~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»{