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jyTHE LADIES OF WELLSBORO,
ffl, turned out in such numbers, notwithstanding
the utifatoraUe character of the weather, to listen
to my lecture on “Bums and his Poetry." •
JOHN MACINTOSH.
Ladies, thank you for your pains.
Which, despite the mirk and rains.
Von took to hear my humble praise
Of him who sang the sweetest lays
That e'er were penned in any age*
In future when his burning page,
1 shall rehearse, your kindly grace,
Though every feeling line, I’ll trace;
’Twill mingle with the poet's glow,
And make his numbers sweeter flow.
The record of the kindly act,
Secure in memory, intact,
Inviolable will remain;
Von, ladies, plunging through the rain;
Through the rain, and through the mire;
A scene, a bard might well inspire—
Ah, how my soul in sadness mourns.
It cannot thank like poet Burns;
Wdlsboro, Oct. 14th, 1858.
•Let no one profanely apply the Doctor's remarks
about “Poets who write for the village papers,” to
himself.—[Ed. Agitator.
A Sketch of the War of 1812.
BV A DOWN EASTER.
In ihe dark shadow of Fisher’s Island,
gloomy, sullen and grim, lay like huge mon
sters upon (he wa(ers, (he British fleet, “the
mistress of (he Seas.”
The broad red cross of St, George floated
from their mast heads, proclaiming them en
emies of our country. Long had they thus
lain in the inglorious inactivity of a blockad
ing squadron, crushing, it is true, the little
commerce between the seaport towns of Con
necticut, and the cities of New York and
Boston, but in reality putting themselves to
far more trouble and inconvenience than their
enemies.
The commander of the British Squadron,
Sir Thomas M. Hardy, as loyal and brave
a man as ever trod the quarter deck of an
English Seventy-fopr, grew heartily tired of
this monotonous life, and wished that some
cursed Yankee Privateer or Commodore wo’d
make an attempt to run the blockade.
While he was thus thinking, a party of
Yankees on shore, wearied and exasperated
by the continual and petty annoyances of the
English fleet, were laying a plan to decoy a
patty of them ashore.
Capt. Sim Haley, as true, beloved and
patriotic a Yankee, as, ever played a trick on
an unwary foe, accordingljy loaded a large
boat with a lot of old boxes filled with some
worthless articles, and manning it with a few
trusty comrades, pulled down the river Mys
tic into the Sound, as if determined to give
the British Squadron ihe slip and run their
goods to Now York. Com. Hardy seeing the
boat, instantly gave orders to midshipman
Chambers to man ihe barge and capture the
Yankee rebels. His orders were promptly
and cheerfully obeyed, for his men were glad
of the opportunity to have a brush with the
Americans.
Capi. Sim and his men prelending not to
see the movements of ihe enemy held stead
ily on their course, laughing to themselves
meanwhile thamthe bait which they had
thrown out was so quickly swallowed. The
Cntish excited by the hope of a prize pulled
vigorously at the oars, and Ihe barge gained
rapidly on Capt. Sim's boat. Suddenly the
Americans seemed for’ the firk lime to be
come aware of the approach of an enemy,
"tih loud cries they bent'to their oars but
« thoroughly frightened did they seem, that
'■ere was no sort of time kept by the rowers,
a. j 6 ® 501 oP w hich was to retard," rather than
ad to the progress of the boat. iThey how
ever managed to gel the boat headed toward
mouth of the Mystic. The British were
ard on their heels and gained rapidly on'
Americans had gradually recov-
| e rc ™ their fright and now were lustily
work. The distance between the boats
ow was kept about the same, each party
m g al lke !o P of its strength,
his h le dar ' n g Captain Sirri'ordered
of Uplo 3 cerla ' n point on the west side
who 6 ■ n 'lf r j a^ out one mile from the Sound,
i an / e 3 ha “ keen arranged that he should
the h ,! Sem .|; arkin g. 'he boat’s crew ran over
’ , e ® rll ' s h by this time had also
ba J 3 1 Ending, and no sooner had their
i|J? 8 kee B ra 'ed 'he sandy shore, than
Pecmd D fi 0U r 3 sudden mosl "nex-
M«ti 3re , , m . a volunteer companyi from
Ansnn » v ‘ c inity, composed of Captains
with r’ Ve l7’^ a ley, Crary and Denison,
2 S eU w 'f. heeler - Pa '-r! Hyde arid Will
haok r* 11 ? t3 ' ot h era secreted behind the
Eolrnnr 1 j PUrpoae ‘ The British, startled
'he till ° r hy the sudden apparition and
like r,„ ° . severa ' of their comrades, leaped
Y°gs into the water.
m idshinm° ne r.r 3S ' ePt to man 'he barge but
sirord l,i. an Chambers, who stood with drawn
Wh 6 * sl3lue ’ n 'he stern sheets.
'W„„ e , aCOm, ? 3nde d 10 surrender, he with
rne n f, nm e3S ,° 3 brave general, ordered his
sw<j r, 1 "? wa,e f and delivered up his
ttete mn ; la ! ,n g secured the prisoners, litters
which ih 6 ° r tbe dead an( l wounded, on
HisonerlL* 6 ? borne . to ,he vi,la 8 e - The
low gq ere termed in the centre of a hol
'"livenir/ 6 3nd marc hed into Mystic to the
and the. i Blrain3 oP 'he “Rogue’s March,”
cniz eos ° uts oP 'he hardy and patriotic
Th *
O*"* i°y on shore were echoed
told Cn m tj Bl *? ,0 ‘he British fleet, which
*hipman L/[ dy *^ e f ale of his brave mid
fcs heel he » |,' s , bar 8 e ’ 8 crew. ‘Turning on
' D ‘o the n»K- , . ? own 'ho companion way
hke a kinp m his flag ship ; there, seated
and inn™** l 'h rone i muttered curses
oi about the revenge he would
THE AGITATOR.
BeDote* to tfyt Sytensrtou of tfce s&vt* of Jfmtrom ana tfte Spread of 3&eaUBfi 2&cfovnt,
WHILE THEBE SHALL BE A. WRONG UNSIGHTED, AND UNTIL “ MAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN” SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE,
YOL. V.
yet have on these ‘infernal tricky Yankees !'
Revenge being the sweeteslthing that Com.
Hardy could ihijik or dream of, he was de
termined to revenge himself if possible, and
on ihe morning of the 10th of the same
month, he ordered bis fleet up to bombard the
town of Stoniogton. For two days and
nights the fleet poured into the town shot and
shell of every description, but with very little
effect. The bomb brig Terror look her sta
tion in the line nearest the town, and made
the night light as day with the blaze of rock
ets, while her shot and shell hissed like mad
dened vipers through the air, the floating bat
teries and line of battle ships making every
thing tremble with their thunder, but the hearts
of those Yankee boys that manned the guns
on shore. They, behind breastworks hastily
thrown up, headed by this same daring Capl.
Sims, assisted by Captains Dean and Deni
son, with hosts of other brave fellows at their
guns on those hot days, like blacksmiths at
their forges, firing with (such precision and
taking such deadly aim that hundreds were
killejd. and wounded on board the enemy’s
fleet! while the bomb brig Terror was made
a perfect wreck, so much so, when ordered
by the Commodore to retreat, she dare nnt
lake lime to weigh her anchor, but slipped
her cable and floated off with the tide, amidst
the shouts and cheers of the warlike host on
shore.
All the ships in the line getting the worst
of it, a general retreat was ordered. With
shot holes plugged up and pumps working,
the monster ships moved slowly and sluggish
ly off, like a wounded lion to his lair. They
again dropped their anchors under the dark
shadows of the Island, where a
“Few short prayers were said.
O’er proud St. George’s dead.”
And the sea received their mangled corses
to be swallowed up by the sharks of the
ocean. The surgeons were busy with saw
and knife among the wounded, and the sailors
were busy repairing the shattered ships, while
the brave Commodore cursed himself and the
way he revenged himself on those “infernal
tricky Yankees.” //
Respectable Society.
We heard a man, otherwise intelligent
enough, lately sneer at another, “because”
said he, “one does not see him in respectable
Society !” The speaker did not mean, how
ever, that the person he affected to look down
upon was immoral, but merely that his circle
of intimates were not composed of the fash
ionable or the rich.
This motion of what constitutes respecta
ble society is quite a favorite one with that
class of individuals whom Thackery has so
significantly called “snobs.” Empty pretence
always making its own characteristics a
standard by which it strives to measure the
respectability of persons at large. In a com
munity of mere money getters, wealth is the
teat of respectability. Among the proud,
narrow minded, effete nobility of the Fau
bourg St. German, respectability depends
upon being descendants from ancestors who
have married their cousins for so many cen
turies that neither muscle nor brains are left
any longer to degenerate descendants. With
the dandy officers who constitute a con
siderable portion of the American Navy,
respeciabilities consist in having sponged on
“Uncle Sam,” in wearing gilt buttons, and
in jilting tailors. Every conceited fool thinks
himself, in! like way, the only man really
weighty, the only person who is respectable.
But true respectability depends on no such
adventitious circumstances. To be respec
table is to bo worthy of respect; and he de
serves respect who has most virtue. The
humblest man who bravely does his duty,
is more, worthy of respect, is more truly
respectable, than the covetous millionaire
among his money bags, or the arrogant mon
arch upon his throne. The fine lady who
backbites her neighbor is less worthy of
respect than an honest washerwoman. The
profligate noble, though he may wear a dozen
orders at his button hole, is not often as
respectable as the shoe-black who cleans his
bools. That which is called “the world”
exalts the one and despises (he other, but it
does not make them respectable according
to the real meaning of that word. Their
respectability is but a hollow sham, as they
themselves frequently feel; and those who
worship them bow down to a Fetisch,a thing
of feathers and tinsel. The selfish-idle drone
who wastes life in his own gratification, and
disipates the fortune of his progeny, is not
and cannot be respectable; but the bard
working, self-denying father, who wears out
his life to bring up his children is, though he
be a day laborer. Nothing can make Dives
fit to lay on Abraham’s bosom while Lazarus
is welcomed there, even with the sores the
dogs have licked.
The false views of life, which would meas
ure respectability by a conventional stand
ard, is totally at variance with our republican
institutions. It creates an “imperium in im
periofor while the law declares all citizens
equal, it erects a social standard which en
deavors to ignore that great truth. The
coarse, brutish, knavish, profligate criminal
—in short, all who fall short of their duty to
themselves and their fellow men—are those
who are not “respectableand this, whether
they are poor. While those who live hon
estly, and strive to do what good they can,
constitute in reality the respectable class, ir
respective of the fact whether they eat with
silver forks or steel ones. I
In' all ranks, those who are gentle apd
uncomplaining, too candid to intrigue, too
delicate to encroach, sutler much. They
suffer long, and are kind; verily, they have
their reward.
-WELLSBORO, TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING. OCTOBER 28, 1858.
“Rain, rain, rain; will it never slop
thought little Amy Howard, as she pressed
her small face close to the window paoe, in
a vain attempt to see further round the cor
nei, whence sister Anna must come from
school. It was not one of those rainy days
that every one loves, when the drops fall
steadily and cheerily, and one feels sure they
are completing their mission as rapidly as
possible, in order to treat us to a rainbow.—
It was a cheerless, mizzly, drizzly, rainy day,
that seemed unwilling to leave cloudland,
and bent upon making everybody sympathize
with bis ill humor.
Poor little Amy looked the embodiment of
forlornity, as she watched the long, pendu
lous branches of the elms swing hither and
(hither in an uncomfortable manner. She
wondered wbat made the rain fall, and if the
pool little doves felt it through their glossy
feathers; but she knew it was quite useless
to ask her mother, for she would only tell her
not to ask so many questions, and to keep
out of her way.
Mrs. Howard loved her child, but she was
a bustling, energetic woman, whose chief care
was to keep a tidy and well-ordered house;
and she did not understand the delicate na
ture of the little Amy, who had been from in
fancy a feeble child, and stood sadly in need
of loving and tender sympathy. She was
not beautiful, but to those who loved her there
was a depth of love in her little heart, which
only needed sunbeams to make it bear sweet
est blossoms, and light up her dark face with
the beauty of contentment.
This had been such a sad day. In the
morning she had climbed into a chair, to watch
her mother’s operations at the pastry table,
when an unlucky motion of her hand sent a
dish of dour to whiten the'floor, calling forth
an impatient reprimand from the mother.—
Choking back a rising sob, she left the table,
and essayed to play with her blocks, building
with them a wall to confloe While Lilly, her
kitten. But kitty, impatient at such close im
prisonment, made vigorous efforts to free
herself, and as she succeeded, scattered the
blocks in every direction.
“What ails my pet 7” asked Anna, as she
took the child in her lap, and parting the
hairs from her pale face, remarked the look
of weariness in her eyes.
“Nothing,’’ answered Amy, “only my head
aches so, I can’t play without troubling moth
er.”
Anna sighed, for she knew the little heart
had sore trials ; so far into the dusky eve,
she sal with Amy’s head upon her shoulder,
telling of the olden time, when the fairies
danced by the moonlight upon the green
sward, when every hill and dale, every river
and tiny streamlet, was haunted by unearthly
beings. Then she told of heaven, made glo
rious by God and the angels, and as Amy
listened, her eyes beamed with delight, and
she exclaimed, raising her head with anima
tion :
“Anna, 1 must go there, I must—is it such
along ways'!” Suddenly a shadow dark
ened her face, as she said sadly, “Perhaps,
though, I should gel in the way of the angels
—I am so careless I”
“Never, darling,” said the sister, clasping
more closely the little form, which, in an al
most prophetic sense, was too surely fading
away.
At midnight there were hurried steps and
anxious questions, as the household was awa
kened by Anna’s cry that Amy was very ill.
After days of watching, a weeping group
surrounded the bedside of the dying child.
“Mother,” said AmyVlitlle voice, “I did
not mean to get in your way so much. I
hope I shan’t trouble the angels—good bye,
mother, I am going to sleep.” And little
Amy was dead.
. Long years has grass grown on Amy’s
grave, and harebells have rung iheir merry
chimes above it, while the birds sing requi
ems in the shadowing trees ; but nightly, as
she lays her head upon the pillow, Mrs. How
ard sees the pale, weary (ace of her child,
and hears a sweet voice say, “Mother, I did
not mean to get in the way.”
Not all in vain was the lesson taught by
those dying lips. Seeds of gentleness were
sown in the mother’s heart, which, watered
with the tears of repentance, gave promise
of an abundant harvest of peace.
Scientific PAKADOXEs.-The water which
drowns us as a fluent stream, can be walked
upon as ice. The bullet which when fired
from a musket, carries death, will be harm,
less if ground to dust before being fired.—
The crystalized part of oil of roses, so grate
ful in its fragrance—a solid at ordinary tern
pdratures, though readily volatile—is a com
pound substance, containing exactly the same
elements, and exactly the same proportions
as the gas with which we light our streets.
The lea which we drink daily, with benefit
and with pleasure, produces palpitations, ner
vous tremblings and even paralysis, if taken
in excess; yet the peculiar organic agents
called theine, to which tea owes its qualities,
(as theine, not as tea) without any apprecia
ble effect. The water which will allay our
burning thurst, augments it when congealed
into snow ; so that Captain Ross declares the
natives of the Arlic regions “prefer-enduring
the utmost extremity of thirst rather than at
tempt to remove it by eating snow.” But if
the snow be melted it becomes drinkable wa
ter. Nevertheless, although if melted before
entering the mouth, it assuages thirst like
other water, when melted in the mouth it has
the opposite effect. To render this paradox
the more striking, we have only to remember
that ice, which melts more slowly in the
mouth, is very efficient iq allaying thirst.—
Blackwood'*.
Always In the Way.
Extraordinary Adventure.
Louis the Fifteenth dispatched into Ger
many a confidential person on a mission of
importance; on this gentleman’s returning
post, with four servants, night surprised him
in a poor hamlet, where there was not even
an ale bouse. He asked, could he lodge at
the manor one night, and was answered that
it had been forsaken for some time; that
only a farmer was there by daylight, whose
house stood apart from (be manor, which
was haunted by spirits (hat came again and
beat people. The traveler said that he was
not afraid of spirits, and to show that he
was not, bis attendants should .remain in the
hamlet, and that he would go alone to the
manor house, where he would be more than
a match for any spirits that visited there—
that he had heard much of the departed
coming to again, and he had long had curi
osity to see some of them.
He established himself at the manor house
—had a good fire lighted—and as he did not
intend going to bed, had pipes and tobacco
brought, with wine ; he also had on the ta
ble two brace of loaded pistols. About mid
night he heard a dreadful rattling of chains,
and saw a mao of large stature, who beck
oned and made a sign for his coming to him.
The gentleman placed two pistols in his belt,
put the third in his pocket, and look the
fourth in one hand and the candle in the
other. He then followed the phantom, who
going down the stairs, crossed the court into
the passage. But when the gentleman was
at the end of the passage his footing failed,
and he slipped down a trap door. He ob
served, through an ill-jointed partition, be
tween him and the cellar, that he was in the
power of several men, who were deliberating
whether they should kill him. He also
learned by their conversation, that they were
coiners. He raised his voice and desired
leave to speak to them. This was granted.
“Gentlemen,” said he, “my coming hither
shows my want of good sense and discretion,
but must convince you that 1 am a man of
honor, for a scoundrel is generally a coward.
I promise upon honor all secrecy respecting
this adventure. Avoid murdering me that
never intended to hurt you. Consider the
consequences of putting me to death ; I have
upon me dispatches which I am to deliver
into the King of France’s hands; four of
my servants are now in the neighboring
hamlet. Depend upon it such a strict search
will be made to ascertain my fate that it must
be discovered.”
The coiners resolved to lake his word ;
and they swore him to tell frightful stories
about his adventure in the manor. He said,
the next day, that he had seen enough to
frighten a man to death ; no one could doubt
the truth, when "the fact was warranted by
one chatacter. This was continued for twelve
years ; after that period, when the gentleman
was at his country seat with some friends,
he was informed that a man with two horses
that he led, waited on the bridge, and desired
to speak to him, and that he could not be
persuaded to come nearer. When the gen
tleman appeared, accompanied by his friends,
the stranger called out:
“Stop, sir, I have but a word with you ;
those to whom you promised, twelve years
ago, not to publish what you knew regard
ing them, are obliged to you for the obser
vance of this secret; and now they discharge
you from your promise. They have got a
competency, and are no longer in the king
dom, but before they would allow me to fol
low them, they engaged me to beg your ac
ceptance of two horses and here I leave
them."
The man, who had lied the two horses to
a tree, setting spurs to his horse, went off so
rapidly that they instantly lost sight of him.
Then the hero of the story related to his
friends what had happened to him.
An American October. —The gifted
Prentice indulges in a very poetic description
of October, characterizing it as a season for
poets and painters to revel in. Every lover
of the beautiful in Nature will respond affirm
atively to the sentiment that “October is the
very time to enjoy the animated crowds of
(own life, and it is the lime of times to admire
God’s marvels in the country, as he works
his wondrous change from summer to winter
and scatters over the face of nature a rain
bow vail to conceal the effects of‘decay’s ef
facing fingers,’ as he would strew forget-me
nots over the grave of old flowers. October
may be sharp and even cold to us, but we
love it for its laughing skies, itsgorgeons sun
sets, and the bracing lone of its morning sal
utations. It paints the cheek of beauty to
make it look more like the rose, and it ani
mates the step of manhood as if by a new
infusion of natural vigor. We may in the
springtime have flirted with coquettish April,
with flowers in her hair and tresses flowing
in the vernal breeze—but October, with her
queenly gait, wreathed with the purple glo
ries of the vine, her train borne by Exercise
and Sport—clothed in rare and dazzling tints
—her eye all animation and her step all
grace—she is our maturer love, and we are
so attached to her (hat when we die we want
to die with her. 'Die as the leaves do, that
fall in October.’ Beautiful in the’ country,
where fields and forests glow like many col
ored fires, and even beautiful in the city,
which providentially is “open at the top” to
let in the glories of these cerulean skies and
the crisp breeze of early autumn, till ‘the
benediction of the covering heavens falls like
dew.”
When a man gets to the top of the hill by
honesty, he deserves to be taken by the neck
and hurled down again, if he’s ashamed to
turn about and look at the lowly road along
which once traveled.
©ommmUcatior
Perils of the Sea.
Mb. Editor ; The Atlantic ' 'elegraph
seenjs destined to be a magnificen failure.—
This is rather mortyfying after al: >ur glori
fication over it. To say nothing bf the illu
minations in city and country, lUct speeches
and hurrahs; only think of th| Trinity
Church celebration in New York—|ne chimes
rung, the procession of clergyman in their
robes, the “Te Deum” sung, the airmen de
livered by a high church dignitaryl and the
earnest thanksgiving there and at many other
religious meetings; thanks for tlie glorious
success of what after all has not succeeded.
Meanwhile the poor Telegraph lies (as
Simpkin Sodger says) “at the bou|m of the
ocean, like a immense angte-dog.pl It still,
(to quote further from the same distinguished
author,) “lies low, and keeps dktJc."' We
fear the “grate string” will never of much
use to any one. I.; ;
When the shock of disappoiutnjent is over,
perhaps we may find a wiser way |o dispose
of our surplus dollars hereafter. IjiLong be
fore the ocean Telegraph was talked of, we
had many beautiful steam vessels hying be
tween the eastern and western worlds. We
then managed to exist with our “three or four
days later from Europe” and we fore bably
can still, and for the conveyanceiof p issen
gers and freight these steamers will always
be needed. But “they who go dc|vn to the
sea in ships” and “have business; in great
waters” encounter fearful perils pfl“fire and
flood.” Literally any one crossinklhe ocean
now, takes “his life in his Often,
far oftener than is right or necessafji, we who
remain on land are shocked by|(hl news of
some awful disaster at sea, like (kpat which
befel the ill-fated Austria. ?! |
Human life is precious beyond Valuation.
“All that a man hath will hegive!fp| his life.”
And yet life is recklessly and criitiiifally was
ted, in all these terrible accidents at sea, not
.to mention those on land. Vessels pave late
ly been built partially secured against sinking
from a sudden leak. If there arejafay inven
tions which can render them fireproof or
partially so, would it not be to adopt
them 7 -Do not mercy and justice demand
that they shall be adopted 7 ■ l;|
Vibgikia.
1 1;?
7 ll r
Difference in Wivesj,;
Two weaks since we were ricli jg in the
cars, when a gentleman came and spoke to
a lady directly in front of us who; was sea
ted beside a sickly man, whom;we thought
was her husband. The conversant n turned
upon the health of her companion, who was
evidently a consumptive. ; i
“Last winter,” said she, “I wen, to Kan
sas wjih him; the winter befote|l we spent
in Florida, and now we are think ng of re
moving to Minnesota, for the benefit of his
health.” ; j!
The gentleman expressed some thoughts
relative to her hardships in thusgpjng. away
from her home and friends, and leveling so
much abroad. j||-
“O !” she replied, “I do nnuminktfrat at
all; if he can only regain his hermits I like
New England better than any ofaer'part of
the country, for it is home; but ijim willing
to live anywhere for his sake.”- jl;
Her husband made no reply asijhe heard
these words, but volumes were'i'n his eyes.
The incident, however, did not particularly
impress us until we slopped at la station
about a half hour afterwards, Tl IS a friend
entered the car aud look a seat I: ) our side.
He was troubled with a brondhiai 'and lung
difficulty, of some years standing, jin course
of conversation we recommended a I residence
in a certain Western State, to wh cb he re
plied in substance i
“I should have been there thi<!g months
ago if my wife had been willing to go.—
But all her friends are here in | Massachu
setts, and no consideration could; nduce her
to leave for a residence so far away.”
We looked at once.at the strange woman
whose conversation we cited. “N;oble wife,”
we said. “One of a thousand, doubtless, in
the spirit of self-denial for her; husband’s
sake.” There is certainly a great differ
ence between these two wives.- —Happy
Home. j i,
Outset in Life.— Who that lhas ever
seen the young about to embark ojn! the great
sea of the “world” can have faile'd to mark
the elasticity of spirit with which |fhey enter
on the new stage of existence ? ]Tbe present
is regarded as nothing, the past| ‘is looked
upon as a watch of the night, and the future
alone is esteemed the end and object of life.
Age lakes its pleasures from “memory
youth centres its joys in the hope.of the
future ; philosophy, which belongs! neither to
the young nor the old exclusively, has regard
to the present, and sobers its visions of what
is to come by the experience ofj what has
already gone before. The youngj have no
experience, and time alone must! ;be their
monitor. The silver hairs, and the:furrowed
brow, and the tottering step, must! ‘all come
ere ever we fully realize the unwelpome truth
that, in our schemes and prospects of enjoy
ment, distance alone has lent enchantment to
the view, that under the fairest! pleasures
there have ever lurked insidious ihprns, and
that the gorgeous shapes that have floated
before us in golden magnificence 1 have been
but a monster soap, bubble, which t that first
breath of air shattered into annihilation.
No life can bo well ended that! has not
been well spent; and what life haplbeen well
spent that has had no purpose,-Jthat has
accomplished no object—that has realized no
hope ? : !
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• i'l.
TEACHER’S COLUMN.
Tort
Agitator.
•* Tic education Ibrms the common mind;
Just aa the twig is bent the trae's inclined.'’
In opening a series of articles on Ibis sub
ject, it is well to begin correctly—to begin
with fixing definitely what id to be understood
by the term Education, as it will constantly
appear in the ..series. The importance of
thus fixing the. use of ibis term, so frequent
,iu the mouths and on the pens of the multi
tude, will be apparent on a moment’s re
flection upon the looseness and vagueness
which has of late obtained in its use.
It is now very fashionable to tell us about
the education of the eye, the ear, the mus
cles, &c. Now this is all sheer nonsebse.
We might with equal propriety talk of edu
eating the liver, the spleen, the lungs, the
arteries, the capillaries, the veins, and so on
to the end of the catalogue of Ihp organisms
in the entire body. Neither is any part of
the body, nor all of the body, subject to edu
cation, It is subject to development in
functional energy—so is each of its several
distinct parts ; but the augmentation of nor
mal power in any organ is no more a mailer
of education than is the metamorphosis of
the wilt}, biller, unedible potato, into the
“loaf dry from the ground, ready for cook
ing”—a mere mailer of vegetable cultivation ;
the former is animal cultivation, entire or in
part —nothing else.
Intelligent spirit only is susceptible to edu
cation ; and all intelligent spirit, not abso
lutely and infinitely perfect, is susceptible of
education, in a greater or less degree—at
least, all intelligent spirit in connection with
bodies. Of this we have ample proof, in the
numerous experiments on the lower animals
—insects, fishes, birds, reptiles, quadrupeds,
and quadrumana,all having been made to do
wonders through educational training.
In the supposed education of the various
organs of sense and motion—the ear, the
eye, &c., —there may be, and generally is,
a two-fold effect produced—an increased sus
ceptibility to impressions through the proper
medium and from the proper stimuli, but
especially a greater spiritual power and deli
cacy, in noticing the impressions on the
organs and in controlling the organs them
selves. The latter is a phenomenon of edu
cation ; the former is not, but is merely a
phenomenon of the cultivation of organic vi
tality, through which cultivation, in accor
dance with an organic law, a greater amount
of substance is animated into the structural,
lissure, and the nervous excitability of the
structure is augmented.
I have been (he more particular upon the
above subject, because of the extensive prev
alence of the dogma, as it appears in lectures
and disquisitions of sot disant scientific
lectures and writers on “Physical Educa
tion nay more, because it has taken a seat
in the chair of legal authority, and comds
yearly ; in the form of requisitions upon
academies, seminaries,and colleges, for in
formation respecting kind and amount of
“Physical Education,’’ employed in these
said institutions, and in the form of Reports
from these same institutions, enumerating
“ Ventilation ” and “ Gymnastic and Calls
thenic Exercises as a response to these
calls from headquarters! Let no one sup
pose therefore, that the shedding of a little
ink on this subject at the outset, may not
have use; for, though others may use the
term as they deem it convenient. 1 shall use
it to convey no such absurdity. If, in the
course of these articles, any one should find
the expression, "the education of the entire
man," let him remember, that the intelligent
spirit of man— the man par excellens— 'Only,
is meant. At a proper time, the reciprocity
between the body and the spirit, as also be
tween the external world and the internal
spirit, will profitably form material for a
caapter of two in the development of our
plan. Till then, let it rest. ,
Ira Sayles.
Alfred Centre, Sept. 20th, 1858.
VV esters Simplicity. —ln a wild western
neighborhood, where the sound of the church
going bell had never been heard, notice was
given’that the Rev. A , a distinguished
Presbyterian divine, would preach on a cer
tain day.
The natives, who consisted mainly of those
hardy pioneers who have preceded civiliza
tion, came in crowds to hear him. They
had an indistinct idea that 'preachin' was
something to be heard, and all intended to
hear it.
. After the service had begun a raw-boned
hunter with rifle in hand and all the accou
trements of the chase about him, entered and
took the only vacant seat—a nail heg without
either head.- The current of the preacher’s
thoughts led him into a description of heaven
and its inhabitants. With great power he
had drawn a picture of the habitation of the
blessed, and was assigning each of the patri
archs, prophets and apostles his appropriate
place. His Calvinisfic tendencies led him to
reserve the apostle Paul for his climacteric.
With his eye fixed on the highest point, and
with upward gesture that seemed to be direct
ed to the loftiest altitude of the heavenly pla
ces, he sard :
- “And where, my brethren, shall we seat
the great Apostle of the Gentiles?—where [
say, shall we place the Apostle Paul?”
Then pausing, to give the imagination time
to reach the elevation designed for the Apos.
lie, he fixed his eyes on our hero of the rifle.
He, thinking the address personal, rose in
stanlly, and replied,
“If he can't do any better he can lake my
seat.”
It is needles to say that thtft clinia* was
never ttached.
Education,