Terms of Publication. - TflE TIOGA COUNTY AGITATOR is pub ’ j cvcrv Thursday Morning, and mailed to sub ‘ Sn -Lrs at the very reasonable price -of One Dod f"trannu ZJJariatly inadia.ee. Itisintend notify every subscriber when the term for e< Mrii lie his paid shall bare expired, by the stamp ” u Time Out,” on the margin of the last paper. „ er wilHbe ßbe stopped untila further re 'tt-incc lie received. By this arrangement no man rolU “ . rnll ,i, t in debt to the printer. - Cl The Agitator is the Official Paper of the Conn . 1 -,h . larae and steadily increasing circulation l l< Tnl into nearly every neighborhood in the reaching scn t/ree of postage to any Post-office ty limits, and to those living within wl ",. tint whose most convenient postoffice may County. - Cosiness Cards, not exceeding 5 lines, paper m eluded. $-4 per year- ______ the rosebush. Translated from the German, A child sleeps under a rosebush fib, The buds swell out in the soft May air; Sweetly it rests, and on dream-wing flies, To play with the angels in Paradise, And the years glide by. A maiden stands by the rosebush fair, The ope’ning blossoms scent the air; She presses her head to her throbbing breast. With love’s first wonderful rapture blest, And the years glide by. A mother kneels by the rosebush fair. Soft sigh the leaves in the evening air, Sorrowing thoughts of the past arise, And tears of anguish bedim her eyes, And the years glide by. Naked and tone stands the rosebush fair. Whirled are the leaves in the autumn air; Withered and dend they fall to the ground, And silently cover a new made mound, And the years glide by. The End of a Woman’s Caprices. A LOVE STOKV. “Men are never so awkward, never so un graceful, never so disagreeable, as when they are mailing love. A friend is a luxury, a husband diilo, I suppose ; but that intermit tent class of human beings denominated ‘lovers are terrible bore?. It does very well for ivomen to blush and look flustered now and then, when occasion makes it desirable; hut to see a man with his face as red as a jipe cherry, and a real -parcel of strong mindedness, self-reliance, and masculine dig ai'v, done up in broadcloth ami starched linen, quaking from the toe of his boot to the top of bis shirt collar, his mouih awry, and Ins tongue twisted into convulsions, in the vain aiiempt lo say something sweet —O Stations!' 5 So said saucy Sophie Lynn aloud to her self, as she sat swinging backwards and for wards before the window, half buried in the cushions of a luxuriant arm chair, and play ing «ttb a delicate ivory fan which lay upon her lap. ‘•lt also seems so strange, not to say tire some, 55 she continued, with a running musical laugh, “after one has waltzed and sung, quoted poetry, and talked nonsense, with anybody, till one is puzzled to know which one of ihe two is most heartless, one’s self or one’s companion, to hear him come down plump on the subject of matrimony, ns though that was the legitimate result of every such insipid acquaintance! For my pan,l never (tad a (over (here Sophie fluttered her fan and looked pleased, for she had had more than one) that 1 wasn’t sick of after he pro posed. There was Capt. Morris; 1 thought him the handsomest man in the‘whole circle of my acquaintance, until he' went on his knees (o me and swore he should die if I didn’t lake pity on him. Somehow he al ways looked a fright to me afterwards. Then there was Dr. Wilkins; he was really agreea ble, and people said very learned. I was delighted with him for a lime ; but he spoiled it all vvjih that offer of lon»*-winded adjectives! and how the poor fellow'blushed, puffed, and perspired! He called me an ‘adorable creature,’ and hiccoughed in (he huddle of ‘adorable,’ Horrors! 1 have listed him-ever. Then there was a ’ Here Sophie started. She heard the door bell non, U’iih a nervous spring she stood W’te her mirror, smoothing down her brown hair tit h a taste truly comical. "It «on’t do to Seem interested,” she said, «she took a finishing survey of her person in ihe glass, and shook out, with her plump, jewelled fingers, the folds of her airy muslin The moment afterwards, when a servant entered to announce Mr. Harry Ainslee, she '•“S hack to her old seat by the window, tec ingand playing with her fan, apparently 85 unconcerned and listless as though that I' 8 ™ 3 kad not sent n quicker thrill to her ea rl, or the betraying crimson all over her Ptefiy thee. “Tell him I will be down pres “'h'. ’ she said, ’ girl disappeared, and Sophie flung pea tne window, that the cool fresh air might “away the extra rosiness from her com pe,' lOn - Ihen she went again to the mirror, jj ,a ' erco, tiposing her bright, eager, Jiappy , e ~ , n o aa expression of demureness, de n ,n g a, ij, e parlor. a smile broke over tmw' 1 ' U,i ' S ’ and sbe reac hed out both hands bewl'^T I '' ul ’ as suddenly recollecting a (• ’’ | dre ' v 'hem back again, and, with I'm ,0 ao ' v recognition, she passed efih D sealed herself in a further corner 11 room, "two' 15 o er '' ev 'den( that something was !*f "J '■ that she had made pp fop " 1 not to be pleased, or not to °"' d . 11 be !bat s h° had foreseen thjt Sl< „ S c uwtng? That a presentiment of on<a '‘ l (s res uh h?d dictated the merry ft 3 '' aV? r !,er chamber? Be that as it HeorV \■' , b " ur had not elapsed before lii'er'ij "'!? ee s hand and fortune—which Xfre'jn’.i ho " n '’' was nothing'wonderful— end I) r W-m-T |,lnce w h ere Capl, Morris’s ‘■'lV ft ' * ,n s bad been before them, ftknj an? 1 man lbat ® ever heard say soch u«iL d S° u ! aiakin S a fool of himself,” k fan . p ' li0 ' emphatically ftom behind : el "itlioui S 'ln- Sa - 1 blushin g and gratified, W, s!r ,: , deigning any reply to the gal roict Ii a j * 'forward speech in which her o«"St h ; allof h °P 6 - Sl y i n tt ,|® , , 0 °o penance for the pretty “hegether'i C 1 m ' lna ges his tongue; He’s Sk her '“°| Ca , m t ,° suit me - And Sophie “ anii before II r ad meaningly, holding her *' 191 s be hart l or 8 scr een—did she forget t °“ ld %re iL bEen Bayin K T “1 render if I 1,1 c hutch a" Uncle Jones used to I "he fun J' . j e ' soliloquized. “Wouldn’t Dd ' Vol Jldn’t it plague Harry if THE AGITATOR. ne&otiir to tf>t mvttxmxm tfce atwa of ifmtrom atrJJ tf)t Spuutt of f&eal tbs Mttovm* WHILE THESE SHAH BE A WRONG UNSIGHTED, AND UNTIL “ Man’s INHUMANITY TO MAH” SHALL CEASK, ACITATION MUST CONTINUE. YOU. Y. he thought 1 had been asleep while he was talking?” Sophie’s blue eyes danced with -suppressed merriment as she gave two or three heavy breathings, and followed thein up with a nasal explosion worthy of an orthodox dea con. It was well done, and '. theatrically done ; and poor Harry sprang bolt upright surprised, mortified, chagrined. Human na ture could stand it no ’longer, and Sophie gave vent to her mirth in a burst of trium phant laughter. “Y-o-u little witch—you mischief—you spirit of evil I” exclaimed the relieved Harry, as he sprang to her side, and caught her by the arm with a grip that made her scream. •’You deserve a shaking for your behav iour I” Then, lowering his voice, he added, gravely: “Will you never have done tormenting me I If you love me, can you not be gen erous enough to tell me so ? And if you do not, ami npt at least worthy of a candid refusal ?” Words sprang to Sophie’s lips that wou'd have done credit lo her womanly nature, and made her lover’s heart bound with rapture, for the whole depths of her being were stirred and drawn towards him as they never before had been before towards any man. But she could not quite give up her raillery then. She would go one step further from him, ere she laid her hand in his, and told him he was dearer than all the world beside. So shel checked the tender response that trembled on her longue, and flinging off his grasp, with a mocking, gesture and a ringing laugh, danced across the room lo the piano. She sealed herself; she ran her fingers graceful)y, over (he keys, and broke out in a wild, brilliant, defiant song, that made her listener’s ears tingle as he stood watching her, and choking back the indignant words that came crowding lo his lips for utterance. “Sophie, listen to me !” he said at length, ns she paused from sheer exhaustion. “Is it generous, is it just, to trifle with me so? To turn into ridicule the emotions of a heart that oflbrs lo you the most reverent affections? “I have loved you, because, beneath this volatile surface character of yours, I thought I saw truthfulness and simplicity, purity of soul, and a warm current of tender, womanly feelings, I hat would bathe with blessings the whole life of him whose hand was so fortu nate as lo touch its secret springs. You are an heiress, and I only a poor student; but if that is the reason why you treat my suit so scornfully, you are less the noble woman than I thought you.” Sophie’s head averied, and a suspi cious moisture glistened in her eyes as Harry ceased speaking. Ah! why is it that we sometimes hold our highest-happiness so lightly—catrying it carelessly in our hands, as though it were but dross, slaking it all upon an idle caprice ! When she turned her countenance towards him again, the same mocking light was in her eyes, the same coquettish smile breathed from her red lips. “Speaking of heiresses, ’’ said Sophie, “there’s Helen Myrtle, whose father is worth twice as much as mine. Perhaps you had better transfer your attention to her, Mr. Aanslee. The difference in our dowries would no doubt be quite an inducement, and possibly she might consider your case more seriously lhan 1 have done.” Hike an insulted prince, Harry Ainslee stood up before her—the hot, fiery, indignant blood dashed in a fierce torrent over his face —his arms crossed tightly upon bis breast, as if to keep his heart from bursting with uprising indignation—his compressed lips, and his dark eyps flashing; Sophie, cruel Sophie! You added one drop too much to your cruel sarcasm. You trespassed upon his forbearance one little step further than you wou would have dared, had you known bis proud and sensitive nature. Not till he had gone—gone without a sin gle world of expostulation, leaving only a grave “good-by” and the memory of his pale face to plead for him—did the thought less girl wake to a realization of what she had done. Then a quick, terrible fear shot through her heart, and she would have given evpry curl on her brown head to have had him beside her one short moment longer. “Pshaw! what am I afraid of? He will be back again within twenty.four hours, and as importunate as ever,” she muttered to herself, as the street door closed after him ; yet a sigh that was half a sob followed the words : and could Harry have seen Ihe beau liful pair of eyes that watched him so eagerly as he went along the street, or the bright face that leaned away out through the parted blinds, wiih-sucb a wistful look, as he dis appeared, it might have been bis (urn to tri umph. In spile of Sophie’s prophecy, twenty-four hours did not bring back Harry. Days ma tured imo weeks,'and still he did not come, nor in ail that lime did she see him. And now she began to think herseif quite a mar tyr, and acted accordingly. - In fact, she did as almost any heroine would have done under the pale and interesting. Mariana began to suggest the delicacies to tempt Sophie’s palate. “The poor dear child was getting so thin.” In vain Sophie pro tested that she had no appetite. In vain papa brought dainty gifts and piled up cosily dresses be/ore his pel. A-faint smileorabstracted “thank-you” was (he only recompense. If sister Kate suggested that Harry’s absence was in any raanner connect ed with her altered demeanor, Sophie would toss her ringleted head with an air of su preme indifference, and go away and cry over it hours at a time. Everybody thought something was the matter with Sophie., So phie among the rest. WEILSBOEOj TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING. AUGUST 5, 1858. Her suspense and penitence became in supportable at last. Sister Kate, who had come so near the solution of the true mystery, should know all—so said-Sophie. Perhaps she could advise her what to do, for to give Harry lip forever seemed every day more and morp. of an impossibility. “Will ypu come into the garden with me, Kale 7” she- asked, in a trembling voice, of her sister, one day about a month after her trouble with Harry. “1 have something of importance to tell you.” “Go away, darling, and I will be with you in a few moments,” replied Kale, casting a searching glance at Sophie’s Hushed cheeks and swollen eyes. ' Running swiftly along (he garden paths, as if from fear of pursuit, Sophie turned aside into her favorite arbor, and, flinging herself down on a low seat, buried her head among the cool vines, and gave herself up to a paroxysm of passionate grief. Soon she heard steps approaching, and an arm was twined tenderly about her waist, and a warm band was laid caressingly on her drooped bead. “O, Kale, Kate!” she cried, in the agony of her repentance, “1 am perfectly wretched. You don’t know why, though you have come very near guessing two or three tiroes.— Harry and I” Here a convulsive sob interrupted her, and the hand upon her head passed over her dis ordered curls with a gentle, soothing motion. “Harry and I”—“another sob—“quar relled (wo or three weeks ago. I was wilful and rude,-just as it was natural for me to be, and he got angry. I don’t think be is going to forgive, for Be hasn’t been here since.” Sophie felt herself drawn in a closer em brace, and was sure Kate pitied her. “I would not have owned it to anybody, if it had not been just as it is,” she contin ued, rubbing her little white hands into her eyes ; “but I think I love him almost as 1 do you and father and mother.” A kiss dropped on Sophie’s glossy head, and lighter was she held. She wondered that Kate was so silent, but still kept her face hidden in the vines. ‘‘He asked me to be his wife,” she con tinued, “asked me as nobody else ever did— in such a manly way, (hat he made me feel as though I ought to have been the one to plead instead of him. I could not bear that, .and I answered him as I should not. He thought it was because be was poor and I was rich ; and all ihe lime I was thinking I would rather live in a cottage with him lb an in the grandest palace in the world with any other man, only I was too pioud to tell him solo his face. What can I do? Tetfmo, Kale; you are much better than I am, and you never get into trouble;- lam sure I shall die if you don’t.” And poor Sophie wept anew. “Look up, dear, and I’ll tell you.” Sophie did look up, with a start, and the next moment, with a little scream, leaped into the arms—not of sister Kate, but Harry Ainslee I Sophie declares to this day that she has never forgiven eiiber of them, though she has been Mrs. Ainslee nearly two years. “She is at rest,” said the village pastor, as we stood around the shrouded figure of the dead. How sweet, how consolatory these words seemed when applied to her who lay in a dreamless slumber before us ! The form, whose dim outline could be seen through the while cerements of the grave, was wasted lo a mere shadow of its former symmetry, and (he cold hands folded over the silent heart were so thin and so transparent that you could trace each blue vein. There was many a silver (bread in (he dark hair, gathered back from the broad fore head ; many a deep furrow on the pale and rigid face. Care and sorrow had swept (he bloom from the cheek, and cast a gloomy shadow over the spirit, which had now taken its flight heavenward. She had learned bitter lessons in human sufferings; her home had been darkened by death, and her husband and child had long been tenants of the tomb. The rosy visions of childhood had thus melted away like the tints of the rainbow; the bright passion dreams of youth had fled ; the hopes and plans of mature years had been grasped fay the iron haad of adversity. Friends had deserted her, and love had grown cold. Her existence was a perpetual struggle, yet amid every trial, every misfortune, she kept her faith in God undimmed. The silver cord was broken now; she was free from toil and grief, she was at rest. Like the tempest tossed mariner she made the perilous voyage of life with her gaze fixed on the day star of eter nity, and in that peaceful heaven beyond the river of Death, her sweet repose is endless. What can be more soothing than the thought of eternal rest ? It comes to us with its calm and holy in fluences, when the young pass away from earth, and even in our lamentations for them, it-is cheering to know (hat they have escaped the snares of the world—that they will nev er mingle in the wild strife for wealth and distinction ; and never feel the blighted breath of anguish. 1 When the poor die in peace we rejoice in the belief that they have found repose in the belter land. There no storms come, and no clouds of sorrow lower, but the weary are at rest. “Pompey, are you wiling to be damned if it should be the Lord’s -will 1” inpuired a pious friend. “O yes, massa, and more loo; I am 'wii ling .to have you dalnned also, massa,” re plied Pompey. At Rest. Wild Cats. A gentleman having in his possession ten or twelve hundred dollars on a certain bank ing institution away out West, went up to the counter one fine morning, and addressed the teller in the following language : “Good morning, sir. Beautiful weather, sir ?' Ahem I I have something over a thou sand dollars worth of your money in my pocket. Do you redeem?” 1 The teller says— “ Good morning, sir,” smiles blandly and answers : “We redeem sir, but we do not pay specie.” “Do not pay specie, hey ? Suspended, I suppose ?” “Suspended!” “What do you redeem them with ?” was the next question. . “With bills on the other banks,” replied Ihe clerk most pleasantly. “And those, I presume, are the non-specie paying banks ?” “Very probably they are, sir,” bowing very politely. “Well, then, what kind of bills can you give me? “Most any kind, sir. Give you Red Cal.” "Can’t stand it.” “Well then, how’s Grey Cat?” “Wouldn’t give a straw for a barrel of it.” “What do you say to Black Cal?” “’Taint worth a cuss!” “Well, I’ll try and accommodate you with White Cat.” “It wouldn’t be any accommodation at all. I don’t want your infernal White Cat money —neither Red Cat, Grey Cat, Black Cal, Wild Cal or Tom Cat. 1 wouldn’t use it to litter a horse with. Havn’t you got some money on Eastern banks ?” “No, sir,” —softly and very polite—“ Eas tern banka are principally specie-paying in stitutions.” “If not eastern, then, have you bills on any other banks that do pay specie?]’ “No, sir,” bowing most courteously. “Well, then,” drawing his package from his pocket with a desperate expression of countenance —“Can you give me tolerably executed counterfeit notes on any bank that does pay specie ?” “No, sir,” very loud, and looks as if he felt insulted. A Yankee. The Boston Olive Branch having called the editor of the New York' Atlas a Yankee, the Atlas man gets off the following: But we own up to the Yankee, and feel no little pride,in it; but we didn't bail from Berkshire exactly. We have dropped pump kin seeds and have eaten hasty pudding and milk in New Hampshire, and have plowed, mowed, reaped and logged it in the State of Maine. Weihave fished for minnows with a pip book, and carried our bread and butter to school; add we have seen log driving on the Kennebec river; we have coaxed a club footed girl to slide down a hill made slippery by the fall of pine leaves, on her feel, for the fun of seeing her catch her toes and roll over and over, and we have gone into the swamps with two yoke of oxen and a bob sled, when the snow was five feet deep, and felled trees, and “twitched” logs all day, and went home at night fall to “bean porridge hotwe have been to a few prayer meetings, that’s a fact, and wev'e been to “bushings” too, and “apple bees,” “raisings,” and “militia musters,” We have, helped make cider, and after wards set “a-slraddle”of a barrel, and sucked it with a straw. We have set up at night in a saw mill, and have set up all night with a “gal.” We have high opinion of johnny cake and “sassenger,” and we.have frequent ly had a finger in the making of the latter, we have eaten our share of codfish and po tatoes, with pork scraps, and we guess we have licked a proper portion of lasses candy, and also boys; we have pulled fiax for nine pence a day, because we had a sick headache and could not go to school, and have had teeth pulled with a piece of strong thread; we have traveled over the fields in Spring with a maul, knocking about what you call ’ems,.and have popped corn in the ashes ; we have turned the grindstone all day to sharpen a new axe, swopped jack-knives, broken steers and colls, set traps for skunks and woodchucks, lapped our own shoes, “licked" the schoolmaster, robbed the milk pans of the cteam, and laid it to the cat, pitched into the apple-“sass,” hooked maple sugar, and numberless other things “too nu merous to mention,” but for particulars of which see small bills. Drop of Water in a Queer place.— We were shown, while attending? (he annual examination of Union Academy, at Pleasant Ridge, by Dr. E. F. Bouchelle, one of the most .interesting Geological curiosities, wo ever saw or read of. It consists of a spe cimen of rock of the primitive order of,foun dation, and of the penttedral order of cpys talizalion, containing in its center a globule of water movable and visible- The water is, if there be any truth in geology, far more ancient than the waters in the flood of Noah. To use the language of Dr. Bouchelle, “it is a drop of the waters that covered in the face of the great deep, when the earth was without form and void ; in others words, this little drop is a portion of the first water that was created during the six days of Genesis, and became entangled among the particles of the rock during the act or process of orys-' talizatioo. The rock being primitive, or the first of creation, the water must also’beprtm itiwr.” 'Any persons wishing t’6' see' this geo logical wonder, can do so by calling on the Doctor.— Eutair (.Ufl.) Observer. ©omtmmfcationjj. Friend Agitator : On the first page of your issue of May 13th is an article headed “Knoxville,” in which is propounded the question, “IsJt right to inflict capital punish ment?” The writer takes the affirmative, (and as you remark in a very candid argu ment,) would try to satisfy the public of the correctness of the system with which he seems to be well satisfied, viz. the right of human sacrifice upon the altar of public convenience. It must be obvious to all, that the very at tempt to prove the righteousness .of an al ready existing and long establishedistalute ol human law, is.evidence of its unpopularity, or, at least a dissatisfaction or doubtiin regard to the statue in the minds of a i portion of community; for it has been aptlyt observed, that “That which is clean needs nojwashing.” It is also apparent (though the writer did not say as much) that, as the death jpenally is already an established legal right's the au thor of the article in question must have meant moral right—or right in the abstract sense of the term. As one of “the people” we dissent from this; and as a friend to hu man progress we rejoice in the fact; that hu manity in our land is generally but slowly appreciating and exercising the inalienable right of censorship, and that law, or custom, or superstition, which is obnoxious; to com mon sense or right reason, is roughly handled by a people who begin to fee I what] It is to he free. Antiquity and sanctity are ;no longer indispensable; and “Young America” (the name is becoming as dear as philanthropy) will not spare a statue —even though it wear a gray beard. But while there isjprogress, there will be fogyism—honest minded no doubt, but fogyism nevertheless. ;We have the charity to think that most of thej latter as found among us, is the result of great vene ration in the individual character. j Por our self, we claim less of that virtue, (for virtue it is when well directed) and so wg dissent from your communicant’s judgment; theory, and reasoning. Let us see: We admit that “governments are instituted for the'good (os tensibly) of the governed,” and that they “have a right to do just as much as' duty de mands, and no more.” We also dccept his admission that “one man has not the right to lake the life of another on bis own responsi bilily, or for personal revenge,’’ andjalso the other admission that “no man’s life can (right fully) be taken, unless it be forfeited ,by God, who is the author of life.” Well, ■‘fgovern. menls are instituted for the good ofi the gov erned ; t. e., to protect the masses from indi vidual encroachment. Can this ihe done mere effectually and humanely byi choking the offender to death, than by putting him to work for tho State? If not, then it.follows that the choking process merges into revenge —the revenge of an enraged community of men, which your communicant denies to an individual man. It is hard for common sense to make a wrong of an act performed by one man, and a right of (he same act performed by a company of men. And if the!confine ment of criminals at labor would secure so ciety as effectually from their violence as would the bieaking their necks; then does not government do more than is required for public good ?i. when it does break them ? Again, “no man’s life can be taken, unless it ha forfeited by the law of God, who is the author of life.” This is taking highground, which -ought to be reverently approached; let us pul our “shoes from off our. feet, for ihe ground is holy. Does your communicant mean to be understood that the text oj - Gene sis which he quotes—or all the old testament together, is the divine law of God la us ? Such was our inference on perusal o( his ar ticle; but.upon better consideration ihe must see that it is testimony. Said Chiistj to the Pharisees, “Search the scriptures; in them ye think ye have the words of eternal life ; and these are they which testify of me.’’— Now this, in common with all other iieslimo my, refers, not to itself, but to something be youd itself; and these testimonies, even with those of the new testament superadded to them, would never do for our law of lile and practice. God knew they would not; and so we see that ihey are not co-extenatve with the vicinage of man, insomuch that compara tively few of the immortal souls whibh have been spoken into life, have ever so much as heard of them. Will it be said that all these were without divine law? True that anterior (o the advent there were many apos tates from God’s law; even as now. '£he Israelites had a law from God—one suited to the moral advance of the people ; insomuch that Paul said to them, “The lawj is our schoolmaster, to bring vs to ChristA. This brings us to the “Jaw of God” as affecting us ; for if be is anything to us, he is what Paul declares him—“ The power of God un to salvation.” And in reference to bis prom ised coming and eternal reign, theli’ord de clared through Jeremiah, “in those>|days I will pour out of my spirit upon all flesh; I will be to them a God, and they shill be to me a people; I will pul my law in theiri hearts, and write it on their inward parts; iso that none need : say to his neighbor ‘know the Lord/ ibr all shall know me from the least even unto the greatest of them.” God, was Elijah’s law of life; but he sought him in vain in tangible objects, such as whirlwind, earthqdake and fire? and found him only in the “stilf small voice.” So, nothing short of Messiah (God with man) will do for bur law of life. He is with us always and to‘the end of all things ; which testaments are! not. — The government being upon his shoulders, and jiia dominion extending from sea to sea ; (from birth to death;) and all power iieing in his handj hq becomes to us “the power of God unto salvation”—our law of life. Sb if our brother or sister refuse hta dominion and Advertisements will be charged SI per square o fourteen lines, tor one, dr three insertions, and 25 cents tor dverysnbsequent insertion. Alt advertise ments of Jess than tburteen tines considered as a sqnaie, The following rates will bo charged for Quarterly, Half-Yearly and yearly advertising:— Sqnarc, (14 lines,) . $2 50 $4 50 #6 00 SSqnaresr - ... 400 600 800 } column 10 00 15 00 20 00 column, 18 00 30 00 40 00 Aji advertisements not having the number of in. sertions marked upon them, will be kept in until or dered out, and charged accordingly. Posters, Handbills, Bjll,aod Letter Heads,and all kinds of Jobbing done in country establishments, executed neatly and promptly. Justices’, Oonsta * bles’ and other BLANKS, constantly on hand and printed to order. NO.iL yield fealty to “another law” in the members,- warring against the law of life, then be or she will soon become unfit associates,or dan gerous neighbors; and public safely requires the exercise of restraint upon them. Not vengeance /—Restraint I All human laws should be in subordination to, and in accord ance with, this higher law of light. It is a serious and responsible business to be vice roy of the King of Heaven on earth, and judge and executioner among his children— as we do when we take life upon alleged , forfeitures by his law. The law of God, then, as written upon the heart by the finger of light, and love, and grace, does not au thorize ohr taking from our fellows that which we are not delegated to bestow, or return ; so we mqst look alone to human law, for the sanction required to keep the mind quiet un der the exercise of this monster wrong. Are human laws perfect 1 Why then are they not immutable? why not universal? When did hey become perfect ? They are not perfect, because man is imperfect; and because man is imperfect, be is progressive. The human code suited to this people, will not do for -a progressiva people two hundred years hence. The law committed to an idolatrous nation just .released from more than four hundred years' of bondage, is ill suited to an enlightened people in the 19th century of Christendom. Are the “w(tch” laws of Plymouth colony proper for Pennsylvania now? or the Con necticut blue laws templing to our statesmen ? or Southern “institutions” desirable for ibis country ? What shall we say then to adopt ing the laws given to a newly created, pro gressive being; as those cited in Genesis? If God bad designed man a stationary being and not a progressive one, he would havo fixed him beyond the possibility of fall.— But man fell ; and the laws given him in his degraded stale, were suiled to the improve ment of that state. All those laws have served their purpose and been fulfilled, aud all things made new, and a belter way open ed to man, suited to his indefinite advance ment. If this is so, and we would (living to our privilege) press into it; why put stum bling and violence in the way of light and peace ? In seems an established fact in po litical history, that the more stringent and . coercive 'the laws, the more does crime abound. Conlrawjse; the more liberty the less crime. Witness France, with all her mantraps'and detective police; and Switzer land, with her open shops and indefinite free dom, and empty jails. Noisy and persisted advocacy of death penalty, proves nothing for the system ; it only proves what we have before stated, viz., that fogy ism is the same, in all placfes and in all times. Chatham. For The Agitator. Rev. John Abbott,"the sailor preacher, re lates the following good story of one of his converts to temperance : Mr. Johnson, at the close of a cold winter lecture, intimated that he must sign the pledge in his own way, which he did in these words: > “I,' William Johnson, pledge' myself to drink no more intoxicating drinks /or one year.” \ Some thought he wouldn’t stick three days, others allowed him a week, and a few others gave him twto weeks; but the landlord knew him best, and said he was good stuff, but at the end of the year Bill would be a good soaker. Before the year was quite gone. Mr. John son was asked by Mr. Abbott, — “Bill, ain’t you going to resume the pledge ?” “Well, I don’t know. Jack, but what I will, I have done pretty well so far : will you Jet me sign it again in my own way ?” “O yes, any way so that you will not drink rufin.” He writes “I, William Johnson, sign this pledge fori nine hundred and ninety-nine years, and if living at f the end of that, lime, I intend to make out .a lease for life.” A day dr two after, Johnson went to see his old, landlord, who eyed him as a hawk does a chicken. “O, landlord !” whined Bill, accompanied by sundry contortions of the body, as if en during the most excruciating torment, “I have such a lump on my side.” “Thai’s because you have slopped drink ing; you won’t live two years longer at (bis rate.^ “Jf I commence drinking, will (ho lamp g o' away ?’’ 1 “Yes. If you don’t you'll have another just such a lump on the other side.” “Do you think so landlord V' “f know it; you’ll have them on your arras, back, breast and bead; you : will be covered all over with tumps.’’ “Well, may be I will,” said Bill. . . "Come, Bill,” saidthe landlord, let’s drink together; at (he same lime pouring (heted sluff from the decanter into the glass, gug, S u Si i“g- ■ . “No,” said Johnson, “I. can’t for I’ve signed the pledgeagain.” “You ain’t, though ! you ate a fool !” “Yes, that old sailor coaxed so hard I could not get off,’’ “I wish the old rascal was in Guinea. Well, how Jong do you go this time.’’ “For nine hundred and nimy-nine years,” whispered Bill. “You won’t live a year.” “Well, if I drink, are vou sure the Jump on my side, will go away 1” ~ , “Yes.!’ “Well, I guess I wnpH drink j here’s th» lump,” continued Bill, bolding up somedting; with a hundred dollars in it; “and you say I’ll have more such lumps, and .that’s what I warn.’’ Hates of Advertising. 3 months. 6 months. 12 trio’s Signing the Pledge .
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers