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For the Agitator.
the days of yore.
BY JOHN LL. WILLIAMS.
Ant—“ Auld Lang Syne.”
Old friends, old friends, the dear old friends,
Whom time has swept away.
Ah, what can make the heart amends
For the friends of life's young day 1
They were the morning stars of love
That never left their sphere;
The beacon-lights which shone above,
Our darker paths to cheer.
Old friends, old friends! can we forget
Those days in boyhood's prime,
When round our father's hearth we met
And our voices* merry chime.
Made the old hall ring to the roof with joy,
As we sang the songs of yore.
Or danced to the strain of the Harper boy
On the bright old oaken floor.
Old friends, old friends—as lime rolls on.
We miss lliera more and more;
Those Halls are dark where once they shone,
And closed Ihe friendly door!
And colder seems the stranger’s eye
As we toil along our way.
And think, with memory’s rising sigh,
Of the friends of life’s young day.
itraystille, Bradford Co. Pa.
Little Sunbeam.
“Christmas is coming, isn’t it, grandpa 7”
"1 suppose it is, one of these days ; what
of dial. Sunbeam 7”
“Snow storms are coming, too, aren’t they,
and the ground will all be white. Where
ml f slay then, grandpa 7"
“Why, in the house, the place for such a
hula Sunbeam as this, I should think.”
“Bui ihe cold winds are coming, too, they
will whistle down the chimney, and creep in
through ihe cracks of the door; what shall 1
do then 1" ,
“Put more wood on the fire, and clothes
on your back,” laughed grandpa.
“Jack Frost will gel here by that time,
end he’ll be peeping in at the windows, and
pinching our noses when we are asleep; wont
he’’’
“That he will, if we give him a chance;
what next, little questioner ?”
There was quile a pause.
“You are a very rich man ; aren’t you,
grandpa 7”
“Not at all, not at all,” growled grandpa.
"Oh yes, but you are, I know you are ;
and do all little girls have rich grandpas, I
wonder 7”
“Why no, child, what a question 1”
“Then what do the poor lilllle things do,
if they havn’t any father nor mother like
me 7”
“God only knows,” replied grandpa, with
the tears in his eyes.
The Mule girl looked thoughtful for a mo
rnenl, (hen with a bright smile, she said—
“ Now, grandpa, what is my Christmas
present going to be?”
"Just what your little heart wants most,
I expect; that is always the way when you
teaze. 1 ’
“Oh, that is nice I and you shall give me
fifty dollars then, and I will be a rich grandpa
to some poor little girls ; isn’t that a funny
idea 3"
"Whew!" exclaimed grandpa, “I should
think it was. Fifty dollars to give away I
Why, I hav’nt it to Spare, you little extrava
gance 1” '
"Oh yes, you have, grandoa, I know you
I have!"
I “-N T o, I can’t possibly spare sd much
I money, and I shall be cross if that is the
Itune.’’
“Now, grandpa, you love Sunbeam, don’t
you!"
“"’hat if I do!”
"Then you don’t want to plague her, and
make her cry, do you 1” and the tears stood
|m the little one’s eyes.
1 'Well, don’t look at me so, child. If you
j 1 be 8 00[ i, g' ve you two little gold
dollars; won’t that do?”
I l_^ UI wam 10 k® B enerous 5 and how can
, grandpa, with only two dollars? And
you have so many great bagfuls, can’t you
Ware me enough just to fill one little one?
T™' please give Sunbeam what she
pants this lime, and I won’t leaze you again,
■hats a dear, good grandpa I”
I here, Mary, that will do, don’t teaze
|®ny more. Tnu have made grandpa cross,
t. orl l, not . B°' n g 10 give you what you wish
Lv r . ls llrne - I must turn over a new leaf,
Iknn T* 1 ' *° r '*' s high I ' me - D'd n ’ 1 you
I, lv u- 1 B ra[) dpa could not let little girls
I “ hls mone V away from him!” And
I/,, , 8 0ze[ f sternly into the little upturned
paw before him.
lhe soft, dark eyes rest
paein th laan ' B ace l"°r a moment; but
■u, hal J 16 was really in earnest, the eye-
Kranit 00 ’ hididing her face in her
Berbp 1 * aosom ' 'ho little girl sobbed as if
fteari "o fl ! n OU ! d break ’ Ins,anl| y grandpa’s
Sesnairi ene “>, as he-exclaimed in a most
I 0 ?® ™? 'one.
Isunbea^ 6 ’ n °“’’ ve one ''j turned my little
Ibuoi.t , m ! m ° an A Prh shower ! Oh dear, I
Kon’t . ° b ? ve known better. Come, now,
roatinlfv ' in'* f good liltle B irl .” he said,
|sl» SVB °/' , Uo , n 1 Cf y. Sunbeam ; you are
■won't h°° • and B r &ndpa knows it; and he
Pare «l| B it! llngy aDy more » aDI * 7°“ B hall
Poows it, , mone y you want, for grandpa
Kood wtik • ° u Bn( * aunl Ellen will do more
Iso b at ]|j. i, ll ’h an I shall. Come, don’t feel
I'he fiMl" j'Vj" I . n ‘ ,e girl you’ve got,” said
I "So y ’ wi 'ha fresh hurst of tears.
I ~a°J OU are ' *o you are.”
hht «obbed° U DeVer S i )oke 80 cross before,”
[ ir you dld ’., bul * "oo’l sgain, child,
PM heart r n ? y , Bmlle ’ an< l oheer .grandpa’s
P'W Sunbeam U 'r h -j d ? wilh out bis
I u> * He is afraid that his house
THE AGITATOR
✓ '
to tfyt&xttnnion of tfce atrea of JFmOom anJJ tfje Spread of a&efotta. -
WHILE THESE SHALL BE A WBON6 UNSIGHTED, AND UNTIL “MAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN” SHALL OEASB, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE,
VOL. IV.
would be dark and dreary,-and his. heart
.would grow cold and hard. Yea,” ho con
tinued, “your mother was right, for you do
leach the to lay up my treasure in heaven.”
Thus mused the old man, while his darling
gradually grew more quiet, until at length
ahe lifted her head, and putting her arras
around his neck she laid her soil curls
against his face. The tears still glistened in
her eyes, but they soon vanished before ibe
fond' caresses of the loving old-man. April
showers they were indeed, and the smiles
soon brought back the flowers to Mary’s
cheeks. After a few minutes they were
chatting almost as gaily as if nothing bad
happened.
“You are a spoiled child. Sunbeam, that’s
what you are,” said grandpa, as be fumbled
in hia pocket-book.
“Am 1? what makes you spoil me, then,
grandpa 1” said Mary ; “I am sure 1 don’t
want to be spoiled.”
“Because I can’t help it w I suppose; I
don’t know what el.se it can be. There, now,
here are ten dollars for you, and the day be
fore Christmas you shall have ihe Will
that please my little Sunbeam 7”
“Now, grandpa, you are just my own
grandpa, and I do love you dearly, don’t I?”
i'l shouldn’t wondei, but (here, I guess I
can get along without any more hugs just
this minute. Thera is danger of your loving
old grandpa to death at this rate.”
“Is there ? then you shall have the rest
when I come back.’’
“Well,” she said, as she jingled the money
into her little purse, “if all the Sunbeams
carry as much money as this, I don’t believe
there will be any poor children left, by-and
by, grandpa,’’ and giving him a parting kiss,
she turned away. “God is very good to
me,” mused the little child, as she climbed
the stairs to aunt Ellen’s.room, “to give me
so good a grandpa, when he took my papa
and mamma away to live with Him. I mean
to tell them all about it when I get to
heaven.”
A nice time did Sunbeam have with aunt
Ellen, buying and making up ihe hew things
for Christmas presents ; and ll|e happiness
(hat shone in her face on Chrislmai morning
as she started to distribute her bundles, could
be compared only to a ray of sunshine ol
heaven. So thought grandpa, as she waved
her little hand to him from ihe carriage
window, and as he (urned away he mur
mured, unconsciously, “Of such is the king
dom of heaven.”
Lillie Mary proved herself, that day, to be
what her name signified, for she was indeed
a sunbeam ; and scattering light and happi.
ness in poverty 'stricken homes, and filling
many a dark heart with joy and gratitude, it
was no wonder that as she left a bless
ing wherever her footsteps tarried, blessing
should follow her, and that in happy, grateful
hearts, long afterwards, there should arise
the beautiful picture of a child-angel.
Would that there wore more such angel
Sunbeams to gladden our earth, and to teach
us the way, and help us to love, to lay up
our treasures in heaven. Nathalie.
The Father of Waters.
The vaslnessof the great Mississippi river,
is thus given by a newspaper correspondent
who writes from Maiden Rock, Wisconsin :
“While I look upon the river, three miles
wide at this point, my mind seems to lake in
at one grasp the magnitude of the stream. —
From the frozen regions of the north to the
sunny south, it extends some 2,300 miles,
and with the Missouri is 4,500 miles in length.
It would reach from New York across the
Atlantic, and extend from France to Turkey
and the Caspian sea. Its average depth from
its source, in lake Itasca, Minesota, to its
delta, in the Gulf of Mexico, is fifty feet, and
a half a mile wide. The trapper on the Up
per Mississippi, can take the furs of (he ani
mals that inhabit its source and exchange
them for thq tropical fruits that are gathered
on the bank below. Slaves toil al one end
of this great thoroughfare, while the red men
of the forest roam at the other end. The
floods are more than a month traveling from
its source to the delta. The total number of
steamers afloat of this river and its tributa
ries are 1,500 —more than twice (be entire
tonnage of England and equal to that of all
other parts of the world, ft receives a score
of tributaries, the least of which are stronger
than the vaunted streams of mighty empires.
.It might furnish natural boundaries for'all
Europe, and yet leave for every country a
river longer than the Seine, It engulfs more
every ye'arjhan the revenue of many petty
kingdoms, and rolls a volume in whose depths
the cathedral of St. Paul could be sunk out
of sight. It discharges in one year more
water than lias issued from the Tiber in five
centuries; it swallows up fifty rivers which
have no name, each of which are longer than
the Thames. The addition of the waters of
the Danube would not swell it a halfa fathom.
In one single reservoir, 2,500 miles from the
sea, the navies might ride at anchor. It
washes the shores of twelve powerful Stales,
and between its arms lies space for twenty
mote.”
A Good Witness. —“Did the defendant
knock the plaintiff down with.a malice pre
pense ?”
“No, sir; he knocked him down with a
flat-iron.”
“You misunderstand roe, my friend; 1
wanHo know whether he attacked him with
evil intent." •
“Oh, no, sir; it was outside the tent,’’ ,
“No, nb ! 1 wish you to tell mo whether
the attack was at all a preconcerted affair,”
“No, sjr,; it was not ,a frcc fioncert agHir;
it was a circus,”
WELLSBOROj TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING. JUNE 17, 1858.
From Dr. Beecher’s Life Thoughts.
—There are many professing Christians
who ate secretly vexed on account of the
charity they have to bestow, and the self-de
nial they have to use. If instead of the
smooth prayers which they do pray, they
■would speak out the things which they really
feel, they would say, when thSj’ go home at
night, “O Lord, I met a poor wretch of yours
to day, a miserable, unwaslied brat, and I
gave him sixpence, and I have been sorry
for it ever since; or O Lord, if 1 had not
signed those articles of faith, I might have
gone to the theatre this evening. Your reli
gion deprives me of a great deal of comfort,
but I mean to slick to it. There’s no other
way of getting into Heaven, I suppose.”—
The sooner such men are out of the church
the better.
—I never knew my mother. She died
when I was three years old, that she might
be an angel to me all my life. 1 But one day
in after years, turning over a pile of old let
ters in my father’s study, I lound a package
of her letters to him, beginning with her first
acquaintance with him, and coming down in
to her married life; and as I read those pages,
at last I knew my mother. What- these let
ters were to her life, that are the Four Cost
pels to the life of Christ. But I remember
that there was one leljer in which she first
spoke freely and frankly of her love. That,
to me, is the Gospel of John. It is God’s
love-letter to the world.
—A babe is a mother’s anchor. She can
not swing far from her moorings. And yet
a true mother never lives so little in the pres
ent as when by the side of the cradle. Her
thoughts follow the imagined future of her
child. That babe is the boldest of pilots, and
guides her fearless thoughts down through
scenes of coming years. The old ark never
made such a voyage as the cradle daily
makes.
—God designed men to grow as trees grow
in open pasture, full boughed all around ; but
men in society grow like trees in a forest,
tall and spindling, the lower ones overshad
owed by the higher, with only a little branch
ing, and that at the top. They borrow of
each other the power to stand ; and if the
forest be cleared, and one be left alone, the
first wind which comes uproots it.
—lt is difficult to say which is the greater
defect in a parent—strictness and firmness in
his family without feeling and afipclion, or
feeling and affection without strictness and
firmness. Under the one system, the chil
dren are apt to become slaves or hypocrites;
under the other, tyrants or rebels. But true
love is always firm, and true firmness is al
ways, love.
—You might as well go to the catacombs
of Egypt, and scrape up the dust of mum
mies, and knead it into forms, and bake them
in an oven, and call such things men, and
ptesent them as citizens and teachers, for our
regard, as to bring old lime worn institutions
to serve the growth and the living wants of
to-day.
—lt is with the singing of a congregation
as with the sighing of the wind in the forest,
where the notes of the million rustling leaves,
and the boughs striking upon each other, al
together make a harmony, no matter what
be the individual discords.
—Not parties, but principles. Let us be
of no parly but God’s party, and use all oth
er agencies as we use railroad cars—travel
ing upon one train as far as it will take us in
the right direction, and then leaving it for
another.
Gossippers—Startling Disclosure.—
“How do you do, Mrs. Towe? Have you
heard the story abovl Mrs. Gad?”
“What is it ? Do tell I”
“Oh, I promised not to tell for all Ihe
world I No, I must never tell on’t; I’m
afraid it will git out.”
“Why, I’ll never tell on’t as long as I live,
just as true as the world. What is it? Do
tell.”
“Now you won’t say anything about it,
wil I you ?”
“Oh, I’ll never open my mouth about it—
never.”
“Well, if you’ll believe it, Mrs. Lunda told
me last night, that Mrs. Trot told her that
her sister’s husband was told by a person
that dreamed! it, that Mr. Trouble’s oldest
daughter told Mrs, Nichens, that her grand
mother heard by a letter which she got from
her sister’s second husband’s oldest brother’s
step daughter, that it was reported by the
captain of a clam boat, just,arrived from the
Fejee Island, that the mermaids about that
section wear crinoline made out of shark
skins I”
A gentleman of Virginia, had a fine negro,
to whom he gave the privilege of hiring him
self out, and keeping one-half the wages.—
A short lime since the negro came home to
his master, to tell him that the man for whom
he had been working wished to bay him, and
would give thirteen hundred dollars for him.
“Well,” said his master, “what of that?
I don’t wish to sell.”
“But you see.massa,” said Sam, “I’sa had
a cough some time, aud ’specs I’m gwine in
to dsumplion. I don’t ’spec I -shall last
more’n two or three years, and I’d like to
take dat man in I”
A young physician asking permission of a
lady to kiss her she replied;
“No, sir ; I never like |o have a doctor’s
bill thrust in my face.”
. The strongest minded womanshrinlu from
being caught in her night cap.
The Game of Checkers.
(“Aunt Molly," said Fanny Osborne, one
evening, “did you ever hear any one pop the
question?”
“Why, certainly, my child, I heatd your
uncle Charlie pop it, as you call it.”
“Oh yes, of course,” said Fanny, but one
dosen’t often (ell their own experience. I
mean did you ever hear any one elseV’
“Well, yes,” replied Aunt Molly, slowly
“I did happen to once.”
“0 please tell me all about it,” cried
Fanny, “I would so like to be a little mouse in
the wall on such an occasion.”
Fanny was jnst out of fifteen, and it was
very natural that she should want to be
posted.
“Very well,” said Aunt Molly, “get your
work, then, for I don’t like to talk to an idle
listener.”
Fanny established herself, and Aunt Molly
began: “It was about ten years after I was
married ,and house-keepiug, that cousin Will
Morris, uncle Bnjamin’s son, came to live
with us; that is he was a partner in your
uncle Charlie’s store, and boaided with us.
You never saw Will, did you?”
Fanny nodded her head, and Aunt Molly
went on.
“He was a whole souled, straight forward
substantial young man, not lacking in polish,
either; but very bashful, so much so that I
used really to pity him sometimes, when we
had young company. Annie Evans was an
old school-mate of mine, and just after I
went to house-keeping, her parents moved to
Oxford, and lived only a short distance from
us. Annie used frequently to bring her work,
and spend the evening with me, and uncle
Charlie would go home wi'h her. Those
were rare times, Fanny, and we enjoyed them
fully. Annie was a real woman ; none of
your nonsensical, love sick girls, whose
heads are full of beaux that they won’t hold
anything else.
Fanny blushed as Aunt Molly said this,
but Aunty looking very demure, and con
tinued : “And knowing her as I did, I felt
particularly anxious that she should be well
settled in life.’’
“That means, with a good husband,” re
plied Fanny, roguishly,
“Certainly,’’ said Aunt Molly ; “ and after
Will, came, and I became acquainted with
him, I look it into my head that he and Annie
would make a capital match. But somehow,
after he came, Annie did not come so often,
and Will, who was very entertaining in his
conversation when we were alone, in her
presence, was silent and awkward in his
manner, as if under restraint; and Annie
look but little ( notice of him, only as far as
politeness required, and requested me pri
vately to arrange it, that uncle Charlie should
still go home with her, that is, if he had no
objections. So the young people’s acquaint
ance progressed slowly. Time and habit
arrange these things beautifully, and gradu
ally they came to be more familiar, so as
even to call each other by their Christian
names. I helped it about though, for I could
not bear the formality of Mr. Morris and Miss
Ekans. Just as 1 expected—Will became
very much interested in Annie; for that
matter he had admired her from the first, but
he was modest in his pretensions, and seemed
to regard her as beyond his reach. At any
rate he could not summons courage to speak
on the subject nearest his heart.”
“How did you know, Aunt Molly ?” in
quired Fanny.
“Oh, from observation,” replied Aunt Mol
ly, “and Annie did not help the matter
any, for though she was quite friendly aod
social in his company, yet there was nothing
in her manner that betrayed the slightest
interest in him. Well, one evening, Annie
had been spending the afternoon with me,
and were about talked out, when Will came
home from the store, and 1 proposed their
playing a game of checkers. Uncle Charles
had gone to a political meeting. I sat some
distance off, sewing, and with one eye watch
ing the game. They were both good play
ers, and for a long time moved silently, and
apparently intent on ihe game. At length as
if conscious that her case was hopeless,
Annie remarked, identifying herself with the
man she was moving, “[ see you are after
me Will.”
“If I catch you,” spoke Will with sudden
energy, “will you leave me undisputed pos
session ?”
Annie looked up, startled by his. manner,
and seeing in bis eager face ihe meaning he
had placed upon her words, paused, blushed
deeply, hesilaled and presently replied
“Perhaps so; if you and Mary will prom
ise never to tell anybody that I popped the
question.”
Will rose hastily, dropped the board—the
checkers ran all over the floor, and taking
Annie by the hand, led her to me, saying :
“Cousin Mary do you think I deserve this
happiness ?”
“Certainly, Will,” I replied, “and I con
gratulate you most sincerely, and now if you
will come out of your happy state, and pick
up these checkers, I will be much obliged to
you.”
Will and Annie labghed heartily, and he
gan picking them up with alacrity, and as
Will took up the board to put it-away he-re
marked :
“That was the pleasantest game of check
ers I ever played in my life.”
Annie said nothing, but looked very rosy
and smiling. “And now,” said Aanl
“are you satisfied V’
A western editor in speaking of a steam
boat explosion, says that tfiieefiersotis were
“-slightly” skillet}.
THE PRESENT BUTT’
Ah, why against thyself sad warfare wage—
Writing such hitler things on mero’ry’sipage?
And why does all the future seem to,thee
So clad in hues of dark despondency ? >
Let no discouragement thy soul o’erpower,
But do the duly of the present hour. '
• Tis waste of time to mourn o’er wasted years.
So that thine eyes are blinded by thy tears;
If sorrow’s night darken the light ot:day,
How canst thou ever see the M narrow way 7”
And if discouragement thy soul o’erpower,
How fares the duly of the present hour?
Be wise, then, and improve the fleeting Now;
No more this palsying grief and fear; allow;
The past, with all its vanity, is gone, 1 j
The present, with its hope, is all thine own;
And oh, thou’lt find full many a hidden flow’r
Whilst true to duties of the present hour.
AN ESSAY,: 1
Bead before the Tioga Co., Teacher’s
Institute, Hay 1858,
BY H. N. WILLIAMS,
ilfr. Chairman, Ladies and Geiitlemen ;
The subject 1 have chosen for your consider
ation, and a few remarks, is Primary Edu
cation—a subject that should engage the at
tention of every Readier in the public schools
of Tioga County—a subject that' embraces
matters of vital and vast importance; vital,
because it is the starting point of (fie young
voyager o’er life’s dark sea ; vast, because it
is the foundation of all education, 1 good or
bad, judicious or deficient. Every man whose
name has graced history’s page; who has
been an ornament to his country and a bless
ing to humanity, points with great ;pleasure
to the primary school, as the place where he
received his first deep-fraught impressions of
duty, and acquired the energy requisite to
nobly accomplish his purpose. Also, the
greatest criminals bemoan their early educa
tion, erroneous and deficient, as thd cause,
why they have been so much the I curse of
mankind. Again, I repeal, the subject is
richly and deeply laden with great and essen
tial importances. There is no time belter
than in childhood to lay the foundations of
an education that shall exalt, ennoble and
beautify the possessor. With thelypulh, the
philanthropist most hopes 10 succeed in great
reforms. All eyes are turned toward the
young, as tho staff and hope of the future. —
The true statesman for men that shall push
forward to the acquirement of more liberal
institutions than has been man’s lot|to enjoy
heretofore; the Christian and mprahst, for
men of deeper piety and more sterling inieg
rity, to do balile against a sinful world. The
present living, love to dwell on pictures of
the imaginaiion, highly wrought i and fanci
fully colored, portraying the mighty deeds
and wonderful achievements of theirlchildren
and their children’s children; and neglect
great and imperative duties for no cliher cause.
Such conduct is extremely reprehensible,
and must be accounted for to the smallest mi
nutiae. Man has no right to dream! through
life, and as it were, rust away, thoughtless
and inert. Verily, it is our duiy to place the
young in as advantageous positions as possi
ble, and not to leave them bound; in error
and superstition. From earliest lime to the
present, the animals have changed as little as
ihe herbage on which they feed, bribe trees
beneath which they find shelter. Not so with
man ; although in infancy the most helpless
of all living creatures, and, if left [tq himself,
growing up in many respects’inferior to the
nobler brutes, he is endowed with! faculties
capable of infinite expansion, and will con
tinue to progress till he assumes |his God
ordained position—a little lower lhajn the an
gels. The simile is not inelegant!,- to liken
man, anterior to moral and imelledtual cul
ture, to a diamond in the rough-i-a'giant in
slumber. Polish that diamond aright; arouse
that giant to correct and judicious action, and
oh, how brilliant,howtranscendentlyiglorious,
the perfect, the free man ! Oh, that diamond
of the soul! the immotinl soul! ho[w precious,
how priceless, beyond the value! of rubies,
and how far exceeds it Golcontla’s boasted
jewels! The strength of the intellect no
earthly power can withstand. The infant
,-mtnd is a mystery; it has longings and
wants that none but the master hand can feed
and supply. The infant heart bias recesses
of immeasurable depth and richness, and few
parents or teachers can reach the bottom
and bring forth its glorious wealth ; it has
fountains that should pour forth waters of liv
ing purity ; and strings that should ever har
monize with nature and nature’s God ! But
all, all depends on education. And what is
education ? The word is derived -from E,
out, and duco, to lead; hence education
means to lead out Ihe mind, to strengthen
and enlarge the moral and intellectual facul
ties. Education and instruction are often
confounded, and used fur one and the same
thing.’ Instruction mentis the pouring into
the mind—storing it with facts and [truths.—
Instruction is a necessary concomitant o( ed
ucation, but without education, instruction is
as useless as jewels at the bottom of old
ocean’s deep, or beneath the mountain’s base.
Education is divided into three heads, physi
cal, intellectual.and moral, and these are so
closely interwoven, that the promotion of one
is the promotion of the other. Physical edu
cation, for some reason, has been sadly neg
lected. Parents and teachers have shown a
culpable indifference on the subject. Most
sorely the body as much needs development
as the' faculties of the mind, in older to bring
forth the full and perfect man. {3d mysteri
ous is the union of mind and matter, that an
intellectual giant and a physical dwarf are
incompatible. Anatomy, physiology and hy
gieoe are Intensely interesting subjects, and
have a high moral tendency. No pierson can
become familiar with the human ’organism
without admiring the manner of its creation,
so fearful, >Bo wonderful,-so majestic !nor with-
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Posters, Handbills, Bill.and Letter Heads, tod all
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NO. XLYI.
out being led inslinclively, up to the great
Creator,-God. There is no better time than
in youth to instil the principles of health and
long life, and make them useful ere disease
has fastened its destroying fangs upon the
constitution.
The teacher who lets bis scholars sicken
and die through ignorance of the laws of
health, js inadequate to the calling, however
«ell he may be informed in other respects-
Many are the constitutional bankrupts caused
through ignorance of, and inattention to the
laws of health. ’Tis no glory to have it said,,
“the pupil has studied himself to death.”—
’Tis no honor to have a mind which the body
is unable to support. Every teacher should
make physiology a study in school. It isibe
pupil’s imperative demand. Next comes ihe
intellectual development of the child—a part
of education that should elicit the most ardu
ous care and scrupulous nicety on the part of
ihe teacher. It is here that habiisof thought
are lo be formed; and how necessary that
they be correct. Neatness, order and regu
larity of business depend upon early educa
tion. A vast amount of the worthless, su
perficial education prevalent, is chargeable to
leachers. The poor spelling, ridiculous and
shameful as il is, is a neglect in the primary
School. Can there be too much exactness
in these things? Nay, verily I This push
ing scholars forward with but a superficial
understanding of what they have gone over,
and having them conjugate their “amo, amas,
amdt,” when they scarcely know the elemen
tal sounds of ihe alphabet, is too ridiculous
to be tolerated and should be remedied. It
is in this branch of education that the child
is to be led, step by step, to think, feel and
act for himself, and to know and appreciate
that he has an independent identity, a self-ex
istence, and is fast approaching the stage of
active life and accountability ; and these can
not be 100 forcibly impressed on the child’s
mind. Lastly comes the moral: No part
of education is of so vast importance as this.
Without il, what is man? Worse than the
brute. Educate him in all else, and he is
only the stronger to do injury and carry out
his plans of wickedness. It only enables
him to be ihe greater villain, make more com
plete his own ruin, and more dangerous bis
pernicious influence. The undying soul, in
a probationary stale for eternal weal or woe,
is too precious to be tampered with by pollu
ted hands. The human heart is so prolific
of evil, that unless good seed be sown early,
lures and thistles will spring up in luxurious
growth. No education is complete without a
full development of these faculties of the
mind, which make the man bold in Ihe de
fence of truth and right, and a haler of vice
and its inevitable, results, and strong lo do
battle with the baser part of his nature.
Man is emphatically a creature of imita
tion, made up by the surrounding associa
tions, The infant mind is capable beyond
our belief, end ere we think il able to under
stand the least things, it is watching every
motion, every word and look, and treasuring
them up, deep in the recesses of the heart.
The child looks on the teacher as a pattern,
and ils greatest ambition is lo imitate the par
agon. The teacher cannot bo lo much on
his guard ; cannot watch every motion or
word too closely. For who shall compen
sate, if ihe faults of the teacher ruin the
child? , Who shall enter into a mother’s
heart and describe her feelings as she finds
on the return of her child from school—a
child she has tanghl with arduous care, that
he has learned lo swear, lo lie and deceive.
Language is inadequate lo the task. Nona
but mothers can feel so deeply. The teacher
.who puls on a fair exterior, but is inwardly
dead and rotten at the heart; who secures
the child’s confidence, but to lead it in the
path of deception and vice, is a thousand
times more lo be dreaded than the viper that
coils itself in Ihe child’s pathway, and se
cretly wails to inject its poisonous venom
inlo life’s crimson current. Hero, in this
branch of education, is a field of labor for
ihe highest intellect, the greatest development
ofcnjind, and the teacher who triumphantly
succeeds in this department of education, has
performed the most difficult of tasks’, and is
worthy of the greatest praise. In this branch
ol education all the noble and manly senti
ments are called forth ; and as the eagle with
mounts aloft and braves the furious blast to
lead forth its young to soar in the deep con
cave blue, so'should the teacher rise above
the petty cares, grovelling thoughts and ba
ser nature of man, and, pointing heavenward,
instruct the child that it is not all of life to
live; that great and imperative duties are to
be performed; that an inheritance, glorious
and blight, is to be obtained and enjoyed,
long after this poor body is laid low in the
dust!
An old settler near Bloomington, Illinois,
has seen the toughest limes of any-man we
ever heard of. He says the winter of 1830
was remarkable for the scarcity of money ;
so much so, that one man who was elected
Justice of the Peace, couldn’t- raise money
enough to pay an officer for swearing him in ;
so he stood up before a looking-glass and
qualified himself,
There is a divine out wesP trying to pets
suade girls to forego marriage. He might as
well try to persuade ducks that they could
fino a substitute for water, or rosebuds that
there is something better for their complexion
than sunshine. The only convert he has yet
made is a single lady, aged sixty !
The Chiqese h av e a saving that an un.
holy word dropped from the longue, cannot
be brought'back again hy a coach and sii{
horses.'
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