■sssas® e 8 ol Advertising. will be charged 81 per square of A drcrl r™, for one, or three insertions, and 25 jorteen 11 nbse quent insertion. All advertise ' f than fourteen line* considered as a: “ e " S The following rates will be charged for, i Half-Yearly and yearly advertising:— Josiierlji 3 months. 6 months. 12 mo’s nilines.)-* 250 5& 00 Square,(Uh nes -i 4 flo 6 00 8 00 Squares-- - - _ 10 00 15 00 20 00 colon®, ■ • ‘ ,]8 00 30 00 40 00 colornn,- ■ ' u not having the nnraberof in- All (hem, will be kept In until or srtions mo«eo r d loConJ j n yij # Bl ed out 'Bill, and Letter Heads,and all Posters, n (Jonß country establishments, inds of Jo“ 6 >n j promptly. Justices’, Consta leculeo De:l -jjhANKS,constantly on hand and w'andoioer ■I J ‘"" ,l)er - i LINES, & dtcatei t 0 Mr - and Jfrl ' fama I BT BEITA KILO HOVI. mtahmother ha*:’’ «M» dyiag child, md she mired her eyes to the Heaven’s above i m o .e tot etes gleamed with the Bres of death/ But her toice had the softened tone of love, .qnut is it Jeanette —my darling child I lovtd daughter spenS! what dost thou see! .■1 tear the angels golden harps, (I a a white winged throng are writing for mo.” -The waters of death are gathering ipnpd, iad the harps sound nearer, mother dsar; VjnJ parents 1 say when I am gone, Y oa -lI breathe no sigh, and shed no tear. God's wars are just. His acts are wisej Oh.' murmur not at His decree; Icr jon. loved friends, alone I grieve; yet that W 3 God is calling me.” -ylr lather, whom X love so dear. Oh; meet moon yon Heavenly shore; Went pain and sorrow never come ; Where friends united, part no more, flare both your hands upon my heart. Ere Dsath'd cold fingers grasp Its strings; Then kie# mo quickly ero we part, jor I hear the rustling of his wings. bee!” she said and her soft eyes closed, Atij her throbbing heart had ceased to beat; they laid her down to a dreamless sleep, awaken in bliss, —where the sainted meet. AaJ they brushed the carls from her youthful brow. And in snowy robes they draped her form; ffith her white bands folded upon her breast, She sleeps secure from the world's cold storm. Ijear friends! though the ‘light from your home is gone,’ jho’ jour brilliant and gifted child is dead; ¥.srn not for Jeanette as the hopeless mourn, H?Dember the grate had for her to dread, ft’ tis sweet to be called in life's morning away. To the trilling of harp notes, the songs of the blest; fcni parents! prepare thee thy loved one" to meet, Where friemls are united, —whore wearied rest. CiTuxton. Pa. THE GRINDSTONE, OR THE LOST CHILDREN. BV A SCREW DUNCAN. "This is not the same country that it was font years ago. When I first squatted at lie fool of yonder dark mountain you see lar my to the North, I had to live like an In- Can is a wigwam, for over fourteen years. I remember when the field we are now stand ing in was covered with a dense field of hem lacks; now you don’t see a slump, I re member when, for twenty miles around, the most splendid mansion to be met with was a log cabin, of one room, with boys and girls >s the principal furniture.’ Now, sir, just look around you, and count from fifteen to twenty good frame buildings, all polished off in red and white paint. I (eel lhat the world is running away from me; it goes 100 fast for the ideas of an old man, and 1 must even lei n go. I love to think of the past, and look, forward to the fulure. Recollections of ['he past, and the hopes conneeled with the future, are all lhat is left me now.’’ Thus spoke Mr. 8., a resident of a north ern county in the Slate ofNew York. Anx ious to hear a lill/e more of things incidental to (he life of a hardy forest pioneer, we invi led the old man to take a seat on the fence', where we had ourselves come to an anchor. With our invitation he cheerfully complied,, teeming happy at having met with one who appeared to lake an interest in the things of by-gone days. ‘'For,” said he, “the world now-a-days is all go-ahead, seldom taking lime- to look be hind.” "Had you any grist mills or stores,” said * e > “ m early days of this settlement 7” “Hell,” said the old man, “do you see that '•fge spruce, that stands by itself, a little to ute east of a red building?” He replied that we saw the tree. “Hell, there stood the first and only mill ™ settlement had for sixteen years, and it w ®*l U!l fifteen miles from my cabin. I cob- Mered myself very lucky in living so near ■ mill, as we had to back all our grain, at for the most pan. As for stores, we mile use for them, and had none nigher so Sandy Hill about forty miles South.— , ma ne 'ghhor would go out occasionally, ring in tobacco, snuff, and such like in t pensablea; besides, the Squire, when he „ OUUo B e ‘ his barrel filled, would bring p „ a ."u, “ lc ) ! ' nacks the women wanted.” n j . a< “'h lke Squire fill his barrel with 7 you a rum-selling tavern in those days?” a, I , W olacl| y a ,aver n, like the taverns alonp. 3Ve DOW - a ' da ys. but we had two grind ibnni’i one - m my neighborhood, and one hel e “ m J ' eS north - ° ld S q u 're S , *tth h° W ir 6a< *— Some sa >d he made way Mr g lms e!r, but that was never fully known. i, 0 ' , m ° ved into this country about It rL R aek)re I moved in; ha was a pret ty,, old ihiioH! understood himself di4 n„, least he ‘bought he did; but all i S i lEnd w ell with him. When he same n ot ,. coun ‘ r J’. he brought with him a grind- P , '«snr 3 arre ' ,°i' whiskey, two very good wh o l , Property in those days, and the man ‘ho looJ l was P ret, y su re to pick up all mooe?? , c , han 8 e ‘hat was afloat. When >ushel of corn would answer, £ lled ’ a day,s topping was Squir e v .Many an acreof land did the Eve r . ear w>‘h a lew gallons of whiskey. <.HnU L an axe ‘ and y° u know axes Iks/fi-j ’ ‘hen they must be carried to i" h ’ Bnd 83 Mr - S could not ill u as . ave his stone worn out for nothing, "ilxm,, Spt stra 'ght by spending a shilling *« Cth Whlske >'- Before one barrel kate an'oih 6 would always manage to C °“ M be » er °° lke s P ot > and on this ao- Ud was , as considered a public benefactor, hr m ore ,. ecled Squire, an office that he held htgp, ,i , an ‘weaty years, I shall never Heter v„ S! ‘! me k was at the grindstone. “W’ha, L “ • shall 1 forget that day !’’ ‘hit ijijc PPened on that day,” said we, “Wh» -r remember it so well 7” 1(11 you the J? a , haVe timß t 0 bear it. I will ,ha whole story. I was once a wick- YOL. Y. For -the 'Agitator. ed man, stranger, very wicked, a blasphemer, an infidel, and a- drunkard. I was going to tell you about the last time I was at the Squire’s grindstone. Well, I started one fine morning in the latter part of May, with a bushel of corn on my back, and, as the day was long, and 1 had got an early start, I thought ! could get out to mill and back again by night. Indeed, it was necessary that I should return the same day, as I did not leave a pound of meal in the house. We were de pendent mainly upon meal and milk for a liv -88 pork at that season of the year was extremely scarce. I did not take my axe that morning, as I was in the habit of doing, having determined not to make any stop at the Squire’s-althougb it lay in my way.— Having got alqng to wiihin about half a mile of the house, I Was overtaken by three ofmy neighbors, with their axes going to have a grind, and of course the stone must be wet. They invited me to turn in and partake with them, in a drop of the new barrel, for it had been reported that a barrel of a very superi or quality had arrived a few days previous. Of course I did not need much pressing.— The new stock was announced by all hands to be excellent, and I. turned the grindstone and drank whiskey until noon. I now tho’t it lime to start (or the mill, and it did seem to me that I walked on a great deal faster by the help of the spirit than 1 otherwise could have done. I made no doubt but that 1 could gel home by night. But for, all the speed with which I was getting over ihe ground, I found, on arriving at the mill, that I had been five hours.in traveling nine miles. I could not believe it, but the miller showed me his noon mark, and calculated the lime so that there could be no mistake. He told me that the water was low, and ho could not do my grinding short of an hour. It was not a mill like the mills we have now-a-days, that can grind a’ bushel of corn in a ‘jiffy.’’ — Somewhat sobered, I felt vexed at this slate of things; I saw plainly I could not get home that night, and ray children must go to bed supperless. I felt ready to cry, for no man ever loved his children belter than I did; drunkard that I was, my heart was never clean gone. I cursed the squire’s grindstone, whiskey barrel and all, but it was of no use; my cursing did not mend the matter in the least. At last, I thought the children might make out wilb milk for supper for one night, and I should get home bright aud early in the morning. I got in my grist about an hour before sun-down, and returned four miles, when I pul up at the house of a neigh bor, (we were all neighbors wiihin miles.) “I was up in the morning as soon as it be gan to get light, and while engaged with a bowl of bread and milk, some one knocked ; the woman of the house went to the door, and was asked by a young man if Mr. B. was (here. Being told that he was, (be man entered, and coming up to me, said— “ ‘Mr. 8., two of your children are lost in ihe woods.’ “I told him that he lied, for I knew not what I said, but had some kind of thought that the man wgnted to scare me. “ ‘lt is true,’ he said ; and I have been clear down to the mill, looking after you.— And some of the neighbors have been hunt ing for the children all night.’ “I saw the man was in earnest. I cannot describe my feelings, stranger, at that mo ment. Did you ever feel as if the earth was sinking away from under your feet, and the whole weight of the heavens coming right upon youi head? Did you ever feel your heart knocking against your breast like a sledge hammer, and threatning to force a passage up through your throat 7 If you ever felt so, you know something of my feelings on that terrible morning. But after all my feelings did not bewilder me, nor render me inactive. I rushed from the house like a madman—soon leaving the messenger and the grist far behind. Neither stump, stone, nor fallen tree impeded my progress. I was young then, and few men were more fleet afoot than I was in those days. I remember nothing of my thoughts, until 1 had got with in a Haif a mile of my own house. I then began to conjecture which of my children it could be that was lost, (for I had forgot that the man mentioned two.) Could it be my own dear little Nelly, who used to come dan cing to meet her father every night, with her little eyes sparkling like diamonds 7 Wheth er I came home drunk or sober, Nelly was always rejoiced to meet me. * “Have you any children, sir?” We answered in the affirmative. “You will not wonder then at the old man’s (ears, when- remembering and speak ing of the strong pure love of a little daugh ter. But none can tell how dear a child is, until it is lost in the woods. It is nothing, comparatively nothing, to lay a child in the grave. I have had the experience of both ; the one is a hard thing, but the other awfully terrible. As I came in sight of my house a new idea struck- me—a strange idea to enter a- head like mine. I thought, now, if is a God, he can save my child. I don’t know why it was, but for the first time in my life 1 felt sure there was a God. My infidel ity had in a moment completely vanished, and I roared aloud again end again—'O Lord I save the lost child of a poor sinner !’ This was the first prayer I ever had uttered —but thank God! it was not the last. I discovered, on approaching the house, a few men standing about tne door, and as soon as I could make myself heard, I enquired which of my children was lost. I was-informed it was Nelly and Jamie. This was a dreadful blow; but the- madness of my grief had passed away with my infidelity, and I repeat ed,‘Lord 1 save the lost children of a poor sinner.’ On entering the house, I found my THE AGITATOR ZMoteOr to ttie 3 Zxttnnion of tlje &vtn of ifm&om anir tfce Sgveafc of ©ealtfjg |i[ WHILE THEBE SHALL BE A WBONG UNSIGHTED, AND UNTIL “MAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN” SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE, WELLSBORO., TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY HOMING., OCTOBER 21, 1868. wife and six remaining children huddled to gether in a corner. They had all cried until their faces were swollen, and my wife looked the picture of utter despair. She could not speak, and I could only aay, ‘Oh ! Mary, Mary!' “The children came clinging around me, their faces grew brighter, they felt sure that their father could find Nelly and Jamie. I kissed them all, and told them they must stay in the house with mother until 1 came back. I was about joining the party at the dooi, who were deliberating upon the best plan of proceeding,' when my wife- arose from her seat, and laying hold of my arm, said— “ ‘John, the Lord can save our children.’ Arrangements were now made for com mencing the search. We were to go forth, two and iwo, each parly having a gun, and if either parly should be successful iu finding the children alive, the fact should be announ ced by the firing of six guns, and if dead, three guns. “Perhaps I had belter give you some idea of the geography of the woods. My house was situated about a.mile from the foot of the mountain to the North ; along the base of the mountain runs a considerable stream, hold ing a course from west to east. From the south bank of the stream, rose rock on rock, up to the very summit of the mountain; so sleep and rugged, that a deer could hardly gel a foot-hold. With the exception of two or three small fields, all the distance from the house to the brook was covered with heavy timber. It was while hunting up the cows, about the clearings, that the children got lost, and it was reasonable to suppose that they could neither cross the stream or climb the moantain, being only eight and six years of age. We therefore determined to confine our search between the house and the north bank of the brook, extending a few miles east and jwest. Doctor P. , who was my companion in the search said all he could to cheer me, but that was a dreadful day. 1 could not take time to walk, but ran from one thicket to another, calling out with all ray strength, ‘Nelly ! Nelly 1 Jamie! Ja mie !’ But no Nelly, no Jamie answered.— No gun was fired during the day ; and night, a very dark night, began to get in. I deter mined to continue the search, but the doctor persuaded me to return borne, saying, ‘we should have more help by morning, and would go in larger parties.’ “We accordingly returned ; found the oth ers had got in before us, but no traces of the lost ones had been discovered. Fires were now kindled on all the hills around the house, and a little after night, about twenty men joined us. The news..had._gone out through the neighboring towns, and they all turned put, every man with his bag of provisions and his gun, determined, they said, to find them, dead or alive. “In the course of the night, about thirty more arrived, so that by morning we mus tered between fifty and sixty men. My hopes of finding them alive were getting very feeble, yet I spent the night praying : ‘O Lord, save my poor little children.’ The sufferings of my wife during that long, long, dark night, were awful, and may not be described. She sat in the door watching for the first dawning of day, and when she saw the light, she leaped for joy, as if the day would bring back her lost infants. “ ‘Ah ! U has been a long night!’ she said, Mhe longest and darkest that 1 ever saw. Poor little Nelly—poor little Jamie ; where have you been all the night? Why don’t you come to your own mother, who has watched all the night long, for your coming ?' “1 thought my cup of affliction was al ready full, but I now saw that more might be added. I was afraid my wife was about to lose her reason. On being pressed to go and take a little rest, she gazed on me for a moment, and replied— “ ‘Yes, John, I will rest. I will try to give (hem up into the hands of God.’ “I fell relieved ; she promised to go to bed, and we, all prepared to renew the search. As we were about to start, the ’Squire made his appearance, and on his back a small keg of whiskey ; he said he had been from home, until late last night, or he should have come sooner to our assistance. He then drew some of (he spirit, and offered it to me. “‘No,’ said I: ‘’Squire I have drank my last glass, and it has been paid for with the life of my two lovely children.’ “ ‘What do you mean ?’ said the ’Squire; ‘1 don’t understand you.’ “Well,’ said I, ‘if I had not tarried six hours at your grindstone, as I went out to mill, I should have got home the same day, and my children would have all been here this morning. Yes, sir, I have paid a fear ful price for my last glass; either you or I are their murdeiers.’ “I was sorry I said quite so much to the ’Squire, but I felt all that I said. y “Some of the men took a little or the spirit, and our plan of operation being set tled, we divided into two lines, extending from the fields to the brook, one line moving west, the other east, every man -keeping within a few rods of his right hand man, and in this order the whole line moved for ward, making careful examination as they progressed. That day passed away like the former; no gun was fired, no traces found. At night we again met at the house, tired and hopeless. Over ten miles from east to west, had been so closely examined that no living thing, the size of a-woodchuck, could have escaped detection. The men looked exhausted And sad. All hopes of finding them alive bad now fled, and but little, if any hopes remained, of finding their bodies. Some seemed to think any farther effort use less. I thought so myself, and yet trembled, lest they should abandon the search. I went into the house while the men kindled their fires and prepared to cook their supper. I found my poor wife much calmer than when we left in Ihe morning. She said she was sura that God would do right. “Our friend the, Doctor, gave us all ihe consolation he could; told us hew long a person could live without food; and insisted that there was still hope. “If any spark of hope remained in our hearts, it had completely died away by morning. That night about eleven, o’clock, some flashes of lightning were seen in (he south, and in less than an hour a most fear rut thunder storm raged around us. Rain fell in torrents, the wind blew with destructive violence. The crashing of trees, torn up by Ihe roots, or twisting, splitting like reeds, seemed louder and more dreadful than the roaring of the thunder, or the hissing flash of the lightning. I really thought I could see the huge and broken limbs of the falling trees mangling the dead or the dying bodies of roy helpless infants.' I have seen no thunder storm like that since. The morning at last came; it was mild and beautiful; the sun rose without a cloud, and the men, though much exposed to the violence of the storm, during its continuance, had early re-kindled their fires, cooked their breakfast, and were preparing for another day’s search. The plan was changed, and they went out in two’s and three’s, wherever each parly should thing best; the signals, however, were to remain the same as agreed on at first. This day, for the first lime, I began to feel my strength failing me. 1 had to sit down and rest every half hour! I would some times fancy I could hear the report of a gun, and would hold ray breath to bear the report repeated, but no repetition would follow. As evening settled down upon the woods, we again assembled at the house.. Every face now wore an expression of deep and settled hopelessness, and little for a lime was said. At last the question was pul by the Doctor— “ ‘Shall we continue the search V “A pause followed, but the Doctor added— Si for one will not give it up.’ I So said the greater part; but the prospect of finding the children was so doubtful, that about fifteen bad left during the night. In the morning we mustered forty men. All seemed quite discouraged. And the question again occupied their minds, whether it was best to renew the search or not. The whole seemed to waver, and finally all came to the conclusion that farther efforts would be useless. “I went to the house, found the Doctor and informed him of the conclusion to which the men had come. I begged he would endeavor to change their minds—just to try one day more, and then I should be resigned to ray fate, whatever it might be ; I did not expect to find them alive ; but I thought it would be a great comfort to know where they were buried. My wife on hearing the determina tion of the men, went out and pleaded with all the earnestness of a bereaved mother, that they would try one day more—only one day more! The men (for they were men, and could not stand a mother’s tears,) quickly replied, to satisfy her, they would continue the search another day, not that they had the slightest expectation of finding the chil dren. We all went out in a body, spreading in every direction, and every man taking his own course. I had got about two miles from the house, when, near noon, I distinctly heard the report of a musket. 1 fell down as if a bullet had gone through my heart. There I lay breathless, trembling in every limb. Another loud report like that of a cannon—l jumped to my feet, staggered for ward a few paces, and fell again to the earth. A third report soon followed, and then all was still. The story was how toffl—the dear children were found, but they wereTlead-L^ “Oh I the agony of lhai moment ! I feel it yet; I rolled on the earth—l strove to be calm—l tried to be reconciled —tried to thank God, for restoring their dead bodies. I would look once more upon the face of my little Nelly and Jamie, although they would no more come to meet their father. 1 remem bered my poor wile, and rose from the earth. 1 knew she needed my support, little that it could be, In such afflicting circumstance’s. “When I had got within a half a mile of my home, I was startled by the report of a gun; another, and another followed in quick succession, and for eight or ten minutes-there was nothing but firing. All this perplexed me—l knew not what to make of it. At last I thought the men had all got in, and were discharging their guns, they had been loaded for several days. As I approached the house, a scene pre sented itself which led me to think that the men had all gone stark mad. They were dancing, and shouting, and capering in the most extravagant manner. Can the children be dead, though I, and all this going on ? I rushed through the crowd, and as I entered the bouse, little Nelly sprang into my arms, crying, “Here comes my father, here comes my own father!’ Poor Jamie was very fee ble, but he was alive and that was enough. “When the weeping spell was over, I in quired where they had been found, and who found them? As soon as the Doctor could speak, he came forward and said that himself and Mr. T. bad taken. a direction that led them to the bank of the stream, and the foot of the mountain. The ground had been gone over before, yet they thought it might be well to examine a little more carefully the bank of the brook. It was not long before they dis covered the prints of little bare feet, apparent ly going into the stream. They immediately crossed and climbing a little ways up the mountain discovered wbat appeared to have been a camp, where the little children must have passed a night. Little pieces of bark had been collected, and small branches broke off from the surrounding bushes, with which they had formed a shelter. On leaving this camp they bad ascended the steep, face of the mountain, leaving traces of their course sufficient to guide the Doctor and his compan ion. After scrambling up for half an hour, sometimes on their hands and knees,'they saw before them the objects of their search, sitting quite contentedly in a‘litfle hut, formed by placing bark and branches as a roof, be tween two large rocks, that lay near together. They had lived upon gum, and had;Tqid in quite a little -slock for after use. Tlip boy was somewhat feeble, but the girl was'lively and well. They knew they were lost', but thought they would find the way bomb by and by. The men took them in their arms ttnd in a short time placed them by the side of their mother. Notice must now be given of the discovery, and an old muskei was loaded and fired three times, but as thdjDoc tor in his joy had used his powder ralhmj free ly, at the third discharge the old thing {hurst. “No one was hurt, but the signals Were of course stopped, until the men returnedifrom the search, expecting to find them dead.) On learning the facts, a general firing tookjplace. I have now told you the whole story.l j The loss of my children for a few days msMe me a sober man and taught me that there is a friend that ‘slickelh closer than a That God, whose unseen arm shielded my in fants in the darkness and in the storm, has conducted me down to old age, giving! me to enjoy ‘a good hope through grace.’ | jl| have never lasted whiskey, rum or brandvi from that day to this.” . - i|| “But what became of the Squire ;s grindstone?” . |: “Well, the old man is dead, and like to say much about him; some best farms in the country where w down upon that stone. Many are now work ing as laborers on the very farms them fath ers once owned. The Squire madeimooey, but it all went before he died ; his two sons both died drunkards before they werqjthirty years of age, and his only daughter married, a poor worthless creature, who ran away and left her with three small cf After the old man died, it was four he was considerably in debt, and his", his daughter, and her three childret sent to the poor house. My own fan signed the temperance pledge; my fiv own every one his farm, and my thn are married to good and sober men. Nelly lives in the while house you sei in the hollow. She often talks of her the mountain, and, says, (in view! change it wrought ih her father,) ‘Th makes all things work together for { those that love Him.’ Myself and; woman have s;en many a happy i gelher.and are now waiting the call t bring us' ‘to a better inheritance.’ Didn’t See It. | A short time since a young mans f living in Ogdensburg, whose name we shill call George, took to drinking rather motl than usual, and some of his friends endeavored to cure him. One day after he had beeit drink ing several limes, they got him in a? room and commenced conversing about dk\irium tremens, directing all their remarks! ih him, and telling what fearful snakes and rajt| were always seen by the victims of this]horrible disease. When the conversation waxsd high on this terrible theme, one of the. dumber stepped out of the room, and fromtja trap which was at hand, let a large rat ; into the room. None of his friends appeared! to see it.; but the young man who was to] be the victim seized a chair and hurled it atljtjie rat, smashing the chair in the operation, An other chair shared the same fate, |»flen his friends seized him, and with terrorhattpicled in their faces, demanded to know waul was the matter. •, (■' • “Why, donTyStr-sea_ihat big rati’ 1 said he, pointing to the animal, which,filler the manner of rats, was making its way; iround the room, close to the walls. . j They all saw it, but all replied ll didn’t see it—“there was no rat.” ! “But there is !” said he, as anolh went to pieces in an ineffectual all crush (he rat. At this moment they again seiz and after a terrible scuffle, threw hi on the floor, and with terror in the yelled : ] “Charley I run for a doctor!” >| Charley started for the door, wheii desired to be informed “what is up;’ l “Up !” said they, “why, you’ve! delirium tremens !” :i 1 Charley opened the door to go h George raised himself on his elbow, “Charley, where are you going 7” “Going!’’ said Charley, “going! a doc tor.” ' ~ “Going Tor a doctor !” rejoined! jGeorge ; “for what?” 'l|: ' “For what!” repealed Charley!, “why, you’ve got the delirium tremens!”] !; “The delirium tremens—have 1 ?” re peated George. “How do you know I’ve got the delirium tremens I” - “Easy Enough,” says Charley;); ‘you’ve commenced seeing rats.” “Seeing rats I” said George, in a sort of musing way; “seeing rats. Thhk you must be mistaken, Charley.” , j . “Mistaken I” said Charley. “Yes, mistaken,’’ rejoined George. “I ain’t the man—l haven’t seen no-rill” The boys let George up after that, and from that day to this- he hasn’t touched a glass of liquor, and "hasn't seen n'i\ rats.' 1 ' _ The grave is the true purifier, and. in the charity of the living, takes away']the blots and stains from the dead. f l Terms of Publication. TUE TIOGA COUNTY AGITATOR is pub lished every Thursday Morning, and mailed to sub scribera at -the very reasonable -price of On* Dol lar per in advance• Itisinleud fcd'lo' notify every subscriber when the term for which be has paid shall have expired, by the stamp -r-*‘Time Out,” on the margin of the last paper. The paper willtben be stopped until a further re* miltan<s be received. By this arrangement no mao can be brought in debt to the printer. The Agitator is the Official Paper of the Cbnfc ty, with a large and steadily increasing circtxfcUxoa reaching into nearly every neighborhood in,tfa* County. It is sent free of postage to any Post-office within the county limits, and to those living within the limits,but whose mostconvenrentpostoffiee may be in an adjoining County, Business Cards, not exceeding 5 lines, paper-in* eluded, §4 per year. > |4 no. k Wonders of the Created Universe. What mere assertion will make aay one believe that in one second of time, in oho beat of the pendulum of a clock, a ray' 6t light travels Over one hundred and ninety-two thousand miles, aad would therefore perform the tour of the world in about the same time that it requires to wink with our eyelids, and in much less than a swift runner occupies id taking a single stride? VVhat mortal'cds be made to believe, without demonstrations, that the sun is. almost a million times larger than the earth 1 and that, although so remote front ua that a cannonball-shot directly towards it, and maintained its full speed, would be twenty years in reaching it, yet it afiects the earth by its attraction in an inappreciable instant of time? Who would not ask for demonstra tion, when told that a gnat’s wing, in its ordinary flight, beats many hundred litres in a second ; or that there exist animated and regularly organized beings, many thousands of whose bodies, laid close together, would not extend an inch? But what are these no the astonishing truths which modem optical, inquiries have disclosed, which teach us that every point of a medium through which a rav of light passes, is affected with a succession of periodical movements, recurriugat equal intervals, no less than five hundred million of millions of times in a single second! that it is by such movements communicated to the nerves of our eyes that wo see; nay more, that it is the difference in the frequency of their recurrence which affects us with the sense of the diversity of color. That, for instance, in acquiring the sensation of red ness, our eyes are affected four hundred and eighty- two million of millions of lime j of yellowness, five hundred and forty-two mil lions of millions- of times ; and of violet seven hundred and seven millions of millions of limes per second I Do not such things sound more like the ravings of madness than the sober conclusions of people in 'their wa king senses ? They are, nevertheless con clusions to which any one may most certainly, arrive, who will only be at the .trouble of examining the chain of reasoning by which they have been obtained. od his t tl don’t |of the ipitlled jfldren. d that* widow, H' were ally all » boys je girls fLittle How to Teach the Alphabet At a recent school meeting in Boston, Prof. Emerson (not Ralph Waldo Brama) has something to say of that which he had seen in Europe daring his travels : bjdown htSrip to of the $ God 'bod to the old lay to tal will it - He spoke of what ha saw in Dresden.— Ha spoke of teaching the alphabet—of its usually being regarded as a drudgery, which he called a sad mistake. He cited an exam ple of forty boys, seven years old, coming to learn their alphabet, it was taught by a man complete for a college President. He commenced by drawing a fish upon the blackboard, inquiring of the boys, “what is that ?” One answer was “A fish another, “It is the picture of a fish.” Right,” said the teacher to the last. They were than re quired to make a nice sentence about the fish.”. This being done, he placed before them the letters that make the word. They were then required to pul the letters together so as to spell the word. This was done ; also the making of letters on their slates; forming the word. They were next required to draw the picture of the fish. This was the method of teaching the alphabet, by no novice but by the best learned German schol ar. This method of thoroughness was every where practiced in leaching—a little at a time, and constant repetition. “The effect of this method,” said he, was surprising,” How unlike is this method to that pursued' in our primary schools. “The teachers use books ■in teaching. Consequently their minds were wholly on the matter of leaching—watching the effect of their teaching upon their chil dren. , When their interest tired, their atten tion was directed to a new subject and thus the happiest results are produced. Letter from a Boaruikg— Scnoot Miss. -“Deer Mar—l am now being teached Span* esh langwage ! wich my Tuteor says I learn it with grate fasility, ive improved amasinly in the english sints ive been here! I speke and rite the real new stile now ! and my com- • pasishons are being wery much admired among the pupils or the school,! come within Hvon of getting the medle for bein the best english scholar, at the clothes of Inst quarter, and I shood a done it, but I was being sick a bedd and couldn’t attend to my studies—for a hole weak? and so I got beehyndand : by the buy, Mar! (what shokin bad english you do rite!) ime esbamed to sho yewr letters to eny of the missesses among my akwainlan for instants yon sa wile the te wotler was bileing the other day etceterah and so forth now you should say wile the ta wotter was bein bille—par too? riles jus as inkorrekly for insteots he says in his letter french guds are falling verry fast insted of saying french goods are being fell, ime reeally shocked that you and hee don’t keep paice with the march oß'modern improvement but ime be ing called this minit to excite my spanesh lesson, so i must wind orf. I supperscribq myself your affectionate dawtur, they chair ipt to e ] him, jhi down. Ei faces, i 3eorge t ■ 1 . : I got the , when id said, A celebrated, actress, whose fresh smite' and silvery voice favored the deception, al ways called'herself “sweet sixteen.”- She slated her age at sixteen in a court roomas a witness. Her son was directly after placed on the stand, and asked how old he was, “Six months older than mother,” was the honest reply. Keep doing, always doing. Wishing, dreaming, intending l murmuring, ’talking, sighing, and repining, ore all idle and profit loss employments. Miranda MAcKeRREt.”
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers