Tcrn is of Publication. ntrrr TIOGA COUNTY AGITATOR is pub ,, .V, ~-rr Thursday Morning, and mailed to sub ,iAhe very reasonable price of One Dot *!flb!nmnaro,i»'>ar ’ 0 % inadoance. Itieintend t*RPe ,IC_ erer y subscriber when the term for Hp lias paid shall have expired, by the stamp n nut" on the margin of the last paper. irf'Tlaoer will then be slopped until a further re- The P a K c rpne jved. By this arrangement no man mi debt to the prints?, can be b J° is the Official Paper of the Conn Inw! and steadily increasing circulation tv,with a .S every neighborhood in the reaching > jenl y ree 0 f pottage to any Post-office Count!;." ty limits an d to those living within wiG im ; u w hose mostconvcnfenlpostoffice may fin an adjoining County, b ßMtaess Cards, not exceeding 5 lines, paper in claded, H per year- Smiles for Home. ■■Take that home with' you dear,” said Mrs. Lewis, her manner half amiliug, half “"Take what home Carry?” said Mr. Lewis turning towards bis wife curiously. Now Mrs. Lewis had spoken from the moment's impulse, and already partly re gretted her remark. ; “Take what home!” repealed her hus band, “I don’t understand you.” -That smiling face you turned upoh Mr. Edwards when you answered his question just now.” ' ' ... , Mr. Len is slightly averted his head and walked in silence. They called in at the shop of Mr. Edwards to purchase a few arti cles and were now on their way home.— There was no smile on the face of Mr. Lewis now, but a very grave expression indeed— grave almost to sterness. The words of bis wife-had taken him altogether by surprise and though spoken slightly had jarred upon his ears. The truth was, Mr. Lewis like a great many other men who have their own business cares and troubles, was in the habit of bring iao him a sober, and, too often, a cjouded face. It was in vain that his wife and chil dren looked into that face for sunshine, or listened to bis words for tones of cheerful ness. "Take that home with you dear!” Mrs., Lewis was already repealing this suggestion, made on a moments impulse. Her husband was sensitive to a fault. He could, not bear even an implied censure from his wife, and so she had learned to be very guarded in this particular. “Take that home with you dear!” she re pealed to herself. ' “Ah me! 1 wish the words bad not been said. There will be darker clouds now, and gracious knows they were dark enough before! Why can’t Mr. Lewis leave his business cates behind him aad let us see the old pleasant smiling face again ? 1 thought, this morning, that he had forgotlen how to smile; but 1 see that he can snide if he tries. Ah ! why don’t he try at home?’’ Thus soliloquized Mrs. Lewis as she walked along by the side of her husband who had not spoken a word since her reply to his querv. “Take what home?” Square after square was passed and street after street was crossed and still there was silence be tween them. “Of course,” said Mrs. Lewis, speaking in her own thoughts—“of course he is of fended. He won’t lake a word from me. I might have known beforehand that talking oni this way would only make things worse. Oh dear I I’m gening out of all heart.” “What then Carrie dear ?" said Mr. Lewis. Mrs. Lewis almost storied at the sound of her husband’s voice breaking unexpectedly upon her ear in a softened rone. “What ihen I’’ 1 he repealed turning towards her, and looking down upon her shyly up turned face. “It would send warmth and radiance through the whole house,’* replied Mrs. Lewis her tones trembling with feeling. “You think so,” said her husbagd. “I know so; only try it dear for (his one evening.’’ “It isn't so easy a thing to pul on a smiling , fsce, when thoughts are oppressed with cere,” said Mr. Lewis. It didn’t seem to require much effort just D01F ) said Mrs. Lewis glancing up at her husband with something of archness in her look. Again a shadow dropped down upon the lace of Mr. Lewis which was again partly turned away, and again they walked on in silence. No, it did not require much effort on the Part of Mr. Lewis to smile as he passed a ew words with Mr. Edwards. The remark ?* als w 'k had not really displeased him ;It w only set him thinking. After remaining gravely silent, because he tyas undergoing a W csaminaiion, Mr. Lewis said : You thought the smile given to Mr. Ed ®™s came easily enough ?” h did not seem to require an effort,” re- Phed Mrs, Lewis. 1 aa'/v? 1101 muc * l °*" aD • ffort was required,” j 1 ‘lf- Lewis, and his Itones were slightly Passed, “but this must be taken into ac ? ! tny mind was in a certain stale of or activity that represented sober So D ° 8 ’ and mal^e smiling an easy thing, of i*.f, sm '' e an d are gay in company, at cost „ a I'e 1 ' e eflon because all are smiling and ’ and We fed the common sphere of ex »e’r e °l' different it often is when Mill? 3 r llO need 001 sa Y- - You Carry, are ° r 'he sober face at home as well ns husband.” ■' his voi^*' 8 s l’°' te w ‘ t h a lender reproof in face is caught from yours plied , h’ ou imagine my husband,” re ™- Le *‘s- « JI, L^| s 011 ce r| ain of that Carry?!’ asked the sunV f er,a ' n <” she replied. “You make Upon u ' . and shadow of your home, smile our fp-i-’ ® lve us cheerful words ; enter into brink,. '?® 8 aa( i interest, and there will be Jour / ° me ' n a '* ii* 6 land. A shadow on asj |k aun,en ance is a vail for my heart, ou r nii| Same '. 8 true as respects our children, be disiu'hllj ll^6 100 near| y > n unison not to best,’ 1 f d w * len y° urs has lost even its bis fjg r ‘Lewis walked on in silence, began in , averlet f> and again his wife fc ui h 8 8M a j. thal B he had spoken too freely ; , -fl *?° a , dl fMfed this impression. es Poke 8 n a tb CBr f , - , ” 1 Said he ’ ,hal y° u |wi had Hnn " US ? la,n| y- 1 °“ly wish that r done ao before. I see how it is. THE AGITATOR. BeDoteQ to JSjcttnslon ot tfte ot JFm&om anß t|>e Sgtroft of It&s Reform. WHILE THEBE SHALL BE A WBONG UNBISHTED, AND UNTIL “MAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN” SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE. VOL. V. M; smiles have been for the outside world— for the world that neither loved nor regarded me—and my clouded brow for the dear ones at home, for whom thought and care ate ever living activities.” Mr. and Mrs. Lewis were now at their own door, where they paused a moment, and then in. Instantly, on passing bis threshold, Mr. Lewis felt the pressure upon him of his usual state. The cheerful,interested exterior put on for those he met in business inter course began rapidly to change, and a sober hue to succeed. Like most business men, his desire for profitable results was even far in advance of the slow evolutions of 'trade; and his daily history was a history of disap pointments, in some measure dependent upon his' restless anticipations. He was not as willing to work and to wait as he should be; and, like many of his class, neglected the pearls (hat lay here and there along his daily path, because they were inferior in value to those he helped to find just a little way in advance. The consequence was that, when the days business excitement was over, his mind fell into a brooding state and lingered over its disappointments, or looked forward with failing hope into the fuluie ; for hope in many things, has been long deferred ; and so he rarely had smiles for his home. “Take that home with you dear,” whis pered Mrs. Lewis, as they passed along the passage, and before they had joined the family. She had an instinctive conscious ness that her husbund was in danger of re lapsing into his usual state. The warning was just in time. “Thank you for the words,” said hb. “I will not forget,lihem.” And he did not; but at once rallied Him self, and to the glad surprise of Jenny, George and Mary, met them with a new face, cov ered with fatherly smiles, and with pleasant questions, in pleasant tones, of their day’s employments. The feelings of children moved a greeting like this, but the response instant. Little Jenny climbed into her father’s arms; George came and stood by his -chair, answering in lively (ones his father’s questions; while Mary, older by a few years than the rest, leaned against her father’s shoulder, and laid her white hand softly on his hpad, smoothing back (he dark hair, just showing a little frost, from bis broad, manly temples. A pleasant group was this for the eyes of Mrs. Lewis, as she came forth to the silting room from her chamber, where she had gone to take off her bonnet and shawl, and change her dress. Well did her husband undersiand the meaning look she gave him, and warmly did her heart'respond to the smile he threw back upon her. . “Words fitly'spoken are like apples of gold in pictures of silver,” said Mr. Lewis, speak ing to her as she came in. “What do you mean by that?” asked Mary looking curiously into her father’s face. “Mother understands,” replied Mr. Lewis, smiling tenderly upon his wife. ! “Something pleasant must have happened,” said Mary. “Something pleasant ? Why do you say that?” asked Mr. Lewis. “You and mother look so happy,’’ replied the child. “And we have cause lo be happy,’’ an swered the father, as he drew his arm lightly around'her, “in having three such good chil dren.” Mary laid her cheek to his, and whispered. “If you are smiling and happy, dear father 1 home will be like heaven.” Mr. Lewis kissed her; but did not reply. He fell a rebuke in her words; but the re buke did not throw a chill over bis feelings— it only gave a new strength to his purpose. “Don’t distribute all your smiles. Keep a few of the warmest and brightest for home,” said Mrs. Lewis, as she parted with her hus band the next morning. He kissed her, but did not promise. . The smiles, however, were kept, though not for the outside world, and evening saw them. Other and many evenings saw the same and the same happy home. And wasnot'-Mr. Lewis a belter and happier man I Of course' he was. And so would all men be, if they would take home with them the smiling aspect they so ofien exhibit as they meet their fellow men in business in tercourse, or exchange words in passing compliments. Take your smiles and cheerful words home with you, husbands, fathers, and brothers.' Your hearts are cold and dark without them. Unconscious Influence. —The handling of the nursery is significant, and (he petu lance, the passion, the gentleness, the tran quility indicated by it, are all reproduced in the child.' His soul is a purely receptive nature, and that, for a considerate period, without choice or selection. A little further on, he begins voluntarily to'copy everything he sees. Voice, manner, gait, everything which the eye sees, the mimic instinct de lights to act over. And thus we have a whole generation of future men, receiving from us their very beginnings, and the deep est impulses of their life and immortality.— They watch us every moment, in the family, before the hearth, and at the table ;'and when we are meaning them no good ot evil, when we are conscious of exerting no influence over them, they are drawing from us impres sions and molds of habit, which, if Wfong, no heavenly discipline can wholly remove; or, if right, no bad associations utterly dissi pate. Now it may be doubted, I think, whether, in all the active influence of our lives, we do as much to shape the destiny of our fellow men, as we do in this single arti cle of unconscious influence over children. WELLSBORO, TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING. AUGUST 26, 1858. Hymn of the Marseillaise. The Marseillaise was inspired by genius, patriotism, youth, beauty and champagne.— Rouget de Lisle was an officer of the garri son at Strasburg, and a native of Mount Jura. He had a peasant friend named Dietrick, whose wife and daughters were the onlycrit ics and admirers *of the soldier poet’s song. Ope night he was at supper with his friend’s family, and they had only coarse bread and slices of ham. Dietrick, looking sorrowful ly at De Lisle, said, “Plenty is not our feast, but we have the courage of a soldier’s heart; 1 have still one bottle left in my cellar— bring it, my daughter, and let us drink to libeny and our country !” The young girl brought the bottle, it was soon exhausted, and De Lisle went stagger ing lo bed ;,he could not sleep for the cold, but his heart was warm and full of the beat ing of genius and patriotism. He took a small clavicord and tried to compose; song; sometimes words were composed first, some times ihe air. Directly he Tell asleep over llje instrument, and waking at daylight, wrote down what he had conceived in the delirium of the night. Then he waked the family, and sang his production ; at first, the women turned pale, then they wept, and burst forth into a cry of enthusiasm. It was the song of the nation and of terror. Two months afterwards, Dietrick went to the scaffold, listening to Ihe self-same music, composed under his own roof and by the in spiration of his last bottle of wine. The people sang it everywhere ; it flew from city to city, to every public orchestra. Marseil les adopted (he song at the opening and close of clubs—hence the name “Hymn of the Marseillaise;” then it sped all over France. They suug it -in their houses, in public as semblies, and in the stormy street convoca tion, DeLisle’s mother heard it, and said to her son, “what is this revolutionary bymn, sung by bands of brigands, and with which your name is mingled?” DeLisle heard it and shuddered as it sounded through the streets of Paris, rung from Ihe Alpine passes, while the royalist, fled from the infuriated people frenzied by his own words. France was a great amphitheatre of anarchy and blood, and DeLisle’s song was the battle cry. There is no national air that will compare with the Marseilliase in sublimity and power; it embraces the soft cadences full of the peas ant’s home, and the stormy clangor of silver and steel when an empire is oven brown ; it endears the memory of the vine dresser’s cot tage, and makes the Frenchman, in his exile, cry “La belle France I” forgelful of the torch, and sword, aud guillotine, which have made his country a spectre of blood in the eyes of nations. Nor can the foreigner hear it sung by a company of exiles, or executed by a band of music, without feeling that it was the pibroch of battle and war. Slander. —ol all the monsters of human birth, open or masked, that go up and down the earth, slander is the chiefest. Oflener hatched of idle depravity than of active mal ice, it is in every form an assassin’s dagger, Perchance no living soul has escaped its thrust—so universal is it. It fears not the high, and scorns not the low. Everywhere its withering venom spreads, embittering the world’s heart, poisoning the world’s life, and enkindling hate and feud. Devilish child of the unbridled tongue, what pangs, what ago nies, what remorse hast thou begotten. Oh, tongue ! thou canal whisper so sweetly of love—thou cans! burn with the fires of friend ship, and flame with the eloquence of mercy and truth—that canal thrill the soul with de lights, and consecrate it to all that is beauti ful and holy, why wilt thou forever defile thy self with the demon’s curse, the serpent’s hiss 1 Angel one moment, and vampire the next! Agent of God, and yet hell’s most infamous servitor! Oh, longue, that art so capable of good, and yet so prone to evil— that canst bid live, and yet must kill! But for slander, peace might dwell among men— the living happy, and the dead unharmed. But for slander-ah, the poet named thee well: “Slander, the foulest whelp of sin!" “Gossip” thou art in thine infancy, stirring up rancor and bitterness in neighborhoods; in ihy fulness, thou art a black, blasting “lie.” All men hate thee and scorn thee, and yet to all thou art “a sweet morsel on the tongue.” Who can answer for this anomaly—who ex plain it ? Blessed be the longue that speak elh praise and truth; accursed forever be the tongue that utlere'h falsehood and slander ! It is an easy matter to knock a crotchet out of crazy man’s head, if you hit him right: an old gentleman whose brain was a little turned called out to his son, one night: “Abel ! Abel I Satan has been tempting me all night to go and drown myself in the horselrough.” Well, he must be a fool,” said Abel, “for there has’nt been a drop of water in it for six weeks.” The old gentleman turned over, and went to sleep, thinking no more of evil spirits. “Mother have I got any children ?” asked an urchin of eight summers. “Why no. What pul that in your.head, boy ?”1 “Because I read in the bible to day at school k about children’s children.” “Here Biddy, this child is feverish, wash him in ice water, and pul him to bed.” The lasi words of the Old Testament are a fearful threatening:—“Less I coma and smite the earth with a curse.” The last words of the New Testament are a benedic lion :—“The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with vou all. Amen. Egyptian Mummy Rags in a Yankee Paper-Mill. A correspondent of the Journal of Com merce, writing of the paper mills at Gardi ner, Me., says: “Yesterday I visited in company with May or Woods (of Gardiner,) the two principal paper factories, and I was astonished in look ing at (he millions of pounds of rags piled up in warehouse or spread over acres of ground, to And that a portion of them had recently arrived from Alexandria in Egypt. They were the most disagreeably odorifer ous old clothes that I have ever had the mis fortune to smell. This, doubtless, was ow ing to (he fact that a part of them were in a damaged state. The Egyptian rags had been collected from all parts of the Pacha’s dom inions—from the living and the dead. How many cast-os’ garments of Howadjis and Hadjis ; how many tons of big, loose, ragged Turkish breeches; and how many head pieces in the shape of old doffed turbans, the deponent saith not. But the most singular and the cleanest division of the whole filthy mass came not from the limbs of the present generation of travelers—pilgrims, peasants, soldiers and sailors of Egypt—but were the plundered wrappings of men, bulls, croco diles and cats torn from the respectable de funct members of the same. What a scene to call up the grim past I And what a dese cration too, lo lake the garments of Ihe Pha rqohs, Rameses, and of sacred bulls, holy crocodiles and pious cats, and, mingling them with the vulgar unmentionables of the shave paled herd of modern Egyptians, to ship them to the other side of the world—to land which Ptolemy’s map had no room for—there to grind them up to the music of cogwheels and the falls of the Cobosse Conlee ! How little did the religious old Egyptians think that (hey were piling away stores for Ihe future cash accounts of Turkomans, and that the linen folds which so carefully bandaged their holy dead, should one day make highly cal endered paper. Mummy cloth, as well as old rags of Italy, (how do they manage lo produce so many rags there ?) are ground up and come forth mingled in fond embrace and in the purest white. It has been ascertained that some of the Egyptian rags contain 40 per cent of dust and dirt. The dust doubtless consists of many fine particles of Pharoah’s embalmed subjects, but not a few of the modern rags seem to have been spread upon the sands at the periodical overflow of the Nile, and received a deposit of the fine earth that has washed down from the mount ains of Abyssinia. This adds to the weight, but Yankees will not be sold twice in this mannei. Self Reliance. —lnsist, says Ralph Wal do Emerson, on yourself; never imitate.— Your own gift you can present every mo menl with the accumulated force of a whole life’s cultivation ; but of the adopted talents of another, you have only an extemporane ous, half-possession. That which each can do best, none but his Maker can teach him. No one yet knows what it is, nor can tdl that person has exhibited it. Where is the per son who could have taught Shakspeare?— Where is the master who could have instruct ed Franklin, or Washington, or Newton ? Every great man is a unique. The Scipio ism of Scipio is precisely that part he could not borrow. If anybody will tell me whom the great man imitates in the original crisis when he performs a great act, I will tell him who else than himself can teach him.— Shakspeare will never be made by the study of Shakspeare. Do that which is assigned thee and thou canst .not hope or dare too much. At this moment there is for me an utterance bare and grand as that of the col lossal chisel of Phidias or trowel of the Egyp tians, or the pen of Moses or Dante, but dif ferent from all these. Not possibly with the soul all rich, all eloquent, with thousand clo ven tongues deign to repeat itself; but if I can hear what these patriarchs say, surely I can reply to them Jn thesame pitch of voice; for the ear and the tongue, are two organs of one nature. Dwell up there in the simple and noble regions of Ihy life, obey thy heart and thou shall reproduce the fore-world. Mas. Partington at Saratoga. —“ Every back is fitted for its burden,” said Mrs. Partington as she stood by the Congress Spring, from which one had just emptied the eighth tumbler down his spacious gullet, “and every stomach for its portion. Heaven that tempers the wind to the shorn lamb, I dare say, will also temper Ihe water to their capacity to bear it, for we read that Apollos shall water and that the increase will be given, which must mean Saratoga water, and the increase the debility to hold it, though how folks can make a mill race of their elementary canal is more than I can see into.” Roger stood looking at the victim, as the tumblers disappeared, .when he turned round to Mrs. Partington and asked her if she remembered what Macbeth said to the. Fifer in the play. She couldn’t recall the name of Macbeth, but remembered to have heard the name of Macaboy mentioned some where. He told her that the remark alluded to applied to the scene then enacting, for the hard drinkers seemed to be saying, by their acts, “dammed be he who first cries, hold enough.” “1 think they all hold too much,” remarked Ihe dame. Roger nodded and smiled, saying, “and need damming, loo.” Ike stood watching ihe boy who drew op the water, pocketing the half dimes so coolly, and wondered what he was going to buy with all his money, and thinking how he could make it fly if he bad it. He had invested all bis available funds in red crackers and hadn’t a cent to bless himself with. —Boston Gazelle, ©ommimCcattons. Me. Editor ; I'm tired. Life is weari some; pleasures are vexatious; and friends are bores! The fact is, I’m surfeited with the gayilies of fashionable life. Even now my hand is tremulous and my pen drags heavily from last night’s revelry. Myi eyes are weary and feverish from gazing l on jewels and blondes; my system is deranged, from banqueting at a late hour; and; my head swims strangely, from 100 freely, imbibing the ruddy wine which flowed unchecked.— In short 1 find that I am incapacitated' to do a single thing. Poor human nature revolts, and cries out, “How long, Oh, bow, long shall these things continue to be ?” i ' There is in every heart, away down deep, a still, silent voice, whose gentle, teachings are purer, holier far than the lessons of earth’s children. Last night I heard thisjvoice, but would not list, as I wished to be a participant in the mirth around me. 1 sought to pre serve a gay exterior and to heartily engage in the passing excitement; the tumultuous waves o( which could not suffice; to drown those gentle, inner whisperings, tyhich ever and anon came breathing their silent moni tions, thus making turbulent -waves to roll over my soul and destroy my peace. ,fi di rected my attention to the sacrifices made at fashion’s shrine, and the great expenditure for ornament, and wherewith to gratify the appetite. Then I gazed upon the l multitude before me, and the former expenses sank into nothingness as I measured the infinite capaci ties of the human mind, and saw, so many votaries willing to immolate their-besl ener gies on such an altar!—willing to violate the laws of their being, and imperil their Jives for an evening’s entertainment! Then I.thought of suffering humanity ail around us. I proportioned the finances of the evening to the sum requisite ro relieve them, and finding the former so .largely to preponderate, the picture before roe Jost its beauty, and I gazed upon it in astonishment! 1 reflected how many mighty] intellects were blighted by the mildew of 'ignorance and warped by the untoward tendencies of superstition, which might have been anima ted into action by the warning influenced of philanthropy. I thought of the lonely fire side, the desolate hearth-stone, of the poor widow in her chill and comfortless kbode, an swering with but tears her children’s plea for food, and I wished that I might but be the good angel sent with crumbs from the rich man’s table to relieve them. And thus, whilst my eyes were gazing on thej scene be fore me, ray mind was wandering among the labyrinths of ignorance, wrelcheflness and woe. My heart’s warmest sympathies were awakened, and I could but hope that ere long fortune’s favored ones might forget iheir own selfish pleasures, in raising the fallen, in structing the ignorant, and alleviating the woes of earth’s hapless children. ' Lawrenceville, Delta. , <©mr ©orrtSßonareftce. Letter from Wisconsin, Madison, August 9j 1858. Mr. Editor ; I will endeavor to.give you a limited description of the city of Madison and adjacent country. I am rusticating in the western country and thought .probably a few words in relation to the capital of Ihe badger State might find a place in your paper. ■ Madison, the county seat of Dane county and capilol of the State of Wisconsin, per haps combines and overlooks more charming and diversified scenery to please the eye of fancy and promote health and pleasure than any other town in the whole west, and fn these respects it surpasses any other Slate capital in the Union. Its bright takes, fresh groves and rippling rivulets, its sloping hills, shady vales and flowery meadows, com mingled in greater profusion and disposed in more picturesque order than 1 have ever else where beheld. Nor is it less no’eworlhy for its business advantages and healthful position. Situated on elevated ground, amid delightful groves and ' productive lands, it must be healthy; while the abundance and conveni ence of fine streams and water-powers must facilitate a sound and rapid advancement here in agricultural pursuits and the mechanic arts. On the west of the city is lake Mendota, on the east, lake Menona. Thespnc; between Ihe lakes on which Ihe town is built is one mile in width. Around the town, stretching away in every direction, is a beautiful undu lating country, consisting of prairies and oak openings. The University buildings are on the highest ground and present n most impos ing appearance. The Capitol is admirably situated on a lovely square of fourteen acres covered with forest trees. From t’.he lop of the Capitol (which, by the way, isja capital house io more than one sense,) the visitor has a splendid view. Madison hasik popula tion of about filteen thousand soulk. Madi son is destined to be a resort for those who wish to retire from the turmoil of|[business. Those to whom Ihe bustle of Newport and Saratoga gives no recreation, will beidelighled to come to such a place as this- [None 100 far South for the hottest weather, and just far enough-North to enjoy the cool invigor ating breezes as they reach us froth the arc tic regions before being mingled wijb the mi asma that arises from the low lands,and pools of southern prairies, that keeps aljve pesti lence and disease, killing its thousands for want of unconlaminated air. . : ; Youis, R. D. T. Officer—“ Didn’t you sir, that the horse wonldn’t shy before the! ire of an enemy ?” “No more he won’t; it is after the fire that he shies. j Advertisements will be charged 81 per square of’ fourteen lines, for one, or three insertjoqs.and 2 T cents fur every subsequent insertion. All Advertise ments of less than fourteen lines considered's* a square. The following rates will bo charged for Quarter);, Half-Yearly and Yearly advertising:— Sqnare,(l4lines,) . $2 50 $4 50 'B6 00 2 Squares,. ....4 00 600 800 } column, .... 10 00 .15 00 20 00 column,.'. . . -18 00 30 00> 40.00 All advertisements not having the number of in sertions marked upon them, will be kept in until or dored out, and charged accordingly. Posters, Handbills, Bill,and LeltcrHeads.and ail binds of Jobbing done in country establishments, executed neatly and promptly. Justices’, Consla blea* and other BLANKS,constantly on band and printed to order. NO. 4. A Puzzling Theological Question. Severn) years ago, before the age bf rail roads, a meeting of the American Board for Foreign Missions was held at Albany, which . Rev. Calvin Chapin, the wilty Congregation al minisier, now deceased, with a number of other clergymen from this region, attended, performing the journey by stage. At the close of'ihe meeting they retnrned by the same conveyance. All the passengers in the stage but one were Congregational clergy men ; that one was a young Episcopaj min ister. At first starting the passengers were all silent, lilf after some lime, our young Episcopal friend, with somewhat more of courage than discretion, proceeded to deliver himself substantially as follows: “I have been examining ibose portions of the Scriptures, lately, in wh : cb prayer is spoken of, and have satisfied myself that prayer is never spoken of in the Bible where the circumstances do not make it probable— yes, I may say certain—that the prayer must have been read'’ ' for the Agitator. To this somewhat startling proposition no one made any reply ; but our young friend, nothing daunted, went on ; “I will defy any gentleman present to bring forward an ins tance where this is not the case.” There was again a short silence, which was broken by Dr. Chapin, who said in bis blandest and most deferential tones : “I do not mean to deny your posilion. Sir ; but there is a question I should like to ask, if you will be so kind as lo answer it.” . ‘‘Oh, ask as many questions as you please —I will answer them,” was the reply of the young man. “The question I wished lo ask was,”*3asd Dr. Chapin, very deliberately, who held can dle for Jonah when he read prayers in the whale’s belly ?” It is said that the juvenile divine maintained a dignified silence during the rest of that journey. - Going to Spread Herself.—As a newly married couple, evidently from the country, were promenading Montgomery street, last evening, their curiosity was suddenly aroused by the appearance of some mysterious look ing articles dangling from a shop window. — They eyed them with the keenest concern— first one side and then the other—until at last the husband having completely exhausted his imaginative powers, drawled out: “Well, Sal, consarn my pictures, ef them ain’t the cussedesl looking things lever hearn I eel of.” Then twisting himself about, and giving the contents of the window another look, he added, “What on earth kin they be?” “Why, Jake, don’t you know ?—Krinoline and hoop?” “Du,j,ell,”ejacula,ied Jake softly. “Them’s ’em, is thay 1” and he ran his eyes about the strange apparel. “I think they are so sweet ?” ventured Sal, when at the same moment a lady, dressed in thetbreadih of the fashion, brushed along. Jake had seen enough ; Sal must have a krinoline. Without saying a word, he start ed to enter the store, but was slopped at the door by her, with all sorts of entreaties not to carry the joke any farther. But Jake was determined. He had taken a fancy to the goods and could not rest until his better-half >itas supplied with them. She drew back, but it was of no avail. He gathered her arm lightly in his own, and making a long stride into the establishment, exclaimed : “Come along, old gal ! You’re my wile now, [’ll bp. hanged ef you shan’t spread yourself!” Western Etiquette. —A Yankee trav eler, who saw the live, hoosier, wrote to his mother: “Western people,” said he, "go to their death on’ etiquette. You can’t tell' a man that he lies, as you can down east, without fighting. 1 A few days ago, a man wasti-Ping his neighbors in my hearing, a pretty large slo(y. Says I, “stranger that’s a whopper!’’ Says he, “Lay there, stranger!” And in an instant, I found myself in a ditch, the worse for wear and tear. Upon another occasion, says I to a man'l never saw before, as a woman passed: “That isn’t a specimen of your western women 1 shobld think 1” Says he, “You are afraid of fever and ague, stranger, ain’t you?” “Very much,” replied I. “Well,” replied he, “that lady is my wife-, and if you don’t apologise in two minutes, by the honor of a gentleman, I swear that these two pistols, (which he held cocked in his hands) shall cure vou of that disagreeable disorder entirely—so don’t fear, stranger.” “So I knelt down and politely apologised. I admire this western country much, but curse me I can stand so much etiquette, it always lakes me unawares. A traveler, a resident of England, once, while exploring an African province came across a greasy, flat-nosed,-long heeled ne gro, lying under a palm tree. A hut stood in the distance, and his acoulrements consist ed of a breech cloth, a bow and poisoned ar rows. “Who are ¥ou 1” said the traveler. . “1 am de king, of dis province,” said tire tolored person, pointing to his hut and weap ons ; “Do they talk much about me in Eng land?” The Verb “To Go.”—Monsieur Folaire, who is studying English Grammar, says.;— “Ze vairb “to go” is ze moat irregularitest in ze Anglaise language. You hear bina-'**'! go—zou departest—he clears out—we cut slick—ye or gon make tracks —seyahrouat- tilaie,’’ Bates of Advertising. 3 months. 6 months. 12 mo’.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers