Other institutions would have been established in tho beautiful valley of the Wiltiamelte; another flag would still have; floated on the mountain breeze of Wallawalla ; and the area of free dom once effectually hemm-d in, the march of progress would have paused for centuries upon the neutral ground of prairie dogs and spiders, along the eastern margin of the rocky range.. Were it not for that war and that treaty, where would now probably have been out beautiful west ? The pioneers of freedom who braved the terrors of the cape, who rushed by thousands over the sickly isthmus, who crossed in regi ments the over-land route, marking! their course with graves, would never have been permitted to board the glittering gold to save their country from the ignoble alternative of bankruptcy, had it not been for the increased area of dominion. Again, the west! —he empire of tho west, is also an asylum of the pioneer of nations. The generous, quick-sighted son of Erin emi grates from his transatlantic home to migrate westward beyond the pale of civilization to found him a free home in a free country. — There follows in his train the serious, reflect ing Scotchman, ihe courteous, dignified En glishman, the brave, ingenuous Frenchman, and the thrifty, crafty German. These all make good citizens, close and frugal econo mists, and firm defenders of their adopted country : Vet, it is reserved for the shrewd, enterprising Yankee, and the dashing, spirited New Yorker o persevere in the laudable en terprise of sutbduing a vast range of forest land and prairie forl'the plow and sickle, founding institutions of learning, and conduct ing the affairs of State.. J. VV. In a jolly company, each one was to ask a question, if it was answered, the propo ser paid a forfeit ; or if he could-not answer it himself, he paid a forfeit. Palls question was : “How does the little ground squirrel dig his hole without showing any dtu about the entrance?” When,they all gave it up Pat said: “Sure, do 'vou see, be begins at the other end of the hole.” One of the rest osolaihfted : “But how did he get there!” . “Ah,” said Pat, “thai’s your question— can yoy answer it yourself?” Tbbee sis os or Poor.— -In ibis earthly world the poor are of three descriptions, viz : the Loyd’s poor, the devil’s poor, and the poor devils. A,s a general thing the Lord takes care of his poor, and the devil" takes owe of kis ; but the poor dtvlh faavo !o look oji I”r 'hnn-clv Rates of Advertising. @ommmucatio«ff. For The Agitate*. Tie Empire of the West.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers