* !r j crl iis of Publication. TJOGA COUNTY AGITATOR is pub- T Thursday Morning, and mailed to sub lulled every reasonable price of One Dol scribers a Variably in advance. It is intend u, peran ' su t, scr ibe r when the term for cd W u!S,L paid shall have expired, by the stamp yliidi hen 1 on the margin of the last paper. "“^" ne „r will then be stopped until a further re rp te paper . . gy this arrangement no man ® ilun l debt tothe printer. c3 n be w° u » j s the Official Paper of the Coun The AGIT and stea dily increasing circulation ty,withal b near ly every neighborhood in the reaching ®" scnl j rt c a f postage to any Post-office County- 111 ‘iy limits, and to those living within within the co J mostconvenientpostoffice may the County. lie in an adjo = exceeding 5 lines, paper in | Business bar a-, llodcd.^-^ the BONDMAID. „ ,L. hnd-.cspc fall the shades of night, r ji„ darkness all things fair and bright, And one bv one the stars shine out on high,' nitotr with glory all the Summer sky: f. nLr heart there rests a deeper shade ; r and not God, the darkness there has made, ■fir „f Hope illumes the gloomy night, Hr „g the promise of a future bright; Some of free men, and the and of brave, Yields no protection to the helpless slave. reach content, and oven thankfulness, a d lell her she lias cause her lot to bless— ™ «he is ignorant, untrained, and poor, Ml her life and fortune to secure; if. tell her she is fair; 100 (veil she knows tL; *i(l but fills the measure of her woes ; Ynd the great power of thought—which were she fcrholhst! richest heritage would be, not her own, each talent that God gave ,slill her master’s, she a purchased slave. fedora! the biller mockery of that word. r„ Hose who all their life the name have heard, Yet know and feci with agony of heart [hat m its blessings they can have no part; Yho while they sec the care of church and state To make die while man prosperous and great, reel ill the misery and degradation VUlch slavery fastens on this boastful nation, Worn. 1 die cry from east to western wave, 3al no redress, no justice for the slave. Jblifel a precious blessing to the free [Ye bondman finds no charm, no hope in thee ; afcomy the future, as the dreary past, [ibor and fellers, this year like the last. Bel laid ranks and stations comes one hour, frteijm and slavery bond beneath one power, jjjok! to her the hour ihabendslhis strife Moot be Death, but the first dawn of Life, Life Everlasting, peace beyond the grave Sleie there shall bo no master and no slave, Virginia. OP A KIGHT, OR, nit JEDEDUII lII’.OWX BECAME A TEETOTALER. BY LOUIS N. BBEBICK. liwascleien o’clock at night, and Je aed.ili Brown had not yet returned to his taw. ]i was a circumstance which raised in the. mmd of Mrs. Brown mingled feelings of in jignalion and surprise. Among the menial qualities of ihe lady in jjestioD, were an abundance of those gen •nlire of termagancy, and she was not inclined to allow any infringement of her matrimonial rights with impunity. That she rally entertained for her sterner half a deep Ejection, lo say the least, all who are anyways acquainted with the domestic affairs a the Brown family, can truthfully attest. Ml it is a mailer of universal recognition sat Mrs. Brown had a very exalted idea of her own merits, and was constantly endeav :nng lo inspire her husband with a due sense :f the priceless treasure he possessed in her! In the language of a celebrated Roman— liglit/y modified for present application : N’ot that she lore d Jedediah less, but herself lore.” \ Allowing the extreme view, that Mrs. hown took in regard to the course of con loci pursued by Air. Brown lo be the true ice that individual was deserving of the trongest censure. The impatient lady sal before the cheferfui ti'e m the little parlor, the sharp outlines ! < her features fully exposed by ihe ascend og 3ames, deeply ruminating upon the sub- Wother woes. Presently she arose and eitedwith malignant grasp the unoffending fiercely attacked the glowing it would seem that she stirred up at “Osame time her anger, for its flames burst 3Ssiona(£]y forth. Its 100 bad!” she exclaimed aloud, “it’s » aad— a's really abominable, that Jedediah Md so far forget himself, and me as to act atrocious manner.” glanced at the clock, and then sealing continued : Tins is— let me see —three, four limes, as a mug soul that he has similarly oul dth'i k e '' n?s ' v ''hiu a single month ; ,j. en he has the audacity to excuse him uJ°jl '* le "found of ‘political excitement.’ should just like to know what reasons " bc f° r a man to make a beast of J! ecaus o a new President is to be a| ea soon.” ° su Ppf crr| ent to the question, she etpin/ 0 " unconsc ' ous cat who was on ! /t e corner of the hearth, such a i“' ar > °ok as must have thrilled that "test h Wll * l feelings of the in jd o r d otror ’,' vere ' ts faculties of the hu or i and it mot the gaze of its mis- V..J? 01 ? 0 ' n S '0 allow ibis slate of : i e c of , J on ger! I’H leach him that the ! peci' S |.° SOm ' s entitled to a little more Jiliame !| S 1 sbarno — a hurtling, everlast jeven | ' ' ,at be s ,hould leave me to spend ,ev Ehrnf S - nc 6' c^te h, and alone, while he e ln scenes of wickedness and ‘•i’ll no S . nC S . ia,t <--d 10 her feet. Kif his ait Por b ' m ano, her minute ; no, ■co j| ~;; e an when Brown approach -101,e- did not, however, ° ’hat -dinn r°°l’ afler turn ' n S die corner, ei ? c,c rizt!d 1 IC ° sla,e hncss that usually ls mini i i" m ' nor did he reach it as ,e *sel hea,,„ 3Vc been expected ; for. like ;i mc s run °. lo windward, he lacked sev i:e ' a ad ( " rnm curb- stone to cutb i'P' of >»“ oace being seriously in he was 1"° \ lmselfin ’ho gutter. r 'P anchor a ' enou gh to make port r on lus own doorstep. YOL. Y. For Tho Agitator. Truth compels us to admit, however re luctantly, that Brown was—drunk ! As he sat upon the lower step, his head sunk upon his bosom, his badly damaged hat crowded over his brows, his neckcloth askew, with a knot in a position under his left ear, rathef suggestive of a murderer’s fate, and his entire outward appearance'in dicative of an utter regardlessness as to his entire personal aspect, or anything else per taining to this terrestrial sphere, a moral re form lecturer would have gone into eostacies at the thought of possessing such a subject to exhibit before an appreciative audience as an unique specimen of total depravity. Whether Jedediah Brown, at that precise moment, had a realizing sense of his true condition, it is uncertain the air was keenly cold, and it may have been that which moved him. Certain it is, that he appeared at length to come to the conclusion that justice to his own self demanded that he should find some more attractive quarters. Accordingly, he assumed as erect an atti tude as possible, and, by a marvelous stroke of good fortune, succeeded in reaching and grasping the doorknob. Then from his pocket he procured a latch key, and set about effecting an entrance. To form a determination to do a thing, and to effect the “consummation devoutly to be wished,” are two distinct affairs. So Jedediah Brown discovered on this occasion. The door was large, and the key-hole was small ; the night withal, was not one of the lightest. “This is a sing’lar thing,” muttered Je dediah, in a very thick tone of voice, and with exceedingly long intervals between some of his words, “this is a dreadful singular thing : I think, I really do think, that on the whole, its about the most sing’lar thing that ever I knew, where the key hole has gone and hid itself. I know 1 left it here when I went away, I am sure I did—and now where is it!’’ He ceased from his endeavors to find Ihe missing orifice for a few moments, as if the last sentence he utiered had awakened weighty thoughts in his mind. Then he made another futile attempt to discover it. “Its gone, sure,” he said ; “the key-hole ain’t there. P’rhaps somebody’s stole it— it was a brass Trey.hole, and somebody may have 109 k it for gold and stole it. Gr else,” he mused, as a faint idea of a wrong pdrpe traled against him on the part of his wife crossed his confused roind, “or else she’s took it inside to keep me out; shouldn’t wonder at all,” Concluding lo make one more effort, he this lime succeeded in finding what he had searched for so long. “Well, well!” he uttered, “this is a go; the key-hole was there all the while. | Jede diah Brown, if you wasn’t such a respecta ble person as I know you to be, I should be tempted to say you wore drunk I” He entered and after stumbling over a hall table and oversetting the hat stand, he man aged to grab hold ol the stair banisters. Then, with a fresh exertion, he gained the parlor doors. The fire was still burning bright in the grate, and Jedediah Brown thought it flick- ered up reproachfully as he advanced into the room. So he turned hta. back to the blaze, and steadied himself with a chairback. Happening to raise his eyes, he was as tonished to behold a man at the further ex tremity of the apartment. The thought of thieves at once entered his mind. “Who’re you, I say ?” cried Jedediah, in a louder key. Still the importuned said not a word. “Now, look here, you vill’nous, thieving, ugly-looking scoun’rel, if you don’t answer my question, I’ll sacrifice you, I will. Do you hear! What business have you in my house at this lime o’ the night?” As the last inquiry elicited no reply, Jede diah, moved by his rising passion, without further expostulation, seized a footstool, and employed all his strength in the effort, he fired it at the head of the fancied burglar. The tremendous crash of hroke'n glass which followed, awakened the deluded man to the important fact that he had shivered into fragments his wife’s costliest mirror, and that the imaginary thief was simply its re flection of himself. Before he had lime, however, to make many reflections upon the matter, he was startled by the cry of “Thieves ! Murder ! Police!” and a variety of other frantic screams in the shrill voice of his wife, who, awakened suddenly by the noise, had arose and thrust her head from the bed room win dow overhead. “Police! police! help!” Again it rang out upon the still night air. “What’s the muss I” cried a vigilant guar dian of the public safety, as he.made his ap pearance. “Burglars!” screamed the lady in while hysterically. “Where?” “Below in the parlor—l hear them now, help, qu^ck!” “Another policeman at this moment ar. riving, the door was forced open, and two entered. Mr. Jedediah Brown, becoming alarmed at the manifestation he heard, was reeling towards the door. “Ha, here he is !” cried one of the officers triumphanlly. “Nab him!” exclaimed the other. “Why, blow me if he ain’t drunk. He’s been below among the wine.” “Stand off!” cried Brown, assuming whal he intended should be a dignified altitude. “Stand off! Do you take me for a thief?” “Well, now, I shouldn't wonder at ail,” said a policeman number one, in aa ironical THE AGITATOR. to tf)t BSxttnoion of tt»o of iPmftow atiiJ tfje SjjccaiJ of f2?ealt6g i&tfotrm* i; WHILE THERE SHALL BE A WRONG UNRIGHTED, AND UNTIL “MAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAH*’ SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE, WELLSBORO, TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING. SEPTEMBER 9, 1858. tone, “if we did ‘take’ you for a thief—as far as the station house at any rate." “What’s that ? arrest me in my own house —drag me from the bosom of my family V’ “It won’t do, old feller; you must come along with us.” “Never ! I say never—no never!” “Have you caught the monster? Where is he?” cried the trembling voice of Mrs. Brown as that courageous female made her appearance on the stairs, and peered over the banisters into the room. “It’s ail right, ma’am” said the officer; “he’s safe enough now.” Just then her eyes fell on her husband, and from him they glanced around the room till they rested on the ruined mirror. She comprehended at once what had occurred, and the direct indignation against the unlucky Jedediah arose within her breast. She was about to vent her wrath against him, when a brilliant thought struck her. She would not recognize him ! The officers believed him to be a burglar, and she wauld not undeceive them. It would be a gloxious revenge. “What a horrid looking man he is!” she uttered, in a tone of apparent alarm. “Hold him light, don’t let him gel away.” “He is rather a hard ’un, that’s a fact,” replied the officer, “but don’t be frightened, ma’am Jie can’t escape.” “What a blessed thing it was you came as you did. I wouldn’t have had him found me for the world. What should I have done if he had ?” Jedediah gazed at his wife wi h open amazement pictured upon his countenance. He became a little sobered by what had transpired, and was sensible enough to wish himself well out of the embarrassing position he was in. “Why, the horrid wretch, he knows my name I” screamed the lady. “Know your name ! Well, I rather think I’d ought to know your name, seeing as how I gave it to you.” “Oh, you wretched man.” “Now, look-a-here, Mrs. Brown, don’t come it 100 strong ; don’t pretend that you don’t know who I am.” “How should I know? Thank goodness, I don’t keep company with such as you.” “Ain’t I your husband “Oh, lake him away, do—the scandalous creature.” “Come,” said the officers, grasping him, by either arm, “you can’t remain here any longer; come along.” The injured Browp resisted this-appeal as well as he was able. “I tell you you’re wrong!” he cried, grasping ihe door wilh both hands. “Oh, of course we're wrong—of course we are; but never you mind, and come along with us, and it will be all right.” “Bui this is my house, I say, and that is my wife and she knows it.” The officers, however, were not inclined to credit his words, and insisted more strongly than ever that he should accompany them. But only by carrying him bodily along could he be removed. “Tell’m they’re mistaken in the man,” implored Jedediah, appealing to his wife when he found that he could not otherwise convince them of the truth. “Tell ’em who 1 am and they’ll let me go.” Gut the good lady only shrunk back, and uttered a small scream, as if shocked at what she heard. The rage of her husband was redoubled by this act of perfidiousness. “Woman!” he vociferated, turning a last look upon her as she stepped upon the stairs, “beware what you do, don’t trifle with a des perate man ! Speak to these men or your doom is sealed, “You won’t? Very well ; the consequences be upon your own head. I'll have a divorce—l’ll separate from you ; yes, madam, and I’ll take the children ! Do you hoar that, Mrs. Brown ? I’ll lake the children to myself, and leave you a ruined, destitute, wretched, heart-broken female be ing!” It didn’t occur to the infuriated Brown just then that he had no children. He had ever cherished strong hopes, however, of having an infinite number of those useful household ornaments, and his ideas were not as clear, by any means, as usual. Before he could utter more, he was upon the sidewalk, and the door of the house was closed and fastened. Mr. Brown, upon his arrival at the station house, was thrust ig nominiously into one of the dark cells, and left to meditate at his leisure up on his hu miliating position. When, ihejjnext morning, Mr. Jedediah Brown made ms appearance before the ma gistrate, escorted by his captor of the night previous, he presented an aspect truly deplo rable. He was not the Jedediah Brown of former limes, and it would have puzzled his nearest friends to recognize him. The work ing of his mind, and the liquor he had drank, had left him in a miserable plight. The justice, pulling on his severest frown, inquired into the particulars of his case. Turning to the prisoner, he said. “So you were caught in the act, were you ? Well, burglary is a serious matter, as you’ll find out. What is your name ?” “Brown,” replied Jedediah ; “but there is a mistake.” “Brown, eh ?” interrupted the justice; “well the name’s against you; there have been four'een burglaries, not to speak of other crimes, committed in this district by men of that name within the present month.” “But I’m an innocent person ; it was in my own house they; arrested me.” “Everybody is innocent that’s brought here, of course! But we’ll soon see how you stand. Where! is the complainant in tKlr case?” At this moment a lady entered. “There she is,” said the policeman. The prisoner looked up, and met the eyes of his wife. “What iiave you to-say in regard to this man, madam ?” asked the judge. Mrs, Brown did not immediately reply. She looked for a moment longer imo the face of her husband, as if astonished and bewil dered, and then she exclaimed : “Why, can it. be possible? Is it, then, really you,'Jedediah ?” Then addressing the magistrate, she con tinned: “I find that it is only my husband, and have no complaint’to make. But it was so late when he came home last night, and he was so disguised, that I was unable to rec ognize him. - Jedediah Brown said not a word. He knew full well how the matter stood, and he felt not a lilile shame for the ridiculous part he had enacted. He retired with his wife,- very passively, vowing in his own mind never to be caught in alike scrape again. And that is how he became a teetotaler ! Tombs, of the English Kings. The correspondent of the iV. Y. Chronicle, writing from London, describes his visit to Westminister Abbey, and reflects, with a great deal of truth, as well as republican se verity, upon the vices and follies of royalty. “The walls of the cloisters, the aisles and the chapels of the cathedral, are everywhere crowded with inscriptions and monuments of the illustrious dead. For nearly a thousand years this has been the final resting place of England’s statesmen, warriors, authors, di vines, nobles and kings. Here the nation's monarch’s have been crowned and here they have been buried. The very chair in which Edward the Confessor receiued his scepter, and the rude block of unhewn granite on which the kings of Scotland were invested with power, stand here as they have stood for centuries. More than twenty are known to have been crowned in this rough old oak en chair, from the founder of the Abbey down to the little delicate woman who now sits so quietly on the British throne. It is among the tombs of the kings that the ostentatious pomps of this world are bro’l into most striking contrast with the solemni ties of the next. Here is perpetual winter; here the cold hand of death keeps down re bellious spirits, who, while living, brooked no supremacy ; here rivals in life are broth ers in the grave; here the heartless Elizabeth sleeps side by side with Mary her victim. “Drop upon Fox'd tomb a tear. Twice trickle to his rival’s bier.” “What now, to these royal skeletons, and mouldering ministers of state, are all these solemn mockeries ; the cold stone; the gild ed effigy ; the statue of eloquence wilh dumb lips; fame blowing a noiseless trnmpet; a pair of broken-winged, blubbering marble cherubs, and the truth-concealing epitaph ! “After all; was it fur this, that the dust be low us kept the world so long in such a pother?—Tell us, Buckingham and Cecil, and Richmond and Villiers—and you, dukes, princes, bishops, generals, courtiers, was it merely for six square feel in this well-propor tioned-bone-house that you toiled and in trigued, and flattered and fought? And you, Tudors, Stuarts, and Plantagenets, were the “wars of the Roses,’’ and the long and bloody feuds between you all merely for the honor of rotting in a royal tomb? And you, heartless old woman, down below—‘whom lying cus tom has styled “good Queen Bess,” —was it only to moulder in the next cellar, and be eaten by neighbor worms, that you impris oned and persecuted, and finally murdered, that poor sister Mary of yours ? No answer ? Ah, well 1 Sleep on quietly, old bones 1— Nobody cares to “torment” you “before the time.” What is left of you is no belter than common plebeian earth. The dead beggar at St. Giles can answer questions quite as well as you, ye marble coffined carbonates of dukes, and phosphates of queens and kings 1” The Long Path. —The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table is in a happy vein this month, and wilh reason. He proposed to the sweet young school mistress, and was ac cepted 1 It was done on Boston Common, thus: . “It was on the Common that we were walking. The mall or boulevard of our Common, you know, has various branches leading from it in various directions. One of these runs downward from opposite Jay street southward across the whole length of the Common to Boyleston St. VVe called it the long path, and were fond of it. I fell very weak indeed, (though of a tol erably robust habit) as we came opposite the head of this path on that morning. 1 think I tried lb speak twice without making myself distinctly audible. At last I got out the ques tion, “Will you take the long path wilh me?” “Certainly,” said the school mistress “with much pleasure.” “Think,” I said “before you answer ; if you take the long path with me now, 1 shall interpret it that we are to part no more !” The school mistress stepped back with a sudden movement as if an arrow had struck her. . One of the long granite blocks used as scats was hard by, the one you may still see close by the Ginkotree. “Pray, sit down, I said. No, no, she answered softly, I will walk the long path with you !’’ The old gentleman who sits opposite met us walking, arm in arm, about the middle of the long path, and said, very charmingly, “Good morning, my dears.” “Boy where does this road, go to?”—“I don’t think it goes anywhere. I always see urn here every^ morning.’’ THE DEACON'S MASTERPIECj OB THE WONDERFUL 4r ONE HOSS SF BY OLIVES W EM) ALL HOLMES. Have you heard of Ihe wonderful one-hoss That was built in such a logical way It ran a hundred years to a day. And then of a sudden, ah, but stay, 2*ll tell you what happened without delay; Scaring the parson into fits, Frightening the people out of their wits,— Have you ever heard of that, I say 7 Seventeen hundred and fifty.five, Georgius Secundus was then alive,— Snuffy old drone from the German hive 1 That was the year when Lisbon town Saw the earth open and gulp her down. And Braddock’a army was done so brown. Led without a scalp to Us crown. It was on the terrible Earthquake day j [ That the Deacon finished the une.horse Now in building of chaises, I*ll tell you what. There is always somewhere a weakest spot,-|-[ In bub, tire, felloe, in spting or thill, | j In panel, or crossbar, or floor, or sill, I i la screw, boll, thoroughbrace,—lurking still| Find it somewhere you must and will,— j • Above or below, or within or without,— \ And that is the reason, beyond a doubt, | ; A chaise breaks down but doesn't wear out, } 1 But tho Deacon swore (as Deacons do With an “I dew vara” or an “I (ell yeou,**) He would build one shay to beat the taown V the kcounly V all the kenlry raoun*; It should be so built that it couldn* break di —“Fur,” said the Deacon, “*t*s mighty plain That the weokes’ place inns’ stan* the strait ’a 1 the way t’ fix it, uz I maintain, la only jest To make that place uz strong uz the rest.” So the Deacon inquired of the village folk. Where he could find the strongest oak. That couldn’t be split nor bent nor broke,— That was for spokes and floor and sills; He sent for lanccwood to make the thills; The crosrbars were ash, from the struightesi The panels of whilewood, that cuts like che But lasts like iron for things like these; The hubs of logs from the “Settler’s Ellum,* Last of its limber, —they couldn’t sell 'em,- Never an axe had seen their chips, And the wedges flew from between their lip Their blunt ends frizzled like celery tips; Step and prop-iron, bolt and screw. Spring; tire, axle, And linchpin too, Steel of the finest, bright and blue; Thoroughbrace bison skin, thick and widb*;! Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide j Found in the pit when the tanner died. ' That was the way lie “put her through.”— “There I” said the Deacon, “naow she’ll dew Do! I tell you, I rather guess She was a wonder, and nothing less ! Colts grew horses, beards turned gray. Deacon and Deaconesses dropped away. Children and grand-children—where were ll But there stood the stout old one boss shay As fresh as on Lisbon earthquake day! Eighteen hundred ; —it came and found The Deacon’s masterpiece strong*and sound. Eighteen hundred increased by ten?—' "Hansum kerridge” they called it then. Eighteen hundred and twenty came;— Running-as usual; much the same. Thirty and forty at last arrive, And then carnc fifty und fifty-five. Little of all we value here ; Wakes on the morn of its hundreth year I Without both feeling and looking queer. | In fact, there’s nothing that keeps its youth, ; So far as I know, but a tree and truth. \ { (This is a mural that runs at large; . j ■' Take it.—You’re welcome.—No extra charge.) First of NovEUDEa.—the earthquake day.—' There arc traces of age in the onc-hoss-shay( \ A general flavor of mild decay, J 1 But nothing local as one may say. j | There couldn’t be—for the Deacon’s art I ' Had made it so like in every part ! | That there wasn’t a chance throne to start, j f For the wheels were just us strong as the tfiiljg, And the floor was just as strong as the sills,, • | And the panels just as strong as the floor, ; And the whipplelrce neither less nor more, ; And the back cross-bar as strong as the fore, i And spring and axle and hub encore. ' And yet, as a whole, it is past a doubt j f In another hour it will be worn out! ; i First of November,’fifty-five t ‘ This morning the deacon takes a drive, Now, smalt boys, get out of the way i , [ - Here comes the wonderful onc-hoss shay, I I Drawn by a rat tailed, ewe-necked bay. ‘ | “Huddup," said the parson.— Off went they, i The parson was working his Snnday’a text,—| Had gut a fifthly, and slopped perplexed . j At what the—Moses —was coming next. : AH at once the horse stood still, I - Close by the mcel’n’-housc on the hill. j —First a shiver, and then a thrill, j Then something decidedly like a spill,— ! And the parson was sitting upon a rock, \ At half-past nine by the meet'n’-liousc clock, —‘ Just the hour of the earthquake shock! : , —What do you think the parson found, i When he got up and stared around ? ; Ttie poor old chaise in a heap or mound, 1 As if it had been to the mill and ground t ; You-sec, of course, if you’re not a dunce, I How it went to pieces alt at once, — } All at once, and nothing first, — i Just as bubbles do when they burst End of the wonderful onc-hoss shay. Logic is logic. Thai’s all X say. [Atlantic Monthly. Somebody's Dead. —There is black crape on that door ; somebody’s dead. Yes, lyith in has fallen another chip from the block' of humanity, and the axe-man Deatlfi is swing ing his weapon for another blow. There ! the bell is tolling, somebody’s dead ; slow;roll the sounds, and how they icsound, reaching clear into the heart of the thoughtful! t The coffin maker is fixing a coffin : somebody’s dead. That beautifully polished box jrpust soon moulder and rot; the worm will crawl over it—worms, (he only witnesses of ,riior-. tality drooping away, departing from shape and suhs'ance. There goes the hearse; somebody’s dead ; all the lime mankind Uue dying ; and earth is our producer antPcon sumer, and will tie no crape upon her <|oor and wear no black in mourning for ourillpss. While we are dying she smiles and ladghs and dances on in her perpetual joy. ' ] “Fellow Citizens !” said a North Caro lina candidate, “I am a Democrat, and never was anything else. There are three topics that now agitato the Slate: the Banklthe Tariff and the Penitentiary. I shall I pass over the first two very briefly, as my senti ments are well known, and come to jheSPen ileutiary, where I shall dud! some time /” Rates of AdycrUsins- Advertisements will be charged SI per square of fourteen lines. Tor one, or three insertions, and 55 cents tor every subsequent insertion. All advertise* Hicnls dr less than fourteen lines • squaie. The following rates will bo charged to* Quarterly, Half-Yearly and Yearly advertising :~ 3 months. 6 months. 13 mo’* : ‘Square, (14 lines,) -$3 50 $4 50 96 Ot SSquarcs,- .. .4 00 600 800 J column, - ... 1000 1500 30 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 dered out, and charged accordingly. Posters, Handbills, Bill,and Letter Head*,and all kinds of Jabbing done in country establishments, executed neatly and promptly. Justices’, Consta bles’and other BLANKS, constantly on band and printed to order. NO, 6. Telegraphic Instnuneats. it HAY. As the electricians are supposed to be ex perimenting at Trinity Bay and Vulentia, with the various recording instruments in use, it is of interest to knowjwhat are the chief differences between them! * The Morse Instrument, in common' use from the first in this country, transmits messages by the alternate breaking nod re connecting of Ihe electric current. The cur rent allowed to flow a moment produces a dot, if a little longer a line. The operator laps on a single key, and the messages are recorded by an alphabet .composed of a com bination of lines and dots, thus : 3hay, 1 r In the hands of an expert, the speed of this instrument is about twenty words a minute. The Cook and Wheatstone instrument is the one that, until lately, has been generally q#ed in England. A needle on a dial plate revolves, pointing out the letters, which are insetibed around the circumference like the hours of a clock. This is a much more intelligible process to outsiders, but it is slow, accomplishing, at the fastest, only about fourteen words a minute. The House Instrument prints the message in Roman capitals on a long stiip of paper, by the revolution of a type wheel, the opera tor playing on a key-board like that of a piano, with a key for each letter. The prin ting is done by clock-work, the use of the electric current being to preserve equal time so that the letters of one machine may cor respond to those of the'other. This instru ment prints twenty-five to thirty words a minute. mwn i r Pv I trees; ; Jee, The Hughes Instrument is a combination of theMorse'and House inventions. In the Morse Instrument, two or three pulsations of the electric current are required to indicate one letter. In the House Instrument, it re quires from one to twenty-eight pulsations.— In the Hughes Instrument, it requires but a single pulsation for each letter. The me chanism by which this is accomplished is simple, though the principle on which it is pased is complex. The type wheels at the respective stations revolve to print lire mes sage, and Their revolutions are governed by vibrating springs. These springs cause them to revolve in exactly the same time, There is an acoustig principle involved, viz: that two springs which give the same musical tone while vibrating, vibrate the same number of times per second. The springs are there fore chosen and regulated by sound. Thi* instrument, it is evident, economises both time and elecric power. Its exceeding sen sitiveness to the least perceptible pulsation of the electric, current adapts it especially for long lines and submarine cables. It is cn pable of writing forty words a minute with about one-tenth the battery power of other instrument, anti sends messagesiboth ways at oncel At least, so its inventor claims, and it is to Bo tested on the Atlantic cable.—Al bany Eve. Jour. The N. Y. Express louches, in an inimi table manner, a very delicate subject in the following paragraphs. They should be read and pondered upon by all classes of readers: “Our young men are a painful study. As they lounge about the streets with bold, leer ing faces, poisoning the air with oaths, or whirl madly along, behind lashed horses, or loom up dimly amid the smoky glare of haunts of folly, sin and shame, it is sickening to think that with them rests the future of the coun try, and in ihenv lies its hope. It is no won der that the hearts of fathers and mothers and sisters are filled with dread and grief.— No wonder that the perpetual and earnest ad vice to the young man is to go into “ladies’ society.” The advice is good. There is positively safely for him in the society of a modest, gentle, kindly-and sensible girl.— There is comparative safety for him in the company of a vain, giggling, It tiling girl.— “The most empty-headed and empty-hearted of coquettes, is a more harmless companion for him than a cursing, tippling fellow, who thinks mainly of all manner of silliness and sin, and will travel fast, although hell yawns at the end of the road. Yes, your young man’s salvation is in the sweet smile and voice, the beautiful graces and accomplish ments of some fair creature, attractive alike in mind and body. But your young man dare not go and see a young woman he fan cies, and make a friend and companion of her. VVill not all the Mrs. Grundies think and say that it means something, and imme diately and vigorously set to work to whimper their suspicions loud enough (or the world— including the respective families of the young persons —to hear them? Is not your young man a flirt, a desperate fellow, in whom there is Hanger, if be is known to go and see a half a dozen girls : at the same time? [las not this fine propriety which pervades our modern life, something to do with the terrible outlawry and viciousness of the young men ? Has not rigid, ghastly etiquette driven them from the parlor to the rum shop and worse ? In the days when some of us were boys and girls, it was not a proof that two young peo ple were engaged to be married, that they were often together, happy in the interchange of interest and sympathy and all kindly feel-' ing. And somehow there were better boys than there are now ; and'girls, 100, for that mailer.” During n't) examination, a medical student being asked the question, “When does mor. lification ensuereplied. “When you pop the question and are answered ’No.” He who turns sp\ for pleasure would not stickle tu he hangman (or husitussi. • O i The Young Hen.