■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.”