Terms of Publication*
TFIE TIOGA COUNTY AGITATOR is pub
«ned every Thursday Morning, and mailed to sub
acribers at the very reasonable price of On* Dot
tla oer annum, invariants inadtmMt. It i. intend
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The paper willlhen be stopped untila further re
millance be received. By th.e.rrangement no man
V. Kmilirht in debt to the printer.
Cl Tne Aomroa is the Official Paper of the Coon
wil h a large and steadily mcreasmg circulation
reaching into nearly every neighborhood in the
rv.mtv g It is sent/ree «/ posing* to any Post-office
the county limits, and to those living within
the limits, bat whose mostconvenientpostoffice may
b/inan adjoining County.
Business Cards, not exceeding 5 lines, paper in
eluded, g 4 per year.
[From Life lllnrtroted.]
THE COTTAGE ON' THE BILL.
I'm sitting in my room to-night,
A thousand miles away
From that dear home 1 have not seen
For many, many a day.
The city’s din and huelle tall
Unheeded on ray ear,
For other sounds of other years
My memory can' hear —
The watei fall, ihe song of birds,
The wind that whistled shrill
Among the trees that waved above
The cottage on the hill.
In that sweet spot it was my lot
Full manv a joy to know.
And there upon my spirit fell
Its heavy, life-long woe.
The soft, bright locks I loved to kisa
And rest my cheek upon,
Are lying low beneath the dust,
Their light and beauty gone.
The busy hands are folded now,
The active brain is still,
And all that’s mortal rests beside-
The cottage on the hill.
So, friends, when I am failing fast.
Oil, Lake me there once more.
And let me stand, as orce 1 stood,
Reside that cottage door.
Let me but breathe my native air,
My old acquaintance greet,
’Twill make the last days of uay life
Unutterably sweet.
And as the pulses of my heart
Beat'slow and slower still,
More dear will grow that grave beside
The cottage on the hill. VtaotNU:
A French Will Story.
“Is she dead; then I"
“Yes, madam,” replied a little gentleman
in brown coal and shortjrreeches.
“And her will 3”
“Is going to be opened here immediately
by her solicitor.”
"Shall we inherit anything 3”
“It must be supposed so; we have claims 3”
“Who is that miserably dressed personage
who intrudes herself here 3”
“Oh, she,” said the linle man, sneering—
“she won't have much in the will; she is
sister to the deceased.”
“What, that Anne, who wedded in 1812 a
man of nothing—an officer?"
“Precisely so.”
“She must have no small amount of impu
dence to present herself here, before a re
spec'able family.”
“The more so, as Sister Egerie, of noble
birth, had never forgiven her that mesalli
ance
Anne moved at this time across the room
in which the family of the deceased were as
sembled. She was pale, her fine eyes were
filled with tears, and face was furrowed by
care with precious wrinkles.
“What do you come here for?” said, with
great haughtiness, Madame de Villeboys,
the lady who, in a moment before, had been
interrogating the little man who inherited
with her.
“Madam,” the poor lady replied, with
humility, “f do not come here to claim a
part of what does not belong to me; I come
solely to see M. Dubois, my poor sister’s so
licitor, to inquire if she spoke of me in her
last hours.”
“What! do you think people busy them
selves about you?"’ arrogantly observed
Madame de Viilehoys; “the disgrace of a
great house—you who wedded a man of
nothing, a soldier of Bonaparte’s I”
' “Madame, my husband, although a child
£)f the people, was a bravd soldier, and, what
ils belter, aivhonest man,” observed Anne.
1 At this moment a venerable personage, the
notary Dubois, made his appearance.
“Cease,” he said, “to reproach Anne
with a union which her sister has forgiven
her. Anne loved a. generous, brave, and
good man, who had no other crime to re
proach himself with than his poverty and the
obscurity of his name. Nevertheless, had he
lived, if his family had known him as 1 knew
him, I, his old friend, Anne would be at this
time happy and respected.”
“But why is this woman here?”
“Because it is her place to be here,” said
the notary, gravely ; I myself requested her
to attend here.” “v
M. Dubois then proceeded to open the
I, being of sound mind and heart, Egerie
de Damenmg, retired as a boarder in the
convent of ihe Sisters of the Sacred Heart
0 esus > dictate the following wishes as the
expression of my formal desire and principal
clause of m y testament.
After my decease there will be found two
undred thousand francs in money at my
colarj s, besides jewelry, clothes, and form
ate, as also a chateau worth two hundred
thousand francs.
In the convent where I have been resi
-1 mg there will only be found my book,
I j ' ures la Vierge,” holy volume, which
I the 88was vy l len tcrok it with me at
I I * le e ">ig r -H'on. I desire that the
I ut| ■i ecis b e divided into three lots.
le f ' ,sl lot, the two hundred thousand
„£ money.
L n j • 6 sec ond lot, the chateau, furniture
SDd jewels.
Vierge ” lot ’ my ' “Heurea de la
»h/fc la i| re P ardon ed my sister Anne the grief
comr S ” 6 cause d to us, apd 1 would have
SOo orte !? her in her sorrows if 1 had known
, er of her return to France. I comprise
my win. #
Muiin a . me <ie Vil| eb<>iVS. m y much beloved
"M'^ ave l^e “ rst choice,
the.' • my brother-in-law, shall have
««second choice.
Anns will take the remaining lot.”
»a, a h p “ h ! ” said Vatrey, “Sister Egerje
Pari T’ °** one ' l^at " w tal b« clever on her
Anno will only have the prayer-book!’’
I
THE AGITATOR.
33f*ot*ir to tyt Jgjrteitatoit of ttje of iFm&om awtr t&e Spread of f&ealt&g a&tform.
WHILE THEBE SHALL BE A WRONG UNSIGHTED, AND UNTILMAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN” SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE.
YOL. IV.
exclaimed Madame de Villeboys, laughing
alpud. The notary interrupted her jocular
ity.
“Madame,” he said, “which lot do you
choose?”
“The (wo hundred thousand francs in
money.”
“Have you quite made up your mind ?"
“Perfectly so."
i Tho man of law, addressing himself then
j the good feeling of the lady, said, “Ma
ame, you are rich, and. Anne has nothing.
Could you not leave her this lot, and take
the book of prayers which the eccentricity of
the deceased has placed on a par with the
other lots.”
“You must be joking, M. Dubois,” ex
claimed Madame de Villeboys must
really be very dull not to seethe' intention of
Sister Egerie in all this. Our honored cousin
foresaw full well that her book of prayer
would fall to the lot of Anne, who had the
last choice.” ■-
“And what do you conclude from that 3”
inquired the notary.
“I conclude that she meant to intimate to
her sister that repentance and prayer were
the only help that she had to expect in this
world,”
As she finished these words Madame de
Villeboys made a definite selection of the
ready money for her share. Monsieur Va
trey, as may be easily imagined, selected
(he chateau, furniture and jewels, as'his
lot.
“Monsieur Vatrey,” said M. Dubois to
that gentleman, “even suppose it had been
(he intention of the deceased to punish her
sister, it would be noble on your part, mil
lionaire as you are, to give up at least a por
tion of your share to Anne, who wants it so
much.”
‘l’Thanks for your kind advice, dear sir,”
replied Vatrey ; “the mansion is situated on
the'very confines of my woods, and suits me
admirably, all the more so that it is ready
furnished. As to the jewels of Sister Egerie,
(hey are reminiscences which one ought
never to part with.”
“Since it is so,” said the notary, “my poor
Madame Anne, hero is the prayer-book that
remains to you.”
Anne, attended by her son, a handsome
boy with blue eyes, took her sister’s old
prayer-book, and making her son kiss it after
her, she said:
“Hector, kiss the book which belonged to
your poor aunt, who is dead, but who would
have loved you well had she known you.—
When you have learned to read you will
pray to Heqven to make you wise and good
as your father was, and happier than your
unfortunate mother.”
The eyes of those who were present were
filled with tears, notwithstanding their efforts
to preserve an appearance of indifference.
The child embraced the old book with
boyish fervor, and opening it afterward :
”0! mamma,” he said, “what pretty pic
tures !”
“Indeed I” said the mother, happy in Ihe
gladness of her boy.
“Yes. The good Virgin in a red dress,
holding the infant Jesus in her arms. But
why, mamma, has silk paper been put upon
the pictures ?”
“So that they might not be injured, my
dear.’’
“But, mamma, why are there ten silk pa
pers to each engraving V
f The mother looked, and uttering a sudden
shriek, she fell into the arms of M. Dubois,
the notary, who, addressing those present,
said:
“Leave her alone; it won’t be much; peo
ple don’t die of these shocks. As for you,
little one,” addressing Hector, “give me
that prayer-book ; you will tear the engra
vings.”
The inheritors withdrew, making various
conjectures as to the cause of Anne’s sudden
illness, and the interest which the notary
took in her. A month afterward they met
Anne and her son, exceedingly well, yet not
extravagantly dressed, taking an airing in a
two horse chariot. This led them to make
inquiries, and they learned that' Madame
Anne had recently purchased a hotel for one
hundred and eighty thousand francs, and was
giving a first-rate education to her son. The
news came like a thunderbolt upon them.
Madame de Villeboys and M. de Vatrey
hastened to call upon the notary to as for ex
planations. The good Dubois was working
at his desk.
“Perhaps we are disturbing you 1” said
the arrogant old lady-.
“No matter. I was in the act of settling
a purchase in the state funds for Madame
Anne.”
“What I” exclaimed Vatrey, “after pur
chasing house and equipage, she has still
money to invest ?’’
so."
“But where did the money come from?”
“What! did you not seel"
“When ?”
“When she shrieked upon seeing what
the prayer-book contained which she inher
ited.”
“We observed nothing.’’
“Oh ! I thought that you saw it,” said the
sarcastic old notary, “That prayer-book con
tained sixty engravings, and each engraving
was covered by ten notes of a thousand
francs each.”,
“Good Heavens!” exclaimed Vatrey,
i thunderstruck.
“If I had only known it,” shouted Ma
dame de Villeboys.
“You had your own choice," added the
notary, “and I myself urged you to lake the
prayer-book, but you refused.”
“But who could have expected to find a
fortune in a breviary ?”
WELLSBOEO, TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING. MAY 6, 1858.
The two baffled old egotists withdrew,
their hearts swollen with passionate envy.
Madame Anne is still in Paris. If you
pass by the Rue La Rite on a fine summer
evening, you will see a charming picture on
the first floor, illuminated by the pale reflec
tion of wax lights.
A lady who has joined the two hands of
her son, a fair child of six years of age, in
prayer before an old book of “Heures de la
Vierge,” and for which a case in gold has
been made.
“Pray for me, child,” said the mother.
“And for who else ?” inquired the child.
“For your father, your dear father, who
perished without knowing you, without being
able to love you.”
“Must I pray to the saint my patron 1"
“Yes, my little friend ; but do not forget a
saint wno watches us from heaven, and who
smiles upon us from above the clouds.”
“What is the name of that saint, mamma
dear
The mother, then watering the fair child’s
head with her tears, answered :
“Her name is—Sister Egerie.”
The Place for Schoolma’ms.
Prentice, of the Louisville Journal , relates
the following experience of his in sending
schoolma’ms South :
Some may think it strange (it isn’t though)
that ever since the time when we remarked
in our paper that nine-tenths of all the hun
dreds of young women sent by us to the
South as teachers have got married there,
we have been literally overwhelmed with ap
plications from New England, New York,
Pennsylvania, and Ohio.
We do not think, that in justice to such
of our Southern friends as are in want of
teachers, we can send any girl that will not
pledge herself to us to continue at least six
months in the business. We know that the
conditions seem hard, but really we shall
have to bo inexorable.
About three years ago, the trustees of a
fine female academy in one of the Southern
Slates wrote to us to send them a teacher.—
We sent them a very beautiful and accom
plished youngjady, and they promptly wrote
us a letter of warm thanks for the selection.
In about three months they wrote us again
telling us that their teacher bad got married
and requesting us to send them another. We
did send them another, quite as beautiful and
accomplished as the first, and they were, as
they might be, very much delighted with her.
In just about three months, however, they
applied to ps a third lime, begging us to send
them still another, the second having got
married like the first. In their last applica
tion however, they insisted that the lady next
sent should be plain looking and not less than
thirty-five years old. The conditions were
difficult, and we did not succeed in comply
ing with them. We prevailed ' upon our
friends the trustees, to accept a richly talen
ted young lady who was neither old nor
ugly, she giving us her honor that she would
not marry in less than half a year. We
understand that she hold out like a brave,
good girl to the end of the specified lime, but
not a day afterwards.
Sniggins Finds a Lost Note.
Old Sniggins professes great piety. He
claims 100, especially in his interviews with
his pastor, to be a very studious and devout
reader of the Bible. The good book, got up
in the largest family size, always lies upon
the parlor table. He scarcely ever-fails to
call attention to it, its worth and sacrednessr
from every visitor. On the occasion of the
visit of his pastor, he is especially eloquent
and devout. He seems to glory in telling at
what an early age “he first read it through,”
recounting the many times he has done the
same thing, and enlarging upon the theme of
his last reading. Many years since Snig
gins lost a “note of hand," that a customer
had given him in acknowledgment of a debt.
He never could find that note. Its loss sub
jected him to great trouble. A law suit grew
out of it and he was worsted in the suit.—
Last week he received a pastoral call from
his clergyman. The old subject of the scrip
tures came up. Sniggins said that having
read it through in course, as was his custom
once a year, he had just recommenced it.—
He had that day been particularly edified
with some new points of interest that he had
discovered in the history of the Creation.—
The pastor joined in his fervor, and proposed
to £how him some of the beauties of the first
chapter of Genesis. Sniggins got his spec
tacles. The pastor opened the massive vol
ume at the place staled. Upon turning the
first leaf, Sniggins with impetuous fervor
grabbed a bit of paper lying between the
(eaves, and impatiently holding it up to the
light, vociferously exclaimed: “By all the
powers of earth there is that note of Snooks’
that I’ve looked for these ten years, and
that the rascal’s cheated me out of?” The
pastor said nothing upon the point to which
we allude, but at once wonderbd to himself
bow it could be that in reading the Bible
through so many limes, Sniggins had failed
to begin at the first chapter of Genesis.
The love of ornament creeps slowly, but
surely, into the female heart. A girl who
twines the lily in her tresses, and looks at
herself in the clear stream, wilt soon wish
that the lily were fadeless, and the stream a
mirror. VVe say, let the young girl seek to
adorn her beauty, if she be taught also to
adorn her mind and heart, that she may have
wisdom to direct her lore of ornament in due
moderation.
“I say, Tom, how is your wife ?” “She
ain’t no better, I thank you, doctor.”
The “Clicking” Types, and "Clanging”
Press.
One who “knows a thing or two” about
the occupation of the disciples of Faust, lets
his pen “slide” after the fashion following :
“Perhaps there is no department of enter
prise, whose details are less understood by
intelligent people, than the ‘an preservative’
—the achievment of the types. Every day,
their lives long, they are accustomed to read
the newspaper, to find fault with its statements,
its arguments, its looks; so plume themselves
upon the discovery of some roguish and ac
robatic type that gets in a frolic and stands
upon its head ; or of some word with a waste
letter or two in it; but of the process by
which the newspaper is made, of-the myriads
of motions and thousands of pieces necessary
to its composition, they know little and think
less. They imagine they discourse of a
wonder, indeed, when they talk of the fair,
white carpet woven for thought to walk on,
of the rags that fluttered upon the back of
the beggar yesterday. But there is, to us,
something more wonderful-stilt. When we
look at the hundred and. fifty-two little boxes,
something shaded with the' touch of inky fin
gers, that compose the printer’s ‘case,’ and
watch him at his noiseless work; noiseless
except the clicking of the types, as one by
one they lake their places in the growing
line, we think we have found the marvel of
the art. Strown in those little boxes, are
thin parallellograms of metal, every one good
fora single letter, a comma, a hyphen, a
something that goes to make up written lan
guage—the visible foot-prints of thought up
on carpets of rags. We think how many
fancies in fragments, there are in the boxes ;
how many atoms of poetry and eloquence the
printer can pick up here and there, if he on
ly had a little chart to work by ; how many
facts in small handfulls ; how many truths in
chaos. Now he picks up the scattered ele
ments, until he holds in bis hand a stanza of
Gray’s elegy, or a monody upon Grimes,
‘all buttoned down before,’. Now he ‘sets
up’ a ‘puppy missing,’ and now ‘paradise
lost; he arrays a bird in ‘small caps,’ and a
sonnet in ‘nonpareil;’ he announces that the
languishing will ‘live’in one sentence; trans
poses the word, and deplores the days that
are few and ‘evil’ in the next. A poor old
jest licks its way into the printer’s" hand, like
a liute clock just running down ; and astrain
of eloquence marches into line, letter by let
ter. We fancy wo can tell the difference by
the hearing of the ear, but perhaps not. The
type that told a wedding yesterday, announ-.
ees a.,burlap to ; day ; perhaps in the same
letters. They are the elements to make a
world of—those types are; a world with
something in it as beautiful as Spring, as
rich as Summer, and as grand as Autumn ;
flowers that frost cannot will; fruit that shall
ripen for all lime. The newspaper has be
came the log-book of the age; it tells at
what rate the world is running ; we cannot
find our reckoning without it. True, (he
grocer may bundle up a pound of candles in
our fast expressed thoughts, but it is only
coming to ‘base uses,’ as its betters have done
limes innumerable. We console ourselves
with thinking that one can make of that
newspaper what he cannot make of ribs of
living oak—a bridge for lime. That he can
fling over the chasm of the dead years, and
walk safely back upon the shadowy sea into
the far past. That the singer will not end
his song, nor (he true'soul be eloquent no
more. The realm of the Press is enchanted
ground. Sometimes the editor has the happi
ness of knowing that he has defended the
right, exposed the wrong, protected the weak ;
that utterance to a sentiment
that has cheered"sa«ißj)ody’s solitary hour,
made somebody happietyTHlidledLa smile up
on a sad face, or a hope in a heavy heart.—
He may meet that sentiment months, years
after; it may have lost all traces of its pa
ternity, but he feels an affection for it and
welcomes it as a long absent child. He
reads it as for the first lime, and wonders if
indeed he wrote it, for he has changed since
then. Perhaps he could not give utterance
to the sentiment now; perhaps he would not
if he could. It seems like the voice of his
former self calling to his present, and there
is something mournful in its lone. He be
gins to think, to remember ; remember when
be wrote it and why ; who were his readers
then; and whither they have gone ; what he
was then, and how much he has changed.—
So he muses till he finds hirqs.elf wondering
if that thought of his wilf continue to float
on after he is dead,'and'whether he is really
looking'upon something 'that shall survive
hinu- And then comes the sweet conscious
ness (hat there is nothing in the sentiment
that he could wish bad been unwritten ; that
it is the better pan of him ; a shred from the
immortality he shall leave behind him, when
he joins the ‘innumerable caravan,’ and lakes
his place in the silent halls of death.”
An Item for Lager Beer Drinkers. —
A writer in Hunt’s Merchant's Magazine,
undoubted authority, enumerates the follow
ing articles with which Lager Beer is
adulterated:—Gentian, flag-root, may worth,
wormwood, quassia, catchu, heath broom,
pounded oyster shells, the common garden
box, egg shells, chalk, marble dust, whiling,
sugar, molasses, beans, liquorice, caraway
seeds, alspice, ginger, pepper, mustard, grains
of paradise, salt, coculus indicus, (poison,)
opium, tobacco, henbane, hemlock, oil of vit
rol, sulphate of copper, copperas, strychnine,
alum, snake wood, augustura bark, and the
St. Ignatius bean.
Upon the marriage of a Miss Wheat, of
Virginia, an editor hoped that her path might
bo jlowery, and 1 that she might never be
thrashed by her husband. T
©ommumcaticmfif.
Atmospheric Electricity.
Fhiend Cobb ; At the request of several
citizens of this vicinity, I have condensed
from the writings of the most prominent elec
tricians and roeterologists of the present day,
opinions and conclusions as to the causes and
effects of atmospheric electricity, with the
best mode of neutralizing its effects and con
ducting it harmless to the earth. •
Thunder and lightning are regarded by all
prominent writers as atmospheric phenomena,
produced hy the passage of electricity ; some
limes between storm clouds and the earth,
but more frequently from cloud to cloud, and
dependent upon the positive or negative con
dilion of the atmosphere or earihj With re
gard to its character, it may be spid that the
earth is charged negatively and the atmos
phere positively ; the intensity ofjthe positive
charge increasing with the elevhtion.of the
stratum observed. An electrical [charge im
plies the presence of two bodies! in opposite
electrical slates ; and the well kripwn attrac
tion mutually exerted by twp such bodies
would lead soon to a discharge,! if they were
not separated by an insulating [medium.—
There is no reason why the soljd|earth sho’d
not play the part of one of these- bodies,
while the other is represented by tile upper
regions of the atmosphere or by 1 the cluuds
floating therein. As the surface of solid
earth is separated from the 'region of, clouds
by the non-conducting air, |an electrical
charge may be maintained by the earth on
the one hand and by the clouds on the other,
and this charge will be limited in intensity
only by the dryness of the air; and, ns a
body becomes positively charged [only at the
expense of another which loses [electricity,
and is therefore negatively changed. The
electricity of the air and of the clouds, wheth
er, in fact, positive or negative, Implies the
existence of an opposite charge iin the earth
itself; thus it is, by a change in the distribu
tion of this normal quantity qfi electricity
that one part of the earth acquired an excess
while another portion is deficient.!
In reference to the manner in; which the
earth becomes charged with electricity, it may
be observed that there are three [dynamical
processes whiph are going on at all limes with
greater or lesqjviolence in the airj all of which
are concerned in the production ofjelectricity,
Ist, evaporation ; 2d, friction of ithe wind ;
3d, combustion. When water |evaporates n
acquires a greater capacity for electricity as
well as for heat. The electricity and heat
essential to the physical change of slate in
volved in the transition of mutter;from a h-
quid to a gaseous stale, must be (abstracted
from surrounding bodies, which' are thus
cooled and left, electrically speaking, nega
live. As the vapor rises with its laient charge
of heat and positive electricity,! it finally
reaches a region of cold, where it is Pgain
condensed, and| the electricity an[d heat be
come free again and make demonstrations.
The friction of moist or damp winds grind
ing against the hills, trees and rocks, acquires
a positive charge of electricity’, j Also, the
friction of two masses of moist air] drawn by
opposite currents against each other, produce
like results; but as friction of the air is inop
erative without moisture, evaporation in the
last analysis is to be thanked fur the electri
city which friction produces. )
Vegetation and combustion must not be
omitted in making a catalogue of the sources
of atmospherical electricity. Pouilfet inferred
from experiments, that the oxygen which
plants give out by day is charged with nega
live ejectricity, and that a surface of 100
square feet in full vegetation produces as
much electricity in one day as; the largest
Leyden Battery can contain. The carbonic
acid gas carried off by combustion contains
positive electricity. i 1
Atmospheric electricity is generally classi
fied under three distinct heads : list, the zig
zag or chain lightning; 2d, sheet'lightning.
3d, ball lightning. -The zig zagi or chain
lightning is commonly manifested between
the earth and cloud. When it divides into
two-branches it is called forked, j frequently
three prongs have been seen ; and!the divis
ion of the chain may generally jbe inferred
from the simultaneous destruction of different
objects, even when it has escaped detection
by any visible branches in the | illuminated
track of the darting electricity. | Generally
speaking the branches of chain lightning to
the eye appear small, but its physical effects
are known and dreaded by all classes of so
ciety. No known laws explain the whys or
wherefores of its course in its des[ruclive ten
dencies. The second kind of lightning in
the classification is sheet lightning. This
is rarely'seen when the sky is cloudy; and
it is much fainter than streak lightning as we
see when the two are visible. Ini the calmest
nights when the stars shine brightest its glim
mer may be observed in all parts of the hori
zon. By many it is attributed to storms
which the spherical form of the earth hides
from our view; by. others it is maintained
that it occurs in regions of highly narified air
between cloud and cloud, the didtuioce being
so great that the thunder is inaudible.’ Dur
ing the summer months after thetheat of the
day, while night is drawing its sabje curtain
over the face of nature, this class of electri
city lends beauty to the scene, by its fitful
flashes of light emanating from all. po'nts of
the horizon. I |
There are many instances of balls of fire
or lightning as it were, dropping I from the
horizon during severe storms, ivhich have
been visible from one to ten tumbles. By
the best electricians of the day they are con.
sidered as originating in a dazzling brilliancy
of lightning; and others consider! them as
agglomerations of ponderable substances.
I would remark hero in general; as to the
Advertisements will be charged 81 per square o
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Quarterly, Half-Yearly and Yearly advertising:—
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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, constantly on hand and
printed to order.
NO. -XL.
color of lightning, that when the discharging
clouds are near the earth the light is white,
and when they are at a great height- the light
is reddish or violet.
For The Agitator,
Thunder is generally conceded to’ be the
report of atmospheric electricity transmitted
by the air, whatever its origin. Is thunder
produced in the cloud 1 or is it produced by
the passage of the electricity from cloud U>
cloud, or from the cloud to the earth ? Some
physical writers have been anxious to deter
mine the way in which the original disturb
ance is created and various theories and opin
ions have been advanced, a few of which I
will now quote, believing they will prove in
teresting to the reader, if not instructive.—
Humboldt says, “that as electricity rushes
through the atmosphere with exceeding veloc
ity it leaves behind itself a vacuum into which
the air dashes with a great noise,” as in the
bladder glass experiment with the air pump.
Deslandes attributes the noise “to the sudden
compressions and dilations which the air on.
dergoes.” Pouillet thinks the passage of a
cannon ball through the air wih the same
speed would make as great sound as that of
thunder. He also suggests, whether the con
duclion by such a substance as the earth’s
atmosphere may not consist in a rapid induc
tion from particle to particle; and whether
the rapid decompositions and recompositions
involved in these successive molecular indue*
lions may not be the violence which produces
the sound. Aristotle says ; “for thus in the
clouds, a separation of the pneumatic sub
stances taking place and falling against tho
density of lh£ clouds, produces thunder.—
Lucretius compares thunder to the sound
which accompanies the tearing of paper, silk
or parchment. Descanles thought that an
upper apd lower stratum rushed together.—
Pevtier knd Hossard observed that the thun.
der from clouds in which they were immersed,
sounded like the blaze of powder when set
on fire in an open space. D.
While you were “harmlessly” flirting with
the girl, you knew she loved you—that her
heart would quicken at sound of your foot,
fall, and the blush that she could not conceal
flash into her cheek at the tones of your
voice. You knew that during a long lima
you were drawing lighter and tighter around
the heart of jour unsuspecting victim tha
chains from which she could not release her
self without suffering, which might be greater
to her than death. Don’t tell meyourinten.
lions were harmless—you never proposed—
never told her you loved her, ay, a thousand
times you told this, by tone and deed, and
look, just as emphatically as though vour lips
had sworn it. And ihen, how calmly, how
courteously at last, you said farewell to her
wishing her lifetime that happiness which
your wo,rk had forever blasted. And now,
sir, whatever be jour social position—how
deep soever be the coffers of your gold, you
have debased yourself and dishonored your
manhood. Go forlh inlo ihe world and let
your carriage be as proud, your air to wo
man as chivalric, your honor as untarnished
as ever, but remember that the stain is on
your soul. You have stolen, baselj’, deliber
ately stolen, the one precious treasure of a
woman’s heart—its affections. You have
robbed her of trust in human goodness and
truth, and though if she be a true woman
she will summon pride enough to her aid Id
hide from the world its pain, it will not be
borne.
You have robbed another of the love and
confidence which should have been his, for
the heart will never learn its sweet song of
youth again, and though the wife of his bo
som she sits in the shadow of his hearthstone,
still the fountain from which you took the
seal, will never yield its fresh waters as be
fore.
Waggery. —Some time ago, on the Sab
bath day, we wended our way to one of our
churches, and instead of a sermon heard an
address upon some missionary or other be
nevolent subject. After the address was
concluded two brethren were sent round with
baskets for contributions. Parson L
who was one of the basket bearers taking the
side upon which we sat. Immediately incur
front and upon the next seat negligently re
clined our friend Bill H , a gentleman of
infinile'humor and full of dry jokes. Parson
L extended the basket and Bill slowly
shook his head.
“Come, VViiliam, give us something,” said
the Parson.
“Can’t do it,” replied Bill.
“Why noli Is not the cause a good
one?” , b
“Yes; but I am not able to give any
thing.”
“Pooh ! pooh I I know belter, you must
give a belter reason than that.”
“Well, I owe 100 much money—l must be
just before I am generoup, you know.”
“But, William, you owe God a larger debt
than you owe any one else.” -
“ That’s .true, .parson, but then he aint
pushing me like the balance of my cred
itors."
The parson's face got into rather a curious
confusion as he passed on.
How to Stop Blood. —Take the fine dust
of teas, or the scrapings of ihe inside of tann
ed leather, and l>ind it close upon ihe wound,
and the blood will soon cease to flow. These
are at all times accessible and easy to be ob
tained. A Her the blood has ceased to flow,
laudanum m-tv be advantageously applied to
the wound. Due regard to these instructions
will save agitation of mind, and running for
the surgeon, who would probably make no
better prescription, if present.
Rates of Advertising.
3 months. 6 months. 12 iso’s
Male “Flirtations.”