Terms of Publication. THE TIOGA CODNTT AGITATOR is pah .ancd every Thursday Morning,and mailed torab acribers at the very reaepoabl? price of Ora .Dot u, per annum, aivance lt u intend ed to npUfy every subscriber when the term for which be has paid shall have expired, by the stamp _l-Time Onl,” on the margm of the last paper. The paper will then bd'stopped untile. farther re nounce be received. By this arrangement no man uTkp«nr»ht in debt to the printer. “2. Agitator is the Official Paper of the Coon . with a large and steadily increasing circulation reaching into nearly every neighborhood in the County- It is sent free of pottage to any Post office within t* l6 county limits, and to those living within the lia}its,bal whose most convenient postomee may •be {a an adjoining County. Business Cards, not exceeding 5 lines, paper in* eluded,<4 per year. For The Agitator. LIFE'S DISAPPOINTMENTS. 2T vies u. l. doud. I saw the sunbeam* fkllag bright Upon a glorious scene, And gashing rill and wooded Light Had caught (he silvery sheen: I sought that spot, so wondrous fair, • The light was gone, the shades were there. I loved a flower, a gentle flower, It blossomed by my side; X breathed its fragrance hoar by hour And watched its growth with pride I sought to cull that flowret sweet — It drooped and withered at my feet. There came a hope, a golden hope. To cheer me, day by day; It bide the clouds for sunshine ope, It chased life's gloom away: I sought to take it to my breast— It paled, it vanished like the rest “O, eueb is life I” each blissful dream The sool would live upon, Beams on us like a meteor glace, Which dazzles and is gone; And earth grows dark, as disappear The lights which cheered our pathway here. But, as the sunshine fades away, And shadows fall at even, We note the lights, unseen by day, lo the blue vault of heaven : So, to our weary, tear-diouned eyes, Beam out the lights of Paradise.' Greencattle, lowa . A Tale of the Tenth Legion of Virginia. BV ITEM. CON. Not many years ago, I was a law student in H , Virginia, where a circumstance once occurred ifhich not only gave me a total distaste for my profession, but was ulti mately the cause of my leaving it forever. It pave me a horror for it, utterly over whelming. It was August Court. The hot Summer sun struck- vertically downward upon the roof of the building, so that neither respect for judge or jury prevented the general strip ping off of coats. 1> was an intensely interesting case then on trial. A murder too revolting in its par ticulars to even appear in print, had been committed a few months before. A poor widow lady was found one night with her throat cut open from ear to ear; and a sus picion which had before strongly pointed towards the prisoner at the bar, was nbw fully proved upon him—the fact that the did lady had several important deeds in her pos session, the acquisition of which would have .been to the pecuniary advantage of the pris oner ; the finding of these papers in his room, and further, the fact that a quantity of silver coin, much of it very old Spanish pieces, was found on his person, were considered strong corroborating proof. In fact, the pris oner was already a convicted man, long ere his counsel attempted any defence. The jury appeared so- thoroughly unanimously against him, that they were little disposed to hear another speech upon the subject; while the judge also, io a sleepy mood, was only wide awake enough to cogitate io his mind the best form for sentencing the desperate criminal before him. This last individual was, outwardly, at least, the most unconcerned person present. Most of the time his head was rested on the railing before him ; or at other times his face would be buried ip hie hands, to shield him self from the gaze of the curious and imper tinent multitude around him. His head ever hung' down, and told of a spirit once, per chance, brave and bold, but now broken and crushed. The Commonwealth had not neglected to follow the usual track upon this occasion, and in this crushed spirit had seen the marks of conscious guilt. It would have been the same had ha been innocent; for the position itself,, and th'e disgrace attendant upon it, were indeed causes for the manliest and the purest heart to shrink. The prisoner’s counsel, George Green, was little known. He was a morose, taciturn man, never mingling in company—with a pale face and acold grey eye, which at times was lit up with demoniacal fires. He con fined himself closely to his apartments, and when he did make his appearance, his forbid ding aspect made him an .avoided man. Many were the stories, dire and dread, circulated about this “strange lawyer;”' as he was called; hut they gave him little un easiness ; and in fact, the fear and aversion that existed towards him appeared to be all “jet was calculated to give him pleasure, .a* he noticed it, was sufficiently plain, .since, when the little groups of children whom Be met, saw him, they would run crouching a each other, and then he would turn upon etn a cold glance, and perhaps« smile of ege and horrid vacancy. inT* 1 ' 8 * as ,be rBt case he hard attempted its Jf Ue ’. an( * , * le ket added not e little to 1,8 attractions. I -^ e T J arne ' nl ° Court with the bosom cJT'hjs .font* hrowu open, displaying a rough and and V d was seen to heave up si . “ own i wrh the storm of emotions oon wi'hio. He-was •accompanied by a y® l powerful blood-hound, as repulsive dnm' 8 m,s,er ‘ These two beings were eel “°w seen apart. unto* 161 ? a, *°wed the witnesses lo,go away prise^"’ 6 '*! 1,111 *® ct caused little aur wiituhe*'* ' l wa * to be in character t]m-rSt,le ] m - r St,Ie WM ar « ued ' Wl| h *P B cla( or , * nd r ’’ roe J ; J U( iK e . jury mud of iho * lf npre»«ed wiHi Uvs-enormity the def o^* 00 ?’ pn it came the turnof calls DOt Bnawer until several n B ". ODly by , a loC| k—reminding doTw B,BTe of a h ™g- His before lying at his feet, erected himself THE AGITATOR. to tfte JSrtcuoiou of tbe of iFmbom anb tfce Spceab of SeaXtbg ilefotm. WHILE THEBE SHALL BE, A WEONO UNEIOHTED, AND UNTIL “tutl’s INHUMANITY TO MAN 1 ’ SHALL OBASB, AGITATION HOST CONTINUE. VOL. IV. and -kept (hat posilion. It was full five min utes or more that Green stood thus gazing and mole, when, in a voice that was 100 sweet and musical for its source, he com menced bis speech. It was at fiist no argu ment, but a plea, a prayer for mercy. Low and plainfully be plead—sadly, and oh ! how sadly he implored that a living being might not be destroyed, (I marked the word) and ■ben, as he closed the last sentence, bis voice changed into a trembling wail, like the cry of a child for nourishment, without any dis tinct articulation, and the dog by bis side, from his blood red mouth, sent forth with him a howl as of pain and anguish. The scene itself was eloquence, unmeaning and indescribable. It called forth more than one tear. Splendid tragic acting even' has this effect, and such may have been the reason now, but I thought there was something there hidden from mortal gaze, somelbiog spiritual at work—appreciated, yet unseen, and the advocate seemed himself to be a fallen angel, pleading that a human being might be saved the torments that he knew, and even then felt. Almighty God I what a scene it was. No inattention then from jury and judge. Each man leaned himself forward to get a nearer view, whilst the more timid, with pall'd face peered into that of his neighbor, as if to find him a friend in the crisis that all fell was approaching. Suddenly the scene changed—the voice of the speaker no longer timid and tremulous, now burst out in all the splendor of conscious superiority—his lip curled with scorn on the mortality be saw before him, and his body swayed to and fro worked with passion—l trust I may never witness such a scene again. His words were grand, yet those of insanity, and his imagery splendid ; but that imagery spoke of a spirit land trod by no other foot, and the imagination was lost in its own con ceptions. He spoke of things earthly and unearthly—of demon, ghost and the place of departed spirits. It was evident that he be lieved not in a heavenly real, and used again the word destroyed, in proof of his belief. He would at times talk of fires burning deep in the centre of the earth, and then diverging again, suddenly, yet as brilliantly as the meteor’s flight, he would without any appa rent jar to the thread of his sentence, speak of triangles, algebra, the solar system and a planetary world—he sawed the air with his description of the steam engine and the elec tric power, while when he would again soar upwards into the elherial realms, his hands would cover his eves as if to shut out the glory of his unknown God above him.— Wilder and yet wilder grew his words and his questions—his dog oftimes joining in with his howl of agony, when suddenly once more a “change came o’er the spirit of the dream.” His pale face became as red as blood itself—his eyes rolled wildly and like a log he fell on the floor with the foaming saliva gurgling from his tightly clenched lips. It was sometime ere we found power to act, but at last we were grouped around him. I was a sort of quasi medical man there, druggists in such places frequently practising as regular physicians. I thought at once of poison and sent a man for a stomach pump, whilst I bled him freely. I then rose for the purpose of making a ligature of my neck handkerchief, to bind up his arm, leaving an attendant with his thumb lightly pressed upon it to prevent further loss of blood. It was well for me that I did so, for with a spas, mndic movement he threw himself upon this man, making his teeth meet in his band, the bystanders narrowly escaping the same fate, and the foam from his mouth flying in all directions. At last death with tardy steps put an end to this painful scene. The convulsions grad ually subs ded and finally ceased altogether, and George Green laid a corpse on the Court House floor. But one more word and lam done. The man who held his arm was a blacksmith named Joseph Winters; for some years afterwards he followed his avocation as usual, but the stranger who visits the little grave yard of H is struck by a stone with a singular inscription ; it runs thus— “ Sacred to the memory of Joseph Win ters, dged 45—a native of Culpeper County, Virginia. —He died of Hydrophobia! An Outrage on Women.—Reade, the English novelist, says,: “Nothing is so hard to women as a long, steady struggle. In matters physical, this is the thing the mus cles of the fair cannot stand. In matters in tellectual and moral, the long strain it is that beats them dead. Do not look fot a Bacona, a Newtona, a Handella, a Victoria Huga.— American ladies tell us education has stopped the growth of these. No, mesdames. These are not in nature. They can bubble letters in ten minutes that you could no more deliver to order in ten days than a river can play like a fountain. They can sparkle gems of stories; they can flash like diamonds of poems. The entire se* has never produced one opera nor one epic that mankind could tolerate a minute; and why I—these come by long, high-strung labor. But weak as they are in the long run in everything but the affections, (and there they are giants,) they are all overpowering while their gallop lasts. Fragella shall dance any two of you flat on the floor before four o’clock, and then dance on till the peepof day. You trundle off to your business as usual, and could dance • again the next night, and so on through ail time. She who danced you into nothing, is in bed, a human jelly crowned with head ache.” Col. Henry -S.Lane, of Indiana,‘made a speech to the Republicans, up e< St. Joseph, the other day, in which he said, “that the Buchanan men had abandoned the Cincin nati Platform to-stand upon the Cincinnati Directory” WELLSBORO, TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING, APRIL 1, 1858. Visit to Valley Forge. About sixteen miles up the Schuylkill from Philadelphia, a stream leaves the rich and beautiful -Valley of Chester, and winds its way through a deep ravine between two mountains and empties its clear water into the river. The mountains are filled with iron ore, and as the stream afforded water power, the old inhabitants of the colony erected at its mouth a mill and forge, and around them a few houses, and the place was known as the “Valley Forge." It was after the disastrous result of the battles of Brandywine and Germantown, in which the Americans lost 2000 soldiers, whom in their already reduced state they could so poorly spare, that Washington was forced to give up Philadelphia lo the enemy, lead his drooping and discouraged army to this secluded spot, which the sufferings of that little band, while it lay and shivered there during the memorable winter of ’76, has made immortal. We approached the old encampment by a road leading down a narrow defile which forms the bed of the stream and ascended to the summit where the array, by a rugged pathway which is still to be traced among the rocks and were shown by our guide, as we passed the different spots, where the can non had been planted to guard the entrance. When we reached the summit we found it partially covered with trees and underwood, yet eighty years had not been able to destroy the efforts that feeble band had put forth for self-protection. There was still to be seen a ditch and embankment, which at present is about three feet high, extending more than two miles around the top of the mountain. At the more open and unprotected points are still to be seen five different forts, of dif ferent forms, more or less perfect. They were probably built principally of logs, but they have long since decayed, and their Ibrms at present are to be traced only by piles of dirt which had been thrown up to strengthen them. The roost perfect one at present is still about ten feet high, and probably about one hundred feet square, with a dividing ridge running diagonally from one corner to 'he other, forming two apartments of equal size, with but one narrow entrance. It all remains quite perfect, and the walls or banks are covered with trees. The tents of the soldiers were made of poles, which seem to have been twelve or fifteen feel long, built in the form of a pen, with dirt thrown up on the outside to keep out the storm. Their re mains are slil to be seen situated in little groups here and there over the enclosure. While down near the old Forge we were shown an old stone bouse, about 20 by 30 feet, which served as head-quarters, in which Washington lived surrounded by bis staff during the winter. We entered the venerable building with feelings of the deepest emotion, and exam ined the room which served the illustrious chief as bed-chamber and audience chamber. It is very plain, and the furniture much as he had left it. A small rough box in a deep window still, was pointed out as having con tained his papers and writing material. The house is occupied by a family who take pleas ure in showing to visitors the different items of interest. The old cedar shiqgled roof which protected the “Father of our country” eighty years ago, had still sheltered the old headquarters until a year or two ago, when it was removed, and its place occupied by tin. The graves of the soldiers are still to be seen in distinct clusters over the ground, but are most numerous in the northwest division, where the regiments from the South were quartered, death having rioted most fearfully among them, they being less able to endure the severities of a northern winter. It was during their encampment here that the tracks of the soldiers could be traced by their blood, as they gathered wood to warm their miserable huts. And it is here that Washington is said to have shed tears like a father, while beholding their sufferings, while they gather round him and,plead (or bread and clothing, and he had not the means to furnish them. Yet although everything seemed so discouraging, it was near here that the “Friends” went home sur prised, and exclaiming, “the'Americans will conquer yet! The Americans will conquer yet, for I heard a whisper in the woods, and I looked and saw their chief upon his knees, and he was asking God to help them.” It may be great to lead a powerful army on to victory, but surely it was greater to preserve the shattered remnants of a discour aged band together, when the enemy was trampling over them, when their Congress could do nothing for them, when starving families at home were weeping for their re turn, and when there seemed no prospect* before them but miserable defeat. Numerous graves have recently been opened, and the bodies of many of the offi cers have been removed by their friends to biher burying-grounds in their native Stales. But the poor and obscure soldiers who still remain, have monuments more beautiful than art can form erected over them, lor nature has planted hundreds of cedars as a silent tribute to their memory, which have been watered by the pure and generous tears of night, and they are now fornping living wreaths of evergreens above their graves.— Ohio State Journal. A Wipe’s Repartee. —“My dear PollyV I am surprised at your taste in wearing an other woman’s hair on your head,” said Mr. Smith to his wife. ' “My dear Joe, I am equally astonished that you persist in wearing oa other sheep’s wool on your-back. Poor Smith sneaked. A Startling Confession. The Philadelphia Press give* the following among its “Police Items Mordecai Paine, a saddler doing business in South Ninth street, was called home from his work shop on Saturday morning, by a messenger who brought the melancholy in telligence that his wife, Barbara, had taken arsenic for the purpose of committing suicide, and was then at the point of death. He hastened lo her bedside, and found her in more agony of mind than of body. She de clared that there was something on her mind which she wished to confess before her de parture, with the hope of obtaining his for giveness. Mr. P,, with great emotion desir ed her to go on with the disclosure, adding that she might assure herself of his forgive ness before she had made known her offence. “Ah, Mordecai,” said she, “you remember our large white pitcher was broken some time ago; I pretended to. you that the cat broke it, but that was false, for 1 my sol I did it.” “Oh, my dear,” said Mr. Paine, “don’t concern yourself about such a trifle. I had forgotten the pitcher, and it matters not bow it was broken.” I j “There is another maWer,’’ said Mrs. P. after some hesitation. “The silver spoons which I made you believe were stolen by the Yankee clock mender; ! pawned them to raise money to pay the milliner for doing up my pink satin bonnet.” “Never mind it my love,” said Mr. Paine, encouragingly. “I hope heaven will forgive you as freely as I do.” After a short pause, Mrs. Paine began again : “Your best razor, which you missed last summer, and made so much ado about, I tra ded it away to a pedlar for a tortoise shell comb.” “The deuce I—well, well,” said Mr. P. re collecting himself, “that is all done now, and can’t be amended. Think no more of it.” “1 could not leave the world with such a thing on my conscience,” replied the fair pen itent. “Go on.” cried Mr. Paine, “I told you that I could forgive everything at such a time as this.” Mrs. Paine resumed : “You remember our boarder Simon Drake, who ran up a bill for six weeks, and then ran off in a hurry without paying a cent. He and I agreed to elope togeiher; but he changed his mind at the last roomenr and ran away without me. “Fire and fury ! do you dare to tell me this, cried Mordecai in great excitement.— “But, as you are dying, I won’t reproach you. I'll leave you now to settle the affair with your own conscience." “Slay and hear one thing more," cried the repentant Barbara. “The dose I took this morning was intended for you. I put it into your cup of cofiee, but in my hurry to get the thing done, I gave you the wrong cup and took the riuht one myself.” “The devil fly away with you, you jade !” roared Mordecai, as he flung himself out o( the room. In the entry he met the apothe cary who sold Mrs. Paine the fatal powder. This medical man had heard of the commo tion at Paine’s house, and suspecting the cause of it, he came to administer hope and comfort to the afflicted. “Don’t be alarmed, Mr. Paine,” said he, “the drug I sold to your wife was nothing but magnesia. I judged that she wished to destroy herself, and 1 tricked her in this way to save her life.” “You swindling rascal," shouted Paine, “how dare you cheat a customer in that shameful manner and obtain her money on false pretences ? Begone 1” And with this exclamation he violently ejected the astonished apothecary from his front door. The man of physic, suspecting, of course that poor Mordecai was deranged, sent two officers to provide for his safe keep ing. His relation of the preceeding dialogue, however, soon obtained his discharge. Diamond cot Diamond. —The son of a wealthy Jew banker in London became much attached to a young Christian, with whom his father opposed his union. When the sun found that he could not be induced to give his consent to the match, he concluded to marry without it. The father (hen threatened to withhold every shilling from him, whereupon the son replied that if the father did not in tend to give him anything, he would become a Christian, and according to the law hs would be entitled to one-half of his father’s fortune. The father, much alarmed, flew to his lawyer, to inquire whether such a law re ally was in existence. The lawyer’s answer was in the affirmative, but adding that 1 if he would hand him over ten guineas, he would give him a plan by which he could frustrate his son’s plans. The ten guineas were quick ly produced. “Now,” said the lawyer, qui etly pocketing the money, “all that remains for you to do is to become a Christian also, and the law will not oblige you |o leave your son a cent of your money,” The Jew hur riedly seized his hat, and left the lawyer without any further, remark. Read I Read! Delinquents! Fearand trem ble! Read fate, which you can only escape by “paying up !’’ “Tell me, angelic hosts. Ye messengers of lore, ’Shalt-sotTering printers tiers below Have no redress above !” ~ The sogel bands replied— ~~ “To ns is knowledge given— on the printer's books Can never enter heaven !" People of mean capacities always .despise and ridicule mote what is above the reach of their awn intellect, than that is below their standard. Communication)*, for the Agitator. The Hand. BY MISS E. 600DSPEED. The hand, as well as ihe head and heart, is a distinguishing characteristic of our race. It is a gift bestowed only upon man—to be guided in its labors by his immortal mind.— Let us view it as we may, it possesses a beau ty little less than that of the countenance, whether in its physical organization, with its numerous nerves, fibres, and delicate veins ; or merely its outward appearance, as in the little dimpleti hand or the child, reaching eagerly forth to pluck even] the stars like flowers in its tiny grasp; .or, when its work is done, and it is folded calmly and lovingly, for the last lime over the pulseless heart that has ceased to guide it in its labors. But the hand is not only endowed with beauty; it is the symbol and instrument of power. Ever since our first mother reached forth her hand to pluck the forbidden fruit j in the garden of Eden, it has wielded the destinies of men.— Good and evil, joy and sorrow, it has scat tered broadcast through thelwiirld from gene ration to generation, and age io age. By the sword it has plunged nations in mourning; while with the pen’s magic power it has moved the hearts of millions >o high and lofty deeds of love and rnercy. Although the mind is the great source <qf our strength, yet however well that mayi Have been disci plined, or whatever warm and genetous im pulses may have animated the heart, both must have failed in accomplishing their great and noble purposes, unaided' by their most powerful agent —the hand. I |‘ It has toiled on since ticne began, unhon ored save by the noble monuments it has erected by its own energyi land skill. It is the hand that has made ouil world what it is, by changing the dark and dqsolate places of the earth into bright, tunny* lands abounding in luscious fruits, and fields of. golden grain. Where once dark, towering forests stood, de fying the power of the whirlwind and the tempest, there it has planted Smiling villages, and thriving cities, where millions of human beings live, enjoy and sufferil It is the hand that has constructed our railroads, telegraphs, and steamships, which unite; the great hearts of nations in one common bond of union.— Nor are its labors confined l<i' the earth’s sur face alone ; but it brings forth shining pearls from the depths of ' the oceanu; and to its strength and skill, our fair earth yields up to us her rich treasures. ij! Yet the hand is employed not only in beau tifying and perfecting the Works of nature; but in distributing everywhere the rich bless ings of a Father’s love. skill ful hand of a Whitney, lifted! a heavy burden of labor and toil from weary ones already bowed beneath poverty’s crushing power, and wrapped the garments ofi jcomlbrl around millions of earth’s suffering Children. The hand of benevolence land charily re lieves the poor and needyj and diffuses the sunshine of peace and plenty over hearts long overshadowed with warli and wretched ness. It kindly cares for ihqisfck and afflict ed ; and when it can no more, it gently smooths the dying pillow,; and quietly lays the departed in their last resting place. There is a language in the hand, that speaks forth the living | sentiments and 'emotions of the soul. It expresses’nur hopes and fears, our joys and sorrows, and is matjfe the instrument of supplication and of Oh, how lov ingly the mother’s hand restjion the head of her child as she leaches it tqjraise its soul in prayer to the great author pfljits being. And how confidingly the bride gi.ves her hand, as the pledge of affection devqted and true. — When other means fail it is Ihe hand that signs treaties, settles difficulties, and confers peace upon nations. I j When we reflect upon many and ad mirable purposes to which ; the band is made subservient by the author jof our being.— -Shall ours remain idle, whilq-we areenjoying the rich fruits of other’s toil;? Rather, sliail we not resolve to “do whatever our hands find to do withmur might” far groat and ard uous duties are awaiting us ;in the dim, un certain future. However well the mind and heart may be diciplined they still need the willing hand to carry out their great purposes. ■ ;L ' i • For tho Acitfttor. Union is Strength. Man, in his various relations, is sodepend ent upon his brother man that, without hearty co-operaiion in design, he |is almost power less. Man, too, is dependent upon his fellow for every earthly enjoyment! After his fall God passed sentence upon, him that’ ‘ in the sweat of his browi he should earn his bread forever,’’ Obedlepce to thisjgreat command has proved beeeficial to the race. It has shown men their dependence one upon the other and united them in eajrneil endeavors for the common good. ] Take, for history of our Pu ritan Fathers, persecuted for conscience’ sake. You will see how their weakness and fears held them together and strengthened them for -future struggles. > Trace their history from the commencement of their|ezils, and every step bears witness of the power of united pur pose. I j Friends of Humanity I lei us unite in the cause of Temperance, us encourage andTorward the resurrection of the institu tions of Temperance. . We cordially invite every one to meet without! regard to past dif ferences, and to give us the; true convictions of their hearts. True, we have labored long and well and seemingly ip!little effect; but there seems to be no betier way than to unite under the banner of the Sons and Daughters of Temperance. I believe it lobe our duty to frest those op- Bates of AdvertH Advertisements will be charged t fourteen lines, for one, or three in* -«», and 25 cent* lor every subsequent insertion. AU advertlee menU of less than fourteen lines considered a* a squat e. The following rates will be charged Sir Quarterly, Half-Yearly and yearly advertising >— ’ 1 3 months. 6 months. IS too’* Square, (14 lines,) - $2 50 $4 50 $8 00 SSqoares,. . . . 400 600 800 i column, - - . . 10 00 15 00 90 00 column, > - ■ . .18 00 30 00 40 00 All advertisements not having the number of in* aertions marked upon them, will be kept in until or dered 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 bles’ and other BLANKS,constantiy on hand and printed to order. no. ray. posed lo us as brothers, and to iavile them to to assemble with us and freely to slate their views of this all-important reform. Nehon, March 19,1858. M. B. The Koran. —The Koran was written about A. D. 610. Its general aim was to unite the professors of Idolatry and the Jews and Christians, in the worship of one God— whose uni'y was the chief point inculcated— under certain laws and ceremonies, exacting, obedience to Mahomet, as the prophet. It was certainly wriuen in the Koreisb Arabic, and the language, which certainly possessed every fine quality, was said to be that of Paradise. Mahomet asserted that the Koran was revealed to him during the period of 23 years, by the Angel Gabriel. The style of the volume is beautiful, fluent and concise; and where the majesty and attributes of God are described, it is sublime aod .magnificent. Mahomet admitted the divine mission both of Moses and of Jesus Christ. According to Gibbon, the leading article of faith which Mahomet preached is compounded of an eter nal truth and a necessary fiction, namely, that there is only one G<>d, and that Mahom et is the apostle of God. The Koran was translated into Latin in 1149, and into Bng. lish and other European languages about 17- 63. It is a rhapsody of 3,000 verses, divi ded inlOj 114 sections. A Nice Point of Law.—We heard this, anecdote from a gentleman long resident in Philadelphia. Two Quakers in that place applied to their society, as they do not go to law, to decide in the following difficulty A is uneasv about a ship that ought to have arrived, meets B, an insurer. The matter is agreed upon. A returns home and receives a letter informing him of the loss of the abip. What shall he do? He is afraid the policy is not filled up, and should B. hear of the matter soon, it is all up with him ; he there fore writes to B. thus: “Friend 8., if thee hasn’t filled up the policy, thee needn’t for ■Tee heard of the ship.'' “Oh !” thinks B. to himself, “cunning fellow ; be wants to do me out of the premium.’’ ’So he writes thus to,A: “Friend A., thee be’est too late by half an hour, the policy is filled.” A. rubs his hands with delight, but B. when he bears the whole story refuses to pay. Well, what is the decision ? The loss is divided between them.— Blackwood?* Magazine. Queer People in Wisconsin. —Among the citizens of Wisconsin there are the Wau punslers, the Sheboyganders and the Mazo maniac.—Argus if Democrat. The Mineral Pointers, the Many-to-walkers and the Janesvillians, are also Wisconsioners. Barahoo Rep. To (he above we would add the Barraboo* bies, the Fond du Lackeys, the Green Bay. bies, the Beloiters, the Wausauoeys.— consm. We shall have to add the Juneanses and the Polgevillians. —Madison Journal. - And there are the Ripohians, the Beaver Dummers, the Cerescoves, the West Benders, the Kenosbavers, the Delhives, the Colum busters and ihe Shullsburglars.— Argus. Straightening the Back. —lt is a cus tom in Berwickshire, England, among wo* men workers in the fielo, when their backs become much tired by bowing low down while singling turnips with short shanked hoes, to lie down upon their faces to the ground, allowing others to step across the lower part of their backs, on Ihe lumbar re gion, with one foot, several limes, until all pain of fatigue is removed. Burton in hisr “First Footsteps in East Africa,” narrates a very similar custom in females who lead the camels, on feeling fatigued, who "lie at full length, prone, stand upon each other’s backs, trampling and kneading with their toes, and rise like giants refreshed.” Caught Napping.—A fellow with a ticket for a station just east of Syracuse, was aroused from his slumbers by the conductor of the night passenger train, after starting east from Utica. The fellow, perfectly as tonished and only partly awake, exclaimed— “ The deuce I I aim the man you want —l got offal Chitlenango!" The roar of laugh ter which followed this announcement fully' aroused him. P‘s and P’s.—A western paper, by a small typographical error, has metamorphosed a Court of Common Pleas into a “Court of Common Fleas.” It is supposed that the principal pan of the suits in such a Court would be cases of back-biting. Young men who would prosper in love should woo gently. It is not fashionable for ladies to take ardent spirits. We find in an exchange a poem called the “Song of the Farmer's Boy,” beginning “Ho, brothers, ho !” Nothing could be more ap> propriate if the farmer sticks to his vocation, but there be farmer boys we wot of who go to the city, whose song after a little while might read, “Rake, brothers, rakel” and be very appropriate. An exchange says : “There is nothing like nature as developed in feminines, for no soon er does a female juvenile begin to walk and notice things, than it takes after its mother and wants a baby. It is almost incredible how much maternal feeling is wasted on rag babies. “Now, George, you must divide the cake honorably with your brother Charles,"— “What is “honorably,” mother?” “It means that you must give. him the largest piece.”— “Then, mother, I’d rather that Charley should divide it." says if his landlady “knew heaps,” she would not buy the article called “burnt and ground coffee.”
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers