ijpgfins of Publicfllion# TFIE TIOGA COONTY AGITATOR is pub J Thursday Morning, and mailed to anb i ' sD .f‘L n/ihe very reaaooable price of Ora Dol- Kr,be rmnomi invariably inadeanee. Itiaintend- P e ,;f v every subscriber when the term'for ed hlrh he has paid shall have expired, by the stamp ffluc jj. p 0u i ”on the margin of the last paper. T oer Will then bh Sloped until a further re- Tie paper . j toy tills arrangement no man jniltance “^ debt r/the prinlel ran bc fc ' o “^ iTot ia the Official Paper of the Coon ■1 I,«ra and steadily increasing circulation ly, with a ur- neir)y every neighborhood in the reaching I Mnt j Ttt 0 y to any Post-office C™" l *;,.. coaD ty limits, and to those living within within w (, ose mostconvenientpostoffice may tlie mad oin.ag County. Cards, not exceeding s.lines, paper in eluded, 34 per ORATION, Delivered before the Tioga Co. Teach er’s Institute, RE F. D. RITTER, Ladiei and Gentlemen, c History tells us that far back in the early ages of the world, wbeo it was shrouded in comparative dark ness, civilization began springing up here and there like springs in a desert, shedding joy and peace around, and forming an oasis in the great desert of human degradation. Fol lowing farther down the great stream of time they become more frequent, and uniting, form larne streams that sweep on with irresistible impetuosity. When impediments to their progress were presented, it sought outlets through other channels or swept away all obstructions. Civilization began wending its way through ancient Greece and Palestine, penetrating . he confines of ihe darkness which encompassed them, until they were acknowl edged as the cradles of learning, the sources from which emanated all light, and to which art and science pointed as their birth-places. But alas! how changed our condition. To accomplish the present refined stale of society, mijhtv struggles have been made. As the healthful influence of civilization advanced, sow 1 .? improved, and the same bright stand ard cf reform that waved o’er the shores of Galiilee now unfurls its bright folds o’er the “cradle of Liberty,” where it is the pride of each true heart to raise it still higher ; where no caste or obscurity of birth dooms man to !stiommy and disgrace, but where by their industry and moral worth, each may attain positions of honor and dignity. Woman, once the slave of eastern climes, here takes the place -to which by nature she is designed. Anciently a nation’s delight and highest glory consisted iq bloodshed and carnage. Rome, whose praises have been so loudly sung, de lighted in her gladitorial combats, and in maddened frenzy reveled in human blood.— Greece, around whose name clusters so much of elory, also indulged in scenes that will forever tarnish and dim the brightness of her glorious career. Yet these by their down fall and ruin furnish us examples that we may shun the shoals and quick-sands upon which they were cast, [n short, civilization transforms man from a mere animal, without one high and lofty aspiration, with no enjoy menl but the gratification of low animal na ture, to a reasonable and intelligent being.— Yet in all the darkness the mind is still there. But what is that mind, that viial part which the Creator has bestowed upon man, but a perverted power to plunge him still deeper in degradation and woe I Contrast the con dition of the civilized wiih that of the sav age. Go with me to file heathen shores, where the nature of mankind has never known the healthful influences of civilization, or the arts and sciences broken through the misty atmosphere of the darkened under standing, where Ihe religion of the cross has never iliumed the fogs of ignorance and su persniion that envelop them. Behold what scenes present themselves to our sight. The moihcr leaning the babe from her bosom and hurling ii into the flood, with no heart lopily the helpless thing as it sends up its cry of distress, but with seeming joy sees it writhe in agony ; and the victim of idolatry, throw, ingbrnself to be crushed to deaih beneath the winds of the car of Jugernaut. Behold these ihmgs and thank God that your lot has cast m a land of reason and Christianity. Asciriliziijon advances, ignorance and SU- persuiion give way, and instead of heathen idols are seen ihe spires of church os glancing m the rising and setting sun, and lr o6 Christian worship ascending from hearts that formerly reveled in heathen idolatry.— To civilization we owe the privileges and lux unes of life. U has given us laws by which *o are protected and by which we may be governed. It affords us the means of enlight enment by establishing the printing press— . 1 mighty engine of thought, and by build ,n 2 our school houses, placing knowledge "'t'hin the reach of millions; thus enabling ntankmd to see the position they occupy in creation, to know partially the end for which ™an was created, and to enjoy the thousand twites that are given for our enjoyment up cn the right hand and upon the left. It pro caims the gospel of Jesus Christ to a dying or ,and points with living hope to a bright n g'Onous hereafter. It alleviates the suf , J ,n g s of mortal man by leaching him the ", 01 nalure upon which his happiness de s,° j 1 as placed the products of a world ‘° ,J r disposal, by placing upon the mighty tron' m , ean3 01 ,ran3 portalion, and upon the rai ’h® engines that speed along our val vhe' mas,n S "°ods and hills re-echo back ’hus rendering the elements li hi- e VeS su i )ierv ient to the will of man.— ii,j 1 *’ lau Sh t man 10 bring down the forked rom the murky cloud and attach to r(°-° h ! s an( * set> d * l the faithful juj'j' 01 bis w dl; thus annihilating lime itomT' 6 stretching the magnetic wire ev en fr*" l ° lo .' vn ’ rom sla,e t 0 stale, nay, coa,ment 10 continent, qommuni- Ihat r na ? ’ aslant with places so distant °ecess rno . er wce ' ts nni * even nnonihs were kin a 10 accom Piish what it now takes ■ks m .° menl 10 perform. In view of all Hj ail 18 bat natural to enquire by what •koui S p ® reat results have been brought seernerf t ‘ ac^r ' n 'he dark ages. when all th ere snomerged in blackness, here and kaviri'i i ° at j ” ave been seen seme minds, ing ;. 0 a f „ ’he cup of inspiraiiun, tower- C™ el above the rest of mankind, Br °und nj* V ri = I'’ 1 '’ J ewels from the rubbish "form = D j s ” odd ’ n 8 forth- rays of healthy face of n ao< *' ,n B boldly forth, dared in lhe nnew. a k °P pos ' , ton to proclaim whai lh, S bad io°fi„k? Shl P nd j us, ‘ Atld although = m against superstition, ignor- I THE AGITATOR. Scfroteg to tfte Extension of tf)t a«a of iFmgont nnlf tfie Ssmtt of mtnltf)s ntfovml I WHILE THERE SHALL BE A WRONG UNSIGHTED, AND UNTIL “ MAN’S INHUMANITT TO MAI?” SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE, YOU. IY. , ance, and worse than all, the jealousies of potentates, yet they persevered, and many testified to their.faith in the works which they did by expiring amid the faggot’s blaze; yet their ashes spoke eloquently for the doctrines they taught. the work went on.— Others caught up the strain, and it burst forth with an impetuosity that the potentates of earth wiih bloody hands were unable to stay. Under this genial reform the arts and sciences sprang up; and the civilization thus begun in the old world extended westward until it reached its culminating point in the new. “Westward the star of empire takes its way.” Not the least in the aid to civilization and reform is education, preparing the mind for greater exertion in true reform, by expanding and developing its natural slate. For ’tis the mind that gives to man his boasted power. ■What is the puny arm of man compared with halure animate and inanimate. Man sinks into insignificance when compared with inanimate nature. The lightning that flash es athwart the sky, shivering the mighty oak to atoms; the fierce wind that tears the for est trees from the earth; the vast wave of the mighty deep; the myriads of revolving worlds, do all bid him wonder and admire.— Yet with reason at his side, man can subdue these and make them his servants. Leaving the mind out of consideration, what would be the power of man to combat with the most insignificant of animate nature. The horse, that so patiently submits to be his servant, would be far his superior, and could withstand the combined strength of many such feeble creatures as man. It is reason that gives man the strength to sub due. Then how important that it should be cultivated aright, while the mind is yet ten der and susceptible of being moulded either right or wrong, for as learning and virtue appear, civilization shines out bright and speeds more rapidly. As were in ancient limes the philosophers and reformers to the world, so may the school teachers be to the present day. As the philosophers nod re formers held the destinies of their nations within their grasp, so in a measure dues the teacher, by training the mind of the young and disciplining it to toil and rigid though'. For ’tis thought that makes the man. It is not a knowledge of facts, (true these are nec essary) but the disciplined mind has prece dence over these. Many a school boy of the present day knows mote of the facts con lained in philosophy, than Sir Isaac Newton ever did. Then why is ha not as great a man? Simply because so great original thought ia not of his composition. He has not plunged into the mysteries of nature and brought forth those things which were con cealed ; but he has only to look at those things which have been searched out by oth ers. To the teacher peculiarly belongs the duty of so training and developing thejnlel lect of those under his care, that “With minds inured to rigid thought. In love, in science and in virtue taught,” they may be prepared well their part in the drama of life. Civilization has drawn aside the pall of darkness which surrounded the understanding. Education has awakened the slumbering powers of man and given to him new energies, discovered to him new and hidden beauties, and whispered in his ears words of heavenly import. With mind no longer trammeled by ignorance, but quicken-' ed and refined, the present time limits not his scope of vision, in contemplation he can dwell in eras beyond the flood—lread the walks of Eden where Jehovah first spoke mao into being—commune with patriarchs and sages of olden time—can stand at the foot of sacred Sinai and behold the lightnings playing from the clouds—penetrate the dark confines of the future, and watch the ever varying scenes its dark vista yet conceals from the uninspired. How vast the contrast between the cultivated and uncivilized mind. How sad and dark the history of the latter. Millions have groveled along the pathway of life in ignorance, beholding no ray of light to guide them —have been wrecked at the gales of vice, victims to a thousano crimes —have left the world and a darkness dreary as the tomb. But that darkness is fast dis appearing before the onward march of civili zation. Who shall tell the results of the la bors of the missionaries who have left home, friends, and everything dear to them but the cause of Christ, and gone to the heathen shores to proclaim the Gospel, and to carry civilization with all its benefits to the very doors of the savage. Although many perish by cruel hands, yet their blood may be the means of redeeming a fallen nation, and en veloping (hem in a halo of light. Tradition’s tales may pass away. Monumental marble may crumble into t dust, yet time can not ob literate from the memory of ages the moral influence of such men. Their monuments shall be raised in Heaven. Let us each of us try to do something worthy of the privi leges we enjoy. Fellow, Teachers, let us not yield to dis couragements. We can see many things to encourage us, and our present position should cause our hearts to swell with gratitude as we turn our eyes to the rock first pressed by pilgrim feel and as our thoughts linger on the scenes of their sufferings, may we re member the inheritance they have left us and what it cost, may we ever guard with con stant care this priceless treasure, and resolve to prepare fora “mysterious' future, fathom less, o’ercast.” Whatever may be the dreams and fancies of youth, life is a stern reality. Then it demands of us that our notions of it be real, that we cultivate proper tastes and habits, for in the morn of life is the time to be armed for its sterner duty, for the vicissi tudes of its decline. How sad and filled with remorse must ba that mind which can look I back upon a'Jife spent in vain display, culli- WELLSBORO, TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING. JULY 8, 1858. vated in naught but trifles. When the hours of youth, which might have been de voted to exalted attainments, preparing it for usefulness, are gone never to be recalled, then all regrets are vain, remorse of no avail. Few know the duties, cares and perplexities of (he teacher till they have assumed the responsibility. And few there are who can realize the anxieties of everv faithful teacher for the immortal minds under their charge. Souls undying are being moulded, either for the weal or woe of every youthful voyager. Impressions are being made that will be carried with them through the endless ages of eternity as enduring as the characters made by the finger of God upon tablets given to Moses on the sacred Mount, Sinai. With these reflections before the mind, what teach er can have a heart so indifferent as not to feel the responsibility of his position and his duty to those beneath his care; and whom they are bound, socially and morally to watch over with prayerful solicitude. Al though we have but little sympathy from without, let us do our duty and leave the rest to God. Finally, may I not hope to see our Institute leading to glorious results. And that many of its members stand proudly con spicuous in this empire of mind. May the star of its destiny ever shine with unsullied lustre, and as the impersonation of real genios, (he embodiment of all that is great and noble. The world has.need of such teachers to take charge of the rising genera tion. All departments of life loudly call for such men and women. Who, with earnest ness stamped upon their brows may pursue the right with a zeal that knows no diminu tion. Then shall those who have spent their lives and energies for Ihe cause of civiliza tion and reform know that they have not lived in vain. Spare Moments. —A lean, awkward boy came to the door of a principal of a celebra ted school, one morning, and asked to see him. The servant eyed his mean clothes and thinking he looked more like a beggar than anything else, told him to go round to the kitchen. The boy did as he was bidden, and soon appeared at the back door. “1 should like to see Mr. ,” said he. “You want a breakfast, more like,” said the servant girl, “and I can give you that without troubling him.” “Thank you,” said the boy ; “I should like to see Mr. 1, if he can see me.” “Some old clothes may be yo(i warn,” re marked ihe servant, again cyeipg the boy’s patched .clothes. “1 guess he has noue to spare —he gives away a sight.” And with out minding the boy’s request, the servant went about her work. “Can 1 see Mr. .’’again asked the boy, after finishing his bread and butler. “Well, he is in the library ; if he must be disturbed, he must. He does like to be alone, sometimes,” said the girl, in a peevish lone. She seemed to be very foolish to take such a boy into her master’s presence. However, she wiped her hands, and bade him follow. Opening the library door, she said, “Here’s somebody who is dreadful anxious to see you, and so I let him in. 1 I don’t know how the boy introduced him self, or how he opened the business ; but I know that after talking a while, the principal put aside the volume that he was studying, and look up some Greek books, and began to examine the new-comer. The examination lasted for some time. Every question the principal asked the boy, was answered as readily as could be. “Upon my word,” exclaimed the principal,' “you do well,” looking at the boy dom head to fool over his spectacles. “Why my, boy, where did you pick up so much.” “In my spare moments,'' answered the boy. Here was a poor, hard-working boy, wiih few opportunities for schooling, yet almost filled for college, by simply improving bis spare moments. Truly are spare moments the “gold-dust of time.” How precious they should be. What account can you give of your spare moments? What can you show for them ? Look and see. This boy can tell you how very much can be laid up by improving them ; and there are many, very many other boys, I am afraid, in the jail, and in the house of correction, in the gambling house, in the tippling shop, who, if you were to ask them where they began their sinful courses, might answer, “in my spare mo ments.’’ Oh, be very careful how you spend your spare moments! The tempter always hunts you out in small seasons like these ; when you are not busy, he gets into your hearts, if he possibly can, in just such gaps. There he hides himself, planning all sorts of mis chif. Take care of your spare moments!— Mrs. H. C. Knight. The Doctor’s Welcome. —Down East there resides a certain M. D. One very cold night he was roused from his slumber by a very loud knocking at the door. After some hesitation he went to the window and asked : “Who’s there '!” “Friend.” “What do you want?” “Stay all night.” “Slay there then,” was the benevolent re- Plj.” The Duke Marborough passing the gale of the tower, after having inspected that fortress, was accosted by an ill-looking fellow thus : “How do you do, my Lord Duke? I be lieve your grace and I have been in every jail in ihe kingdom.” “I believe friend,” re plies the Duke with surprise, “this is the on ly jail I .have ever visitedi” “Very like,” replied the fellow, “but I have been in all the rest.” The Death of the Tigress. The time for action, however, was nearer at hand than any of the party imagined, which was to lest our nerves and bring us into somewhat close proximity with the game, which with the exception of Lieut. F., none of us had seen killed, much less encountered on foot. Immediately beneath where we stood Jn the lower fort commenced one of those ravines of fissures with which the mountain side was furrowed. Boulders of rock betwixt the openings of which sprang trees, cactus and grass, served to conceal its shadowy depths and to afford a safe retreat for the larger descriptions of game we hoped to find. At this juncture of our tale, when the cries of the beaters announced their ap proach below the mouth of the ravine, and the hopes of the expectants above became fainter from the little space of ground that remained unbeaten, one of the nearest beaters shouted to Lieutenant F., who had clambered a little way down the hill-side, that he had seen something in the jungle for a moment like “a small cow of a yellow color’’ making for the mouth of the ravine, and the next in stant the officer addressed fired a shot at some object below, which was responded to by a roar that left little doubt of the nature of the game afoot. A call for volunteers from the parly above was quickly followed by the addition of Lieutenants P. and-W. to the storming parly, consisting now of three tall, active young men, fit for the ugly work be fore them. No time was lost in moving for the mouth of the ravine below, which, it was judged the animal must have made for; and knowing that it had been struck by the shot fired by Lieutenant F. the beaters were ordered to form in the rear of the officers, who began | their ascent up the bottom of the ravine and i through a tangled mass of brushwood, trees and rocks, towards an abrupt cliff that ap-1 peared to terminate it. Here an opening in the cliff formed a cave of some ten feet wide and as many deep, at the further extremity of which appeared an ominous looking cir cular hole about three feet in diameter— a snug retreat for the animal we were in search of. The ground around was slrewn with sand, and from the unmistakable foot-prints, of a cheese plate size, surrounded by smaller ones of a similar form, the startling fact an nounced itself that we stood within a few feet of A wounded tigress with cubs! Nothing animated, however, was visible, or audible, except the suppressed voices of the beaters outside the den. VVe looked at other in si lent question as to what was next ’o be done. To return to our parly above, empty handed, i.fler having'run our game to earth, was not to be thought of. As a reconnoisance, F. now cautiously crawled with rifle cocked, to (he mou'h of the hole, and listened ; but nothing was heard.from the darkness, though from the recent foot-prints, it was clear it had a resident; but how to draw him out was the difficulty. Smoking at last was determined on, and a quantity of dry grass was heaped up at the mouth of the hole and set on fire. The bla zing pile now lighted up the rocky ante chamber in which the expectants sat, or rather kneeled, with their rifles cocked and presented in the direction from whence we expected her advent. Not a sound was heard but our deep breathing and the crackling of the burning grass and sticks, the smoke from which rolled in volumes into the hole. Our nerves, strung to tension for several minutes, were on the point of relaxing, and the expi ring flames of the grass as it shot forth its last flickering gleams, revealed our com pressed lips and somewhat pallid faces— paled, but not, I trust, from Tear. A glance around the space within—six feet from the mouth of the hole—at once assured us that our game could not escape ; or -rather, what more probably suggested itself at that anxious moment even to the boldest heart of the parly, was, that the ti gress could not possibly pass out without the loss of life to one or all of us! In other words, three armed men, with the door be hind them, stood in a’room with a wounded tigress. The fire had now burnt low, and no longer obscured the aperture; and seeing nothing of the enemy, hopes gave way to fears that she had in some mysterious way eluded us, when at that moment a volume of smoke gently rolled back from the aperture, and hardly gave! us lime to exclaim, “Steady —here she comes !” ere the chest and head of the tigress slpwly developed themselves. At first she stood within six feel of us, her eyes glaring, and her mouth open, from which the gouts o( blood slowly trickled down, turned towardsjus ; happily for us, she ap peared momentarily blinded by the smoke. But little time was left for reflection ; in a moment more and our rifles were discharged into the white field of her chest; a roar and a spring, and the next moment she lay dead, touching our feet. New Way to Kill Rats.—A writer in Ihe Rochester Vpxon proposes a new method for killing rats, j His own house being over run with the vermin, the servant gir6, who had seen the effects of “old bourbon whisky” on bipeds, thought she would try an experi ment on the rats. Accordingly she look a small quantity, made it very sweet with su. gar, crumbled in bread enough for the crowd, and set the distil in the cellar. A few hours after she went down and found several rats gloriously “fuddled,” engaged in throwing bean pods and j hauling one another up lo drink. These were easily disposed of; those not killed.lefl thp premises immediately, suf fering with a severe headache. The writer adds that the medicine is quite agreeable to take. j Blairlage. Marriage has in it less of beauty,rbut. more of safety than the single life ; it 'hath not more ease, but less danger; it is 'more mer ry and more sad ; it is fuller of sorrows and fuller of joys ; it lies under more j burdens, but is supported by the strengths of love and charily, and those burdens are dfelrghtfuU— Marriage is the mother of the world; and pre serves kingdoms, fills cities, churches, and heaven itself. Celibacy, like the: fly in the heart of an apple, dwells in perpetual sweet ness, but sits alone, and is confined! and dies in singularity; but marriage, like the useful beej builds a house and gathers sweetness from every flower, and unites man into societies and republics, and sends out colonies, and feeds the world with delicacies, and'obeys their ruler, and keeps order, and exercises many virtues, and promotes the interest of mankind and is that state of gooci to which God hath designed the present constitution of the world. [ The marrage life is always an insipid a vexation or a happy condition. 1 The first is, when two people of no genius lor taste for themselves meet together, upjon such a settlement as has been though reasonable by parents and conveyancers, from an exact valuation of the land and cash of [ both par lies. In this case the young lady’s person is no more regarded than the house and im provements in purchase of an estate]; but she goes with her fortune, rather than 1 her for tune with her. These make up the crowd or vulgar of the rich, and fill up [the lumber of human race, without beneficence towards those above them.- P j The vexatious life arises from a [conjunc tion of two people of quick taste and resent ment, put together for reasons wejl known to their friends, in which especial care jis taken to avoid (what they think the chief!of evils) poverty, and insure to them richesjwith every evil besides. These good people, live in a constant constraint before company; and too great familiarity alone. When they are wi'hin observation, they fret at each other's carrage and behaviour; when alone, they revile each other’s, persons and conduct. In company they are in purgatory ; when only together, in a hell. [ The hi " marraige is, where t«d persons tie happy raig- ~ ..-.o person: meet and voluntarily make choice" of each other, without principally regarding or neg lecting the circumstances effort or beauty. These may still love in spile of adversity or sickness: the former we may, in Jsdme mea sure, defend ourselves from; the lolher is the portion of our make. | [ There is no one thing more loyefy in this life, more full of the divine coinage, than when a young maiden, from heV (past life, from her happy childhood,] when dho ram bled over every field and moor around her home; when a mother anticipated) h!er wants and soothed her little cares, when [brothers and sisters grew, from merrjr playmates, to loving, tru.-tful friends, from Christmas gath erings and romps, the summer festivals in bower or garden ; from the rooms! sanctified by the death of relatives ; from Ih? secure backgrounds of her childhood, and girlhood, and maidenhood, looks out into the dark and unilluminated future away from all [hat, and yet, unterrified, undaunted, leans her fair cheek upon her lover’s breadl, and tyhispers, “Dear heart! I cannot see but j believe. The past was beautiful, but the future I can trust —with thee.'" \ ; When a young wife leaves the! society of het own kindred, and goes |o resid'e among those of her husband, she passes under a new set of influences, fa.vorable qr unfavorable to her character and wishes. If sheifinds their sentiments harmonious with her dwn, and if both are elevated and refined, then the union is the'augmented flow of a-brighj qnd Iran-' quil stream. More happy i still jfojr her, if superior worth or sockjl - standing bn their part affords a welcome influence to light her to their level. But often she beconfes allied to those whosa views and ways a|c .[quite di verse from hers. The two families,;ot races, have been trained on diiferent [systems, trained to different habits, prejudices, and aims. Then supposing their stacditni to be inferior to hers, it will usually and almost necessarily-happen, either that shejwill ele vate them or they will depress her. j Beautiful. —The lollowmg lines : are from the pen of Geo. D. Prentice : j “Why is it that the rainbow and the cloud come over us with a beauty that [is not of earth and then pass away, and leave us to muse on faded loveliness? Why is it that ihe stars that hold the nightly (estival around the midnight throne, are placed above the reach of our limited faculties, forever mock ing us wiih- their unapproachable glory?—' And why is it that the bright’ foirris of hu man beauty are presented to ou - piew and then taken from us, leaving the thousand streams of affection to flow back in |almighty torrents upon the human heart ? i We are born of a larger destiny than ihaldsf earth. There is a land where the stars will be set be fore us like islands in the ocean,japd where the beautiful beings that pass before us like a meteor, will stay in our-presence furevetS” After the flight ofythe Pope fJom Rome, the King of Naples/ who had come lo visit the Holy Father irf his exile, went [with him on board an American frigate. The com mander welcomed them in these terms : “Pope, how are you ? King, holv d’ye do ? Here, Lieut. Jones, you speak Fren:h—par ies vous with the Pope while the King arid 1 go down and have a drink. Come on most require their servi rfS w;' 1 m -yli .V v *»* sr>’». Rates of Advertising. 3 months. 6 months. 12 mo’s