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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.