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" 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 ]