Terms of Publication. THE TIOGA COONTY AGITATOR is pub j ,„rir Thursday Morning, and mailed to sub I,iD “L at the very reasonable price of One Dot scr annum, invariably in advance. It Js intend t;iv every subscriber when the term for ed ,f°. " h ° I,L paid shall have expired, by the stamp ,bl i" Out," on the margin of the last paper. 11 r will then be stopped until a further re- The pap ri , cc | ve d. By this arrangement no man mUl lfhrou"ht in debt to the printer, can *> c b i ' 3 the Official Paper of the Coun Urwand steadily increasing circulation ly, with s o pearly every neighborhood in the reaching J jcn( f rtt B j postage to any Post-office Connly‘, coan ty limits, and to those living within .* hot ff ho=c most convenient postoffice may t'^.h"I’fining 1 ’fining County, be.Jjoess Cards, not exceeding 5 lines, paper in- JjS, H P cr f car - dreamings. BY MEETA UELGROVE. Oh seldom in lifes weary solitude 1 Does the heart rest beneath a pleasant shade; J„d seldom on earth’s altars hewn of wood, Are its best offerings calmly, trusting laid. But should we chance to find a peaceful shade, Or breathe our vows upon a holy shrine; ffer't best to teach our footsteps to evade The path that leads to blessings so divine 7 Vd! let us mock them not, for ah, on earth, Dwells little that the saddened soul may prize It brightest flowers are scorched by sorrows dearth. And droop, 'till gathered to their native skies. For o'er earth’s dreary, burning, desert waste. Few fragrant breezes on the traveler blow ; And from the green hills of tbe distant past, jls sweetest, softest, clearest cascades flow. fflnlc on the sanded shores of life we stray, Few are tbe pearls that drift beneath our feet; Should these be cast in careless scorn away 7 Is it not sinful? were such wild waste meet? A D d of the flowers that bloom beside our path, But one in many doth true incense give; And should wo spurn that, when the genial showers And kissing sunbeams, bid its love to live? Itmav not be, for all 100 many hearts, Have felt like mine the bitter ruth of fate; Have learned 100 well how dark deceit can blight, The fondest heart, and make life desolate. Then let us cling to all of goodness,—truth, The brilliant life-waves to our hearts may roll; And treasure fondly all bright dreams of youth. Tint pure as slar-gemfe, still the wayward soul. Cmngion, Pa. THE CALICO CLOAK. “Have you seen the new scholar 7” asked Mary Lark, a girl of twelve or fourteen years, as she ran to meet a group of school miles who were coming towards the school - house; “she cuts the most comical figure you ever saw. Her cloak is made out of calico, and her shoes are brogans, such as men and boys wear.” “Oh, yes, I’ve seen her, replied Lucy Brooks; “she is the now washer-woman’s, daughter. I shouldn’t have .thought Mr. Brown would have taken her into the acade my; but 1 suppose he likes the money that comes through suds as well as any. It is cleaner of course.” And the air rang with the loud laugh of the girls. ' “Come let us go in and examine her; continued Mary, as they ascended the steps of the school-house; “I am thinking she will make some fun for us.” The girls went into (he dressing room, where they found the scholar. She was a mild, intelligent looking child, but very poorly though tidily clad. The girls went around her, whispering and laughing with each other, while she stood trembling, and blush ing in one corner of the room, without even venturing to raise her eyes from the floor. When they entered school, they found that the little girl was far in advance of those of her age in (heir studies, and was placed in the class with those two or three years her senior. This, seemed on the whole, to make those girls who were disposed to treat her unkindly, dislike her more ; and she being of a retiring disposition, through their influence had no friends, but went and returned from school alone, 'i “And do \o\i really think, 1 ' said Mary Lark, as she went up to the little girl a few steeks after she had entered the school, “that you are going to get the medal 7 It will correspond nicely with your cloak !" And she caught hold of the cape and held Jl out from her, wliile the girls around joined in a loud laugh. “Calico dress take the medal! I guess she will; [ should like to see Mr. Brown E lv ing it to her!” said another as she caught hold of her arm, and peeped under the child’s bonnet. The little girl struggled to release herself, J “d when she was free, ran home ns fast as she could go. 1 “Oh, mother,” she said, as she entered .. er roother’s humble kitchen ; “do answer 'tide William’s letter and tell him we will ootne to New York to live ! I don’t like to '*o in Bridgeville. The girls call me ‘calico ooak a n d <brogans’ and you don’t know, m °P !’ q ' v unkindly they Treat-me.” Lizzie, my dear,” said her mother, “you tis.t '-■'’peel to meet those who will treat you O’mdly on account of your poverty; but M n ° l d ' scoura g ed - Do right my °'a i’. ? nu come off conquerer,'’ , . l “ ou gh Mrs. Lee tried to encourage her 1 ’ l el s he knew she had to meet with trials for one so young. . u! > mother, they are all unkind to me,” ii Lizzie, “there is not one who loves And the child buried her face in her hands 6n “sobbed aloud. » Bridgeviil 6 Academy there were a few : 0 girls ; and the others q, ~ em ' n leazing the little “Calico les-n ° S ca^ed 'her, from thought heJ' S ’ and l° v e of sport. But they p,p. , nol how deeply each sportive word how * ae *’? art °T 'he little stranger, and a"’"? hitter tears she shed in secret j, aeir unkiodness. Wnth j 6 ! earn . ed 'h at 'he scholars still child Uea l^e ' r un J us ' treatment towards her d on ’ ' eao| ved to accept her brother’s invita- Co ’ a 11 ’ 0u gh he was a poor man, and be whi|e a , mem h e f of his family, hoping that "udie her j’ 6r c k*' d could continue her l ea j an “ perhaps, through his influence, mates m ° r ° ha PPy *'fe among her school- at 'he end of the term, she AlihoLPr'-" 6 ’ and removed lo New York. ( thool°t, , 2le * lad been a member of the tnedal nn j ■° De ,erm i y°' ®he gained the bcneniV ~ ' l was worn T (on > 'he Academy Cl. he des P' sed g arme nt, 'he Eiijjp’ aio . n, h 3 end years glided away to n 3 of the Bridgeville Academy, and YOL. Y. For Thu Agitator. the little “Calico Cloak” was forgotten. Those who were at school wiih her, had left to enter upon the business of life. Twelve years after Mrs. Lee and her daughter left town, a Mr. Maynard, a young clergyman came into BridgeviJle, and was settled as pastor of the village church. It was reported at the sewing circle, the week following his ordination, that it was expected he 1 would bring his bride into town in a few weeks. A few weeks after, Mr. Maynard gratified their curiosity by walking into church with his young wife leaning on his arm. She was a lady of intellectual beauty, and every body (as they always are at first,) was deeply interested in the young minister and bis wife. The following week the ladies flocked to see her, and she promised to meet them at the next gathering of the sewing circle. : The day arrived, and although it was quite stormy, Mrs. Deacon Brown’s parlor was filled with smiling faces. The deacon’s carriage was sent to the parsonage after Mrs. Maynard, and in due time arrived, bringing the lady with it. The shaking of hands that followed her arrival can only be imagined by those who have been present on such occasions. “How are you pleased with our village?’’ asked a Mrs. Britton, after the opening exer cises ’ were over, as she took a seat beside Mrs. Maynard. * “I like its appearance very much, it cer tainly has improved very much within the last twelve years.” “Were you ever in Bridgeville before 7” asked another lady, as those around looked somewhat surprised. “I was was here a few months, when a child,” replied Mrs. Maynard. Their curiosity was excited. “Have you friends here?” asked a third after a moment’s silence. “I have not. I resided with my mother, the widow Lee. We lived in a little cottage, which stood upon the spot now occupied by a large store on the corner of Pine Street. “The tyidowLee?” repeated Mrs. Britton; “I well femember the cottage, but I do not tecollect the name.” “1 think I attended school with you at the Academy,” replied Mrs. Maynard “you were Miss Mary Lark, were you not 7” “That was my name,” replied the lady, as a smile passed over her features at being recognized, “but I am really ashamed that my memory proves so recreant.” “I was known in the Academy as the ‘Calico Cloak.’ Perhaps you can remember me by that name.” The smile faded from Mrs. Britton’s face, and a deep blush overspread her features which in a few minutes was seen deepening upon the face of the others present. There was a silence of some minutes; when Mrs. Maynard looked up, she found she had caused considerable disturbance among the ladies of her, own age, by making herself known. “Oh ! I remember very well when the little ‘Calico Cloak’ went to the academy,” said an old lady, as she looked over her glasses, and I think if my memory serves me right, some of the ladies present will owe Mrs. Maynard an apology. “I have no intention, whatever, ladies,” replied Mrs. Maynard, “lo reprove any one present by making myself known ; but as it may seem to some that such whs my inten tion, I will add a few words. Most of the younger ladies present will remember the little, ‘Calico Cloak ;’ but no one but the wearer knows how deeply each unkind word pierced the little heart that beat beneath it. And, as I again hear the old academy bell ring, it brings back fresh to my mind the sorrows of childhood. But let no lady mis take me, by supposing I cherish an unkindly feeling towards any one. [ know that, what ever the past may have been you are now my friends. But, ladies, let me add if you have children, learn a lesson from my expe rience, and teach them to treat kindly the poor and depised. A calico cloak may cover a heart as warm with affection, and as sens!- live to sorrow, as one that beats beneath a velvet covering. Whenever you meet a child who shows a disposition lo despise the poor, tell it the story of the ‘Calico Cloak ;’ it will carry i s own moral with it.” “That is the shortest and best sermon I ever heard,” said the old lady again, as she put her handkerchief under her glasses; “and I do believe its moral effect will be lost upon any of us.” The old lady was right. The story went from one to another, until it found its way into the old academy. At that very lime a little boy was attending school there, whose mother was struggling with her needle to give him an education. The boys often made sport of his patched knees and elbows, and he would run sobbing home to his mother. But, when the story of the “Calico Cloak” reached the scholars, the little boy became very popular in school and the children from that lime were very kind to "“Little Patchy,” as he had always been called. When Mrs. Mavnard heard the story of “Little Patchy,” she felt that she was well repaid for all she had suffered in her child hood, . Sir,” said a burly fellow, of no enviable character, “I have the largest neck of any fhan in the city.” “Very likely,” said his nieghbor; “and I saw yesterday the largest rope in the city—put that and that together.” What would you be, dearest,” said Wal ler to his sweetheart, “If I were to press the seal of love upon those sealing-wax lips “F should bo stationary.” THE AGITATOR. to tftc 3BxttnBion of tfce aof iFmOow ano ti>t of SeaXt&g mefotm. i WHILE THERE SHALL BE A WRONG juNRIGHTED, AND UNTIL “ MAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN” SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE. ' WELLSBORO. TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING. SEPTEMBER 16, 1858. Cariosities of Commerce. Turning over the pages of the Cyclopedia of Commerce, just published, a few matters attracted our attention ns curiosities, which we propose to transcribe for our readers.— We werelooking for the small things in com merce, matters that in taking a magnificent, broad' and comprehensive view, would be overlooked—just as the invention of the great est importance for domestic purposes would be overlooked and unnoticed in its homely attire, when placed in exhibition and sur rounded by works of polished art, costly machinery, and gorgeous furniture. A hum ble inventor once placed in such an exhibition a few bunches of friction matches. They were unnoticed. Visitors went there looking for some great thing, not realizing that the despised package of splints, tipped with chem ical fire, was the greatest thing in that proud collection, destined to work a revolution in the means of procuring artificial light and lo become a universal necessity, lo be deprived of which would be one of the greatest incon veniences that could happen. It is not more than twenty years ago since that the tinder-box was in universal use. It is abolished now. The invention of the fric tion match spread slowly ; but who, at this day would venture to say they could do without it ? Insignificant ns they appear to be, single factories, with expensive machinery, cut up large rafts of limber annually for matches. Under the head of pin, we find that the manufacture of this indispensable little instru ment was commenced in Ihe United States between 1812 and 1820, since which time the business has extended greatly, and several patents for the manufacture of pins have been taken ou'. The manufacture in England and other parts of'Europe is conducted upon improvements made in the United Stales.— Notwithstanding Ihe extent of our own pro ductions the United Stales imported in 1856, pins to the value of §40,255. Still keeping our attention directed to small things, we find that the imports of needles into this country for 1856 amounted to 8246,000. It is said that needles were first made in England, in the lime of the bloody Mary, by a negro from Spain; but, as he would not impart his secret, it was lost again at his death, and not recovered again till 1266, in the reign of Queen Elizabath, when a Ger man taught the art to the English, who have since brought it to the greatest perfection.— It is slated that the construction of a needle requires about 120 operations, but they are rapidly and uninterruptedly successive, i The temperance people will (ind an argu ment to enforce their doctrines in the fact that 41,071,136 bushels of grain, paying §25,000,000 duty are annually converted into malt in Great Britain for ale and porter. It may reasonably be inferred that a great quantity of these beverages is drank there. Ground nuts are quite an institution with Young America, 800 tons having been im ported into the United States from Gambia in one year. We, however dissent from the encyclopedist, when he says they are most used here at desserts, roasted as chesnuts are elsewhere. Uuder Ihe head of Hair, the Cyclopedia says that 200,000 pounds weight of women’s hair is annually sold in France, and that the price paid for it is usually six cenls an ounce. One hundred thousand roses are required to give a yield of 188 grains of attar or oil of roses. There are doubtless, in this com pendious work, many curious, interesting and instructive facts, if one had the lime to search them out. And now, as we are closing, we notice quite a number of items, such as that a bale of Sea Island cotton weighs 333 pounds, and only measured 15 cubic feet, a fact of great importance in the question of transportation. What makes this great dif ference in cubic proportions? —New York Sunday Times. Death in Childhood. —How true and exquisitely beautiful is the impressive passage, which is taken from an article in the Dublin University Magazine : “To me, few things appear so beautiful as a very young child in its shroud. The little innocent face looks so sublimely simple and confiding amongst the cold terrors of death. Crimeless and fear less, the little mortal has passed alone under the shadow, and explored the mystery of dissolution. There is death in its sublimesl and purest image; no haired, no hypocrisy, no suspicion, no care for the morrow ever darkened that little face ; death has come lovingly upon itthere is nothing cruel or harsh in its victory. The yearnings of love, indeed, cannot be stifled ; for Ihe prattle, and smile, all the little world of thoughts that were so delightful, are gone for we are look ing on death, but we do not fear for the lonely voyager; for the child has gone, simple and trusting into the presence of its all wise father ; and of such, we know, is the kingdom of heaven.” Only Mb.—A lady had two children— both girls. The elder one 1 fair child—the younger a beauty, and the mother’s pel. Her whole love was centered in tt. The elder was neglected, while “Sweet,” (the pel name of the'younger,) received every atten tion that love could bestow. One day after a severe illness, the mother was silling in the parlor, when she heard a childish step upon the stairs, and her thoughts were instantly with the favorite. “Is that you Sweet?” she inquired. “No, mamma,” was the sad and touching reply, “it isn’t Sweet; it’s only me.” The mother’s heart smote her, and from that hour “only me,” was restored to an equal place in her affections. Journal of a Defeated Candidate. The following is timely. It may suit the case of hundreds of individuals : Thursday —Received the nomination of an office in the City Council. Surprised and indignant. Remonstrated with committees. Was told I must place myself in the hands of my friends. Eventually did so. Friday —lmmense poster on a brick pile opposite my house ; my name in two leel letters. Great anguish on the part of my wife and family, who believe that every officer of the city government must, according to law, be indicted and tried at the end of his term. Friends meet me in the street say that there is a rumor about town that I am up for office, which rumor ought to be pub licly contradicted. Other friends offer iron ical congratulations, and leave me in doubt whether the office is unfit for me, or.l for the office. Old gentleman says that he won’t believe it; for he knew my father and he was a very respectable man. Saturday —Man on stoop of my house, with a big slick and terrier. Broad shoul dered, slovenly person, with a sanguinary eye. Come to advise me to beware of a class of ruffians that go round election limes extorting money from candidates. Offers his service to tend the polls. Customary, he says to pay in advance, refer him to my committee. He whistles to his dog. En gage him at §5, cash down. We part with expressions of mutual esteem. Going in, find six men smoking in my parlor. Del egates from a target excursion. Customary, they say, for candidates to give prizes on these occasions. Refer them to my com mittee. Captain very polite; tells me he will give me time to think about it, and will come on Sunday with the whole guard to see what a find looking set of men they are. Result, §lO for a prize. Evening. Excited person calls for a subscription for a banner. Refer him to my committe. Threatens per sonal violence and swears awfully. Subscribe for a banner. Man comes with a wooden leg ; want’s a new one. Three more banner men. Clergyman for a subscription to a deserving charity. Seventeen men to attend polls. More cripples. Delegation wants their fire engine painted. Men without arms to post hills. Woman for subscription for coffin. Children all crying up stairs. My wife in hysterics. General terror and con fusion. Midnight —Torchlight pocession ; kettle drums ; serenade ; make a speech ; rotten egg hits me in the eye ; general fight, spanners, brickbats, clubs, banners, torches and fists. Wednesday —Wake up defeated. Tell all my friends that I don’t care for myself, but feel sorry for the city. My wife goes home to her mother, the children are sent where they cannot be under my influence. No home, no friends, no wife, and no mon ey.—N. Y. Times. Life in Nebraska. A citizen of Nebraska thus posts up an eastern correspondent who speered a, variety of questions at him as to the territory and life there : “What kind of country do you live in ?” Mixed and extensive. It is made up princi pally of land and water. “What kind of weather?” Long spells of weather are frequent.— Our sunshine comes off principally during the daytime. “Have you plenty of water, and how got ?” A good deajl of water scattered about,, and generally got in pails and whiskey. “Is it hard ?” Rulher so, when you have to go a half a mile, and wade in mud knee deep to get it “What kind of buildings Allegoric, lonic, Anti Caloric, Long and Slabs. The buildings are chiefly out of doors and so low between joints that the chimneys all stick out through the roof. “What kind ofJ society?” Good, bad, hateful, indifferent and mixed. Any aristocracy ?” Nary one. “What do your people do for a living, mostly ?” Some work, some laze around; one’s a shrewd business manager, and several drink whiskey.” “Is it cheap living there?” Only five cenls a glass and (he water thrown in. taste for music ?” Strong. Buzz and buck saws in Ihe daytime, and wolf-howling and cat-fighting nightd. “Any pianos there?” No, but we have several cow bells, and a tin pan in every family. “Any manufacturers?” Every household. All our children are home productions. “What could a genteel family in moderate circumstances do there for a living?” Work, shave notes, fish, hunt, steal, or if hard pinched, buy and sell town property. A Fable. —A young man once picked up a sovereign lying in the road. Ever after wards as he walked along, ha kept his eyes fixed steadily on the ground, in hopes of finding another. And in the course of a long life he did pick up at different ilimes a good amount of gold and silver. But all these years, as he was looking for them he saw not the heaven was bright above him, and nature beautiful around. He never once allowed his eyes to look up from the mud and filth in which he sought the treasure; and yhen he died, a rich old man, he only knew this fair earth of ours as a dirty rood in which to pick up money as you walk along. ©ommumcattoris. Carbon. In our consideration of oxygen |we found that when wood or other combustible materi al was burned with free access to atmospheric air, nearly the entire matter, first solid, then gaseous, had escaped—nothing being left but a few ashes, the qon-volalile part oj' the thing burned.' But had we instead of .admitting atmospheric air without stint, excluded all of it but a limited quantity, and then allowed ihe combustion lo go on, imperfectly, as it necessarily would, we should have obtained a much larger resiuue alter the escape of the gaseous and other volatile mallets, which residue would be carbon more or [less pure as our process had been more or less careful ly conducted." In the former instance from its rapid combination with the abundant oxy gen of the air, it became volatile land passed away. In this latter case, the supply of air being restricted, its combination was [irevent ed, and it ilself remained as a black residu um. It is highly combustible, being the il luminating material while the candle burns. There may be a combustion wiifi scarcely any Illumination, but admit carbon and the burning becomes luminous, not| from any particular inherent quality of this element, but that any solid heated to incandescence will do the same with different] degrees of brilliancy, according ttf the intently of the heat and the completeness of the combustion. But carbon being an ingredient 'of nearly every animal or vegetable product, is thus abundant, affording a combustible, the cheap est, as also Ihe most readily applicable to daily wants. | [ Combustion, as we have seen, is the uniting of the oxygen of the air with cirbon and other combustibles ; yet do these two elements of chemistry remain ununited durjing an in definite period at common temperatures, bull should the heat rise to a certain degree and there be maintained we would ,get immediate and continued burning ; hence, as coal is carbon and also as almost all combustibles contain more or less of this substance, we can perceive the wisdom of this regulation. Carbon so universal; oxygen even more abundant, and did they combine at low lem peratures, what havoc ; the earth’s surface incessantly on fire and the variety! in beauty of our ■ terrestrial globe be—wh'at ? Yet many say, “no contriver but all tHe happen ings of chance.” ; j This substance exists in nature jn two dis tinct crystallizations—as the diamond (al ways in crystallic forms) and graphite (com monly not crystallized.) The former being perfectly pure carbon, only differing from coal in its purity, yet is its high lvalue well known and appreciated, being the [hardest of all known substances and almost ipfusible. Graphi'e is also pure carbon With often times a trace of iron ; it is ordinarily known as the lead of lead pencils—somewhat rare and valuable. Also other forms a|e familiar to us and capable of artificial preparation, viz., coke, soot, charcoal, animalcarbon &c. In the form of charcoal it possesses an ad ditional interest and utility, from itp power of absorption, thus being capable of purifying from and removing of deleterious gases, whether disseminated throughout (he atmos phere or confined to cess-pools, stagnant wa ter, or other mephitic situations. I ft is also useful for preservation from decay and re moving impurities from liquids', j It is the sine qua non of pure water in niany large cities, so indispensable for the process of fil tering. Its power of absorption pbd conden sation may be approximated, when we say that it is capable of “using-up” from twenty to ninety times its own bulk of different fluids, t. e., a piece of charcoal, the size of a hen’s egg will absorb of the gas ammonia a quantity equal 10l all that ninety hen’s eggs could contain. i The cause of this astonishing property in coal is said, and believed-to be dependent up on its porousness, since all solid bodies which have many pores and consequently much surface attract fluids, probably updn the prin ciple of capillary attraction, whefeby water; and other liquid rises in a tube increasingly" in proportion to the decrease of the tube’s diameter, hence the more and fineV the pores the greater the power of absorption, within certain limits. The exact cause [of its con -densing power is not satisfactorily deter mined, some assigning one reason] others an other. But whenever condensation of liquids is going on, heat is generated, or otherwise the latent caloric is made sensible, so that many limes “it may even amount! to a spon-' taneous combustion.” Especially is this lia ble “by heaping together large quantities of charcoal in a pulverized state, and many an unfortunate accident has occurred from this same cause.” And generally theigreaterthe condensation the more the heat given off, — hence the heat imparled to the carboniferous charcoal depends caeteris paribiis upon the amount of fluid absorbed, (in the same space,) its condensation, as also the rapidity of thess actions, wherefore the pile of charcoal ig nites, when at the same time the lump would remain intact. i Yet another interesting consideration is found for carbon in the respiratory functions of where it is continually expired In the form of carbonic acid, or rather united with oxygen, whereby its excretion is favored. The purifying the blood from thief excrement being as indispensable to the continuance of life as is the inspiration of oxygen. Either process slopping or becoming impeded, equal ly will the powers of life be destroyed or maimed, this carbon before it is oxydized, being an essential aid to the heat-producing process of living animals. In fact it is its combination with oxygen which generates Advertisements will be charged SI per square of fourteen lines, for one, or three insertion*,and :]. r > cents for every subsequent insertion. AH udverthe moots of loss than fourteen lines considered as a sqnoie. The following rates will bo charged (<;- Quarterly, Half-Yearly and Yearly advertising:— Square, (14 lines,) . $2 50 $4 50 SG 01 SSquarcs,- .... 400 600 8 Oi, J column 10 00 15 00 20 00 column 18 00 30 00 40 fit) All advertisements not having the numlwr of in sertions marked upon them, will be kept in until or dered out. and charged accordingly. Posters, Handbills, Bill,and Letter Heads,and all kinds of Jobbing done in country establishments, executed neatly ant promptly. Justices’, Consta bles 1 and other BLANKS.cdnstantly on hand and printed to order. no. 7. the caloric within us, the oxygen passing in through the lungs, and the carbon gaining access with the food in the form of fats, oils, sugars, &c. Without the one the other would be needless, and without the other the one would be almost useless. Now afier these cursory glances at oxygen and carbon, we will be better prepared to undertake the consideration of the respiratory process as manifested in mammalia, a consideration re plete with interest as well as instruction, a process neither ceasing day nor night, but perpetually acting as long as life may last. For the Agitator. TEACHER’S COLUMN. ■For the Agitator. Reminiscences of a “School Harm." ‘ Various are the causes that first induced me to become a “school marm.” To enu merate them would be an irksome task, as the most important of them are common to all of our profession, and I shall only slate such as may have been peculiar to myself. First; that-necessity for employment which the older members of a large family know amid increasing wants. As pride and pov. erty usually go hand in hand, it was not try bo supposed for an instant that I would de grade myself by “working out!” Perish the groveling thought ! To be chained f.. r life to the dish-cloth, broom and mop!—Oh, no! There was no congeniality between me arid these common offices of life. Besides, did not this properly belong to those coarse, vulgar people who seemed to be born for that especial purpose, and whose ideas never extend beyond their own poultry yard ? Let such perform the drudgery. For myself f was convinced there were belter things in store. These romantic views were sir'll farther strengthened by rhe conversation of my pa rents. “Ah!” said my father, “it is plain our Nellie is none of the common son ; she is nothing but a “book worm ; she must have an ‘edicalion’ to leach school !” That I was decidedly literary was a noted fact throughout the settlement. For before I reached my “teens” 1 had actually shed tears over the sufferings of Cinderilla and of Robinson Crusoe, besides being well versed in other histories, such as Blue Beard, Little Red Riding Hood, etc. But other t and stilf weightier reasons urged me on to an intellec tual career. While myself a scholar I had been one of the restless, wayward tempera ments that try the patience and call down the anathemas and stripes of the best teachers.— Ungrateful wretch that I was, 1 inwardly held a grudge toward the whole posse of them and resolved to eke it out. When the day came for me to sway the “beechen rod’’—having attained the vener able age of fifteen, and; being well versed in the “abbreviations,” “fore part of Spelling Book” and “Jography,” and having obtained a certificate, I was fully prepared for the re sponsibilities of leaching. Applications were consequently made for the best schools in town, but I was somewhat disappointed in finding it difficult to obtain a situation. At last, when about to give up in despair, I received an unexpected call from “Hard Scratches,” an adjoining settlement, where I would be compensated in the sum of six shil lings a week and “board round.” 'l felt that my ability had begun to be apprecia ted. I would be a model teacher, —I was sura of it. On the Monday following, having placed in, my basket the “Key to Adam’s Arithmetic,” the book in which I had copied my sums during the winter, some sweet flag and other nick nacks, I set out for the theatre of future performances. The little log school house with its chimney of huge dimensions, hardly met my anticipations, yet went through the day nobly, and was convinced long before night that I was “some.’’ School being closed I was somewhat* puz zled to find where to go, as no one was quite ready to board me yet. But urged on by the clamrous calls of appetite I followed the lar gest group across the lots; over the fences, till we reached the rural hut where I was to spend the night. Five urchins who were with me were soon joined by three more whose shouts deafened me when they ascer tained that the “school marm” had really come, as they had never set eyes on one be fore. I was ushered into the only apartment on the ground and which served the double purpose of parlor and kitchen. The family having taken a leisurely survey of each ar-, tide of my’dress and enquired the price, al lowed me to feast myself on some fragments of johnny-cake which remained of the last meal; the children meanwhile busying them selves in examining the contents of my has ket and appropriating to themselves whaliver they chose. Being somewhat fatigued, I begged leave to retire at an early hour. 1 was told to as. cend a ladder in company with three of ihe children who were to be packed with me.— But as I reached the top-most round it sud denly gave way and precipitated me into the trundle-bed below, to the groat consternation of the younger branch of the l family, who immediately set up such a howl as 1 never heard before. Nellis, Farmington, Pa, (to be continued.) An exchange paper says that a woman’s heart is the sweetest thing in the world—a perfect full of sells. Perhaps this may have been suggested by the man who said, “Brides are given away while tht? grooms are “sold.” A chaplain of a State Prison was asked by a friend how his parishoners were.— “AH under conviction,’’ was the rep'y. Rates of Advertising. 3 months. G months. 12 mo* Galex,
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers