ferSrof Pnbiicatloii. '
T ljr TIOGA COUNTY AGITATOR is pub —— -■_ _ ■ , _ ' >i' f ' i
1 11 TT T7l i rS trr a 'm s\
; 1 1 H U 1 A I. r|• f 11 A 1111 | U
%Efe” I iS r*j /I It I I f\ : I ii I n « 1
T ‘~ cr will ‘hen be stopped, aatil a further re- Ji H_ B J B B B I H fl V / Q HJ A j
Thep p wr received. By this arrangement no man i’ -*■ - Sa - - m — -*- WW j ,
®T& i 0 debt 10 tl,e P rinter - ' " 1 —I S I : : ; !
cI “ViGiT* T ° R IB the Official Paper of the Coun
".V |J ,,e and steadily increasing circulation
■ tji, into nearly every neighborhood in the
reacliiHo sent j rte 0 j postage t 0 ttny Post-office
■ the connty limits, and to those living within
wi: , hnt whose most convenienlpostoffice may
ihel Z%o\nmg County. _ '
Cards, not exceeding 5 lines, paper in.
cloded, P cr y ear -
AKiss and its Consequences ;
OK SOW MB. rICKLEBY CiMK TO BE FJ.OGGVD.
Our boarding house i* not a common
boarding house, nor are our boarders com
mon boarders. Ido not, by this wish to
convey the idea that there is anything pecu
jjjfly uncommon about us or our house—
onlv that we reside in an aristocratic portion
of ibe town, and consider ourselves on the
whole, rather a select set.
But, however select a company may be,
ihe fact that they are select is not an-infalli
ble proof that nothing disreputable, can occur
among them.
Tins has been especially proven in our
jjje. We have just been deeply agitated,
eicl[el )—shocked I Happily for the reputa
tion of our place, the affair of which I speak
bad a gratifying termination.
In our boarding house resides an inveterate
old bachelor name|d Wigley. Mr. VVigley is
by no means such a person as some people
invariably represent old bacheifirs to be,
neither in appearance nor disposition. He is
a portly, middle-aged, good natured, funlov
iug, sociable fellow, and likes the society of
ladies far belter than three-fourths of the
married men. Mr. and Mrs. Pickleby are
also of our company : the former, a com
mission merchant, is a very quiet and a very
respectable sort of man ; exceedingly fond
of his wife, and withal, a little inclined to
jealousy; the latter is a beautiful and affec
tonate creature, who doles upon her husband,
ind isn't jealous at all.
One day last week, Miss Celestja Nobbs—
another of our boarders, and a maiden lady
of (Inrty-five (hereabouts—heard a noise in
the hall below, and stepping out of her apart
ment, she leaned over the banisters, to see
ibit was the cause of it. She distended her
alork-like neck -to its utmost limit, and lis
tened with breathless interest.
‘■l am so glad you are come I” she heard
a voice, which she at once recognized as
•Mrs. Pickieby’s, exclaim ; and the next mo
ment she saw that lady pass beneath her to
meet a gentleman, of whom she could gel
tut a partial view. Then a loud kiss was
given and Mrs. Pickleby said, in a some
what lower tone of voice :
"Come wnh me—come to my room ; Mr.
Pickieby is at his office, and I am alone.”
Then, both started to ascend the stairs, and
Miss Nobbs hastened to withdraw into her
room, but not before she had caught a better
pUmpse-of the man who was with Mrs. Pick
leby, and discovered in him, as she thought,
no other than Mr. VVigley. That gentleman
hsd been absent in the country for a week,
■.no e!,o h,.d seen bun, on his return, not
more than an hour previous, enter the house.
Miss Celestia Nobbs ia one of those pure
find immaculate beings, the chief desire of
»'ho?e hearts it is (hat nothing sinful shall
occur on earth, and who, feelings themselves
to be spotless philanlhropically, as they seem
to imagine, spend their lime in prying into
the affairs of oilier people, and dictating to
tlism the course they should pursue,
“Ah I ha !” said the spinster, as she closed
the door of her room, and walked on lip-loe
'■o a seal—"it’s come to this, has it? I al
s thought there was something more than
everybody knew going on between the two.”
She sat for half an hour in deep meditation
I 1 ” 0 " the matter, and then she arose and
I tr.oicd toward the door.
‘‘lf ihe wicked, shameless creature thinks,”
Nobbs to herself—“lf she has Ihe
hjn'tsi idea that such actions will be suffer
“'t'his house, she will find herself misla
‘p ' n ' 1 can assure her.”
heard foolsleps, without and as she
min the hall, she saw Mr. Wigley
lending the stairs, and heard him leave
■ss house.
' her, have you ?” she uttered under
CE 'fcrcaih, “Well, well, I never expected to
' such goings on—never! But you’re
c und out—you’ll known—both of you! ”
She hasteneß to the room of Miss Dobbs,
■ j” lhe ®'’ ,r above. Miss Dobbs is a confi
of Mi S5 Nobbs, n p ew y ears older than
' a e g rees thinner in person.
• '-'s Aobbs was gratified to find Mrs. Briggs
,Vi, h her friend on (his occasion,
ij!’ r 'b?S },]may as well state, is a widow
of some twelve years standing,_who had
“‘g Endeavored—it is generally believed by
ta'i!' 'he house—to captivate and en-
W',,' 1 ln mes hes of matrimony, Mr.
P
smiled mysterously, as she
j; camfullv closing the door, she
lJ" “ erse ir beside her friends.
«r st . a f l 10 find you together/! she said,
lj. i ave a thing of ihe greatest impor
"mti 0 known.” . -
6!-,. - le " exc isimed Miss Dobbs with an
T^‘ ,r —'what is it ?"
Oji •, C! ' :l * lln = you’ll be surprised to know.
"Mh * * be -° sl won£ l er lul thing in ihe
teie. °' v ,^ ece P , T'e some people can be ! I
~e ' l o *ll my life—” K '
* Wi,"' 131 ' 3 '* cr ' e( i both the ladies in
li’p
s.ii OPs l m “, t , st >ameful going on you ever
kdviro ’ 111 ® e sworn !” replied Ihe exci
c’Jfio=if U1 ’ r” 60 ’ m P ress > ve a manner that the
tie m, * ler listeners became unendura-
v or( j , en Posing a moment, to let her
*°lemn| a r e^' ecl- Miss Nobbs looked
N; f °m one to the other, and conlin
to’j p ou believe it ladies, when I tell
Itbv in it. ?! w ' ,b my own eyes, Mrs. Pick
•‘Yo / , be,ow with
‘‘Shopfe- 1 1 ■” uUe red Miss Dobbs.
“Trno ln ®' exc lttimed Mrs. Briggs,
beard iherT Wor . d 5 but that isn ’ 1 a!l: 1
■ Jv i'ed him P'', e a b ' ss ’ Mrs. Pickleby
11(J nun to her room!”
CloUs beaven I” ejuculated the listen-
ZlefcoUQr ta tfte SjctciisCon at the at iFmfcam an 9 t|)t Spread at 3®ealtf»fi Reform.
WHILE THEBE SHALL BE A WRONG UNSIGHTED, AND UNTIL “MAN’* INHUMANITY TO MAN” SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE.
YOL. Y.
ers simultaneously, elevating their hands in
honor and surprise.
“Yes ; she told him she was all alone
that Mr. Pickleby was not at home—and so,
they went off together. Oh ! it’s almost in
credible, such shameful conduct !’>
“The immodest unblushing thing |” ex
claimed the widow, indignantly.
“Such wickedness I”, echoed Miss Dobbs.
“But who is it she was with ?”
“Mr. VVigley.”
“Is it possible I”
Mrs. Briggs was stricken dumb by the
announcement of the name, and for a few
moments, gave some tokens of an intention
to swoon ; but thinking belter of it, she re
frained.
“This is a terrible thing!” said. Miss
Nobbs earnestly, after enjoying fully the sen
sation she had created.
“Terrible indeed I” uttered Miss Dobbs.
“And not to be borne I” exclaimed the in
dignant widow, her face assuming a very
erudescent tint as she spoke.
“It must not be borne I” said the spin
ster; “the reputation of this house will not
allow such things to pass unnoticed.
“And our own reputations I” chimed the
other maiden.
“Think what we should be made to suff
er,” cried the widow, “if it should become
known that we live in the midst of such ini
quitous scenes I”
“Our characters are not to be trifled with
thus I” exclaimed Miss Nobbs, with a deter
mined air, “and this thing must not be suf
fered to stoo here!”
“Poor Mr. Pickleby I” sighed Miss Dobbs,
“1 pity him from my heart!”
“And so do I,” said the widow ; for I dare
say he has not the least suspicion of bis
wife’s perfidy.”
“He must know it” uttered Miss Nobbs
speaking in a low and deliberate lone of
voice.
“You are right—he must know it; but
how ?” inquired Miss Dobbs.
“We must tell him I”
“Will it be proper ?”
“It will be doing our duty.”
“Yes I” said Mrs. Briggs, “it will be but
the performance of a Christian duly. We
must tell him I”
“And I, for one, am ready to go and per
form that duty,” remarked Miss Nobbs, with
a meek and resigned look as if she had ta
ken it upon herself to suSer at the slake.
“And I,” said the widow.
“Oh, I will accompany you ; I am sure I
only waul to do what is right,” said Miss
Dobbs submissively.
“Then let us go at once.”
“Yes; the sooner he has his mind disa
bused in respect to his wife, the better.”
Forth accordingly, the immaculate trio
sallied as soon as they could make the neces
sary preparations, and bent their course to
ward the store of Mr. Pickleby, in the lower
part of the city.
The merchant was busily engaged - in the
transaction of some business, when he saw
the three ladies approach him. He suspen
ded operations, and inquired what happy cir
cumstance had brought them thither.
“It is a sad errand on which we are come,”
said Miss Nobbs, shaking her head with a
melancholy air.
“A dreadful errand !” affirmed Miss Dobbs,
dubiously.
“A more dreadful errand you could not
imagine!” added Mrs. Briggs, making a
strong effort to shudder.
“For mercy’s sake ladies!” cried the
alarmed man, turning pale, “what is it?”
“In the first place Mr. Pickleby,” said the
first spinster, “we wish to assure you that
you have our warmest sympathies—that we
feel for you.”
“From the very bottom of our hearts,”
adclerklhe elder maiden.
“And nolffing hut a deep sense of duty,”
remarked thevS’iclow, “has induced us to lake
Ihe step we have, in order to reveal to you
such distressful news.”
“What is it?—what is it ?” exclaimed Ihe
merchant, frantically. “Don’t keep me in
suspense; what has happened ?”
“Your wife I” uttered Miss Nobbs, in a
significant lone.
“Yes, Mr. Pickleby, your wife !” repealed
the other two in a breath.
Mr. Pickleby staggered backwards, while
a look of dreadful terror overspread bis fea
tures.
“My wife!” he gasped, “what of my wife?
Is she sick ?—is she dead ?”
Miss Nobbs closed he eyes, and shook her
head slowly.
“Then why do you alarm me so ? what
would you have me to understand ?”
“Is there not something that, to your noble
mind, is worse than death ?”
“Eh!—what—what do you mean?”
“Dishonor I”
“But Mrs. Pickleby—she—she—”
Mr. Pickleby, your wife is deceiving you !”
“Cruelly, shamefully deceiving you!’’
ejaculated Miss Dobbs.
“Undoubtedly, and in a manner not to be
borne !” said the widow.
Mr. Pickleby looked from one to the
other in speechless agony.
“Briefly said Miss Nobbs, “while you are
absent, your wife is receiving the attention of
other men.”
“We have noticed with grief,” continued
Miss Nobbs, “that one of our sex should so
far forget her modesty as as to do as she has
done.”
“And for that reason,” added Mrs. Briggs,
“as I have already said, we determined to
accquaint you with the fact.”
“How do you know this ?’’ cried the mer
chant, in a voice of rage. “Are you certain
of what you say ?’’
WELLSBORO, TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING. JANUARY 6, 1859.
“Quite,” answered Miss Nobbs; “1 saw
your wife this morning with Mr. Wigley, in
ihe hall; heard them kiss ; and together they
went to your room.”
“Wigley I Do vou mean to say Wigley
is the man 1”
“VVigley I” repeated Miss Nobbs emphati
cally.
“The odious villain !” cried Pickleby, seiz
ing his hat as he spoke. “He shall repent
it—he shall repent it—bitterly.”
He rushed from the store as he spoke,
leaving his informants in the most uncere
monious manner. They quietly proceeded
homeward, congratulating |each other that
they had evidently the means of putting
down a giant of iniquity.
Mr. Wigley has an office in Broadway.
Mr. Pickleby. soon after bis interview with
the ladies, stood in the presence of Mr. Wig
ley, who smiled, and offered his hand to the
other. Mr. Pickleby, with every expression
of scorn and hate, declined to touch it.
“Permit me to inform you,” said the mer
chant, almost, choking with rage, “that I
know all!”
Mr. VVigley looked at the speaker with as
tonishment.
“Yes, sir,” conlinued the excited Pickleby,
“I know all ; and I’m not such a paltry cow
ard as to suffer it to pass with impunity I”
Whereupon, before the other could utter
a word, ho gaveiMr. Wigley such a blow oo
ibe head as 10 stagger him not a little, and
before he could recover from surprise, it was
followed up by another blow on the other
side of his head, which made his ears ring in
a most wonderful manner, j
This was nther too much for the good na
ture of Mr. Wigley,-and so he nerved him
self to the task, and commenced a retaliation.
Being nearly double the weight of his antag
onist, he soon had it all his own way ; and
to be brief, in less than Jlen minutes, Mr.
Pickleby cried loudly for quarter, admitting
himself to be as well-whipped a man as he
had ever beheld.
“And now,” said Wigley, after helping his
adversary to his feet—“now that our affair
is settled, please tell me what I have flogged
you for.”
“For intriguing with my wife, as you well
know,” replied the defeated, but still indig
nant man.
“It’s a lie!” said Wigley,
“It’s the truth,” responded Pickleby, “and
I can prove it.’*-
“You can’t do it. Come we will go and
see Mrs. Pickleby herself; and show me a
witness if you can.”
“Very well; it’s just what I desire.”
Mr. Pickleby washed the blood from his
face, arranged his disordered garments as
well as he could, and accompanied Mr. Wig
ley home.
Miss Nnbbs, Miss Dobbs and Miss Briggs
were called, and an explanation demanded by
the accused Wigley. Miss Nobbs persisting
in the truth of what she uttered, the whole
party, at the request of the injured husband,
proceeded to his wife’s apartment.
Mrs. Pickleby, to the surprise of all, was
not alone; a man was with her. As soon
as Mr. Pickleby saw him he smiled, and ad
vanced and shook him by the hand.
“My brother!” said he, turning to those
who had followed him.
Miss Nobhs* face became crimson.
“I fear,” she stammered, that I have unin
tentionally made a mistake. This must be
the gentleman I saw ; and he is so like Mr.
Wigley, that I was led to believe he was no
other. I beg pardon !”
As the trio of ladies look their departure,
Mr. Pickleby was heard to utter divers male
dictions upon the heads of nil meddling, busy
(ongued scandal-mongers; but he soon re
covered his temper, explained the whole af
fair to his wife, joined heartily in the laugh
that was raised at his expense, and ended by
inviting Wigley to join their party that even
ing in a game of whist. |
Hallo, boy, did you see a rabbit cross the
road there just now ?”
“A rabbit ?”
“Yea! be quick ! a rabbit?”
“Was it a kinder gray varmint?”
“Yes! yes I
“A longish cretur, with a short tail?”
“Yes, be quick, or he’ll gain his burrow.
“Had it long legs behind, and big ears?”
“Yes! yes!”
“And sorter jumps when it runs?”
“Yes, I tell you ; jumps when it runs.”
“Well, I hain’t seen such a creature about
here.
A Friend of ours was traveling, while af
flicted with a very bad cough. He annoy
ed his fellow travelers greatly, till one of
them remarked, in a lone of displeasure:—
“Sir, that is a very bad cough of yours?”
“True, sir,” replied our friend, “but you’ll
excuse me— it’s the best I’ve got.”
“Johnny,” said a mother to' a son, nine
years of age, “go and wash your face ; I
am ashamed to see you come to dinner with
so dirty a mouth.” “I did wash it, mamma,”
and feeling bis upper lip be added gravely,
“I think it must be a mustache coming!”
“Is Mr. Brown a man of means ?” asked
a gentleman of old Mrs. Fizzleton referring
to one of her neighbors. “Well I reckon he
ought to be,” drawled out the old beldame,
for he is just the meanest man in town.”
A man. passes for a sage if he seeks for
wisdom; if he thinks he has found it he is
a fool.
Moving for a new trial.—Courting a sec
ond wife.
CARRIER’S ADDRESS,
To the Patrons of the Tioga Agitator.
bt OLD HOHX. — Tbe Devil's Dream.
Tick, tick, tick, the pendulum swings.
Chime, chime, chime, the alarum rings.
And the hours of life are tolled, save one,
Ere the Old Yearns feeble course is run;
Another hour, and the year will be
A drop in ihe waves of eternity.
O’er the earth is spread a snowy abroad,
And the winds like mourners cry aloud,
And the stars come out and tread again
|n the Old Year’s solemn funeral train..
Ail, all is hushed; no pitying eye
Or midnight watcher etaadeth nigh,
'With falling tears and deep drawn breath
I To gaze upon the Old Year’s death,
Save one lone soul, who muted and thought
, *Pon the change the dying one had wrought,
And he—lone watcher of Time’s revel—
The Agitator's printer devil.
, He marks the change by nature drawn
In season’s o’er the earth’s fair face—
Gay spring, bright summer, autumn, all
Have passed away and left their trace,
; In bursting buds, and golden sheaves,
In scarlet tints, and failing leaves,
: ’Till lost old winter’s chilly bands
Clasp field and flood with icy bands.
He tecs a change on every hand,
I In everything he sees Time’s traces,
From gray hairs on old bach’s heads
To wrinkles in the maiden's faces,
In men and things, and things in men
That sadly need change back again ;
And some poor souls lie minds whose luck it
’ts been to‘kick the bucket,’
' And others, like himself, who’ve got it
In every place oxcept_lhe pocket.
What other thoughts his mind inspired
Or further actions were intended,
Arc lost to us, for being tired 1
He like the banks at once suspended,
And lying-down beneath the ‘cases,*
He ‘locked his form* in slumber's‘chases.*
He sleeps; and in the silent land
Of dreams, he sees a mighty band
Walk up and take the County paper,
And laying down the money, all
Cry out, ‘Long live the Agitator P 0
And sees its words of trnth-and light
Illume the darkness like a rocket;
And belter still—foi hard and bright,
Lie dollars in the printer's poeket.
1 And on the ‘jour’s* sad, solemn face,
And ‘senior devil's* mournfulphiz,
; Where sorrow's solid lines are set
And squabbled hope’s impression is,
! Sweet Joy and Peace at last have met
| And interlined with happiness.
; And e’en the editor—poor soul—
j Whose brow is melancholy’s throne,
i Whose lime, and talent, labor, all
! Is Liberty and Freedom’s own,
, Whose ready pen proclaims his trust
In Free Men and Free Soil alone—
: Smiles grimly—'s if the Union *d bast
! And the darkies northward flown.
' And dreaming still, he sees appear
The town that others far surpasses—
Wellsboro*—noted far and near
For noble men and bonnic lasses;—
And lo ! the popple, steady grown,
Hurrah, ‘Long live cold water !*
And boys their evenings spend at home
Or with a neighbor’s pretty daughter.
And merchants even stop to tell
The rale per cent they bought on ;
And stranger still, forget to wool
Their customers with cotton.
And doctor’s even take their pills,
And wondrous ! past believing!—
, Strahger far than paid-up bills!
I There’s hopes of their still living.
1 And what still greater wonders teach.
And belter, wished.for changes shows is,
: That pastors practice what they preach,
1 And lawyers read the laws of Moses.
And wider yet his fancy flies,
i And brighter still the visions grow ;
| Sees Stars and Stripes defiant fly
j O*or Yankee boys in Mexico;
I And Cuba, at fierce war’s alarms,
I Rush into Uncle Samuel’s arms;
I Lopez and Brigham on their knees
Before our expeditions,
, And Nicaragua glad receive
' American conditions;
! And midst a voice that rends the sky,
From all our mighty nation,—
A patriotic people’s cry,—
‘God fielp(l) the Administration V
He feels a touch—and quick and rough,
A voice cries out, ‘Hallo here !
; Come ‘Rank,’ you’ve slept most long enough—
j I wish you Happy New Year !’
i He wakes; and quickly fades away
i Ills fairy, bright ideal;
j And comes again with breaking light,
I Tiic earnest, bard, and real:—
j Unstruok as yet the freemen’s blow ;
Unbroke the bondman’s letter ;
And fails to find, though pastor’s preach,
! That men grow any better, —
But still with instincts—earthly born,
I Hurrah for water—‘in a horn
I Unspread the patent magic bed
j That patients never die on,—
. (The same mysterious couch, ’tis said,
That lawyers never lie on;)
i Unchanged upon the printer’s brow
Both care and sorrow dwell; 1
. And merchants, yet, as ever, now,
Their wares and patrons sell;
i And eagle’s screams, and destiny,—
Mistaken, was he 7 Some t
Alas! that ‘progress’, late should be
But Democratic hum!
Bnt.qulcMy then the dreamer rose,
And uniting, said to me,—
Who known, Old Hoax, bat that it shows
A type of things to ha 7
This world is yet a pleasant home,
Still bright ’a the face of Nature,
And wisdom’s ways are not unknown
To men who take the paper.
Then why repininga for the past?
Why mourn at crncl fate 7
The days may brighter be at lost;
Wo’re buried Fitty-Eioht;
And from its bier, while standing here
-In the vestibule of Time, —
Let joy appear, in cheer on cheer,
For Eighteen Fifty Nine !
May all its coming, sunny days
Our happiness increase;
And at its close may singers praise
Its plenty, and its peace!
And reaching for the pencil/then,
He wrote, Dear air, or Madam;
I wish you bore, Hai?y New Yeas !
Tiie papers—yon have bad ’em ; '
And ioad)y hope you're mindful yet
Of customary fees;
The Carrie* now expects to get—
A QUARTER,—if you please!
(£omm u «icatCons,
c '' A^iutw.
In the Morning. r j
BY MELANIS
“I’ll be belter in the morning,” said a sick
and suffering woman. It was evening then ;
she was faint and weary, but to the friends
who anxiously watched over her, the cons*
taut, gentle response was, “O, I'll be better
in the morning.”
“It will all be right in the morring,” said
a little boy as he laid his head on the pillow
to rest. Ills heart was heavy with child
hood’s sorrows. He had ever been disap
pointed of a promised pleasures, bis play
mates had been unkind, he had grown impa
tient and then angry, and Anally come home
feeling that “everything was wrong,” and
sobbing as if his heart would break. But
when ibis mother had showed him: the right,
and he had knelt at her side to ask the Good
Father’s blessing, he smiled before he slept
and softly said, “It will all be ri f ght in the
morning.” And when he slept ;he smiled
again, and we thought the angels were watch
ing him and making it all right, j j
Blessed hope, that when the morning comes
sorrow and sighing shall flee away, and that
the day will finally dawn in which they shall
return no more. “Weeping may endure for
a night, but joy comeih in the morning,” and
when the day breaks that shall know no night,
the joy shall be unending. j.
A Boy’s Trials, j
It is hardly the fair thing that the trials of
mowing machines, fire engines, ooqan steam
ers, patent medicines and horses Should; oc
cupy the mind, to the exclusion of those trials
which all hoys have le suffer, in a Igreater or
less degree, before arrival at the age of
twenty-one. We propose to consider some
of them. We suppose that the first severe
trial a boy has to undergo is to submit; bis
will to the old man whom he isj taught to
consider his father. To be restrained in
doors at night, to be forbid going in swim
ming five times in a day, or to be hindered
from pinching the children, just for fun,
is an interference with natural, inalienable
rights, every way injurious to the feelings.
And then, when upon some overwhelming
temptation, the boy asserts his independence
of parental control, and receives'a .“laming,”
with a switch from a quince btish, either
upon his back or his bare hand, tLbecoriies
really a very serious thing. We npver could
see that the smart of an operation'like ibis
was at all assuaged by the affecliopate assu
rance that it was bestowed out of ipure love.
The next trial of (ho boy is in; the con
sciousness of the low estimate which his pa
rents place upon his judgment. ] He feels
himself entirely able to lake care of himself
entirely able to take care of himself, if Ke
could only have his own way. | But bis
plans are laughed at, and |ie grinds his teeth
wi'h impatience and anger. We Remember
a little cabal of boys, who used to assemble
behind a barn, to talk over grerit plans of
enterprise, it was finally agreejd' that, all
should run away, and, somewhere in jhe
golden empire of the West, lay the founds
lions of a fortune which would enable us to
return to our homes as rich as nabobs. Into
their plans entered the enriching of their
parents with untold gold. They jhad not a
doubt of success. % It was a grand scheme,
above the wisdom o( plodding fathers; and
it seemed to be the only that could possibly
emancipate them from the yoke qf parental
bondage. Two of these boys finally agreed
to act as pioneers. They procured a box of
essence to peddle by the way, and, in the
deep and dark night, started out in search of
freedom and fortune. They were to write
to the others when the proper time should
come. There was a great rumpus .jn the
neighborhood when the flight was discovered,
but they were followed and enught. It was
said they were glad to get back because their
feet were sore. One of them is now a black
smith, with seven children, and the other a
wire-worker, in comfortable circumstance*.
What they would have been, if pajrental tyr
anny had not reclaimed them, it isj of course,
impossible to say; but if theyj had been
anything less than members of Congress, it
would have been a pity. The cabal met,
expressed their indignation, and jvoled jhat
they would have fought the captors to ,the
bitter end, before any of them would have
been taken. Oh! if parents could but ap
preciate the wisdom of their boys, what a
world this would be ! |
The next great trial of- the bby is to be
obliged, by a cruel master, to sit withithe
girls at school. This usually comes before
the development of those undefinable sympa
thies and affinities which, in after life, would
tend to make the punishment more endurable.
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To be pointed at as a “gal-boy,” to be
smiled at grimly by the master, who is so far
tjelighted with his own ineffable pleasantry
as to give the little boys the license to laugh
aloud, and to be placed by the side of a girl
viho has no handkerchief, and no knowledge
of the use of that article, is, we submit, a
trial of no mean magnitude.- Yet we have
lieen there, and been made to “sit up close,”
with the b'g Rachel laughing and blushing
till-we came to hatcher name. We wonder
where the overgrown, frowsy headed crea
ture is now, and what the condition of her
Head is! ,
J The next trial in order is the assumption
of the long-tailed coat. We do not believe
that any boy ever put on his long-tailed coat
without a sense of shame. He first twists
bis back half off looking at it in the glass,
then when he sieps out of doors, it seems
lb him as if all creation was on a broad grin.
The sun laughs in the sky ; the cows turn
fb look at him ; there are faces at, every win
dow; every shadow mocks him. When ho
ijvalks by the collage where Jane lives, ho
dares not look up, for his life. The very
boards, creep with consciousness of the
strange spectacle, and the old pair of panta
loons that stops a light in the garret window,
nod with derision. If he is obliged to pass
a group of men and boys, the trial assumes
its most terrific stage. His legs get all mixed
bp with embarrassment, and as the flap of
the dangling appendage is felt upon them,
moved by the wind of his own agitation, he
not feel worse were it a dish-cloth,
worn as a badge of disgrace. It is a happy
time for him when he gets to church, and
sits down with bis'eoat tail under him ; but
be is still apprehensive with thinking of the
Sunday school, and wonders if any of the
children will ask him to “swing his long
tailed blue.”
* I
1 After the boy has become wonted to his
long-tailed coat, his extreme youth becomes
a trial to him. Various', resorts are adopted
to hasten the development of manhood. Ho
watches for the dawning of a beard upon his
upper lip, and when at last the shadowy
promise comes—floats into his vision on its
downy wings—he borrows the first razor
and goes at it. His mother, or his sisters,
catch him at it, too, and suggest a dab of
cream and a cat as belter adapted to his case
than lather and a razor. Perhaps he under
takes to chew tobacco, and gels terribly sick,
or, possibly he undertakes, with many qualms
of conscience, a little profanity, on private
account. Soiinelimes, i p ></Q / :f fe&can over
come his bashfulness, *• • vn ’Ojlg' r U
dr walks home with one from spei..ug"school'
Still the years hang on, and we know of at
feast.one who believed that his parents were
cheating him in regard to the date of his
birth, with the design of getting a twelve
month more of work out of him. It was
David Copperfield, we believe, who was so
Sadly affected by his consciousness of ex-
Creme youth, and there is no man who has
ever had a genuine boyhood who will not
recognize the touch as one of the most natu
ral which the pencil of Dickens has revealed.
! The entrance into society may be said to
tpke place after boyhood has passed away,
yet a multitude take their initiative before
their beards aie presentable. It is a great
trial, either at a lender or a tough age. For
an overgrown boy’ to go to a door knowing
tfiat there are a dozen girls inside, and to
knock or ring with the absolute certainty
that in two minutes all their eyes will be up
tjn him, is a severe test of courage. To go
i|efore these girls and make a satisfactory
tour of the room without stepping on their
tbes, and then sit down, and dispose one’s
Hands without putting them into one’s pock
jets, is an achievement which few boys can
"b.oast. If a boy can go so far as to measure
off ten yards of tape with one of these girls,
and cut it short it each end, he'may stand a
chance to pan C pleasant evening, hut let
tym not flatter himself that all the trials of the
evening are over. There comes, at las', the
breaking up. The dear girls don their hoods
a,nd put on their shawls and look as saner
and mischievous, and unimpressible, and in«
dependent, as if they did not wish any one
to go home with them. Then comes the
pinch, and the boy .that has the most pluck,
makes up to the prettiest girl, his heart in
His throat, and his longue clinging to the
roof of his mouth, and his elbows crooked,
stammers out the words, “Shall I see you
home?” She touches her fingers to his arm,
and they walk home about a foot apart, feel,
ing as awkward as a couple of goslings. As
soon as she is safe inside her own door, ho
struts borne, and thinks he has really been
and gone and done it. Sleep comes to him
aij last, with dreams of Carolina and calico,
and he awakes in the morning finding, the
t doors of life open to him, and pigs squekling
for their breakfast.
j We have passed over churning and learn
ing the catechism, allhough we might have*
talked of butter that would not be persuaded
to come, and of the impressions and perplex
ijies of a boy of a literal turn of mind, and
a; head that measured'seven and a quarter,
when asked what the chief end of man was.
Boyhood is a green passage of man’s exist
ence, in more senses than one. It is a pleas
ant thing to think over and to laugh about
now, though it was serious enough then.-
Many of our present trials are as ridiculous
as those which now touch the risibles in the
recollection, and when we gel to the other
world and look back upon this, and upon that
infancy of the soul through which we passed
Here, we have no doubt that we shall crin
Over the trials which we experienced when
tye lost our Tontines, when our mills were
sjwept away or burned, and when we didn’t
get elected to the legislature. Men are boys
of a large groivih.—//, IV. Bfnher,