~Xem» ol Publication. THE TIOGA COUNTY AGITATOR ia pub- J J .r,r» Thursday Morning, and malted lo aob S'®" ® at tha very reaaonabte price of Qwt D<#- scribe^ annum .itwariaily inadoance. It'minlend wt ntlfv every enbscriber when the term for h ‘i,a B paid shall have expired, by the stamp rtni'' on the margin of the last paper. -“TUU w ;n then be stopped until a further rc- The P a !~. ece ived. By this arrangement no man w ;tunce ;n del)t to rj, e printer. o ,n be b ' ® iTOR i s the Official Paper of the Conn T»* " , e in d steadily increasing circulation' ty, a . Jr n early every neighborhood in the reaching > sen iy rM of pottage to any Post-office Cooniy. * an ty limits, and lo those living within within tn mo-t convenientpoatomce may County. _ /Cards, aotexceedmg 5 hnes > paper la jSS.****™- ■ - dreaming fhii changing and uncertain life Is Hke a troubled dream; And in the fitfoi, feverish strife . Things are not as they seem, for joys and pleasures quickly fade, As die the Summer flowers: Leaving the heart in deeper shade For those few thoughtless hours. And sorrows, tho’ they fill the soul With grief—the eyes with tears, WiH give us strength and self-control. for ell the coming years; Will teach ua by the very smart That piereea thro’ our own, To wound no more the breaking heart, Nor live for ttlf alone. Slitl would the dream be all noblest, But for one constant friend; Hope whispers of the coming rest And joys that will not end. She shows us 'mid oar doubts and fears The home we call our own, And bids us see thro' smiles and tears, “The rainbow round the throne.” For the Agitator. The Tear of an Infant. [TRANSLATED FROM TOE FRENCH.] Fancy yourself seated in the farge parley of an actor in one of the theatres of Paris. From six o’clock till midnight are assembled actors, directors, authors, dramatists and journalists. There one ‘ converses—not in order to slander, but to converse. Among friends, none are constrained, but the bright ttream of thought has uninterrupted How-aa the warmth of the heart giving freedom'to ibe tongue. In one of these assemblages, after hastily renewing the news of the day, the conversa tion took a more metaphysical turd. "One cinnot cure himself of fear,” said one. “Na ture has created us daring, or timid, and her decrees we cannot reverse ; so, also, were (recreated repulsive, or attractive, cold, or ardent in our attachments ; likewise, either inclined to virtue or to vice. Hence, the fal lacy of the idea that men are what education tniltes them.” ■ “Come,’’ said one of the auditors, “what you say stivers of materialism, and that of the most grievous character. If humanity had been thus made, it would be naught but a pest. It would be like pulling a stone to (he neck, to bind one, and then casting him in the river. Is it that you believe, for ex ample, that he who has faults, vices, or pas sions, cannoi correcLlhem 1” “Of faults perhaps, or habits contracted , he may ; bul of vices, never. I defy you lo show me a convened miser, for instance.” “There is a converted miser among us,” cried one of the most distinguished of the dramatists, whose unbounded benevolence is proverbial til! the present day. “You have ever been a miser?” cried one. “Yes, the more I had the more miserly I became, Bul a circumstance occurred which has radically cured me of this infirmity.” “And what has effected such a marvelous cure?” “A tear of an infant." Here the attention was redoubled, and all eagerly gathered around the convert. “It was in 1834,” said he, “I came to give lo the theatre, ope of my pieces, which to this day has,brought me the greatest sum of ntouey, and pardon my.egotism-when I say it, ms won no smalf renown. I received two letters at me same time. One announced to me that the great expense attendant upon the representation of my drama, and other diffi culties attending, demanded my persona! at tendance immediately. The other ran as fellows, ‘Sir.- The wife of your deceased brother •nd her little daughter are dying in poverty. A little assistance from you may arrest death sad restore them to health. 'Signed, f Db. Lambert.’ "I crushed the letter with an angry ges lute. Meanwhile the proposition relative to the theatre demanded an immediate response. i' e v A* t 0 m y sister-in-law, I thought of , er ° at little, that is, I tried to banish the ou £ltt of her, whenever her suffering con 'tton presented itself to my mind. Some )ws before, my brother, since lost at sea, iDr ° rinin S me °1" b'* alliance with the “Sa'er of a poor fisherman whose only ow ry was a good heart and beautiful eyes. m 'Saamly responded to him in no mild Moer, and severely upbraided him for thus la s Unn >indful of his pecuniary interests. oreionne, the subject of my displeasure, 31 Was her name (became acquainted j o ' s entiments in regard to her, and bc ® t ra 'l’ er a P r °ud, independent nature,, roomed with fine sensibilities, she very nat bk conce ' ve d 8 sort of contempt and dis feurU me ’ BO muc l' so > 'hat when she loth | se^a P°° r i helpless widow, reduced raik ° West dre S s poverty, she resolved SO( j er i 0 die than appeal to me for sympathy re I • Hut her firmness relaxed, and her crib r' 011 wa r ered > as B * le saw ,n litHo (• ere ’ r ° m day re day, the patient little suf. »ho was becoming daily more and more iip ale d' an d fast passing away. «Dd , relonne > as w ® have said, was proud, omnipotence of a mother’s love * )arr ‘ ers °f her reserve, and she Wofid -i DOl herself to wriie to me, but lo ant h • * * rile c ' rcomsta < > ces to her attend- She Ma C ' an ’ atlt * solicit, at least, his advice. »ith ° t **' m extreme poverty, and his o* • ? ce he saw that ■ the true cause of 0 e f*'[ eal ' a illness was merely insufficiency *aaißh ™ was Dna ble to ministeno their • but at last obtained permission to ap -10 his° m ? s y* n P a, hies. AS I had not replied feiterJnl- * c a PP eat > in his simplicity he «o h'wself that 1 was hastening thither w hich . W|D B B °f love, and the first words with n DB Seeled me were these : 'God will YOL. V. recompense you for this good action. You have coroe just in time to cheat ihe grave of its victim. Good souls are always prompt. God will reward you.’ This eulogium fell upon my ears and stung my heart like- the language of bitter irony, and yet I had not the courage to tell him that it was Unmerited, for what man ever declined praise! My first visit which I had decided should be only to the theatre, was directed lo ray sister-in-law. I (bund her in a miserable hovel, everything indicative of the keenest want. In a crib; was lying a sweet little child, of a peculiarly interesting appearance. -Fine intelligence was imprinted on her phys iognomy, and a resigned gravity such as habitual suffering alone can create, seemed (o have settled upon her innocent features, throwing a subdued shade over her youthful heart. For tho Agitator. “Silently 1 contemplated her, and began to fear lest my heart might not prove impervious to the quiet, though powerful pleading of her large, dark eyes and emaciated figure. Nev er, till now, had l comprehended the attract ive power of infancy—the irresistable fasci nation which sways even the most obsti nate, whose hearts seem closed to all the gen tler emotions which love prompts and which brighten life’s pathway. “My first impression was to clasp the little child to my uearl; but sordid avarice quickly suggested to me a horrid thought: I said, ‘lf-I allow myself to be moved, I am lost; for it will create for me new duties without number. There will be constant draughts upon my bank, and it may continue for years.’ “The thought of thus becoming involved in expenses, struck me with terror, and I re coiled, as one would who saw a frightful abyss open in bis path. "The good doctor stood stupefied. He could not divine the cause of my abstraction, and thought very naturally, that my silence ■was attributable to painful emotions, and my fright fij, the apparent struggle between life and death. This supreme selfishness, con flicting with the gentler promptings of (he soul; this hesitation of avarice in the face of suffering, seemed to him to be (he workings of the tender heart, and with a melancholy smile upon his lips, he approached me and taking my hand he soothingly said: “ 'Sir, the sight of this extreme misery touches you ; but medicine must always fa miliarize itself with the aspect of disease be fore it tries to cure. You are the only phy sician for these poor creatures, whose suffer ing alone results from an insufficiency of food. Draw nearer.’ VIXQIKIA. “He conducted me to a pallet of straw, where such a sight met my gazd that the cold drops of sweat fell from my forehead, and shame with its piercing fangs seemed to tear my very heart, whilst conscience was sealing my doom. “When Bretohne perceived us so near her she made an effort to rise. There was a complex expression on her countenance — that of sadness blended with pride, the for mer, however, predominating. She steadily regarded me, but seemed resolved lo solicit no favors. After a painful pause and with much emotion, she raised her thin, trembling hand, and pointed to her daughter, ‘Behold an angel of Heaven who will soon be left motherless I’ “This brief bul touching appeal did not conquer me. My hardness had only fear of the child, and carefully guarding myself, 1 responded coolly, ‘Why have you such fear ful apprehensions? You are (young. You have a goad physician, and you need not despair.’ The kind doctor then added, ‘And you have Just had a brother arrive whose hap piness will be to make ypu forget your past griefs by restoring your comforts lo you.— Count upon him. He will be a father lo your child.’ “1 added not a word. 1 was horrified, and I only questioned with myself how I could plan an escape and lopever close my eyes on the scene. Oh, worship of Gold I Thou art rife with infamies and shame of the blackest dye I “Bul the charming little child steadily re garded me, rather with interest and surprise than affright. She modestly approached me and look my hand from that of the doctor’s, and pointing me lo the side of her mother’s bed, said, in a voice the sweetest in the world, ‘Please sit down there, for now you are too high, and I cannot embrace you if you don’t hold me.’ “1 sealed myself and she sprang upon my knees. Bretonne, seeing this, raised her eyes to Heaven and seemed to pray. As for me, 1 fell that the crisis bad arrived, and again 1 tried lo steel my heart for the ordeal which too plainly I saw approaching. I said to myself, ‘I owe nothing lo this woman and child, and am not under the slightest shade of an obligation to relieve them. The future is vast and full of peril, and to sacrifice would be imprudence and folly. 1 1 tried lobe firm, and knitting my- brow , I regarded the child. She in turn regarded me. Her childish con fidence and innocent gaze were destined to loosen the mighty glacier from my heart, and as a last resort she threw her little arms around my neck aod-aaitf in a clear, winning voice, ■ ■ “ ‘Do you wish lo be my papa, and have me love you ? You look- so much like my dear, dead papa, who lies under the waves. He bad a wicked air just like you have, but he was so good. He could make great eyes just like you, and I was never afraid of bins, Ateyou so-good I—You !’ “There was such a sWeetj childish grace in this appeal, that 1 trembled from very fear, lest she might find thd avenues to my heart, and I'rudely unclasped her arms from around my neck, and without saying a word was THE AGITATOR. 3edote9 to tfje Sfctcn»{<w of tfce area of iFreettom anU tije Spread of ffieaXtfcg a&eforntl ■WHILE THEBE SHALL BE A WEONO UNSIGHTED, AND UNTIL “ MAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN” SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE. WELLSBORO. TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING. NOVEMBER 4, 1858. about to place her upon the floor, when I read in her countenance such a doleful expression of surprise and grief, that involuntarily I re tained her one moment when I felt a hot tear drop fall burning on my hand ; yea, 1 felt it in my neart. It was enough. A sudden re vulsion came over me, and my avarice loom ed up before me in all its hateful hideousness. I blushed at myself. “Without longer wishing to combat with natural impulses, I was content to be sensible of them, and obey their gentle promptings. Henceforth I would let my heart guide me, and placing my hand on the head of the child, I vowed before ils mother, and before God, that no child should be.cherished more ten derly than would I cherish the little one be fore me. “When Bretonoe heard me thus speak, a si range expression of bewilderment and joy sat upon her countenance. She tried to speak, but could not, and her bosom only heaved with emotions conflicting within.— The doctor was alarmed; for he thought the strength of her joy too great for her weak stale. Soon, However she breathed more free ly, and began to acknowledge that she had wronged me so much by entertaining unkind thoughts toward me. , “I interrupted her with some acknowledg ments on my own part, when the good doc tor wisely ordered silence, as her present state would not permit excitement. I deposited with the doctor a sum of mon ey sufficient to supply every want, and has tened to attend to my other business. * * “Returning I found them happily located in a cozy retreat, where every want was an ticipated and provided for. Bretonne met me with an animated expression, and in the happiness of the moment I misinterpreted the ruddy glow of her cheeks and the increased brilliancy of her eyes as indications of re turning health. But when I heard her hectic cough, I was led to analyze the rose upon her cheek, and cooscious fear with its pale fingers traced upon my heart the painjul truth that the ‘root thereof was death.’ ‘ j “Two months flew swiftly by. Yes, swift ly, for I had learned to count lime by heart throbs. I had allowed my heart to follow its nobler impulses, and expand in the radiant sunlight of a common humanity. I loved to breathe this new atmosphere, and to be near the gen tle being to whom 1 considered myself in debted lor all ray newly found joys. That tear I precious pearl I which fell from her eyes and which my soul received—which has been to it as the drop of dew to the opening flower. “My gray locks and forty years seemed to have been entirely forgotten by both mother and child, as the former, in order to gratify a desire expressed by the latter, assented that I should indeed be her father. But'alas! our hopes were only kindled to be quenched; for scarcely were the words uttered, ere dis appointment folded her sable wings over the bright dream. “A heavenly serenity overspread her coun tenance, and a smile, such as wreathe the lips of immortals played around her pale lips, and feeling her hand growjepld in mine, too truly I felt that she was passing away. “She remained silent a moment, and then reviving, said, ‘Brother, I thank you format ing me so happy. Oh! so happy. You will ever love my orphan child I —you will’ ; here she was unable to proceed. “I was not terrified, but -I was awed into silence by the majesty of the scene. “Presently reviving, again she said, — 'Brother, this is not the darkness of night, but the aurora of a beautiful day, the vesti bule of eternity, and the portal of Heaven and pressing my band she added, '1 leave you here. Adieu.’ ” Lawrenceville. Altaic. Minister’s Walk and Conversation. — The editor of the North Carolina Presbyte rian, who is at the Virginia Springs, has heard a good story of Speaker Orr and the Rev. Dr. W., of Lexington. Not long since, the story goes, they were both at the Warm Springs, and met in a public room of the ho tel. They hud been silting with other com pany, and after a while the doctor rose and walked across the room with the usual limp in his gait. Mr. Orr immediately recognized him, and asked if he were not the chaplain at the University of Virginia at such a time, naming the year. The doctor replied that he was. “I was there,” said Mr. Orr,.“a student at the University, and I knew you by your limp.” “Well,” said the doctor, “it seems that my limping made a deeper im pression on you than my preaching." The joke placed Mr. Orr in an awkward predica ment, and most men would have been unable to extricate themselves, but he replied with ready wit“Ah, doctor, it is the highest compliment, we can pay a minister to say he is known by his walk rather than by his con versation. Somebody writes from an American vessel in the Chinese waters, that a worthy mission ary had scattered several copies of the Ten Commandments on the shore. The next day they were sent back with the request that they might be distributed among the French apd English, for the tracts contained admira ble doctrines, and these people evidently much needed them. The Forensic “We.” —Barristers have a ludicrous habit of identifying themselves with their clients by speaking in the plural number. “Centlemen' of the Jury,” said a luminary of the western circuit, “at the mo ment the policeman says he saw us at thp tap, | will prove that we 'were locked up in the station house, in a slate of intoxication." The Innkeeper’s Story. ST HU. HARRIET MDIXT. About seventeen years after the close of the revolutionary war, a stranger arrived at a principal (own in one of our eastern States, .and on being shown to a respectable public house, informed the landlord, whoso name was Jedson, that it was his intention to. re main there several days. There was nothing* extraordinary in the arrival of a stranger in •the town, and yet the landlord of the Inn before mentioned, could not help regarding this stranger with peculiar attention. He was rather inclined towards - the' vale of years, and evidently in’ill health, and there was something in his countenance and in his air, rhe forcibly drew the attention of the'worthy Jedson towards him, and which seemed to recal the far off remembrance of other times and other scenes; he communicated his feelings to his wife, and added, “if it were possible, Mary, I should say that I have seen this stranger before, and on the very night when we first saw our poor Eva 1” “But if it is not possible,” echoed (he good Mrs. Jedson, “he would have known you at once ; besides such a wretch would not have been permitted to cumber the earth so long. It is only a fancy, dear husband; and for pity’s sake don’t speak of it to poor Eva—it will put her in mind of all her troubles !’’ The good man promised caution—and went to take one more look at the stranger. Woman’s curiosity is proverbial; and the excellent wife of the innkeeper was not with out her share; but a stronger motive than mere idle curiosity, impelled her to feign an excuse for entering the parlor appointed for the stranger, and she forthwith followed her good man. Long and intense was the scru tiny with which the usually modest and quiet dame regarded the elegant looking guest, who reclined apparently buried in thought, in an arm chair which occupied a recess near the fire place. The stranger looked up, met her ardent gaze, and started. Seventeen years had not wrought so great a change in the person of the landlady as might have been expected ; for an innocent and active life had aided a constitution naturally robust, and she still appeared much the same as she had fourteen years back. The stranger felt he had seen her before : he passed his hand over his flushed face, and addressed to her some trivial question. The lone of her voice in answering seemed to strike upon his ear as one remembered, but he said nothing. “We have seen him before, Josiah,” said the landlady to her husband, when alone. “He has not yet met the punishment due to his misdeeds. What shall we say 1 some thing, we most do J” .. “It is indeed him,” returned Jedson; “what can have brought him here! it would kill Eva to see him—luckily, she is confined by a cold up stairs—but to-morrow Fanny returns. He shall see Fanny ; she is the image of what her mother was when he first saw her; if he is the person we suppose, he must be struck with the likeness. My mind misgives me strongly, but 1 think he has only come here to die.” “I hope he will render justice before he goes to bis great account,” returned the zealous matron. “He will, wife, he will!” replied her hus band ; “there is that in his face which be speaks a broken spirit; he has a contrite heart, depend upon it; and if it is him, he will do justice as far as he cau.” The next morning the stranger was much indisposed, and Fanny, who had returned from an excursion, was seat by her grand mother, as she called Mrs. Jedson, lo his apartment with some refreshment. The guest started as she entered, and as she drew near he became dreadfully agitated. Fanny was alarmed, but unwilling to leave him thus, remained riveted to the spot where she stood. At length the invalid, conquering his emotion, made an effort lo receive the re freshment from the hand of the unconcious cause of his agitation, and as if impelled by some irresistible motive, inquired her name. “Fanny, sir, Fanny Jedson,” answered lhe agitated girl, ns blpshing, find courlesying, she withdrew. “It is her very image,” murmured the guest; “who is this gir-1? how came she here? so beautiful ! so fair, to conjure up re membrances so painful! recalling a form never to be forgotten.” In a few moments he had summoned the landlord, who was prepared by Fanny’s strange agitation, to hear interrogations which he was resolved to answer in his own way. The gentleman requested Jedson to be seated, said be was lonely and should like a little chat, and after a few preliminary re marks, enquired of his companion, if the pretty girl he had just left was his daughter or his grand daughter. “She is neither,” answered the old man ; “but I love her as much as if she was.” “But she bears your name,” resumed the stranger. “She does," returned the innkeeper, "be cause, the poor thing 1 she has no other. However, it is an honest name, and never was coupled with a treacherous deed; so perhaps it suits the child as well as another.” “She is then an adopted child ?” enquired the invalid, in a bumble voice. “Why, sir,” replied Jedson, “I'll tell you the story, and how I came by the girl, and if you do not join with me in saying that her father was a villain, you will be the first who has differed from me in that opinion. But as I said before, I’ll tell you the story. “It was about the time when tba British were about leaving Boston—l did not live here theft, sir—l kept an htn on the Boston road ,* efld adtpewhere about that time, ope evening, a chaise drove into our yard, aqd an officer, sir, a British officer alighted, and handed out a young lady ; a sweet, pretty creature; she. appeared melancholy, and somehow my wife and I both- thought that she did not look like an officer’s? lady, but just like one of our New England young women, so modest'and unassuming. Well, the officer called for a room and.ja sppper, and desired that bis horse mighfl be taken cafe -oT, as they were to go on directly.— Curiosity, you know, sir, is natural I|o women ; people say, to New England worsen in par ticular. However, the yonng woman who went into the stranger’s room to lay the cloth, and attend on the table, said, whed| she came out, that she had looked sharp at! the lady, and that she kept crying all the] time, and never tasted a morsel of supper.J My wife_ who is as stout as a lion in the cause of her sex could not rest a minute; she was afraid the poor girl was unhappy ; perhaps going away against her will; and speakjto her she would ! So she took an opportunity when ■the officer went out, to go the room where the young lady was, to asklherif any thing troubled her. The poor young thing said she was grieved at the thoughts of leav ing her home. “Then why do you go, my dear?” inquired roy good woman, “is the gentleman a relation of yours ?” }‘He is my husband,” said the girl; and shel looked up so innocent and quiet, that my wife was com forted about her, and contented herself with giving her all the consolation she qpuld, about leaving her home, since she was'jgbing with her husband; and my good woman contrived to speak a few words with the gentleman, akd begged him to lake great care of such a gentlecrealure; and he promised he would. On going away the young lady clatne to my wife and said softly, “If you hear any one speak of Eva Hayward, tell (hem she has gone to England with her husband.” My wi/e promised she would.. They drove off, sir, anci we never expected to see them again; but my good spouse could never forge.t the circumstance, and often spoke of the young girl, and said her mind misgave ter that she was not happy. Well, about two years af terwards, it was in winter, sir, a young woman got out of a wagon that ’passed that way, and came into our bouse. She had a babe in her arms, and it was crycng bitterly. The wagon it seems had taken hpr up three miles beyond, and she had askpd.io be set down at the first house. We knew her in a minute. It was the girl who went away with the British officer! She knew tte too, as ill as she was, for she was nearly Mead ; ' she told us her pitiful story—she had lived with her .uncle, who was her only relation living, in Boston, where she became acquainted with this officer. Her uncle hated the British; and forbade her lo speak to one of them. But this one', sir, she loved; apd when a woman loves, she is ready to forsake every thing lo follow her husband; He stole her away from her uncle’s house, E)nd married her privately. They were on their way to embark for England when they i, stopped at our bouse. Well, sir, they arrived in Eng land, and she says he appeared tojidolize her, and she was happy ; but it was pot lo last I After some sirange conduct on hiS part, he at length told' her he could no longer conceal from her that he had been married previous lo his coming to this country, that his wife was living, and he could not entirely estra’hge himsolf from her; that his violent passion for her had induced him lo do What he had done that he repented, and shohld always love her alone. I shall not repeat all that Eva said,” continued Jedson ; “bin the.resull was, that she scorned his promisejof support ing her and her child in affluence, and re solved to quit the villain who had so basely deceived her ; she chose a lime when he was absent, and secured her passage in a vessel bound for home. She applied lo sev eral, but sailed in the one whichf-was ready first. When she arrived in America, she de teimined lo throw herself uponp her uncle’s mercy, but when so far on he i journey lo him, she was obliged lo stop to gal her strength and courage to proceed. We made enqui ries about her uncle ; he was chad and his estate left lo strangers, in his will, Poor Eva and her baby had no friend and no home! We kept her with us. God has blessed our means, they have both been treasures to us. We removed to this town, and have lived here eight years; this girl you taw is Eva’s child.” o “And her mother !” gasped out the stran ge- . i “She, too, is here, and still deals upon the wretch who has never made one enquiry about hef or her child.” i “lamht/ I believed them | dead,” ex claimed the unhappy invalid ; “luring me my child ! I will explain, 1 will alette for all !” The proud officer was humbled before the simple innkeeper—he saw amf- blessed his wondering daughter, and not (faring lo ask to behold her her mother, he in erms of deep contrition, informed Jedson tba ?Eva was in reality his wife; lhal after his arrival in England he was urged by his friends to fulfil an engagement with a wealthy lady lo whom he had long been contracted, and the mar riage was only delayed on account of his enforced departure; that, dresding'jthe re sentment of his family, and overwhelmed with shame for his inconstancy, he at length resolved to impose on Eva thu tale of bis previous marriage, trusting thai her devotion to him, and her destitute site alien among strangers, would induce her tq be content with possessing his love, while another bore bis name. But on returning efler a tempo rary absence sod learning her departure his grief and remorse knew no hot ads. He en quired concerning all tfio vessels that salted . for America, and learned that ft female and a child, answering lo his description of Eva and her babe r -had gone in opeofHhem. That “ -f Rates of Acl returns, j Advertisements will be charged SI per square of I* fourteen lines, for one, or three insertions, and 2S cents fur everysubsequcnt insertion. All advertise, ments of less than fourteen lines considered as ■ r j equate. The following rates will be charged Id; ' ' . Quarterly, ftalf-Yearly and Yearly advertising:— 1 i 3 months. 6 months. 13 mo’s [ ] Square,(l4lines,) •$2 50 $4 50 $6 00 S Squares,- .... 400 600 800 i column, 10 00 15 00 $0 00 column,. . . . .18 00 30 00 40 00 All advertisements nut having the number of ia ■ sections marhed upon them, will be kept in until or. dured.out.aud charged accordinglv. Posters, Handbills, Btll.and Letter Heads, and all W * Kinds of Jobbing done in country establishments,, executed neatly and promptly. Justices’, Consla. Wes’ and other BLANKS, constantly on hand and printed to order. 14 * vessel was- wrecked, and (he miserable hus band and father believed himself bereft of those he bad so fondly loved and so deeply injured. He never fulfilled his marriage con tract, nor lost the remembrance of his first and martyred love. He bad been for many years an invalid, and at length resolved to visit the land and birth-place of bis lovely victim. The result is known, except that (be gentle Eva saw, pitied and forgave her repentant husband; and heal’h and happiness again visited the reunited pair, and the worthy Jedson and his excellent wife, were sharers of the happiness they had been the means of promoting; and the father-of the beautiful Fanny never forgot the impressions made by the innkeeper’s story. TEACHER’S COLUMN. [We extract ihe fallowing from an article pn “Punctuation” in tbe Indiana School Journal, a monthly published at Indianapo fis, at SSL,OO per annum, and edited by W, D. Henkle and others. The articles are good and as a whole the Journal is very, instruct, ive. Teachers and persons wishing a good educational Journal will do well to send for this.] The subject of Punctuation being discussed in the latter part of works upon grammar, it generally happens that students do not reach it, or if they do, it is at the close of the term, when they are compelled to go over the sub ject in a few lessons. A subject so import 'ant should not be thus slighted. We are satisfied that a careful study of Wilson's Punctuation, a book of 334 pages, would re suit in the acquirement of much practical knowledge. A knowledge of Punctuation is essential to type-sellers and proof-readers, but it should not be inferred that such know), edge must be confined to them, and that copy may, therefore, be sent to the printer unpunctuated. It is very common nowa days for authors to make up for their igno rance of Punctuation by using the dash when they do not know what else to use. The compositor, or Ihe proof-reader, may not in’ many cases be able to decide our meaning, if we neglect to punctuate. Suppose we had written in our notice of the Stale Meeting in the last number, page 259, “Addresses were 'made by Barnabas Hobbs the President Prof. John Young Hon. R. W. Thompson and the Rev. Jos. G. Wilson how would the com positor have known whether Hobbs or Young was the President, or whether either was the President. We will punctuate the sentence according to these three ideas : “Addresses Were made by Barnabas Hobbs the President, Prof. John Young, Hon. R. W. Thompson, and the Rev. Jos. G. Wilson “Addresses were made by Barnabas Hobbs, the Presi dent Prof. John Young, Hon. R. W. Thomp son, and the Rev. Jos. G. Wilson and “Addresses were made by Barnabas Hobbs, the President, Prof. John Young, Hon. R. Vljt. Thompson, and the Rev. Jos. G. Wil ■ajSh.’ 1 The first idea might also be brought otii by writing “Barnabas Hobbs (the Presi dent,”) &c. This style we did actually use on the next page, in our notice of the Ohio Slate Meeting, in the sentence “Addresses were delivered by the President (M. P. Cou dery,) Prof. Robert Allyn, of Ohio Univer sity, formerly Superintendent of Schools in Rhode Island, and Rev. W. Clark, Editor of the Ladies’ Repository.’’ We may also punctuate the sentence as follows; “Ad dresses were made by Barnabas Hobbs, the President; Prof. John Young ; Hon. R. W. Thompson ; and Ihe Rev. Jos. G. Wilson.” For the convenience of those teachers who desire to impress upon their pupils the im portance of Punctuation, the following illus trative examples have been collected : In No. 742 of Littell’s Living Aga (14th August, 1838,) we find in an article on “Ghosts of the Old and Neva School," from The National Review, the following sen tence : _“They grasp the sceptre as if it were a walking stick, and hold i disembodied spirit hard and fast by the button.” There should have been a hyphen between “walking” and “stick” if the writer meant a cane, but if he meant a slick that was walk ing, it is right as it is. The hyphen will frequenily produce quite a change in the meaning of a phrase or sen tence. The New York Tribune, The Broad Axeof Freedom, Green Mountain Boys, and An Intellectual Arithmetic Class, mean a new Tribune published at York, an Axe-of- Freedom that is broad, mountain boys that are green, and an Arithmetic Class that is in tellectual : but The New-York Tribune, The Broad-Axe of Freedom, Green-Mountain Boys, and An Intellectual-Arithmetic Class have quite a different signification. Observe the effect of the use of a comma in thq following sentences; George Washington was a great general; Mary Jane has lost her book; Thomas Charles went to college; and Boys go to school; which become: George, Washing ton was a great generaj; Mary, Jane has lost her book; Thomas, Charles went to college ; and Boys, go to school. Observe the effects of punctuation in the .following : “The persons in the coach were Mr. Mil. ler ; a clergyman ; his son ; a lawyer ; Mr. Angelo ; a foreigner; his lady; and a little child.” The persons inside the coach were Mr. Miller; a clergyman, hia son ; a lawyer, Mr. Angelo; a foreigner, his lady ; and a little' child.? ; Several other modes pf punctuating this' sentence may he adoptpt}, tvhjeh «-illgi»e Still other muampgs. ‘ Punctuation. 1
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers