s^SrfPnWlcatlon. . poUKTT AGITATOR ia published # fl°£t Jforaißg. »nd mailed to subscriber. DOLLAR PER ANNUM,-eaT' 0 ® It is intended to notify every term for which he has psid shall W»“ ". bj-a.O stamp—"TiltH ODT,” on the mar- Jjpircd, Jho paper will then be stopped [tW M pittance be received. By this ar ■fl » fartbe, m an can be brought in debt to the '. jettO* j, the Official Paper of the County, TOE icrl j steadily increasing circnlation reach (J, lup s ” viiborbood in the County. It ia sent ~iitoe's r;” , D y Post Office within the county most convenient post office may be Din. J?'yCounty. *” i finis not exceeding 5 lines, paper inclu- I"' rMT (i. f< ■ ■ " For the Agitator. IB E LAND OF DEEAMS. ~, of dreams! no gloomy clouds E 01. are tie arure of yonr sby ; JJfLy, dark-winged shadows shroud y \Z 5M»y beautieS fr °“ my eje t a ,, rr! I love bloom ever there, Ik 'aerial waters softly glide of wearyiag toil and care, fancied ills my steps betide. c«ttUnd ° f d"» ms! 1 n ! gbUy To red my earth-worn pinions there; teb new life from that bright shore, heath that softer, purer air, n,„|r lov'd faces there I see, rauch !oT ’ d < ' neDds againlgreet; vaitao longer far from me, 1 jj.jy m y glad embrace to meet. T _ Kt again those soul-lit eyes 1 V,. whose fond light I’ve yearned so long; mils time, light-winged and noiseless flies, Nor ltd the blissful hours begone. Utracoely dim <ini dreaming thoughts \mU(‘ from Aqsc deep, thrilling words; , m l a nobler strength has caught, isd hopes, long slumbering, now ore stirred. ill which the heart hold dearest, best, ( j OT , hurried, which it mourned for lon g. Ire blooming there, in beauty dressed, imid the bright familiar throng. Cill me not hack—Ob, why dispel That glorious vision, brightly fair?— Brot not tie magic of that spell Which holds me from this world of care, trwnegile. lowa. M. L. Dorn. Tim Crane and the Widow. ,jo« ibe ‘'bedott pavers,” ev r. it. whicher. jno, Mr- Crane,’ by no manner o’ means, in'! i minnit tew soon for you to begin to talk ijt'cittin’ married agin. lam amazed you gWuld be afeered I’d think so. See—how -sHiss Crane ben dead? Six months!— jd o' Goshen ! — why I know a number of in •rdJnrals get married in less time than that. ; Phil Bennett’s widder t’ I was a talkin’ iv,t jest now —she’t was Louisy Perce—her tiiind had’nt ben dead but three months you c ,t, I don’t think it looks well for a woman tic in such a hurry— butfor a man it’sa dif r'jt thing —circumstances alters cases, you c.r. And then, sitiwated as you be, Mr. it’s a terrible thing for your family to be risat ahead to superintend the domestic con es ml tend to the children—to say nothin’ . nrself, Mr. Crane. You dew need a oom orion, and no mistake. Six months! Good patous 1 Why Squire Titus diden’t wait but arweeks arter he buried his fust wife afore he timed his second. I thought then wa’n’t no zitickler need o' his hurryin' so, seein' his hmily was all grow’d up. Such a critter as he licit out, tew! ’twas very onsuitable—but 'rery man to his taste — I haint no dispersition S’ meddle with nobody’s consarns. There’s old farmer Dawson, tew—his pardner hain’t lea dead hulten months. To be sure |ie ain’t named jet—but he would a ben long enough sgo if somebody I know on’d gin him any in rarridgeraent. But taiu’t for me to speak o’ sat matter. He’s a clever old critter and as nth as a Jew—but— lawful sakes! he’s old cough to be my father. And there’s Mr. Snith—Jubiter Smith, you know him Mr. [Cane—his wife (she’t was Aurory Pike) she —1 last summer, and he’s been squintin’ round Doug the wiirmin ever since, and he may quint for all the good it T 1 dew him so far as inconsarned —tho’ Mr. Smith’s a respectable mu—quite young and hain’t no family—very nil off tew, and quite intellcctible—but I’m prtj partiekler. 0, Mr. Crane ! it’s ten year torn Jinniwary sence I witnessed the expira ta o’ my belovid companion!—an oncommon hog time to wait, to be sure—but’t ain’t easy Ijfind anybody to fill the place o’ Hezekierße- Wt I think you’re the most like husband of <■7 iodividdiwal I ever see, Mr. Crane. Six raihs! murderationl curus you should be t-ntd I’d think ’twas tew soon—why I’ve hiv’d ” Crake. “Well, wilder—l ’vb been tbink -J about taking another companion—and I I'J ask you—” “0, Mr. Crane, egscuse my com tition it’s so onexpected. Jest hand me that w bottle of camfire off the mantletry shelf— ■ntuther faint—dew put a little mite on my and hold it to my nuz. There— ■taUl obleeged tew ye—now I’m mote composed—you may perceed, Mr. Me. Cej.ve. '■ Well widder, I was agoing to JOU Whether-whether— iDoir. “Continuer, Mr. Crane—dew —I 115 terrible embarrasin’. I remember my dezeased husband made his supposi “stomeihe stammered and stuttered, and 50 pwfiilly flustered it did seem as if he’d out in the world, and I s’pose it’s ttterally the case, at least It has been with 'm that's made suppositions tome —you --they re ginerally oncerting about what kind * n ansirer they’re agwine to git, and it kind *al l 6em narrous - But when an individdi ttl 15 reason to Bu ppose his attachment’s re * on ' tsee tfltat need there is o’ his hn , —tho’ I must say it’s quite em to we—pray continuer.” ttCV.V “Well then, I want to know if you’re ■e t should hare Melissy ?” Jlj'T’ “^ ho dragon 1” btet i, " iniin't, said anything to her about K jj,''7 ou S' lt the proper way was to get your jbsnv ° m ' remem her when I courted Try- s ‘4e I- 5 were eD S a ged some time before r , veni F e knew anything about it, and tit,' j * j oun( l tt out she was quite put out he lp „ . nt g° to her first. So when I made Meiissy, thinks me, I’ll dew bp*, ™ 5 and apeak to the old woman tauf?*’ “Old woman, hey 1 that’s a purly Mtiitiv b tne "—omazin’ perlite tew! Want dkg, ,’ “'J’■ Tribbelation 1 gracious sakes h. Dtt^j e ’ BU give it up now! I always *iu( „ J? u Was “ simpleton Tim Crane, but I li>, f e 6s > didn’t think you was quite so Etn’t i' J 0 * an ’t Melissy, dew ye? If that Oust b a ' an everlastin’old calf JWtj , w ° e to s ’pose she’d look at you / Why, kit-.jj,. eriou gh to be her father, and more )(a. a ' n t only in her twenty-oneth Jmxr a ee i a ree< M°kilous idee for a man of 'ijttfi,' Pay as a rat tew! 1 wonder ot *d M a comin tew; ’is astonjshin’ the Agitator Befeotefr to tfte Sgxttmion of tf)t mveu of iTm&om an?* Vbt Sprcatr of fficaltfjg Reform. WHILE THEBE SHALL BE A WEONG UNSIGHTED, AND UNTIL “MAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN” SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE. VOL. V. what fools old widdiwers will make o' them selves I Have Melissy 1 Mellissy I" Mk. C. “Why, widder, you surprise me I’d no idee of being treated in this way after you’d been so polite to me, and made such a fuss over me and the girls.” ■Widow. “Shet your head, Tim Crane nun o’ yer sass to me. There’s yer hat on that are table, and here’s the door—and the sooner you put on the one and march out’ ’t other, the bet ter it'll be for you. And I advise you afore yon try to get married again, to go out west and see ’f yer wife’s cold—and arter ye’re sat isfied on that-pint, jest put'a little lampblack on yer hair—'twould add to your appearance undoubtedly, and be of service tew you when you want to flourish round among the gals— and when you’ve got yer hair fixt, jest splinter the spine o' yer back—'t wouldn’t hurt yer looks a mite—you’d be entirely unresistable if you was a leetle grain straiter.” Mr. C. “Well, I never!” "Widow. “Hold yer tongue—you consumed old coot you—l tell you there’s your hat, and there’s the door—be off with yerself, quick me tre, or I’ll give ye a hyst with the broomstick.” Mr. C. “Gimmeni! Widow, [rising.) “Git out, I say—l ain’t agwine to stan’ here and he insulted under my own ruff—and so git along—and if ever you darken my door agin, or say a word to Melissy, it’ll be the woss for you—that's all." Mr. C. “Treemenjous 1 What a buster I” Widow. “Go’long, go’long, go ’long, you everlastin’ 'old gum. I won’t hear another wofd, (stops her ears). I won’t, I wont, I won’t.” [Exit Mr. Crane. [Enter Melissa, accompanied by Capi. Canoof.) “Good evenin’, cappen! Well, Melissy, hum at last, hey? why didn’t you stay till mornin’? party business keepin’ me up here so late wait in’ for you—when I’m eeny most tired to death ironin’ and workin’ like a slave all day; ought to ben a bed an hour ago. Thought you left me with agreeable company, hey ? I should like to know what arthly reason you had to s’pose old Crane’s was agreeable to me ? I al ways despised the critter; always thought be was a tumble fool—and now I’m convinced on’t. I’m completely dizgusted with him—and I let him know it to-night. I gin him a piece o’ my mind’t I guess he’ll he apt toremember for a spell. 1 ruther think he went off with a flea in his ear. Why, cappen,—did you ever hear of such a piece of audacity in all yer horn days? for him — Tim Crane —to durst to expire to my hand—the widder o’ Deacon Bedott! jest as if I’d cnndescen’ to look at him —tho old numbskull! He don’t know B from a broom stick ; but if he’d stayed much longer, I’d a teached him the difference, I guess. He’s got his walkin’ ticket now—l hope he’ll lemme alone in futur. And where’s Kior ? Gun home with the Cranes,Tieyl well, I guess it’s the last time. And now Melissy Bedott, you ain’t to have nothin’ more to dew with them gals—d’ye hear ? you ain’t to sociate with ’em at all arter this—’t would only be incurridgin th' old man to come a pesterin me agin—and I won’t have him round—d’ye hear? Don’t be in a hurry, cappen—and don’t bo alarmed at my gettin’ in such passion about old Crane’s presumption. Mabhy you think ’twas onfeelin’ in me to use him so—and I don’t say but what’t was nether, but then he’s so awful dizagreeble tew me, you know—’ 'tam’t everybody I’d treat in such a way. Well, if you must go, good evenin’! Give my love to Hanner when you write agin—dew call frequently, Cappen Canoot, dew.” Capital Sermon - . —A writer in the Sierra (Cal.) Citizen, under the title of “Young Men and Tree Frogs,” gives abetter lecture on mor ality and a better essay on mental philosophy, ail in a few lines, than are sometimes found in as many volumes of standard authority: “The tree-frog acquires the color of whatever it adheres to for a short time. If it be found on the oak, it will bear the color of that tree; if on the sycamore or cypress, it will be a whitish brown; and when it is found on the growing com, it is sure to green. Just so it is with young men; their companions tell us what their characters are; if they associate with the vulgar, the licentious and the profane, then their hearts are already stained with their guilt and shame, and they will themselves be come alike vicious. The study of bad books, or the love of wicked companions, is the broad est and most certain road to ruin that a young man can travel, and a few well-directed lessons in either will lead them on step by step to the gate of destruction. Our moral and physical laws show how important it is to have proper associations of every kind, especially in youth. How dangerous it is to gaze on, a picture or scene that pollutes imagination or blunts the moral perceptions, or has a tendency to deaden a sense of our duty to God and man.” In no class shall we find a greater exuber ance of fancy, or more exaggerated ideas to wealth and luxury, than in the thorough bred loafer. , A few days ago, a couple of individuals of this genius being seated in a nook near a wharf, at which a California bound vessel was lying, their conversation naturally ran upon gold—as neither of the twain was the possessor of" a red cent; and they amused themselves by wishing for the precious metal. •Bill,’ said one to the other, ‘l’ll tell yer how much gold I wish I had, and I’d be satisfied.' ‘Well,’said the individual appealed to; go ahead I’ll see if you have the liberal ideas that a gentleman has.’ ‘Well, Bill, I wish I had so much gold that it would take a 74 gun ship, loaded down with needles so deep that if you’d put in another needle she’d sink—and those needles to be worn out making bags to hold my pile.’ Bill threw his crowhless bat upon the pave ment with indignation, and exclaimed— ‘Barn it why don’t you wish for something when you undertake it 1 I wish I had so much that yours could’nt pay the interest of mine for the time you could hold a red hot knitting needle in your ear. EcosroJficai.—A man who ch<nya fourten dol lar’s worth of tobocoo, a year, and stops, his pewspaper, he cause be is poor. WELLSBORO. TIOGA COUNTY, RA., THURSDAY MORNING. MARCH 10, 1859. “Wanted, a Tonng Man of Industry, &c.” uvw* 1 * 8 m % ets one ’ a _ eye daily in the column of Wants; and it is as true as the Pentateuch. Wanted? Of course they are wanted—always wanted. The market can never be overstocked; they will always be called for, and never quoted dull, ’ or “no sale.” IWanted for thinkers; wanted for workers; in the mart, on the main, in the field, and in the forest. Tools are lying idle for want of a young man; a pen is waiting to be wielded; a tree to be felled; a plow to be guided; a village to be founded; a school to be instructed. They talk about staples and great staples.— Honest, industrious, able yonng ■ men are the great staple in this world of ours. Young man, you are wanted; but not for a doctor. No; nor a lawyer. There are enough of tllem for this generation, and one or two to spare. Don’t study a “profession,” unless it be the profession of brick-laying or farming, or some other of the manual professions. Don’t use tape if you can help it. It is honorable and honest, and all that; but then, perhaps, you can do better. Of all things, don’t rob the women. It is their prerogative to handle silks and laces, tape and thread. Put on your hat like a man, don an apron and go out of doors. Get a good glow on your cheek, the jewelry of toil on your brow, and a good set of well-developed muscles. We would go, if we could; but then we were young, longer ago than we like to think—and you know when one’s old he can’t,” Besides, if you become a doctor, you’ll have to wait. “Because you hav’nt experience,” says an old practitioner; “because you are too young,” say all the women. If you are a law yer, and likely to rise, they’ll put a weight on your head, a la Swiss, to keep yon under; or if you make a good argument, some old oppo nent as gray as a rat, will kick it all over by some taunt or other, because you were not born in the year “one.” And so* it will go, until you grow tired and soured, and wish you had been a tinker, perhaps “an immortal” one, or any thing but what you are. Be a farmer, and your troubles are over, or rather they do not begin. You own what you stand on, “from the centre of the earth," as they used to say, “up to the sky you are as independant as possible all day, and tired, not weary, at night—for there is a great difference between these two words, if one only stops to think of it. The more neighbors you have, and the better farmers they are, the mote and the better for you. There is one thing more, young man. You are wanted. A young woman wants you.— Don’t forget her. No matter if you are poor. Don’t wait to be rich. You need a companion while you live, and not after you have done liv ing. Effort is life, and cessation therefrom, a grand and gloomy “has been,” So, do not wait until your time is all in the yesterdays; if you do, ten to one, if you are fit to be married at all, to anbody that’s fit to be married. Marry while you are young, and struggle up together, lest in the years to come, somebody shall ad vertise “Young men wanted,” and none to be had.— B. F. Taylor. “No Place like Borne.” Thus the poet once sung, and every heart responds to the truth of the beautiful senti ment. What tender emotions, warm feelings, and hallowed recollections cluster around the words “No place like home.” It was the sen timent which gave beauty to verse and life to the song—that awakened all the refined and, undying sensibilities of the soul. Emotions the most tender swell of the bosom, as the heart in warm affection, sighs for the sanctity of home. Prom its sacred altar goes forth an in fluence that gives life its beauty, its sweetness and its charm, and around that altar lingers the hope of destiny; for in its educating and elevating influence is the safeguard of inno cence and purity. And, as the evening and morning orison ascends, God accepts the sacri fice, and sends down the rich fragrance of his love to suffuse and imbue the hearts that min gle in sympathy there. But this hallowed abode of innocence, virtue and piety—this home of the affections—has been invaded by the spirit of the age; and amid the interests and excitements of life, ithe old and sacred idea of home is fading away. Its instruction—the germ of principle that moulded the character—its influence that guard ed the aspirations and restrained the wayward ness of youth, and its hallowed recollections that filled with delight the heart in after life— where they are now 7 Alas 7 1 how painfully is it that the old idea of home is passing away. Its instructions are deemed unimportant; its restraining influences tyrannical; and its ten der recollections unmanly. And for this folly and madness we forfeit all that is hallowed in the affections and all that is precious in the noble and virtuous career of our sons and daughters. The spirit of the age, which pants for novelty and excitement, is undermining the culture of family affection and influence, until the sacred power of its tender scenes are un known and unfelt by those who go forth to give tone and character to society. Thus they hasten to enter upon the stage and mingle in the busi ness of life, ignorant of its duties, its obliga tions, and its destiny—unrestrained and unin fluenced by the tender recollections of the sanctity of home. How deeply anxious ought every parent to be to impress the youthful heart withian undying love for home, urged, as he is, by every tender motive, by all that is desirable in the blessings and fearful in the displeasure of God, and by all that is elevating and perma nent in those influences whose sweep will be parallel with the stretch of eternity. Never let the ambitious forget, or the wayward trample upon, the sanctity of home; for it is thq power of that institution which God has owned and blessed, and which mast ever give to society, character and destiny. —True Witness. Jerry Diggs remembered his miserly uncle in bis will, for he bequeathed “to my mother’s brother a gun-flint, and a knife to skin it with.” The Shylock, who with head ereot, with hon est people mingles, should cease to ehaye bis fellow-men, and go to sharing shingles. 'There's no place like borne.” Twenty-Four Things, In which people render themselves impolite, annoying, or ridiculous: 1. Boisterous laughter. 2. Reading while others are talking. 3. Leaving a stranger without a seat. 4. A want of reverence for superiors. 5. Receiving a present without some mani festation of gratitude. 6. Making yourself the topic of conversa tion. 7. Laughing at the mistakes of others. 8. Joking others in company. 9. Correcting older persons than yourself especially parents. 10. To commence talking before others are through. 11. Answering questions when put to oth ers. „ 12. Commencing to cat as soon as you get to the table. 13. "Whispering or talking loudly in church, a lecture or concert, or leaving before it is closed. 14. Catting or biting the finger nails in com pany, or picking the teeth, or the nose, pull ing hairs therefrom. 15. Drumming with the feet or fingers, or leaning back in a chair, or patting the feet upon furniture. 16. Gazing at strangers, or listening to the conversation of others when not addressed to you or intended for your hearing. 17. Reading aloud in company without be ing asked, or talking, whispering, or doing anything that diverts attention while a person is reading for the edification of the company. 18. Talking of private affairs loudly in cars, ferry boats, stages, or at public table, or ques tioning an acquaintance about his business or his personal or private affairs anywhere in com pany, especially in a loud tone. 19. In not listening to what one is saying, in company—unless you desire to show contempt for the speaker. A well bred person will not make an observation while another of the com pany is addressing himself to it. 20. Breaking in upon or interrupting per sons when engaged in business. If they are to be long engaged, or you are known to have come from a distance, they will offer to give you attention at the earliest moment. 21. Peeping from private rooms into the hall when persons are passing, coming in or going out; or looking over the barters to see who is coming when the door bell rings. 22. When you are in an pffice or house, or private room of a friend, never handel things, asking their use, price, ect., nor handle nor rend any written paper ; it is a great imperti nence, and most intolerable. . 53. Never stand talking with a friend in tbe middle of the sidewalk, making everybody ran around you; and never skulk, along on the left band side, but “take the right” in all cases. Two persons abreast meeting one per son on a narrow walk should not sweep him off into the mud, but one should fall back a step and pass in single file. 24. Mind your own business, and let your friend have time, without annoyance, to attend to his. The “Try” Company, i A gentleman who was riding in the cars no ticed a bright little fellow, between five and six years of age, sitting with his father and mother, and engaged in the attempt to loosen the knot in the string that bound a small parcel. The knot had become well compacted, and the child’s tiny fingers seemed to make no im pression thereon. The patient earnestness of the little fellow was contrasted with the appa rent indifference of his parents, who looked on, hut made no attempt to assist him. At last the gentlemen, whose sympathies with children were warm, could bear the sight no longer; so, partly to help the 'child, and partly to rebuke the parents, he took out his knife, and handing it to the boy, said: “Here, my little fellow, try the virtue of a sharp blade. You can’t untie the knot.” Something to his surprise, the knife was not taken, but instead, the child answered with a smile: “Please sir, father don’t allow me to say I can’t; I belong to the Try Company.” “Indeed,” said the gentleman, as he drew back his hand, “I never heard of that company before." “0, I’ve always belonged to it—haven’t I, father 7” And the child turned with an expression of loving confidence in his face, toward his father. “lie's a worthy member of that excellent association, sir,” remarked the father, now speaking to the gentleman, and smiling in a pleasing way. “Ah, I understand you I” Light was breaking in upon his mind, “This is a part of your dis cipline. You never permit your little boy to say I can’t." “But instead. I’ll try, sir.” “Excellent,” said the gentleman, “excellent. Here is the way that men are made. It is the everlasting ‘I can’t’ that is dwarfing the ener gies of thousands upon thousands all over the land. A feeble effort is mode to overcome some trifling difficulty, and then the arms fall wea rily, and the task is abandoned.” “I cant” is a bad word, and the man or woman who has this word at their tongue’s end whenever any trifling object presents itself, is sure to go plodding through the world as when they first begun, without any more at the end of the journey than there was at the com mencement. Never let your children hear you say “I can’t”—never let them nse it, unless you would have them as drones upon society— a curse, not a blessing. Bather teach them that “there is no such word as fail.” Learn them to. be patient and to persevere, to regard no impediment, and strive to benefit themselves and their \fellows by not knowing any such word os “I can’t.” There is no fortune so good but that it may be reversed, and none so bad but it may be bettered. The sun that rises in clouds may set in splendor, and that which rices, m spjendqr may set in gloom. COMMUNICATIONS. What is Life I “It is not all of life to live.” Truly, ns beau tifully has the poet written thus. We may not measure life by the number of years that we, have breathed the atmosphere of earth and; wandered up and down this “mundane sphere, "j but by the growth of the mind, by the high; and holy aspirations that animate the soul byj the amount of happiness or sorrow that has.' been experienced in that time. To rejoice, toj feel the soul expand with the inward life, to’ soar with the towering eagle, or to contemplates with pleasure the flight of the ephemeral but terfly ; to feel one’s heart swell with the roar-' ing of the mighty ocean, or in its deep calml ness sink to repose; to appreciate the pure and beautiful; to distinguish between the good an 4 evil; —this is life. To arrive at conclusions free from prejudice; to expand thus ly; exulting with the powerful, softening with the subdued and gentle; to understand the mechanism of the human mind ; to comprehend the lordly feeling that impels the conqueror to extend his dominions and the prince to grasp for absolute power; but withal to sympathize, with the soul-thrilling patriotism that prompt^: the real hero to shed his blood for his and to acknowledge and experience the mighty power of that universal philanthropy thatwoulfl sacrifice itself for the good of others: Is nat this jto live ? ■ Bat is this the life portrayed in the light andj worse than worthless literature that unhappily! floods our land ? In works of fiction are we; not taught to look upon life as a few years |ol be spent for our gratification and in the indul gence of sensual and worldly passions ? Be-j sides, if their tendency is not absolutely per-! nicious, might not the brief space allotted us for the improvement of the mind and the ex pansion of its powers be more usefully employed ?, Does not their perusal unfit us for the active' duties of life and lead us-to dream away houhi that might more profitably be-spent in the ex-} ercise of those duties that belong to every one ? The tears that are shed over the untoward fate of some imaginary individual if dropped hi sight of the sufferings of one of earth’s sorrow ing children might win for us the love and grat itude of a real living human heart, and lighten the cares and sorrows of some brother or sister whose heart is yearning for sympathy. j j Young man, lay aside that novel! There is work to be done. The works of fiction maj' amuse for a moment; but we want something that will impart strength. Sinew and muscle is what we need to enable us to battle with t ic storms and temptations of life, to contend si cj cessfully against adverse circumstances and to win for ourselves a high name in the annals of life’s history. Fair lady, remember that “Life is real, life is earnest!"— nofcto be wasted in such enervating employ.— Don’t understand me that we are never to rqal light literature. The mind like the body needs rest and recreation. But this may be found’ih the works of those noble-hearted- men anti women who have written because they hald something of worth to write, and, their works will awaken in our own hearts a part of that enthusiasm and that love for the pure, and gobd, and beautiful, that inspired them while tndy wrote, and we shall rise from their perusal with true views of life and its aims prepared to j.j “Act, in the living present, I | Heart within and God o’erhead.” | ; Frank Harper;. | Is there no God? How can the infidel say there is no God ?-■— Who, after walking out and surveying 4the Heavens, can say there is no God 7 If any ejan, let him gaze upward ; the whole firmament wjll rebuke him; the stars seem to twinkle more brightly as if angry at so false a statement. Let him gaze at the Queen of Night as she rides along, majestically shedding forth her beali|e ocs light, and can he there, gazing upwaijd, earnestly say in his heart, there is no Godj?}— Or let him walk through the grove at mid-clay, when the king of day has ascended his thrtpje ; the birds are pouring forth their sweetest songs, and the tall trees dressed in gaudy colors, ;and sweet flowers blooming on every side, send forth sweet perfume; can ha then say there is .nn God 7 But will he not ask himself who foijmod these things 7 and can he answer, “’T was pot a God? j |t Who taught the bird to build its nest 7 Wino taught the busy bee to fly ? And when the earth is scorching, and all the products of the earth are withering, who is it that sends rnjiri to moisten the ground, revive the plants, and cheer the hearts of men—who, if not a 4 God 7 Then how, after all these manifold works, how con the infidel say there is no God 7 i • Covington. Lilia Lin-wood. ' For the Agitator. At School. - | ; These ever-recurring lessons, driving on hnd on without rest or pause, remind me of thq re treat of Washington and his army through? Jjiew Jersey—the victorious army sometimes in sight, pushing on all day long,—the Americans, weary and disheartened, fleeing on theiij own proper territory. Every Friday night, I imag ine I know how the soldiers felt when the Del aware lay between them and the enemy. When two whole days, and better, two long,/ dark nights are between mo and another recitation, I breathe more freely, albeit, 1 know th 4 river will freeze over and form a firm bridge for the pursuers, instead of rising with a sudden rain, ns did the Pedee and Dan between Cornwallis and General Morgan. But the two fresh strength and the battle is turned, anii for a few days the pursuers become the pursued. Victory as yet seems doubtful, but we -have strong faith that the lessons shall yet prove the vanquished party. The ground contested' inch by inch shall all be gained and become subject to the lawful owner, and the kingdomjof the mind be firmly ruled by its rightful sovereign Alfred Academy. Melaj^ie mm ■ F * The world should have its docket called, and sluggards all defaulted, and. those should be the' "upper ten,” when? labor had ?zalte£, Advertisements will be charged $1 per square of ' line?, one or three insertions, and 25 cents for ovary subsequent insertion. Advertisements of less than 14 lines considered as a square. Thesnbjoined rates will 1 be charged for Quarterly, Half-Yearly and Yearly ad. rertisenicata: 3 aovnts. 6 MO.vrna. 12 jfmrtns.. Square, . . $2,50 §5,59 s*,(« 2 do. . 4,00 8,00 8,00 t column, . . 6,00 8,00 18,(ft i do. . 10,00 15,00 20,08 Column, . - 18.0* 30.00 40,00 ■ Advertisements not having the number of Insertion# desired marked upon them, will bo published until or dered out and charged accordingly. ' Posters, Handbills, Bill-Heads, Letter-Heads andall ii , kinds of Jobbing done in country establishments, el. | (touted neatly ond promptly. Justices', Constables’, and township BLANKS: Notes, Bonds.Decds, Mort ' gages, Declarations and other Blanks, constantly ots hand, or printed to order. m. 3i For tho Agitator. : This bill of Mr. Crow’s which passed the Hoase & embodies a principle which the Repub lican party endorsed by their votes and to which we wish in few words to direct the attention of free men and of those who have faith in free ■labor. It provides that every head of a family, who is a citizen, or who has declared his inten sion of becoming snob, may enter upon any jvaoant and unappropriated quarter section of jGovernment land that is subject to private en jtry at $1,25 per acre, and receive a patent I therefor, after occupying and actually residing |on said land for five years ..free o/- corf, except Ift fee of $lO on receiving his patent. This fee jls merely intended to cover the cost of survey i and transfer. Such quarter section is protected as a homestead, and “shall in no event become liable to the satisfaction of any debt or debts contracted prior to the issueing of the patent therefor." In case pf the death of the party so entering upon Government lands, the claim shall descend to the wife or children, and enure to their benefit. It has thus thrown open to intelligent labor vast domains that at present fall for the most part into the hands of demagogues and specu lators. It would -in effect prove a revenue measure by making wide regions, now unpro ductive, tributary to the national treasury through the various channels of industry and enterprise. How stands the vote on this beneficent meas ure ! Every Republican member present when the bill passed, with the exception of Mr. Nichols, of Ohio, voted in favor of it. Every member from Slave-States with the exception of Craig, of Mo., Jewett, of Ky., and Jones, of Tenn., voted against it. Six Northern Demo crats-f-to wit, Messrs. English, Hughes, and Niblack, of Ind., Aaron Shaw, and S. S. Mar shall, of 111., and Leidy of Penn.—voted against the bill. Of the 76 negative votes, 62 were cast by “National Democrats.” [From the Albany Evening Journal.] From nothing has the West suffered more than from the greed of speculators ; and by nothing would the newly organized Territories be more benefitted than by some such prohibi tion as is embodied in this amendment of Mr, Gnow. v The land speculator follows close upon the heels of the Government Surveyor, and is too often in league with him. Few actual settlers ever find their way t,o a Land Office until months after, it has been opened. They are, with very rare exceptions always preceded by the vultures who intend to feed upon them. To obtain home steads to their liking, they mast pay exorbitant tribute to those whose only interest in the soil or in tho locality is to make it minister to their avarice. The operations of these eagle-eyed and swift footed gentlemen have within twenty years, cost settlers more than as many millions. Although their greed has so me times-worked their ruin, and left upon their hands vast tracts of land to meet the taxes upon which involved them in bankruptcy, the exceptional successful cases have been so brilliant that their ranks are kept full; and there are to-day about as many of the tribe in the field as during the palmiest days of “corner lots” .and quarter section sites for towns andycities. The pernidfous effects of the present system— which makes no discrimination in favor of the actual settler—ls most strikingly apparent in such States as Michigan, Wisconsin, Illinois and lowa. Every town is afflicted with somo one or more unoccupied section, held by non resident speculators, standing in the way of local progress and improvement. It is proba bly no exaggeration to say that one-eighth of Michigan, one-quarter of lowa and Wisconsin is thus afflicted. And no one acquainted with the history of the West—with the ravenous characters of the land cormorants—with the drawbacks which these unoccupied lands are to the neighborhoods in which they are si'/uated, or with the millions which, to compensate the speculator, have been abstracted from the pockets of the actual settler in search .of a home, can doubt the wisdom of what Mr. Grow proposes, and for which, we are glad to see, every Republican voted. But the defeat of the bill, now that clauso has been placed in it, is threatened! The De mocracy, whose love for the “hard-fisted yeo manry” is painted in such glowing culors through every canvass, holds back from a meas ure which is designed to prevent Democratic Receivers and Registers from scaring with Democratic Senators and Represntatives in the first picklings in the newly opened Land Dis tricts 1 The People will watch the fate of this bill with interest. For the Agitate rJ Thursday, January 20th, was a day of tha most absorbing excitement in the House, tbe occasion of it being Mr. Grow’s proposition to amend a preemption bill, so as to prohibit tho sale oLpublio lands at auction, until the expi ration of ton years after the surveys; being, in fact, a proposition to confine the sales of public lands to actual settlers. The proposi tion Iras carried, the Republicans voting solid for it. Then followed a contest to kill the bill as amended. The Democratic opposition bein'- able to rally some votes against the bill as a whole, from men who did not dare to oppose the amendment as a proposition by itself. A motion to lay the bill on the table was nega tived but it was killed at last upon-lts passage to be engrossed. The (miscalled) Democratic party opposed, as they always have done, this great measure of reform, so long demanded ’by justice and public sentiment. It is not merely that they wish to retain a system which makes onr public domain a favorite subject of speculation and corruption, but that they say that the medita ted reform would cause tho occupation of all our Territories, present and to be acquired, by small cultivators and free laborers. It was this aspect of the case which concentrated up n it all the passions connected with the political and social problems of the day. If the public do main is kept from the auction for ten yeaijs, tha prompters will take all that is fit fur cjiltivtt tion, and the occupants and cqltirator»o£ ijuar- Rates of Advertising. The Homestead BilL [From tho Pittsburg Gazette.] [From tho Washington Republic ]
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers