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,