Tera uot Publlcßilon. _ IIP TIOGA COUNTY AGITATOR is pub "““ Thursday Morning, and mailed to sub laoad eK Mt y reenable price of Oim Dot jcriWi**" inuariaily in advance. It is in tend us per a” ' _ gn b 3 drihs r when the term for ed w, 1.,, paid shall hare expired, by the stamp flbich na r; on margin 0 f the last paper. —"‘ uae r will then be stopped ontJl a further re- Tht P*! 16 ecc ired. By this arrangement no man mlllence . n deM t 0 ,h e printer, eifh® ° t Tpg is the Official Paper of the Coon T®* * larse >n changed, and much I marvel now! That hope its blinding radiance erst did throw Over the future, and such visions bring Ai only from the untaught heart can spring.. Bat now, world-wise, the stern, cold teal I know; Life's bright ideal laded Tong age! Yes it fass vanished—naught is’left me now But a calm seeming for my throbbing brow; Abiding of the spirit’s restless pain, Ai memory brings those childhood.hopes again, Which bnoyed my spirits many a toilsome day, Dinled—then faded from my life.away. Sieeneottle, lons. Wonders of the Human System. Faley applauds the contrivance by which everything we eat and drink is made to glide on us road to the gullet, over the entrance of ibe wind-pipe, without falling into it. A little movable lid, the epiglottis, which is lifted up when we breathe, is pressed down upon the chink of the air-passage by the weight of the food and the action of the muscles in swallowing it. Neither solids nor fluids, in short, can pass without shutting down the trap-door as they proceed. But this is only a part of the safeguard. The slit at the top of the wind-pipe, which never closes entirely while we breathe, is endued with an acute sensibility to the slightest par ticle of matter. The least thing which touches the margin of the aperture causes its sides to come firmly together, and the intru ding body is stopped at the inlet. It is stopped, but unless removed, must drop at the next inspiration into the lungs. To effect its ex pulsion, the sensibility of the rim at the top of the wind-pipe actually puts into vehement action a whole class of muscles placed l lower than its bottom,and which, compressing the chest over which they were distributed, drives out the air with a i force that sweeps the offending substance before it. The con vulsive coughing which arises when we are choked is the energetic Effort of nature for our relief when anything chances to have evaded the protective epiglottis. Yet this properly, to which we are constantly owing our lives, is confined to a single spot in the throat. 1 1 does not, as Sir Charles Bell affirms, belong to the rest of the wind-pipe, but is limited to the orifice, where alone it is needed. Admirable, too, it is to observe, that while thus sensitive to the utmost insig aificanl atom, it bears without resentment the atmospheric currents which are inces umly passing to and fro over its irritable hp*. “It rejects,” says Paley, “the touch of a crumb, ora drop of water, with a spasm which convulses the whole frame; yet, left 'o itself and its proper office, the intromis- Jiooofair alone, nothing can be so quiet, “does not even make itself felt ; a man does not know that he has a trachea. This ca pacity of producing with such acuteness this impatience of yet perfect rest and *a»e when let alone, are properties one would have thought not likely to reside in the same subject, i It ia the junction, however, of these almost inconsistent qualities, in this, as well as in other delicate parts of the body, that wo owe our safety and our comfort—our sa * el y 10 'heir sensibility, our comfort to their repose. •Anoiher of ihe examples adduced by Belt •s inal of the heart. The famous Dr. Har ne{.elam>nedi at the request of Charles I. a 0 eraan of ihe Montgomery family, who, 0 consequence-of an abscess, bad a fistulas opening into ihe chest, through which the fart, c ' ou [ ( l be seen and handled. The great P jsiologisi was astonished to find it iosea .l e ’. 'ben brought him,” says he, “to * ln 8; ‘hat he might behold and touch so ‘•ordinary a thing, and that he might per the' 6 ** '***' un * ess *hen we touch 1 , ouler s hin, or when he saw our fingers ,, e <* v i, J.this young nobleman knew not ,*etouched the heart.” Yet it is to the o ir tr We re^er our joysf our sorrows and it'lt ° nS ’ we speak of a good-hearted, a true-hearted, and a heart . m sn. Shielded from physical violence „j.. ao ou,w °rk of bones, it is not invested a3ij; BtnSal - ons w hich could have contributed ben, 0 ® t 0 ' ts . preservation, but while it can (l -‘, 0n oP 'he fact to its possessor, it unmis >hs res P°nds to the varied emotions of •’ anc * 'be geneial consent of Utes • 15 P ronouac ed the seal of our pleas- P«r«J ri^ 8 ’ Bym P al bies, hatreds and love. f fQ ,* b*ve frequently dropped down dead °t tin 8 , ve ' l * n >ence with which it contracts M U P° n 'be audden annoucement of "tainM Dew .* —'*s muscular walls being direct! lo ° 'b® u P w *rd or downward of (t. 00 to enable them to return —and one b*»rt j PurpoBes which this property of Ihe puta jP'fjbably designed to subserve is to •brißinJ k U - P ° D 'b® passions through the Tho h P . ys'eal sensations they excite. tfi ain ‘ 0 £ a ' n >'s enclosed in a bony tut Ohftri ,i QUr seniatioDs ere depend-. r° ‘be nerve*, but even the serves do I THE AGITATOR SefroteO to tfje SSpttttffion of t&e area of iFmOom a«a t&e SprtaO of meultfjs Mtfovm. WHILE THEBE SHALL BE A WRONG UNSIGHTED, AND UNTIL “MAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN” SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE. VOL. Y. not give rise to feeling, unless they ere in connection with the bruin. Xha nervous chord which, in familiar language, is called the spinal marrow, ii the channel by wbicb this communication is kept up to the major part of them, and when the section of what ■may be termed the great (runkroad for the conveyance of our sensations is diseased, and hy the breach in its continuity the nerves below the disordered part can no longer send its accustomed intelligence to the brain, the portion of the b'pdy which thus becomes iso lated may be burned or hacked, and no moie pain will result ihan if it belonged to a dead carcass instead of to a living man. The brain, therefore,.in subordination to the mind, is the physical centre of all sensation. Yet, strange to say, it is itself insensible to the wounds which are a torture to the skin, and which wounds alone the brain enables us to feel. “It is as insensible,” says Sir Charles Bell, “as the leather of our shoes, and a piece may be cut off without interrupting the patient in the sentence that he is uttering. Because the bone which envelopes it is its protection against injuries from without, it has no perception of them when directed against its own fabric, though it is at the same lime the sole source of the pain which those injuries inflict upon the other portions of the system. But the skull is no defease against the effects of intemperance, or a vitiated atmosphere, or 100 great mental toil. To these consequently the same brain which has been created insensible to the cut of the knife, is rendered fully alive, and giddi ness, headache, and apoplectic oppression gives ample notice to ui lb stop the evil, unless we are prepared to pay the penalty. Spanish Beauty. The Spanish women are very interesting. What we associate with the idea of female beauty is not perhaps, very common in this country. There are seldom those seraphic countenances which strike you dumb, or blind, but faces in abundance which will nev er pass without commanding admiration.— Their charms consist in their sensibility.— Each incident, every word, every person, touches the fancy of a Spanish lady and, her expressive features are constantly confuting the creed of the Moslem. But there is noth ing quick, harsh, or forced about her. She is extremely unaffected, and nolat all French. Her eyes gleam rather than sparkle ; she speaks with vivacity, but in sweet tones, and there is in all her carriage, particularly when she walks, a certain dignified grace which □ever deserts her, and which is very remark able. The general female dress in Spain is of black silk, a hasquina, and a black silk shawl, a mantilla, with which they usually envelop their heads. As they walk along in this costume on an evening, with their soft, dark eyes dangerously conspicuous, you wiU linglv believe in their universal charms,— They are remarkable for the beauty of their hair. Of this they are very proud, and in deed its luxuriance is equalled only by the attention which they lavish on its culture, I have seen a young girl of fourteen, whose hair reached her feet, and was as glossy as the curl of a Contessa. All the day long, even the lowest orders are engaged in brush ing, curling, and arranging it. A fruit wo man has her hair dressed with as much care as the Duchess of Ossuna. In the summer they do not wear their mantilla over their heads, but show their combs, which are of verv great size. The fashion of these combs varies constantly. Every two or three months you may observe a new form. It is the part of the costume of which a Spanish woman is most proud. The moment that a new comb appears, every servant wench will run to ihe metier’s with her old one, and thus, at the cost of a dollar or two, appear the next holi day in the newest siyle. These combs are worn at the back of the head. They are of tortoise shell, and with the very fashionable, they are white. I sat next to a lady of high distinction at a bull-fight at Seville. She was the daughter in law of the Captain Gen eral of the province, and the most beautiful Spaniard I ever met with. Her comb was while and she wore a mantilla of blonde, without doubt extremely valuable, for it was very dirty. The effect however, was charm ing. Her hair was glossy black, her eyes like an antelope’s, aud all her other feaiures deliciously soft. She was further adorned, which is rare in Spain, with a rosy cheek, for in Spain our heroines are raiher sallow. But they counteract this slight defect by nev er appearing until twilight, which calls them from their bowers, fresh, though languid from the late siesta. The only fault of the Spanish beauty is, that she too soon indulges in thn magnificence of embonpoint. There are, however, many exceptions. At seventeen, a Spanish beauty is poetical. Tall, lithe, and clear and grace ful as a jennet, who can withstand the sum mer lightning of her soft and languid glance ! As she dances, if she does not lose her shape, she resembles Juno raiher than Venus. Ma jestic she ever is, and if her feet be less twinkling than in her first boleroo, look on her hind, and yoa'lh forgive them all.— B. Ditraeli in Conlarina Fleming, Nobib Sentiments. —Condemn no man for not thinking' as you think. Let every one enjoy the full and free liberty of think ing for 1 himself. Let every man use his own judgment, since every man must give an ac count of himself to God. Abhor every ap proach, in any kind of degree, to the spirit of persecution. If you, cannot reason of per suade a man into the truth, never attempt to force him into it. If. love will not compel him, leave him to God, the Judge of all.— John Wesley. WELLSBORO, TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING, NOVEMBER 18, 1858. A Volunteer Bull Fight. I remember once seeing, when at school, a fight between two bulls. Although I could not have been more than eight years of age, I shall never forget the spectacle. It hap pened in this wise. Close by the school house—a very unpre tending edifice it was—ran a deep and rapid river. Across it had been thrown a high wooden bridge the hand-railing which time and the winds and the weather had entirely destroyed. The land on the opposite sides "of the stream was owned by different per sons and farmed by thorn respectively. One bright summer day—l remember it as it were yesterday—the hour of noon had arrived, and a frolicsome, fun-seeking troop of school boys were let loose for an hour’s recreation. All at once the bellowing and roaring of two bulls that had broken out of their enclos ure on each aide of the river attracted our at tention. The animls were not yet in sight of each other, but were approaching along the highway at a rale of speed which would cause them to meet near the centre of the high bridge which I have described, and be neath which, at some thirty feet, ran the riv er, between sleep banks. The more daring of us gathered near the bridge lining it, to see the anticipating fight. We were not disap pointed. Nearer and nearer approached the proud, pawing combaiams. Bashan never produced two brutes of fiercer aspect. They lashed their sides with their tails, they tore the ground with their feet. Occasionally they kneeled down, trying to gore the earth with their horns. And as yet they were con cealed, each Irom the other, by the ascent to the bridge at either end. Presently, as they simultaneously ascended the respective abut ments, they came full in sight of each other. The roar was mutual and actually tremen dous. Every urchin of us sprang into the fields, and ran'. Finding however, that we were not pursued, we hastily retraced our steps. There they were, quite as sensibly employed as some of their human imitators. Front to front their horns locked, every mus cle strained, they were fighting as only bulls can fight. It seemed an even match. Now one would press back his opponent a few paces, and presently you would hear quick, sharp, short steps, and his adversary would be pressed back in return. The struggling was hard, was leng, was savage. For a while neither obtained an advantage. Hitherto they had been pushing each other lengthwise of the bridge; suddenly they began to wheel, and in a moment were facing each other crosswise. They were at right angles with the length of the bridge, which shook, and creaked, and rocked again with their trampling and their terrible strife. It was the beasts—l could not tell which one of them, however made a desperate plunge forward and pressed his antagonist back, back, till there was but another step of the plank behind him and nothing. The moment was one of intense interest to us juvenile spectators. Never was the ,amphilhealre of Rome the scene of a more exciting combat. Another step backward, yes, the unfortunate bull was force d to take it! Back he is pressed and over he goes I Such a sight I never saw, I probably shall never see again. Imagine a bull pitched backward over a bridge and fallen at least thirty feet over and over I He turned onre or twice, probably ; I thought he turned fifty times, there seemed such a confusion of horns and feet revolving, flying through the air. But down he went; the water was deep and he disappeard, leaving a whirlpool of foam behind him, and making the river undu late far and wide with the concussion of his ponderous bulk. The other bull did not laugh, merely be cause bulls, as I supposed, could not. But we laughed and shouted our applause.— There stood the victor, looking directly down into the abyss below, into which he had hur ried his unlucky foe. He stood, however, but a moment, and then, as if frightened at the prospect, he retreated, with his head in the same pugnacious attitude as when in com bat—and over he too went on the opposite side of the brige, performing just as many and as ludicrous somersets as his adversary had done a minute before. It was scene to remember; and the performance called forth immense applause from the group of juvenile amateurs who witnessed it. In about five minutes both bulls might be seen, well sobered by their ducking, dripping wet, scratching up the steep gravelly banks, each on his own side of the river. “Those bulls will never fight any more” said a boy behind me. His prediction turned out cor. reel; for two more peaceably disposed bulls than they were, ever afterwards, could not have been found. Great Mistake. — A boy in Illinois, says the Hawkeye , during the exhibition of North’s circus, saw a great many side shows-around, and concluded that he would steal into one of them. Down upon his knees he got, and com menced crawling under, when suddenly he came in contact with the centre poles—and, upon looking up, he immediately discovered bis mistake. He had been crawling under a ynnng lady’s hooped skirls, mistaking them for the canvass of the show. The little fel low was badly frightened. Night Mare. —The way to raise this ani mal is simple: Fifteen minutes before bed time, cm up one dozen cold boiled potatoes, add a few slices of cold boiled cabbage, with five or six pickled cucumbers. Eat heartily, and wash.down with a pint of cream ale.— Undress and jump into bed.. Lie flat on your back, and in half an hour or thereabout, you will dream the devil is sitting on your chest, with the Bunker Hill Monument in his lap. eommimicatioru-f. For the Agitator. Familiar Letters on Geology, Etc. My Dear Mary ; Will you be so good as to open Hugh Miller’s “Testimony of the Rocks” at page 141. You will there find the bold declaration (bold for that time) of the youthful Chalmers, made in 1804: “The wri tings of Moses do not fix the antiquity of the globe.” The whole ebri slian world was star tled by the “bold infidelity” of the youog preacher, and ten thousand pulpits and a thou sand pens were ready to defend that religion which had been so daringly attacked in one of its strongholds. Men were so accustomed to the old fossil interpretation, that it had become to them a pan of self-evident truth, and as much enli lied to respect as the doqtrine of witchcraft in the palmy judicial days of Sir Matthew Hale. It would have been almost infidelity previous to (hat time to have even examined the Scriptures to see if there could be any other than the commonly received interpreta tion—rather, the universally received inter pretation. And yet now no scientific or even intelligent Christian finds in the first chapter of Genesis, anything to justify the old inter pretation. The world may have been in ex istence millions on millions of years for aught that appears in the Bible of our holy religion. Nay, more, the intelligent student of the Bible alone finds it difficult to make all things in that book plausibly consistent with the six-thousand-year theory. The old system of the earth’s chronology has been entirely discarded. Geological science has opened to the world a new data from which to compute the age of the gltibe. It is lime that when the Christian entered the bowels of the earth and examined the record written there by the. finger of God, he was startled by the new truth revealed, and being perhaps of weak faith, was ready to ex claim, “the Bible must be false.” Sadly and tearfully be was about to relinquish that path which has been to bis soul an anchor sure and steadfast, when the angel of his hope pointed him away from commentaries and fossilized opinions, to the Bible itself and bid him “pray and examine.” He did pray and ejxamine, and a new light sprung up in his soul; and his Bible was dearer than ever, and he pressed it closer to his heart, for he found that He who had written the volume of nature had written also the volume which had been the ground-work of his faith. “Science is the handmaid of religion.”— The deeper we go down into the earth, or the higher up among the stars, the stronger is our faith in the great Creator ; and at every step we take we are ready to exclaim, “Won derful ! wonderful are thy works, oh God!” and to cry out, “ihe book of Nature is in deed the revelation of Ihe God of Nature !” Human volumes may have truth written with in them, but that truth can only be made sure to our minds by its correspondence with the book of God. Everything that has been subject to the care and supervision of man, may have error ; but the great book of God never tells an untruth ; in that there have been no interlineations, or erasures, or addi tions, or suppressions, or mistranslations.— It is the record of God’s doings, written by God himself, with his own materials, and on tablets of his own manufacture. Hence, my dear Mary,—and do not be startled, for the Christian’s Bible, as science advances, becomes dearer to him, and every step of science but adds new proof that that book too is the book of God—hence if the Bible should be contradicted by God’s great book of Nature, I should discard the former and cleave to ihe latter. But science never shook ihe faith of the intelligent Christian, for he finds in science itself additional proof of the divine origin of his religion, though at times science may point him to errors of in terpretation, and even errors of translation. And now, as Dr. Chalmers was a little in advance of his times when he announced the new and startling truth that “the writings of Moses do not fix the antiquity of the globe,” so 1 may be deemed ahead even of these times, and may like him be denounced a* “infidel,” when I announce as my firm be lief that “the writings of Moses do not fix the antiquity of the creation of man.” Read the (bird and fourth lectures in the “Testimony of the Rocks ” and you will gel at the line of argument to show that this globe must have existed more than six thou sand years, and of the geological evidence of the immense periods of lime occupied by the third, fifth and sixth days of the first chapter of Genesis—the day or period of “grass and herb and fruit trees”—the period of “winged fowl, the great monsters, and every living creature that moves in the waters”—and the period of “cattle and creeping things and beasts of the land,” and how Hugh Miller reconciles these immense periods with the “days” of creation. Read carefully the fourth lecture—“ The Mosaic vision of Creation”-~and read also in connection with that lecture the prophecies of Isaiah and Daniel and others, and see how in all the prophetic visions, days and weeks and months and even years are made lo rep resent, not those periods literally, but vastly longer periods of time. See also how in the prophetic writings, i name is of use lo signi fy a whole nation—“ Ephraim is joined lo his idols, let him alone”—and how in pro phetic language a name is used to signify, not only the nation, or race or family, but the whole duration of that nation, or race or family f and then take up Genesis and read the first eleven 'chapters carefully, and ask, “Is this a veritable record of just sixteen hun dred fifty-five years from man’s creation to Noah’s deluge, and of four hundred twenty eight years from the deluge to the death of Terab, Abraham’s father, drawn from au- thentic sources, then existing? or is it a pro phetic vision, not indeed of the/trfure, bin of the past —a grand tableau of departed ages and dynasties, and to be interpreted and un derstood as all such prophetic visions are to be interpreted and understood, ; : I trust before my next letter you will have carefully read what I have indited to [you, and such other authors on the same subject as you may have access to, and Iheni, you will be prepared, to follow me in my argu mem to show that Adam and Eve, .Cain and Abel, and all the generations mentioned in the fifth chapter were not individuals, but representative names for long continued traces, or nations—that Noah and his family were, not indeed myths, but piophetic represents lives of the people saved from the destructive effects of the great deluge ; and that the ge nealogy of the tenth and eleventh chapters is the genealogy, not of Gomer and Magog, Ashur and Sidon and Eber and other individ uals, but of Gomer and Magog, Ashufr and Sidon and Eber and others, as representative races, occupying perhaps vast, may be! some of them colemporaneous periods; Ihitt the whole is a prophetic tableau of a oast back space, cut off, it may be, and circumscribed with past geological ages only by infinity. Truly yours, E. Wellsboro, Nov. 18lh, 1858. i Western Lawyer’s Plea Against the Fact. “Gentleman of the Jury; The Scripture saith, “Thou shall not killnow, (if you hang my client you transgress the command as slick as grease, and as plump as a( goose egg in a loafer’s face. Gentleman’ rnurder is murder, whether committed by (twelve juryman or by an bumble individual like my client. Gentlemen, I do not deny the fact of my client having killed a, man, but is that any reason why you should iloso? No such thing, gentleman; you may Bring the prisoner in “guilty the hangman may do his duty, but will that exonerate you? No such thing ; in that case you will! all be murderers. Who among you is prepared for the brand of Cain to be stamped upon his brow to-day ? Who, freemen—(who in this land of liberty and light? Gentlemen, I will pledge my word, not one of you has a bowie-knife or a pistol in his p6cke|; No, gentleman, your pockets are odoriferous with the perfumes of cigars and tobacco. You can smoke the tobacco of rectitude in. the pipe of a peaceful conscience; but hang my unfortunate client, and the scaly alligators of remorse will gallop through the internal principles of animal viscera, until ' thfe spinal vertebra of your anatomical construction is turned into a railroad for the grim and gory goblins of despair. Gentleman, beware of committing murder! Beware, I say,tpf med dling with the eternal prerogative! [Gentle men, I adjure you, by the manumitted ghost of temporal sanctity, to do no murder,'!- ■ 1 ad jure you by the name of woman, the ‘main spring of the licking timepiece of time’s theo retical transmigration, to do no murder! [ ad jure you, by the love you have for the escu-' lent and condimental gusto of our native pumkin, to do no murder! I adjurelyou, by the stars set in the flying ensign (of your emancipaled country, to do no murder! I adjure you, by the American eagle that whipped the universal game cock of creation, and now sits roosting on (he magnetic tele graph of time’s illustrious transmigration, to do no no murder! And lastly, gentlemen, if you ever expect to wear store-made! coats— if you ever expect free dogs not to| bark at you—if you ever expect to wear made of the free hide of the Rocky Mountain buf falo—and, to sum up all, if you ever expect to be anything but a set of sneaking,.loafing, rascally, cut-throated, braided small efads of humanity, whittled down into indisiinctibility, acquit my client, and save your cotlnlry.” The prisoner was acquitted. j A Little Difficulty in the [ Way.—, An enterprising traveling agent fop a' well known Cleveland tomb stone manufactory lately made a business visit to a small town' in an adjoining county. Hearing in the vil lage that a man in a remote part of the town ship had lost his wife, be lhoughi |he would go and see him and offer him consolation and a grave-stone, on his usual reasonable terms. He started. The road was a frightful one, but the agent persevered and finally arrived at the bereaved man’s house. j-Bereaved man’s hired girl told the agent that the be reaved man was splitting rails, "oyer’n pas lur, about two milds.” The indefatigable agent hitched his horse and started for the “pastur.” After falling into all manner of mudholes, scratching himself with briars and' tumbling over decayed logs, the] agent at length found the bereaved man. [ln a sub dued voice he asked the man if he had lost his wife. The man said he had. ,The agent was very sorry to hear of it and sympathized with the man very deeply in his great afflic tion ; but death, he said, was an insatiate archer, and shot down all,,both |of high and low degree. He informed the manj that ‘what was his loss was her gain,’ and, wjobld be glad lo sell him a grave stone to mark the spot where the beloved one slept—marble or com mon stone as he chose, at prices defying com petition. The bereaved man said there was “a little difficulty in the way.” “Havn’t you lost your wife?” inquired the agent. “Why, yes I have,’’ said the man, but no! grave stun ain’t necessary ; you see the critter ain’t dead. She's scooted with another man /” The agent retired.— Cleoe. Plairidealer. Life appears too short to be spent in nurs ing animosities, or registering wrong. Many a man’s vices have at -first been nothing worse (Mtn good qualities! run wild. Bates of Advertising. i > i -1 I, I Advertisements will be charged 81 per sqnarc of fourteen lines, for one. or three insertions, and 85 cents (hr every subsequent insertion. All advertise, menls of less than fourteen lines considered as a equate. The following rates will be charged for Quarterly, Half-Yearly and Yearly advertising >- Square, (14 lines,) . $3 50 SSquares r - . .4 00 J column, .... 10 00 < column, 18 00 All advertisements not having the number of in* sort ions marked upon them, will be kept in until or* dered oot.and charged accordingly. Posters, Handbills, Bill.and Letter Hesds.'and all kinds pf Jobbing done in country establishments, executed neatly and promptly. Justices’, Consta bles'and other BLANKS, constantly on band and printed to order. NO. 16. TEACHER’S COLUMN. It is a lamentable fact that but few teachers succeed well. Many things spring tip which are a continual source of annoyance. Far be it from me to attempt a justification of those teachers who labor-only for the “al mighty dollar”—those that are laboring only for the completion of a sinister object, but it is a fact well known, that many a well mean ing, and faithful teacher has been forced from his school, because of difficulties, that existed before his term began. How few, that have never assumed the teacher’s vocation know anything about the cares, and responsibilities, belonging to it! By many his office is thought to be one of idleness and ease. Many think it much easier to “keep school” than to do anything else, and think it outrageous that he should receive as much for “sitting in the house” as for working out of doors, looking beyond the fact lhat it may have cost biro years of study to properly prepare himself for his business ! I said many teachers failed to-give satis faction, and, though many limes it may be; through their fault, yet such is not always' the case. We will, if you please, look into a district school, on the morning of com mencement. At the appointed hour, delega tions pour in from every corner of the district, and as scholars always carry out the instruc tions they receive at home, the teacher soon finds that the good folks of A , have not always been on the most friendly terms. Soon he learns, that a deadly feud, has long existed between the hill folks and the hollow folks, that the teacher that offends the one is sure to please the other, that for many and divers reasons, the people of one end of tha district have a sore jealousy of the other, and as the scholars leave home in the morn ing, they are especially cautioned to see if the “schoolmaster” is “stuck up”—if he is not a member of the fraternity of “two and six aristocracy.” And lastly, though not leastly, the hill folks caution their young ideas to keep a sharp look-out and see if the new teacher is not partial to the hollow,folks, and to duly report progress, and their chil dren start for schoSl, more intent upon finding fault, than upon drinking in the principles contained in their text books. In every part of the district the pupils are duly cautioned. A watch is kept of his every act. Spies in shape of fifty pupils are upon him continu ally. If he speaks kindly to the hollow pupils, the hill folks receive-it as a direct and pointed insult, and if he in his weakness sees fit to gently rebuke a self-willed miss of fifteen, who belongs upon the hill who has seen fit to willfully break an established rule of school, because of the act of kindness exercised towards her rival, in tears she goes home, and repeats the thrice told tale, that the new teacher is just like the old ones— always using partiality—always abusing with a vengeance those that happen to live in their particular locality. This is a grievous shame. It is an outrage 100 heavy to be borne.— Submission longer, ceases to be a virtue. Revenge under such circumstances is the essence of sweetness. After comforting the deeply outraged child, her lender hearted parent, by a ten.fold reward of presents L and hopes of revenge coaxes her once more to wend her way towards school. On her way she unfolds her grief to her friends—their parents are duly informed that there is trouble in school, and they take sides for, or against the teacher according 10 their animosities.— The school begins the next morning, and the teacher for the first time finds that something is wrong. Being in profound ignorance of : the causes l hat have been operating to “spring such unnumbered woes” upon him, be is naturally at a loss as to the'cause of the strange actions which present themselves before him. The seed which has heen sown during many preceding terms is now being ripened into fruit, and Ihe storm which has been long gathering has reached a culmina ting point. The school id arranged into two divisions and before he is aware is placed between two fires. If he punishes one, the faction to which he belongs is duly wrathful and injustice of the teacher is duly re ported back to Ihe respective families. The children once more are sent back and told to resist the insolence of the teacher. Bv their parents, they are told to lake the lair into their own hands, that self-defence is the first law of Nature. Such honest reader, is no fancy sketch. Any teacher, of a half dozen terms experience can tell something like the above from his own personal obser vation. When we fully consider that every school iamade up of pupils from twenty different families—that they are all governed differently home—that some are brought up and some come up—that in school these sixty pupils of opposite training at home, must be brought subject to one set of rules and order enforced, when they are taught insub ordination! at home, and a dozen branches taught in a single day, under such circum stances is it singular that but few teachers suc ceed T In my opinion the success of every school depends greatly upon the aid and comfort, given it bv the heads of families. In order to have a live school, there must be a hearty co-operation between both parent and teacher—both must be moved by an ob ject elevated above neighborhood disturban ces—both must ’look upon the education of the young mind as a thing worthy of the best energies of the human heart—as the secret to the future happiness and progress of lb* human race, and as of inestimable value to the pupils themselves, both now and here after—in short of both parent and school master heartily join hand in band, there is po such thing asTailure, Tixqtuy. 3 months. 6 months. 13 mo's $4 50 06 00 6 00 8 00 15 00 SO 00 30 00 40 GO for the AgiUtoc. School Teaching.