Terms of Publication. TIOGA COUNTY AGITATOR is pub- j “L Thursday Morning, and mailed to sub lUfled ere /. hB - cr o reasonable price of On* Dol scribe ra » invariably in advance. It is inlerid* yspcran _ when the tern ?or ed paid shall base expired,by the stamp which he «" £„ on the m ,rgin of the last paper. —“T' me “ill (ben be stopped ontila further re- Th® P a P e , r , r . rs ; ve d. By this arrangement no man ® itunc . e m I debt to the printer. «nbe biougM>“ , s (he offidal Pap?rof lhe Coon Tiir * OIT sn i steadily increasing circulation ty, whh a la t = Dear ]y every neighborhood in the caching 'J 1 - of portage toany Post-office Conoty. anlj . limits, and to those living within within lhe c j mos tcoavenreotpastoffice may hC - Um n t iD iß ff CoUnty ' w ,D “beards, not exceeding 5 imes, paper In. gasiQ® BB JoM fd pet fear. .taken in the MORNING .” , Mres and the trials that come to ns here. F froo lli e sorrow and wrong that each mortal „ „,!? I*o most suffer, and all we must feat, Fl ?f ooce, and forever, dear Ina is free, bitterly, bitterly, ye who remain ffill miss her sweet presence, and mourn your ri - e only «» lighten your heart’. heavy pain. But oh; for your darling in Heaven, weep not. earthly existence ia only a day, fl-,th its morning, its noon, and its cool evening hours. . , Til changing, uncertain, now grave and now gay, And calm shies are suddenly clouded by showers, r’we constantly grow in true wisdom and light. And our life with good deeds we are ever adorning, tis noble and grand to remain till the night, Bill oh! it is sweet to go home in the morning. Sept, 20tb. Virginia. justice Fifty Years Ago. In she early part of the present century, B one of the principal towns of the north of Scotland, lived a family of the name of Siiskl. h consisted of a husband and wife led their two children, a brother and sister. Ly tenanted a small, self-contained house, t a narrow back street. The sunshine sel- L streamed in at the front-parlor window, Ujno the motes dance in its rays, like a Ulion°atom worlds, and causing everything L look mean and dusty. It was always L and shady, some might say dull—not it [or we love, of all things in the shape of raiments, a quiet little parlor ; but so did Jessie Bussel, and so did hot her favorite -set, for he would not sing when she bung stage m the parlor window ; and she could using without him ; so the parlor was left ids repose. The kitchen that looked to jtback was quite a contrast to the front of levelling. There the sun shone all day >ig; and the window looked out on a small nd of ground, whose scanty space was Momically divided into a bleaching green, fewer and kitchen garden. Beyond this, ■is only the open sea, with its white-crested uelels and everlasting murmuring—now id end near, as it almost washed the wall like hub garden, now coming on the ear it a distant whisper over a track of glisten jsand. The sun shone in at the little window, fen it shone at all ; and there are more any days than cloudy ones, even as we here there is more happiness than misery the world, though we hear most of the net, for they that are the loudest in their urmurs are faintest in their praise. There, ), the linnet whistled all day long, and ssie weal about her work, singing to him, iile her mother sat spinning m her clean tine cap and check apron. And in the lernoon, Jessie wouldistl down to her wheel, |d her mother throw her apron over her ad and take a nap in the easy chair ; then e did not sing, and the linnet, aa if in sy tn 'hy, ceased his warbling too, as, if he did gm, the warning finger of his youthful stress checked his notes. Then she had iy to raise her head to see her father at liit in the garden — his sole occupation, for was QUtls blind ; yet he could feel the of his plants and flowers, and dis til them one from another. He knew inch of ihe ground, and to sow, and and water, ii was his hourly and daily lE. family were, at the time we write of, ier circumstances than ever they had Mr. Bussel, who was by trade a t't lost his sight by inflammation when ■ James was a boy at school, and Jes •an infant in arms. His wife literally “ay and night for her husband and m, and, with some assistance from her ™* former employer, bravely strug an i but health was lost in the struggle, 7 taler days had arrived, she had : a sad-spirited, broken-down woman. 'a had found happiness in her endu now every blessing of her lot ouble, from the trials that had passed antes, ihe pride of his mother’s ■ a grown up to manhood, and was paying her for all her toil and care 5 rails of his talents and industry— -80 industry which promised a yet SUndant harvest. °y 'he education which r ad striven hard to obtain for him, , °° w * elerk in the post-office of his' °", ™ s salary was but small, very tmJ 7"? l * ial he had to maintain ,1 , j sister ; for,owing to the deli oi his mother, and the household !eir,'!i?' Ster ’ , * le ‘ r j OIDt earnings added j “ eße ' al fund i yet, with econ , 8 sufficient, and James, as he !, f ,„ M ' n ' n S s into his mother’s lap, 'hat he made a sacrifice, lover ,u Ve 7 '? vely S irl .yetshe naver is-1 I ol she was nearly through ttsi h j hnher over the street — edni Workin S fellow—had long It p easanl salutations with the mod tiev .T r ; and ° r| en joined the fara ijf church, and had once, will, j,.° P eve n |n g in the kitchen, i en r : ° us sel, without once speak uce wuh Jessie. Alio am , es h a| J a companion of the ler | D ’ he brought with him k-° ” ls humble dwelling. His ,e 'ihe»™ frec ! uenl ! end the *as i%q ® e^om joined ihem now, itne at Jessie’s side, and tftorch ' ern 10 lea w hen they came • Allen who . Oisn.of a e " y ’ extravagant rs ‘ o' once n ’ e J perBon and ele S am s Vetv n° d and 'neinnating in his ’W; “ at ! geroU3 companion for, the ’ Balt J Allen, one evening, YOL. Y. as they left the house of the former, arm-in - arm, for an evening stroll and a visit to one of Allen's acquaintances, “she’s a sweet lassie, that sister of yours ; but I was going to whisper something fine in her ear to-night, and if you had only seen the look sho gave me!” For the Agitator. “Allen, you must not trifle with my sister,” said the young man, gravely. “Tut, man, I was only going to call her pretty ; they all like that. 1 intend to court her some of these days, and make her my little wife, and you my very good brother.” This was a thought that bad already passed through James’s head, and he had the half jesting words as a confirmation of his dearest wishes, for his attachment to and reverence for Allen was unbounded. But James’s heart misgave him as he en. tered the place of their destination that night. He knew he was to witness the scenes of a gaming table, though he went with the “in tenlion” not to play. But his friend en treated that he would only learn the game ; he yielded, the cards were in his hand, the game was learnt, and again was urged to engage with his friend merely for a trial of skill; again the weak young man complied. At length they played for money, and he lost. His loss was a few shilings more than his purse contained. Fie apologized, and rose from the table. Heand his friend took their jleave together. James took notice of the debt he had incurred as they walked home. “Never mind, pay dear fellow,” said Allen, “you can pay it to morrow.” James entered 'his home with a burning cheek and a disturbed mind that night, and for the first time since his boyhood forgot to kneel in prayer, ere, he lay down to rest. But he did not rest. He must defray his debt on the morrow, and he did not know how. His quarter’s salary was nearly due, but then it would so mean to wait till then, and Allen was not mean. His mother, he knew would supply him ; but he had already spent too much, and she had none to spare. Besides, he did not meet her questioning. He would borrow it. Fevered with the un unusual excitement of the evening, he passed a sleepless night; and in the morning, es caping from the, for once, unwelcome solici tude of his mother and sister, he hurried, pale and haggard, to bis office. That evening he discharged his debt of honor, so-called, and his gay friend pocketed the trifling sum with supreme indifference, and urged him to win it back, but in vain. More than a week passed away, during which time James avoided the company of his friend, complaining of illness, which his look belied not ; he retired every evening at an early hour to his own little chamber. One afternoon, in that quiet home, all were pursuing their usual routine—Jessie was spin ning, her mother napping in the old easy chair, and her falherat work in his garden— when they were disturbed by strange and unwelcome visiters. These were criminal officers, come to search the house for proofs of a crime, under suspicion of which James Bussel had that day been arrested, namely, for the abstraction of a letter containing a small sum of money. The amount was only one pound ; but the penalty for such a crime was then death—certain death. All were soon assembled in the young roan’s bed-room. The officers were pro ceeding to wrench open a box, of which the key, that usually stood in the lock, was no where to be found. Jessie stood by, trem bling with apprehensions, yet convinced of het brother’s innocence. The mother sank into a chair, and hid her face with her with ered hands, sick with the agony of suspense and fear; while the father, unable from his blindness to read the countenances of those who surrounded him, or to watch the pro gress of the search, took from his gray head the worsted cap in which he had been working, and stood awaiting the issue, with a soul in the immediate presence of his God. Nor was that a doubtful one. In the bottom of the box, enfolded in some articles of wearing apparel, evidently for the purpose of concealment, was found the miss ing letter with the money abstracted, of which it mentioned the amount. The young roan’s guilt seemed thus proven beyond the possibility of a doubt, and the unhappy mother,, who when that proof was found, had raised her eyes in the full expec tation that the nearly ended search was vain, sank into a state of insensibility, from which she awoke to the apathy of despair. She fcrfpld tot quit her son’s chamber, but sal gazing on the box, sighing bitterly, and un concious of all around her, the lather, pos sessing a strong mind and a firm trust in the wisdom bf the ways of God, bore it better. But the little garden was neglected, and the gray head was oflener uncovered and bent upon his bosom. Jessie was the first to visit her brother in prison. Poor girl, she had wept day and night, and was sadly altered. But her brother declared his innocence, and it lightened her heart, while she returned to her parents to comfort them with the assurance that all would be cleared up. The young man per sisted in his declaration, hut to the almost stern questionings of bis father he would ,give no answer; and bis father then strove to miligrate the overwhelming sorrow and to strengthen the mind of his sbn. When they parted, the young man’s words were always, “Do not bring my mother here.” Alas! she could not come. James bad expected that b!s friend would fly to him whenever ha heard of his misfor tune ; but he wailed in vain. And, at length, when ha was about to be removed to Edin burg >o take his trial, be wrote to him from the prison, requesting an interview. Marlin Allen came, but how changed, how cold. THE AGITATOR. Sefcot*9 to tfje ErtcnsGtm of tt>e Mvte of ifm&om anJr t&e SprcaO of Reform. ; WHM.E THEBE SHALL BE A WRONG UNSIGHTED, AND UNTIL “Man’s INHUMANITY TO MAN” SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MOST CONTINUE, WELLSBORO. TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING. SEPTEMBER 30, 1858. Neitberalluded to the circumstances!in which they met. James, at length, after a painful silence,.spoke of bis sister, alluded to Mar tin's-professed attachment to her ; for he had wrung from his sister in confidence a con fession of the sentiments with which the young man professed to regard her. “And if the worst should happen,” said the pris oner, with a falling voice, “Allen, you will stand her friend V ’ He paused, expecting a reply, but ho was met by the same embar rassing silence. At length, his late friend answered, “If there is anything I can do for Miss Busse), I shall be glad to do it. If my purse” But the sentence was cut short by the en trance of another individual, namely, the worthy baker, whose intimacy with the fam ily had increased with their misfortune. And so Martin Allen look a forma) leave, and de parted from a place where he was evidently ill at ease. Jessie’s pale face—for tears had washed away its bloom—flushed a burning crimson, as she answered “No,” to her brother’s question, if Allen ever came to see them at home. He had won the heart of the inno cent girl with his protestations of love, and she felt a pang at the thought of his hearl lessness; but her present grief for her brother was too great and her heart too unselfish to cherish such a feeling, when others demanded her sympathy. Jessie and her father were to accompany James to Edinburgh. His mother was pre vailed on to remain; indeed, her strength was unequal to such a journey. But she saw her son. Such a scene of misery as that meet ing presented, it were impossible to describe; and the interview was shortened, for fear that the reason of one or both would give way. “Sae ye're gaen to Edinburgh, Jessie 1” said the young baker, when the day for their mournful journey was fixed. “Polks say they’re no canny places, they big towns, for a young* boonie lassie like you ; ye wad be better an honest man’s wife, Jessie, and then I would gang wi’ youand he held out his hand to her. But Jessie did not give him hers, though her look told how deeply she fell the generosity of the now repeated offer, as she answered, “If ye love me, dinna speak of that again. She does nae deserve ye, that gives ye not the first and best o’ love she has to give. Slay and comfort my mother while we’re away, for she’ll need comfort sare.” The young man expressed his disappoint ment only by a downcast look, and assured her that he would do everything he could, during their absence to lighten her mother’s anxiety and grief—“to keep her up,” as he expressed it. And, with this asrurance, Jes sie and her father soon after took their de parture for the capital, followed by the sym pathy of many in their native town, for the story had now spread far and wide. I The trial came on, and, throngh the exer tions of several individuals interested in the young man, able counsel pleaded in his be half. But the letter was traced into his hands, ana found in his possession. He was con demned to die. James’s integrity of charac ter was unavailingly urged in his defence. Crimes of a (ike nature had recently been frequent in occurrence. It was the betrayal ol official trust; and at that time offences of even a lighter nature were punished by the extreme penally of the law—a punishment fearfully disproportionate to the offence—a punishment, the necessity for which, if indeed there be one, even in our days, when it is reserved alone for him who imbrues his hands in a fellow creature’s blood, is deeply to be deplored by all. The prisoner was carried fainting from the bar, and many days of his short time of preparation passed away before he fully re alized his awful situation. Still he clung to hope, though he no longer persisted in de claring his innocence to his father and the clergyman who attended him ; he confessed that he took the money, but only as a loan, and with (he intention of restoring it, for which purpose he had kept the letter. It was too late to plead that now, for who would believe it ? And even more than this con firmation of his guilt, the stricken father felt the falsehood of his son ; but upbraiding would now alike have been useless and cruel. The clergyman saw that the young man had all along trusted in the innocence of his intention, and in that trust had pronounced himself guiltless at the bar ; and, fearful that he might trust in it for acquittal at the higher tribunal to which he was hastening, he said i “Young man, it is a vain thing to trust in intention, for it is written, ‘He that trusteth in his own heart is a fool.’ ” James remem; hered his intention on the night of his tempt ation with the fatal cards, and bowed his head and wept. Jessie and her father spent much of their time with their unhappy relation, learning themselves lessons of resignation, which they strove to teach to him. They knew whence alone could come the strength they needed, and, having sought, they failed not to find it. But it was not until he could count by hours the time that intervened between him and death, that a calm settled, which now seemed to deepen as the time'sped on.' At last the awful morning ctime. James was no hardened criminal, enured to shame and scorn, and, though be was prepared to die, shudder after shudder convulsed his frame, as he thought of the vast crowd, the hum of which already reached him, that would look upon his dying struggles. Alas! that men—-aye, and women—should crowd to witness such a scene, with its hardening influences, and to add another pang to the anguish of a dying brothel, however guilty he may be. His father was with him (hat morning. Jessie had taken her farewell the night before, never to meet again he said, as he released her from his arms, till wa meet in a belter wdrld. The blind man passed his hand over the face of bis son, as he was wont often to do, and felt a smile. He could feel the' ravages of sorrow and suffering in the sharpened fea tures, and ere he removed it now, it was wet with burning tears, and James besought him to leave, that be might grow calm again. “I will see you when we meet again,” murmured the father in a broken voice. We have but to relate another scene of sorrow, and then this catastrophe will close. Jessie’s friend fulfilled his promise; he did all in his power to comfort and sustain the afflicted mother. He strove to conceal the truth from her, but in vain. After she learnt the fate that awaited her darling _child, she scarcely ever spoke, but remained for hours at a time in her son’s chamber, gazing on the box from which had been taken the evidence of his fatal act of folly. And in this situa lion, on the day and hour of his execution, she expired. Those who knew her said, “it was a mercy to her, it was.” Jessie and her father never returned to their native town ; hut their kind and gener our neighbor sold off their little properly, and be soon after disappeared himself. He had no apparent cause for removal, and all won dered why he quitted his flourishing business to settle in a distant town, where it was whis pered Jessie and her father had gone to re side. The Hindoos. When asked by Mahommedans or Chris tians to change their religion, they freely admit that other men’s religions are best for them; they only claim that Hindooism is best for Hindoos, To put off their religion and put on that of the Christians seems to them as absurd as it would be to put off their light and graceful cotton garmen's, so well suited to the climate, and to pul on swallow tail coats and stove pipe hats, and nearly as impossible as to change their bronze and black complexions which wear so well, even into old age, for the marble faces of Euro peans, which are only good while youth and health remain. As well renounce themselves as their religion, which enters into their laws, manners, literature—constitutes their nation ality, their civilization—forms the ground work of all their self-respect. One day, after a noisy and idolatrous pro cession of the, Hindoos had taken place, hap pening to meet a Brahmin whom he had often met for the purposes of business, we inquired of him why it was that his people worshipped idols. His reply would have done honor to Plato: “ W hat you see is only the outside of our religion—the costume, the fashion of the common people. Men of sense everywhere, in all religions, worship the one God. Our outside ways and forms are strange to you, as yours are to us ; but, underneath all this outside show and dress, we unre the same substantial truth.” But why allow these idols, and especially such coarse and foolish ones? “Children have dolls and toys to help out their thoughts, and so the common people must have their idols, often rude ones.” Why do you not teach them better ? “That is hard ; take from them their idols, (heir outside forms and helps, and we lake from them also the internal reality; we confuse their weak and ignorant minds. Ignorant and foolish people will and must have foolishness in their reli gion. In your country, have not the igno rant people foolish notions and ways in reli gion ?” This home thrust was as unexpected as it was effective. With his utmost tenacity of his right to be let alone in his religion, the Hindoo never assumes that the religions of other men are bad and false. He believes that to them their religions are true and sacred, as his is to him. He is educated to hold firmly to his own religion, and to respect the consciences, feelings and prejudices of others. We are educated to believe that we have in our reli gion it monopoly of all religious truth and merits'; that it is one of the solemn duties to invade the religions of others, to thrust our faith upon them in all ways except that of force. It is not enough that we prefer Christianity above all other religions; we ate called upon to hale other religions.— Even from Unitarian writers, often charged with carrying their liberties to such an ex treme as to evince indifference to all religion, we could make quotations showing that they also might take lessons in liberality from the Hindoos. The example of the Hindoos proves that boundless liberality lo other reli gions is entirely consistent with the most ardent and even fanatical attachment to one’s own. The ‘greased-carlridge’ rebellion is of itself sufficient proof that the Hindoos arq not chargeable, with religious indifference: Neither need anybody be, though liberal and tolerant to the widest extent. Strange that we should be importing 1 into New England facts and arguments from the antipodes lo prove a point like this, —Christian Exam iner. An Unpleasant Bed Feelow.~A boy once complained of his brother for taking half the bed. “And why not ?” said his mother, “he is entitled to half, ain’t he?” “Yes, ma’am,” said the boy ; “but how should you like to have him to take out all the soft for his half? He will have his half out of the middle; and I have to sleep on both sides of him.” A Man in the right, with God on his side, is in the majority though be be alone. from the Detroit Tribune; Sept. 18th. ■ A Balloonist Lost in the Sky. We have learned full particulars of the balloon ascension at Adrian on-Thursday, its subsequent descent, and its second ascension and runaway with the qeronaut while beyond his control. It is a brief narrative, but of thrilling interest. A man lost in the sky I There can scarcely be a more terrible thought. It makes the flesh creep, and sends a shudder through every nerve. The first ascension took place'about 9 o’- clock in the morning. The ballooni was a large and well constructed one, being about the height of a two-story building when in flated. Messrs. Bannister and Thurston took seats in the car attached to the balloon, and ascended steadily. Afler remain ing about forty minutes in the air, sailing to ward Toledo, they alighted in the woods about IS milesj west of Toledo. Several men came to the assistance of the adventu rers. and they proceeded to prepare the bal loon for packing, to be taken back. In. doing this the monster balloon was turned over and partially upside down, to disentangle the netting and to reach jhe valve. To do this Mr. Ira Thurston, one of the'aer onauts, took off his coat and got astride of the valve-block. He then suggested that the car be detached from the balloon, while he should hold it down with his weight. This proved a fearful calculation, for no sooner tyas the still inflated body relieved of the weight of the car than it shot into the air with theisud deoness of a rocket, taking Mr. Thurston along with it seated on the valve of the bal loon, and holding on to the collapsedsilk of the air-ship in that portion of its bulk.} In this perfectly helpless condition the ijl-fated man sped straight into the sky, in the, full sight of his companions, even, more helpless than himself. So far as is known there-was no possible means for him to secure hisfdes cent, whether safe or otherwise. Theipart of the balloon filled with gas was full twelve feet above him, so that there was no chance for him to cut it and escape. He could only, cling to bis precarious bold, and go whither soever the currents of air should lake.him. Without regulation or control of any kind, the balloon continued to mount upward, 'sail, ing off in the direction of this city and Lake Erie. The fatal ascension look place about II o’clock, and at a few minutes past noon it was seen in the town of Blissfield, Lenawee County, apparently three miles high, Sand about the size of a star in appearance.’ It was still going up and on! At 1$ o’clock it was last dimly visible going in the direction of Malden, as ascertained by compass bear ings taken by parlies observing it. i' What is his exact fate baffles conjecture; but that it is horrible, almost beyond prece dent, there can be no doubt. There is.not one chance in a million for a successfulies cape. Whether the unfortunate man was carried up so high as to become benumbed and senseless, death ensuing, or whether he fell off at length from his tremendous altitude, to have his breath sucked from him in ibis fearful descent, and to be sunk into theiluke, or dashed into a shapeless mass upon Jhe earth, it is doubtful if any save God will ever know. The mind slads appalled in contem plating this fearful disaster, and blindly gropes in mazes of wonder at where his place* of sepulture shall be. “Caught on the Jury.” A certain man who had lived about ten miles from K , was in the habit of going to town about once a month and'getting oh a regular spree, and would not return untilihe had time lo “cool off,” which was generally two or three days. His wife was ignorant of the cause of his staying out so longi and suffered greatly from anxiety about his wel fare. When he would return, of course his confiding wife would enquire what had the matter with him, and ihe invariable reply was “that he was caught on the Jury and couldn’t get off.” j Having gathered his corn, and placed iqin a heap, he, according to custom, determined , to call in his neighbors and have a real corn shucking frolic. So he gave “Ned,’’ a faith ful servant, a jug and an order to go to town and gel a gallon of whiskey, a very neces sary article on such occasions. Ned mount ed a mule and was soon in town, and equip ped with the whisky, and remounted to set out for home, all buoyant with the prospered fun of “shucking. ’ When he had proceed ed a little way from town he concluded to fry the stuff, and not satisfied with once, he kept trying until the world turned so fast that he turned off the mule, and there be went ito sleep and the mule to grazing. It was “just before the break of day,’? and so dark,that he was unable to make any start toward home until light. As soon as his bewilder ment had subsided so that he could get the “point,” he started with an empty jug, tjhe whisky having run out, and afoot, for the mule had gone home. Of course he Was contemplating the application of a “two year old hickory” or a twis'ed piece of cowhide as he jogged along homeward. ‘l Ned reached home about breakfast lime, and “fetched up” at .the back door with i de cidedly guilty countenance. “What in thun der have you been at you black rascal,“ said his master. Ned, knowing his master’s ex cuse to his wife when he got on a spree, de termined to tell the truth if he died forth, and saidt “Well, master; to tell the truth, 1 was kolch on the jury arid couldn’t get toff.” “Yon are very handsome,” said a gen tleman to a lady, "Ah I’ 1 said the you would say if you did not think sd ” “And so you would think,” answered he, "though 1 should not say so.” i Hates ol Advertising. Advertisements will be charged SI per square of fourteen lines, for one, or three insertions, and 25 cenUforeverysobsequeot insertion. All advertise* menu of less than fourteen lines considered w* a sqo'aie. The following rales will bo charged fo- Quarlerly, Half-Yearly and Yearly advertising;— Square, (H lines,) .$3 50- $4 50 $6 00 2 Square*,- . . . 400 frOO 800 ) column, - ... 1000 1500 20 00 column,- . . . .18 00 . 30 00 40 00 All adve{tiscroents nol having fife number of ia aertions marked upon them, will be kept to until or dered out, and charged accordingly. Posters. Handbills, Bill,and Letterßaads.and aM kinds of Jobbing done in country establishments* executed neatly and promptly. Justices’, Consist blea’and other BLANKS, conatantly on band and printed to order. NO. 9. Graves of Paul and Virginia. A correspondent of the Baltimore Ameri ca ihus describes the last resting place of the subject ofßeroardin de St. Pierre’s charming story, “Paul and Virginia,” near Port Loots, on the Island of Mauritius:— “On arriving at Port Louis I started for shore, and in company with some friends took a carriage for ibe tombs of Paul and Virginia. On leaving (be (own we entered a beautiful drive over a fine road, and proceed ed several miles very pleasantly. About six miles from town we passed and old Catholic church, and from its antique appearance were induced to alight, and went in, but the services were over, though we amused our selves by examining its interior. There were several fine paintings and abandonee of gold in and about the altar, but the rest of the church was anything but fine. “After leaving the church we approached to the cemetery, where we were both pleased and interested. “After examining many of ibe tombs, vaults, etc,, we got into the carriage and pro ceeded further on until we came to a gate, which consisted of two posts with a pole across, where we alighted. The first thing that met our view was a small sign, upon which was written the words, It is expressly forbidden to see the tombs of Paul and Vir ginia. This, however, did not slop us.— We crossed the pole and went to a bouse some distance off, where we inquired for the place the tombs were situated, and were very discourteously told that_ they-were behind the house. We started for the place, guided by one of the servants, sent probably to watch •us. We passed along a narrow canal-like stream of water for about a hundred yards, when we came to one of the tombs, {Paul’s) a small brick monument about four feet high, plastered over. Near this the canal turned in the shape of a horse-shoe, and on the op posite side was Virginia’s tomb, in all res pects similar to the other. They are about forty feet apart. “The spot is a romantic and beautiful one, and could one believe the story and look upon this spot, he must have a truly hard heart not to be affected by it. We remained about half an hour at and about the tombs, and although closely watched, one of the parly succeeded in getting a piece of mortar off and pocketed it. “The archives of the government here tell a different story from the tale written of Paul and Virginia, it amounts to this:—that a young Frenchman and hia olopod and got an board a vessel bound to this place before they could get married, upon arriving at the island a terrible storm arose and the vessel was wrecked. Paul could have saved Virginia if she had[been willing to remove her clolhfng, but this she refused to do, and as he would not leave her,'both of them were drowned. l When last seen on the vessel they Were clasped in each other’s arms, and when their bodies were found they were in the same position on the beach, more than half covered wiih sand. Such is the story on record, and I think by far the most proba ble.” There is a proverb lhal “a father can more easily maintain six children, than six children one father.” Is this true? Has the ingratitude of children passed into a proverb?. Luther relates this story. There was once a father who gave up ev erytbing to his children, bis house, his fields, and his goods, and expected that for this his children would support him. But after ha and been sometime with his son, the latter grew tired of him, and said to him, “Father, 1 have had a son born to me to-night, and there, where your arm-chair stands, the cra dle must come ; will you not perhaps go to my brother’s, who has a larger room?'’ After he had been some time with the s«c ond son, he also, he also grew tired of him, and said, “Father, you like a warm mom, and that hurts ray head. Won’t you go to my brother’s the baker?” The father went, and after he had been sometime with tfm third son, he also found him burdensome, and said to him, “Father, the people run in and out here all day, as if it were a pigeon house, and you cannot have your noonday sleep ; would you not be better off at my sister Kate’s near the town wall ?” The old man remarked how the wind blew, and said to himself, “Yes, I will do so ; I will go and try it with my daughter. Women have softer hearts.” But after he had spent some time with his daughter, she grew weary of him, and.said she was always so fearful when her father went to church or anything else, and was obliged lo descend the steep stairs; and at her sister Elixabelh’s there were no stair’s 10 descend, as she lived on the ground floor. For the sake of peace, the old man assented, and went to his other daushier. But after sometime she was tired of him, and told him by a ihird person that her house near the water was too damp for a roan wtv\ suffered with the gout, and her sister, th« grave-digger’s wife at St. Johns, had much drier lodgings. The old man himself thought she was right, and went outside, the gale to his youngest, daughter Helen. But afler bu had been three days with her, her Utile son said to bis grandfather, “Mother said yester day to cousin Elizabeth that there was no better chamber for you than such a one.as father digs.” These words broke the old man’s heart, so that he sank hack in his chair and died. My dear sir,’ said an election acanain lance, accosting a sturdy wag on the day of election, “I am very glad to see you “Ntedu’i be, I have voted.” 3 months. 6 months. 13 inn’s Is This True I
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers