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'IIF TIOG -V COUNTY AGITATOR is pul.
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'X s it i°« sent /res of postage to any Post-office
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nan adjoining County. r
“sinews Cards, not exceeding 5 lines, paper m-
Jed, pe r yea r. \
ANNA HOPE.
A Story for Young Ladies.
PART FIRST.
o.My dear M., come lo us, and see if you
n Jo anything with our Anna. She is
s zy to attend lha Woman’s Rights Con
muon.”
So wrote a Boston friend, who had been a
bool male of mine. Her husband was
merchant in rather easy circumstances,
nna was an only daughter, and almost a
lauty. She had pretty hair, that curled
xuriantly ; bright eyes, a delicate complex
n. To sum up in general, her face, lorm
id manners, were calculated lo arrest alien
on, even lo please eminently. Add lo these
hanlages, a mind of very superior order,
id you will perceive that Anna Hope was
i only daughter to be proud of.
The following day found me atthe cottage
my early friend. The dew sparkled on
a little lawn in front; the roses blushed and
re w out delicious perfume.
1 saw, as Anna’s mother had told me, the
ild was, “Woman’s Rights,” crazy.
Ridicule, argument, persuasion, all were
uless. She launched out in full tide her
lole theme —woman, her degradation, her
rongs, her eminent qualifications, her evi
inl superiority. In vain I cited case after
se to prove my side of the argument. All
ould not do. Man was a tyrant, a human
jer, with itching but brute force to recoin
end him, pressing his iron hand upon the
lor woman. Woman was great I; man
tie it.
.Nothing could he done with the girl. She
look her curly head, snapped her bright
es, set her little lips together, and thrust
■r needle in her little finger in her attempt
thrust a new idea into my brain.
The witch vVas pretty, and strove lo throw
o her smalllperson all the dignity and mas
i!;miy she could assume. She, no doubt,
it iicr slender shoulders equal lo the burden
a small world.
“Let her goto ihe convention, and trust to
rovijence.”
‘1 don’t know,” he replied, shaking his
■.id, doubtfully; “mother is far from being
eli, and one can’t trust to nurses entirely,
rank, too, has studied himself almost sick,
oping to gel the prize. I’m half sick my
:lf, what with anxiety about her, and the
resting demands of business; besides how
■ill a look to send a young thing like her to
lew York alone V’
“Never fear, but what she will lake care
f herself,” replied I; ‘‘something tells me
iat it will do herlgood,and perhaps cure her
lolish whim.”
An unexpected even! look me away from
orne on ihe evening from that very day, and
3r more than six months 1 heard nothing
lore from Anna Hope.
‘•What shall I do?” asked’her father in
espair. “I wish she had never got these
johsh no'ions in her head. She is continu
lly doing extravagant things, and spraining
or arms and ankles try ing to prove that she
as enormous strength. She reads works on
guculuire, and argues with the farmers;
sis herself up as a theologian and mortifies
te extremely by contradicting our venerable
astor, who is four limes her age. What
sail 1 do ?”
PART SECOND,
One delighlful morning, Ihe second of my
iluro lo my native city, on the wings of
ope, away lo Hope cottage, I flew, eager lo
te and hear the result of my advice. Spring
ad blushed into Summer, and the beautiful
ome of my fiend was embowered in vines,
pcs and roses.
Great was their surprise at seeing me, and
greater my own in meeting my Ihtle
fend. Anna.
In her e\eshonea mild light that made
Pr sweet face radiant. The spiteful snap
as gone. I looked in vain for the green
ressts, the shirt bosoms, the standing dickey,
ie mannish air—alt were missing; and in
sir stead, modest attire, neatly and becom
gly worn. liven her curly’ hair had lost
1 determined twist, and looked softer and
o;sier. Her whole demeanor was maid
>Lv, therefore lovelier. She said nothing of
° mans rights, spoke softly; and at lea
inl Wh deference to the opinion of the
pastor.
er father gave me a iriumphant glance,
-f mo'lier gated on her daughter with gen*
e anection, and something between a tear
n a smile sprang to her eyes.
In the evening Anna was alone with me,
■ 'cmured to ask, how she had been
eased with the convention.
rni:nllon d>” she answered blush
-0 ’ “I have entirely recovered from
lo t ' ma "' a 'hat possessed me then. —
ri'dit '° U 10 * lear ow and * ler
'“'Hhled at me so mischievously.
u ' venl 10 'he convention,‘and more
Ihlosq 1 '^ ,n e J'hed. In spite of my new
1 ' V ’ 11 s h |)c hed me to hear women
” ,i holdly upon such themes, before
orn»?i But I had begun to get
w' " 1 ' accus| omed to it, and to feel ;pretty
k«n° rla^e a h° ul h, and was just sitting
ome n *'° le ' 10 a ® x signature to
a m ras ' du '' ons , when a letter was.handed
, ef i. e ' om m y father. I had been gone a
IJ( j ai,d hide thought 1 what the household
irou»h l>S,>d lhrou ch in that short lime. It
lines'' me ne ” S m,)t her’s alarming
onie"’ nnd my y° un S esl brother’s attack of
painful disease. My father was alone
,ils 'rouble.
„, ln r dnot S * y . !aovv 1 hurried home, for
mother’s. ' rlgh . ts and P r ' v ileges.” My
Bino'e „ re P rovlD S eye and wasted form
I fell hn,° 10 lh ? h , earl 5 and fot 'he first time.
°' v much I had nnglected my duly in
THE AGITATOR.
Befcousr to t|>e Sjrtenaion of tfje nxtu of JFmOow nnif tte Sjureatr of f&ealtfcg Reform.; |j
Ik ■
];’ WHILE THERE SHALL BE A WRONG UNRIGHTED, AND UNTIL “MAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN” SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE,
VOL. Vf.
leaving her, an invalid, lo battle alone with
the cares of a family. My father was walk-i
ing the floor with little Franky. I relieved
him of his burden ; and the dear little fellow,
at the clasp of woman’s arms, pillowed his
little head softly, and sunk into a sweet sleep.
When I saw him slumbering in his cradle, I
left my mother with the nurse, and made a
hurried visit over the house.
“I can never perfectly describe to you
what I saw. Our help was a green girl,
just from Ireland) and unless under the su
pervision of my mother was of very little
service. , Not a floor was swept. Biddy was
cutting some raw, red slices of half cooked
beef for dinner, and my brother Charley
washing the remnant of the breakfast dishes,
poor child, in scalding water. His face and
hands, bis bultonless bosom, his very hair,
were stained and disfigured with soot and
ashes. I could hardly keep from crying.
“The week’s wash stood about in tubs and
baskets, on chairs, and the floor. The kilch*
en had a horrid smell of burnt and uncooked
food. Through the open windows came
pouring the sun upon little heaps of dust, and
bits of cinders, an unwashed hearth, and a
delporable stove. In the closet were dishes
of damp and mouldy bread, pieces of meal
covered with flies. The sight was absolutely
sickening.
“The parlor was littered with papers and
toys, and the furniture white with dust. To
crown the confusion, company had been
here—one of those weak, thoughtless kind of
women, who never know what lo do in such
a case, but lo stay the day out, fret and worry
the sick, eat, drink, sit down with folded
hands, and go away lo wonder, “What kind
of careless folks do live in the world !”
“Her two children had broken the case of
my guitar, snapped off all its strings, quar
relled with my little brother, and given him
the whooping cough.
“I went to the bed-room next; everything
was in like disorder. My poor father had
slept what little he could, on a mess of bqd
clothes, and lumps of feathers.
“But all this fuss and confusion was not
the worst of it. My father lost fifteen hun
dred dollars by neglecting his business, as he
was obliged to do, in order to help at home ;
and dear little Charley, who had studied with
great success up to the period of my depar
ture, failed to receive the medal, for which
he had been working a whole year, because
he had been obliged to slay at home to nurse
little Prahky. I felt as if I could never for
give myself, or cease to regret that mv
father’s letter was delayed four days behind
its time; but I went resolutely to work ; in
the course of time everything was put to
rights in our neglected household ; and that’s
the rights I’ve been working ( at ever since,”
she added with the tears overbrimming her
expressive eyes.
She looked absolutely beautiful to me
then ; and I was about to commend her for
her improvement, when the identical-Biddy,
much improved, looking in at the door,
with :
“Af ye plase, Miss Anna, Mr. Harris is
here and wants to know if ye will be coming
down ?”
“Ah, Anna,” said [, laughing at her elo
quent blush; and catching her hand as she
came towards me, “confess that one of those
horrid men, these walking tigers, these ty
rants, has had something lo do with your
sudden conversion. Anna, Anna, don’t give
up your liberty, you know the pressure of
that iron hand t”
The merry girl ran laughing from my
presence, and I had leisure the rest of the
evening to inspect the admirable sewing of
her unfinished work, the perfect order, the
refreshing neatness of everything in her
room. The delicate little sketches of her
own hung up against the wall; several quite
beautiful poems, elegantly written, in her
portfolio, and the choicest collection of books,
drawings and engravings that I ever seen in
a lady’s possession.
These indicated her gentle taste and femi
nine refinement ; but they weighed as noth
ing in the balance with her mother’s heartfelt
commendations.
“Anna is a treasure ; she is all I could
wish—all a perfect woman could be.
wish to be more 1”
The Progress, op the Times. —Does any
one wish to know by what coniriva'oce the
great chandelier in the dome of the Senate
chamber at Washington, which hangs two
hundred feet above any floor, and has fifteen
hundred gas burners—is lighted ? The Star
furnishes the information! It is done by
electricity ! and the way it was done was
contrived by Mr. Samuel Gardner, Jr., of
New York, whose mechanical and scientific
ingenuity the Star has heretofore favorably
noticed. The operator stands upon the floor,
some two hundred feet from the chandelier,
which is suspended in the dome, and fyy
touching three small keys the gas is turned
off or on at pleasure, and the electric current
communicated lo it like magic. It has been
in operation for Ihe lasi two weeks, and thou
sands have witnessed this wonderful electric
exhibition. Senators, Heads of Departments,
Foreign Ministers, and distin
guished savans and philosophers, have been
astonished and delighted with this apparatus.
No gas escapes into rooms; and it is believed
to he equally applicable to the lighting of
street lamps, and the firing of submarine bat
teries after being submerged ten minutes or
ten years—affording a complete protection lo
our harbors and cities.
“Do you know who I am 1” said a police
officer to a fellow who he seized by the throat.
“Not exactly, sir, but I reckon you are the
malignant collarer!"
WELLSBORO. TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING. MAY 27, 1858.
Ladies and Poor Folk in Germany,
A writer in the N. Y. Times, in speaking
of the rural life in summer of the belter clas
ses in Germany, says:
It is not half a dozen times in summer that
we enter a house, though we pay a visit every
day: In every - garden are two or three
bowers, and all sheltered so as to be safe in
sunshine and in shower. You enter a gate
by ringing a bell, which admonishes a serv
ant of your arrival. The ladies are sewing,
or rather embroidering and chatting in the
summer-houses, and there you go and sit or
walk at your pleasure. If you slay to lea,
the tea, or more often coffee, is taken upon a
rude board table without cloth and without
ceremony: We say the ladies are embroi
dering. VVe have never seen a German lady
sew on any occasion. Seamstresses are cheap
as well as cooks, and we have no fault to find
with the custom of employing them. But
we are beginning to surprise these far famed
German housekeepers and models of indus
try, by telling them that the American women
except a few ultra-fashionables in cities, work
some ten limes as hard as ladies of the same
class in Germany. When we tell them what
American women really do—American ladies
—they raise their hands and roll their eyes
in astonishment. It never entered their heads
to imagine that a lady, even in any country,
actually washed, and ironed, and baked.—
‘•How is it possible,” they exclaim, “for a
laity to do such things ?”
The women in northern Germany spin,
and the German women everywhere, knit,
knit, knit, forever. They need such quanti
ties of stockings and linen where they wash
so seldom, and “Oh,” they say, “how can
people live and have the fuss of washing
every week ?” Why, it almost kills them to
think of it. But though they have not the
fuss of washing every week, they are much
afraid of soiling a great quantity of clothes
than those who endure this fuss oftener. In
answer to our inquiries, and in accordance
with our experience, the custom' is to give
each person one clean sheet a month. The
upper one is secured to the quilt all round.—
We have never been furnished with more
than a quart of water a day, and one towel
a week for personal use. In the same kind
of family in America, they furnish a clean
sheet every week, and a clean towel every
day for the same purpose. There is no such
class of people in Germany as are scattered
over the hills and valleys of England and
America—gentlemen farmers and tradesmen,
whose wives and daughters are ladies, as cul
tivated and refined as any city ladies, and a
little more so.
Heie, the people who live in the country
and in the small villages are all of the peas
ant class, entirely without culture or polish.
When we are among them, we see every
morning, women go forth with hoes and rakes
on their shoulders, or driving oxen with the
goad slick in their hands, and the “haw
buck,” and “gee hish,” in their mouths.—
They look more toil worn and degraded than
Indian women, of whom they often remind
us, and southern slaves can have no worse
lot except in the slave mart, and the tearing
of heart-strings, which the sell
ing impose. Here, they cannot even'hopg
for this change. They cannot pass from one
little province to the other, without paying a
larger sum than is required to pay their pass
age to America. A man born in Nassau
may go to America and have something left
to begin with there, for what he would have
to pay to make him a citizen of Frankfort,
twenty miles from his birth-place. If he is
rich enough to go there and live fifty years
without business, and his children are born
there, it makes no difference,.lhey must pay
the price before they are admitted to the mar
vellous privileges of the free city of Frank
fort.
A Tale of'Cerbok. —The following rath
er marvellous story is told by one of the-Vi
enna journals :
“As a farmer of Orsinovi, near that city,
was returning from market, he stopped at a
roadside public house, ancl imprudently dis
played to the innkeeper al large sum which
he had received. In the night the innkeeper
armed with a poniard, stole into the farmer’s
Chamber, and prepared to stab him ; but the
farmer, who from the man’s manner at first,
conceived suspicions of foul play, had thrown
himself, fully dressed on the bed without go
ing to sleep, and being a powerful man he
wrested the poinard from the other, and using
it against him, lay him dead at his feet. A
few moments after, he heard,stones thrown
at the window, and a voice Which he recog
nized as that of the innkeeper’s son, said :
“The grave is ready 1” This proved to him
that the father and.son had planned his mur
der, and to avoid detection, had intended bury
ing the dead body al once. He thereupon
wrapped the dead body in a sheet and let it
down from the window ; he then ran to the
gendarmerie and stated what had occurred.
Three gendarmes immediately accompanied
him to the house, and found the young man
busily engaged in shoveling earth into a
grave. “Whatare you burying?” said they.
“Only a horse which has just died I” “You
are mistaken,” answered one of, them, jump
ing into the grave and raising the porpse,
“Look I” and he held up a lantern to the face
of the deceased. “Good God 1” cried the
young man, thunderstruck, “it is my father 1”
He was then arrested, and at once confessed
all.
Good. —The Sunday Allas, in a fit of rev
olulionary enthusiasm says:
“Hurrah for the girls of ’76 I’’
“Thunder 1” cries a New Jersey paper,
“that’s 100 old. No, no, hurrah for the girls
of 17 I”
How many Congressmen and Presidents
have been made by happy wounds on the bat
tle field ! Here is a hero with new claims lo
fame :
When Col. L was a candidate for
Congress in one of the North-western Slates,
he was opposed by a gentleman who had dis
tinguished himself in the war of 1813. Dis
covering in the course of the canvass, that
his opponent’s military reputation was opera
ting strongly to his prejudice, he concluded
to let the people know that he was not un
known to fame as a soldier himself; and ac
cordingly, in his next speech, he expatiated
on his achievements in the tented field as fol
lows :
“My coippetitor has told you of the servi
ces he rendered the country in the last war.
Let me tell you (hat I, 100, acted an humble
part in that memorable contest. When the
tocsin of war summoned the chivalry of the
West lo rally to the defense of the national
honor, I, fellow citizens, animated by that
patriotic spirit which glows in every Ameri
can bosom, hired a substitute for that war,
and the bones of that man now lie bleaching
on the banks of the Raisin /”
Ohio editors are not very deeply read in
the“Scriplures,” if the following, from a cor
respondent of Harper’s Magazine is to be
taken “for gospel
“Governor Chase issued his proclamation
appointing a thanksgiving day. To make
sure of being right on the subject in hand,'
theiGovernor composed his proclamation al
most entirely of passages from the Bible,
which he did not designate as quotations,
presuming that every one would recognize
them and admire the fitness of the words as
well as his taste in iheir selection. A learned
editor of a Democratic paper (the Governor
is on the other side) pounced upon the procla
mation—declared that he had read it before
—couldn’t exactly say where—but he would
lake his oath that it was a downright plagia
rism from beginning to end ! That would
have been joke enough for a while at least,
and perhaps longer; but the next day the
Republican paper came out valiantly in de
fence of the Governor, pronounced the charge
false and libellous, and challenged any man
living to produce one single line of the proc
lamation that had ever been in print before !”
The Toothache. —“My dear friend,” said
H , “I can cure your toothache in ten
minutes.”
“How 7 how I inquired, “Do, it in
pity.” 1
“Instantly,” said he. “Have you any al
um !’’
“Yes.”
“Bring it with some common salt.”
They were produced. My friend pulver
ized them, mixed them in equal quantities,
then wet a small piece of cotton, causing the
mixed powder to adhere, and placed it in my
hollow tooth.
“There,” said he “if that does not cure 1
will forfeit my head. You may tell this to
every one and publish it everywhere. The
remedy is infallible.”
It was as he predicted. On the introduc
tion of the mixed alum and salt, I experienced
'a-sensalion of coolness which gradually sub
sidedPaT>d~jyiih it—the alum and salt—it
cured the tormeftt-olthe toothache.
For a specimen of a
correspondent away out there
sketch of Tom Noyes, the Sheriff, a rough
original character, of no education. He had
always lived on the border, and knew noth
ing of the forms of law. But when he was
called on to serve a writ of Habeas Corpus,
he told the applicants, “that warnt the kind
of thing for him, but he would issue a writ
of rams damns that would lake the fellow
jnsl as well where he wasn’t as where he
war /” i
Judge Gosh, when he was on the bench in
the same county, used to keep the court-room
in a perfect uproar by his mock majesty and
outlandish sayings. On one occasion a
couple of lawyers got into a hot discussion
on some point of law, when the Judge rose,
with all his dignity hanging on him, and
slopped the mouths of the disputants by say
ing: “If the Courtis right, and she thinks
she are, why then you are wrong, and she
knows you is. So dry up 1”
The following letter was sent by a man to
his son al college:
“My dear son—l write to send you two
pair of old breeches, that you may have a
new coal made of them. Also some new
socks, which your mother has just knit by
culling down some of mine. Your mother
sends you ten dollars without my knowledge,
and for fear you would not spend it wisely, I
have Kept back half, and only send you five.
Your mother and I are well except that your
sister has got the measles, which we think
would spread among the other girls, if Tom
had not had them before, and he is the only
one left. I hope you will do honor to my
teachings, if you do not, you are an ass, and
your mother and myself are your affectionate
parents.”
A’little urchin in Sunday school at New
ark, was asked a few Sundays ago, this ques
tion : “What did our Savior say when he
knew thatxjudas had betrayed him?” The
urchin scratched his pate a few moments, and
then gravely answered, “Eternal vigilance is
the price of liberty !’’
Muggins says that Job’s turkey was fat
compared with an old gobbler he shot last
week on the Devil’s Fork. That was so light
it lodged in the air, and he had to gel a pole
to knock it down.
Communication^.
For the Agitator.
Leaves by the Wayside! j
BY AGNES.
“Cousin, whose portraits are these 1 ?”
“Those? Oh those are uncle Daniel Hun
ter’s and aunt Keturia’s.” i |l
“Pray tell me who uncle David!and aunt
Keturia were. lam just in the mood this af
ternoon to work in silence, and listenj which,
like many other scandalous things! told of
woman, is a rare mood for her to be! in.”
Your least wish is mine, honored cousin, so
let the spirit of silence and attention!pervade
you, and you shall have the history jof uncle
David and aunt Keturia.” |l!
“I shall never forget the bitter sorrow that
filled my heart as 1 stood beside; my dead
mother, as she lay so pale and silent! in her
coffin. 1 had often heard themj sjteak of
death as being terrible. But oh, how beauti
ful she looked to me, in her robe of white
merino, with her dark hair parted: upon her
brow as in life, and a bouquet of green leaves
and white buds were clasped in herjfingers.
I gazed upon her long, and felt that she was
sleeping. In my total forgetfulnessjihat those
dear lids were closed upon me foreyer, I bent
over and touched her lips. As iheir coldness
thrilled upon mine, I then realized (hat she
had left me. With one wail of! sorrow |-
threw myself beside her, and it seemed as if
the world had suddenly become enveloped in
darkness, and I was alone—and oh, so deso
late—so forsaken. 1 could not weep ; tears
were denied me. I felt my soul scorcjied,
dried up by burning grief. Then my senses'
failed me. I knew no more. WhenEawoke,
a dark woman sat by me. I attempted to rise
in my bed, but my strength failed met Then
came the recollection that my mother was
dead. I looked about me, and on, how I
missed her soothing presence. I could en
dure it no longer, and cried “mother! °h my
mother!” i
“David, will you come here?’’ said the
lady by me. j !
The door opened ; a quick step brought an
other personage to my side, and a voice mur
mured, “My child, my Nellie, be comforted!
| will be unto thee even as, thy (ather and
mother.” As I listened to that voice, so like
my own mother’s I wept. He tolid ime how
they had laid my mother in but
that her spirit, all free from sorrow and suh
faring, was even then perhaps by my side—
that 1 was not alone in life, for “God sends
his ministering angels to watch over us;”
why should he not send those wholldve us 7
I grieved no more, but felt comforted. For
I felt that an angel walked by my side —an
angel who had loved me best in life, j
In my mother’s dying hour she committed
me to my uncle David, with theselwords:—
“Brother, take mv Nellie, and lojvd her as
you loved her mother, when vour playfellow
inlheold homestead.” Assoonasimy health
permitted I left my childhood’s jiqme and
started for the west witlT uncle David and
aunt Keturia. ; I
“To-morrow, Nell” said my uncle, “we
shall be at Niagara Falls ; open your eyes
wide and take in with one look bit of that
glorious view which will burst upon your
sight I and listen to the roar of those waters
whose mighty voice speaks to us of the Eter
naf!” ’ i
The morrow came; and I did qpen my
eyes wide, as we came in sight of- the Falls.
The grandeur—the sublimity—the deep voice
bTits waters overwhelmed me. I lejt a deep
awe sleaToverme, and a voice whisperto my
innermost the work of God I”
And I fell my soul in wor
ship; and as the spray fell upon iny brow,
I seemed baptized into a new realization of
the greatness of God. | |
Then came gay throngs of jisople. • I
looked upon many who seemed truthful, high
minded, intelligent, tefined. Thenjcame oth
ers whose souls groped in darkness ujpon this
world of uncertainty and sorrow. For them
1 grieved. Then floated by me-the’sweet
voice of childish laughter; like the music of
angels it mingled with the roar ojf he deep
waters, I ,was awakened from my reverie
by the voice of aunt Keturia, who hastily
stepped forward and exclaimed: " j
“I am delighted my dear friends, to see
you !” 1 looked and saw four persons upon
the bridge leading to the tower, who were pre
sented to uncle David, and then 11 was intro
duced to Mrs. Charles, a fat, stylish dowager,
whose noble physiognomy made me her friend
at once. Then came the charming; intimate
friend of aunt Keturia, Adeline Rose\ ouster.
As a smile parted her lips, the whitest of teeth
gleamed upon me, the brightest of eyes were
languishingly turned upon me, and small ta
per fingers were held towards me.; 1 turned,
and met a pair of soul-loving eyes ofblue.—
The dark, brown haired girl beforejme was
not beautiful, if feature.and complexion make
one so, but 1 fell 1 loved her. My own spir
it, intuitions, so I thought, have!never yet
deceived-me; so I will trust to thee, sweet
Sallie Bentford. Next came aunt-Keturia’s
brother, Henry Walton, a dark-eyed South
ron; and lastly, Captain Briddlefbot. He
stood-before me, with a jaunty litlie cap rest
ing upon a small head, small a large
nose, and what his mouth might have been,
I was not able to tell; for whiskers, mous
taches, etc., forbade all further investigation.
The third day from that lime we arrived
at uncle David’s home—the home of my
mother’s childhood. It stood upon, an emi
nence that nearly a quarter of a
mile towards the road. Noble trees, shrubs
and flowers filled the whole distance. As
you stood upon the piazza and Ipoked upon
the horses,carriages and people glidipgamong
the trees in the rood, you might have imag
ined the whole a panlomino perfbrtfiance for
Advertisements will be charged 81 per square o
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Quarterly, Half-Yearly and Yearly advertising:—
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Square,(Hlincs,) - 82 50 94 50 86 00
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All advertisements not having the number of in
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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. XLm.
your especial amusement. All around lia
every variety of rich and beautiful scenery.
Hills covered with gigantic trees reared them
selves like a mighty bulwark fur miles around.
In many places the fine old forest trees had
been cut down to afford views of some mag
nificent scenery. In others they formed cool
and delicious groves. A lillle way to the
east of the building slept a beautiful lake. I
used to sit for hours and watch its calm and
placid surface, as the green hills which formed
its background were reflected in its waters,
or ihe light and fleecy clouds which passed
over it for a moment east the image of their
beauty therein, or when the winds came and
in their frolic Caused its waters to form waves
of deep green and blue, gapped with a tinge
of pure white foam.
There was another feature in that landscape
of hill and dale, and broad, rich meadows,
that suited my fancy passing well. Ii was a
small stream of water at the foot of a hill,
winding and beautiful— among the
trees, then appearing again like a thread of
silver, spanned here and there by rustic brid
ges, which gave it a romantic and picturesque
appearance. It was on one of these bridges,
beneath the spreading branches of an old oak,
I used to resort with Sallie Benlford, and with,
my sewing talk by the hour. I could talk to
her of my mother who slept for away, with
those pale sleepers wbecome no more to join
us in the great struggle of life.
, Aunt Keturia knew not how to sympathise
with the heart. The only child of parents
who made her days a “summer’s dream’’she
sought only the sweet from the flowers of ex
istence, and left the bitter, unshared with
those less fortunate than herself. She had
never learned that lile was filled with duties,
the performance of which bring sunny spo's
to onr view ; like the blue violets of sprintr,
which are often found by raking away the
wet and withered leaves of the past autumn.
She had never-’learned that the discharge of
these duties, from the peace they bring to the
mind, give li r e a warm, rich coloring, which
makes the progress to our father’s mansion
more easy. She was the idol of society—the
gayest of the gay—fascinating as Cleopatra,
she shone a bright, resplendent star.
“Nell, I have been here four weeks, and
in all that lime have seen no wife kneeling to
her Blue-beard husband, while he stands over
her with savage impatience to hang her up
beside the former relics of his tender love.
“Sallie, will you in plain, sober language
tell me what you mean ?”
“Well, dear, 1 have been told that your
uncle was a tyrant, and would if his wife
were docile enough, keep her like the prison
er of Chillion to gaze upon spider’s webs.—
But, Nell, Thave seen none of this’. Allho’
sad and proud in his bearing, how kindly and
courteously he moves in his household and,
makes alj happy by the tones of his voice
and cheerful expression of his eye.”
“Study my uncle, dear Sallie, as I have,
and you will scarcely find a more noble speci
men of humanity. Sorrow and
ment have thrown a tinge of sadness over his
life, and has given him a stern, proud bearing.
Have you not seen the waters of a stream
loss themselves proudly and defiantly when
the storm smote them ? but when again in
the sunlight, how calmly and gently they
flowed and kissed the violets upon the banks?”
(to be continued.)
Bound to be Revenged. —An old. lady,
a professor of ihe washer-woman’s an, bad
managed to scrape together sufficient means
lo build a small house and barn in the coun
try. One afternoon as she was comfortable
to her new home, a black cloud was seen in
the West, and before many minutes a torna
do swept through property, scat
tering the limber of hbr little barn in all di
rections. Coming out of her kitchen, and
seeing the devastation the storm had made,
Ihe old lady at first'could not find words to
express her indignation, but at last exclaimed
—•“VVell, here’s a pretty businesM No
matter, though, I’ll pay you for this! I’ll
wash on Sunday !”
Wilson and Phinney are the leading mem
bers of the Washington county bar. Silting
opposite one another at dinner table—they
are always oppositp in nraciice'rft the bar in
the court house, and agreed as to Ihe bar in
the hotel—Wilson was describing the effects
of a speech he made a few nights before in
a great political meeting in the village where
Phiney resides,. |
“Indeed,” said he, “I never saw the peo
ple so filled with enthusiasm !” 1
“Filled with what?” cried Phinney.
“With enhusiasm,” repeated Wilson. •
“Oh, ah !” said Phinney, “I understand ;
but I never heard it called by that name be
fore ; we call it rum !”
Vert Correct.—“ Please, Mister, give
me a bundle of hay ?”
“Yes, my son. Sixpenny or shilling bun
dle ?”
“Shillin.”
“Is u for your father I”
“No, guess ’taint—its for the boss. My
fa ther don’t eat hay !’’
A Chilo on the Eternal Fitness op
Things. —Mr. P.’s little daughter came run
ning to her aunt one day, saying, “Aunt
Kale, little Mattie has swallowed a button ! ’
Seeing her terror, her aunt calmly replied,
“Well, what good will that do her I’’ Said
Ihfffchild, very seriously, “Not any good as
I see, unless she swallows a iulton-hole /”
Six feel in his bools, exclaimed old Miss
Beeswax : “what will the importance of this
world come to, 1 wonder?. Why they might
just as reasonably tell me that the man ha*
six heads in hi* ha'.
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