PSBUcaUdn. of TtOGA COUNTY AGITATOR is published I *rk,,«dav Morning, and mailed to subscribers «rr reasonable price of oSE DOLLAR PER ANNUM, ■ «.,» advance. It isTntended to notify every /irtnoov . en term fbr- which he has paid-sboll 1 s t Bm p—“Tike Out,” on the mar liire eS j“'Tj t paper. The piper will then be stopped tin of ,„,hcr remittance boreceived. _Ey this u to tot to. the. pnje®" ■ i ■ ' v I*'” 181 ', nAT o E is the Official Paper of the County, I ,s I" „ and steadily increasing circulation reach wiih 3 neighborhood in the County. 'lt is sent i»! ■ naioje to aqy ,Post Office, witljin Aie .county r"°‘ Uvi®* nffirt- convenient post office may ,hi •’ Count^ lD -y# Cards, not exceeding $ lines, paper-indu •ft***- - - FOr th® AgiUter. MT SISTERS.. One by ties of nature, And one by friendships spell, Are woven in affections wreath, And 0,1 love them well! I never knew a sorrow But well they bore a share; I never wished for kind time friends But they were always there. Sue in her careless gayety,— Katk with her gentle heart, Arc twined amid my heart-chords And form of life a part. And oft-times we together roam Beneath the dark trees* shade,. And whisper of those we used Kow in the cold earth laid. Lifc-What is it ? In a late number of the Agitator an interest ing and mil-written article on “Life,” appeared, ifter describing life’s changes, “an imaginative youth, a vigorous manhood, and a restless ma "(grity”—the writer concludes, (as such articles are too often concluded,) with “a death-bed and a grave in some lonely church-yard.” “Yes 1 such is life!” Such is life on earth; and far too many lim it the term to the few short, changing years that we spend here. dlas the doctrine, or rath er the great truth , of Immortality, been taught to long, and taught in vain ? If there is a real, living faith in “life everlasting,” why do vc hear so much of the grave ? Why is death regarded as the end ? And that it is really so regarded, any one may sep, who listens to the conversation, and observe the actions of many about him. Their “articles of faith,” assert a belief in a life beyond the grave, which their daily walk too often contradicts. There will hardly be the strife for wealth, power, and worldly distinction which so widely prevails, when all realize how few are our dayjs here, compared with those we are to spend in Another 'state of existence. The cares, the paiis, and sorrows which try us all, will lose half their power to grieve, the crosses we must hear will be lightened, and the tears we must all shed will be less bitter, if we think of that world more, and of this, less. Doubtless when from a happier home we look .back upon the earth life, we shall see that we suffered no pang in rain, that not a cloud too many darkened the sunshine of our day, and that not one obstacle hindered, as much as the conquest over it, helped ns. Even in this life we feel something of this. In reviewing the past, while we remember the thorns hidden behind the roses, we also recall the sweet dowers and glowing fruits, which grew in the shadow, and were‘nourished by the bitter waters of sorrow. Let us think less of the gafys and losses of mortality, and more of our glorious inheritance. Life eternal A. life spiritual, not material; with higher hopes, holier duties, and faculties and powers purified and developed. Let us make the short period of time that we spend here, a school, and preparation for the time to come. Then wiil the physical change called death, hare no terrors, the tomb no sadness for ns; for we shall know and feel that our spirits OJUiot die, cannot slumber in grave; but that they will, and vmstj (as a necessity of their king,) remain living, acting, loving intelligen mfirwr, Virginia. What We lave For “IT© live For .those who love nfr— For those who .are kind and true; For the Heaveoithat smiles above us, And the good that we can do. So sang the Hutchinsons in one of their boding heart-songs. The thought may for a ocraent arrest the attention of a few who listen lilts utterance in melody, but the mass hear Ml heed it not. They seem to live as if life lisno great purpose—no higher aim than the pauficition of self. Those in the crowd are filing each other; fiercely almost are treading ‘ ,,Kn ooeh other, to reach llieir particular goal, toe pale face of sorrow, or the wail of distress, lre unheeded. Gain—gain—is the maddened tr f’- Gold and lands for to-day, for to morrow die. Let the dog lick the sores of the poor, wd despised Samaritans turn aside to bind up “e bruised and wounded unfortunates. Sleek ? " eaveQ brings no direct dividend in money, ending to the Lord will not add two per cent, per month to the yearly accumulations. Such -Kras to he the common understanding. • Men Wt “if ''fe were an eternity. But the night tJtnclh—there are graves to fill and worms to ten. Wealth finds no exclusive privileges er l * le sod, ‘ over the river.” Bonds, mort jf.°es., ail dj ; toeks :Ire not current in the “here- 1 -Vo “sharp practice,” no shrewd busi ,ransjctions” there. No extraordinary ;. ” nts > for those who have entered into an w ''ich fadeth not away. No poor jto grind, for all are rich. They are joint 'losus Christ to an eternity of bliss, jj-ew an 4 ; the crutch and tattered gar- ’ l^e bruised and injured Tieart, have i n ie S raTC - a °d the paupers on earth jffle the owners of Heaven ! Oh! how often throght of whaf may be the feelings jj f_ ric *b the pompous and the proud, when those ECOrne d> robed in the unfa ir' u ““dazzling fabrics of eternal angel Telegraph. s.ms'jf I '™ ilson caught a cooper stealing f i;mi °°l I "I JO Jes which he had just got ready t-,,i a J et r -*-'he cooper -was astounded, find of ht, a . r . m ' r ten dollars not [to mention the s ia * C " P ro r oa >tion duly backed by the ts S , ; 'w'' s . aeee pted. But that same evening, i" r " dson, the cooper and,a lot of mutual ?4r 5r3 i"' CrC ta 'king politics at the village . former turned to a friend and fiTy , tjj,u tu 6Ver J° u > neighbor Jenks, that I lu e coo per here stealing my hoop-polds 1” betrayed his guilt by blushing hplt; ’ ana f* l6 party addressed declared in never did.” for ■f t^ eD ’” added Mr. "Wilson,” I never °n the n *“i Sed him 1 wouUll ’ t t * 6 ' l o'>borb * vilh a first ’ rate Coo Per settled in THE AGITATOR YQK.V. Artemus Ward, the Showman, Goes to See Piccolomlnj. Qiifiz: I arrowed in Cleveland on Saturday. P. M. &om Baldinsville jest in time to fix my self up and put on a clean tiled rag to attend. Miss Picklehomony's great musical sorry at the Melodeon. The krowda which pored into the hall augured well fur the show bisness :& with cheerful sperits I jined the enthoosiastio throng. I asked Mr. Strakhoss at the door if he parst the profession, and ho sed not much he didn’t whereupon I hawt a preserved seat in the pit, & observing to Mr. Strakhoss that he needn’t put On so many French airs becaws he run with a big show, and that he’d better let his weskut out a inches or perhaps he’d bust himself some fine day, I went in and squatted down. It was a sad thawt to think that in all that varst anjience Scacely a Sole had the honor of my acquaintance “& this ere,” said I hitturly, “is Fame! What sigerfy my wax figgers and livin wild beasts (which have no ekals) of these people? What do they care becawz a site of my Kangaroo is worth dubble the price of ad mission, and that my Snakes is as barmlis as the new born babe—all of which is strictly troo ?’’ I should hav gone on ralein at Fortin and things sum more but jestthen Signer Mac carony cum out an.d sung a hairey from some opry or other. He had on- his store close & looked putty slick, I must say. Nobody didn’t understand nothin abowt what he sed and so thay applauded him versiferusly. Then Signer Brignoly cum out & sung another hairey. He appeared to be in a Peusiv Mood & sung a Luv song I spose, tho he may hav bin cussin the anjience all into a heap for aut I knowd. Then cum Mr. Maocarony agin & Miss Pickelhomony herself. They sang a Doit together. Now you know, gentz, that I don’t admire opry music. But I like Miss I’iekelhomony’s stile. I like heir gate. She suits me. Thare has bin a greater singers and there has bin more hootiful wimin, but no more fassinatin young female ever longed for a new gown or side to place her agin a vest-pattern that Maria Pickelhomony. Fassinatin people is her best holt. She was hom to make hash of men’s buzzums and other, wimin mad becawz they ain’t .Picklhomoniea. Her face sparkles with amuzin cussedness & about 20C[ (two hundred) little bit of funny devils air continually danctn champion jigs in her eyes, said eyes bein brite enuff to Hte a pipe by. How I shood like to have Little Maria out on my farm in Baldins ville, InjaJmy, whare she cood run in the tall grass, wrastle with the boys, cut up strong at parin bees, make up faces behind the minister’s back, tie auction bills to the school-master’s coat tales, set all the fellers crazy after her, & holler & kick up, &go it jest as much as she wanted to ! But I diegress. Every time she cum canterin out I grew more delited with her. ■ When she bowed her bed I bowed mine. When she powtid her lips I powtid mine.— When she larfed X larfed. When she jerked her bed back and took a larfin survey of the aujicnce, sendin a broadside a sassy smiles in among era, I tried to unjint myself and kol lapse. When, in tellin .how she drempt she lived in Marble Halls, she sed it tickled lief more than all the rest to dream she loved her feller still the same, I made a effort to swaller myself; but when, in the next song, she looked strata at me & called me her Dear, I widly told the man nexs to me that he might hav my close, as I shood never want’ em agin no more in this world. [The Plain Dealer containin this' communication- is not to be sent to my fem ily in Baldinsville under ho circumstances whomsoever.] In conclushun, Marie, I want you to do well, I know you air a nice gal at hart A you must get a good husband. He must be a man of brains and gumpshun & a good provider—a man who will luv yu jest as much in your old age, when your voice is cracked like an old tea kittle &yu can’t get one I of yournotes dis counted at 50 per cent a month, as he will now, when you are young and charmin & full of music, sunshine and fun. Don’t marry a snob, Maria. Yu ain’t a Angel. Maria, & I'm glad of it. When I see angels in pettycoats I’m always soray thay hain’t got wings so thay kin quietly fly off where they will be appreshiated. Yu air a woman, & a mity good one too. As for Maccarony, Brignoly, Mullencholler and them other fellers, they can take care of their selves. Old Mao. kin make a comfortable livin choppin cord wood if his voice ever gives out, & Amodio looks as though he mite succeed in conducting sum quite toll gate, where vittles would be plenty & tho labor lite. lam preparin for tho Summer Campanc. I shall stay in Cleveland a few days & probably you will hear from me again ear I leave to once more becum a tosser on life’s tempestoons pil lers, meaniu the Show Bisnis. Florence. I'ot the Agitator. Poet’s Heads. —Sir Walter Scott’s hat was always the smallest in any company he hap pened to be in—the head was pyramidical. Byron’s was the same. Sir Charles Napier in his “Diary” thus mentions his meeting with Byron: “Lord Byron is still here—a very good fellow, very pleasant always laughing and joking. An American gave a good account of him in the newspapers but said that his head was too large in proportion, which is not true. He dined with me the day before the paper ar rived, and four or five of us tried to put on his hat, but none could; he had the smallest head of all, and one of the smallest I ever saw. Hel is very compassionate and kind to every one in distress.” At the opening of the Burn’s mausoleum in 1834, for the interment of his widow, the poet’s skull was taken up and ex amined. Nine gentlemen were present, and every one tried his fiat on the skull. Only one of the nine could, cover it, and that was the hat of Mr. Thomas Carlyle. The customers of a certain cooper in a town out west caused him a good deal of vexation by their saving habits, and persistence in getting all their old tubs and casks repaired, and buying but little new work. “I stood it, however,” saidbe, “until oneday old Sam Crabtree brought in an old bung-hole to which he said he wanted a new barrel made. Then I quitted the business in disgust.” saEfrotefr to tfre myitmum ot tDe of JFmlrom auJjr tt>t Sprcatr of Jfcefom. WHILE THERE SHALL BE A WRONG UNSIGHTED, AND UNTIL “MAN'S INHUMANITY TO MAN’’ SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE. WELLSBOROj TIOGA COUNTY, PA** THURSDAY MORNING. MAY 26, 1859. VeryJiespeotively yours, Artejius Ward Sayings from Sow, Jr. ON ASTEOLDCT. “My hearers, what is an astrologer but a mere mortal, after all ? He can no more burst open the tron-barred doors of the future, than he can see through a mill-stone, He may feel the pulses of the stars to find out the why and the wherefore of corns, cholera, head-ache, tooth-ache, dyspepsia, and the sprue ; he may tell how city lots and lots of individuals will turn out; he may pretend to do aU this, but he knows no more about it than a pewter dog.— There is just as much dependance to be placed upon his predictions as there is upon the signs of a coming storm, when an old ram. stands with his tail to the north-east. Study your-; selves , my hearers : pursue carefully your hearts, and their inclinations and let all astrologers pass to spring fodder; in other words, go to grass!” ,b SLEEP TO THE GUILTY. “The man who backbites his neighbor; who acts dishonestly, lives immorally, and votes spuriously; who lounges lazily, judges rashly, and condemns instantly ; who throws a quid of tobacco into the contribution box, and takes out a threercent piece to buy more ; such a sinner cannot coax sleep to his bedside. She won’t do it; he may.fall into a snooze; he may par take of the first section of a ‘nat cap;’ but ere he’s awake a skeleton nightmare looks in at the window, and gives a horse-laugh at his mise ry I” 1 SLEEP TO THE INNOCENT. “On the other hand, my hearers, look at the man who goes to bed with a sense of having done his duty to his Maker, his neighbor, and himself. He falls calmly asleep in the arms of Somnus, who beckons his friend Morpheus, - while reason slumbers, to come and guide his wandering fancy over tho blissful world of dreams. Is he a business man ?—the banks pay specie, and discount freely. Is he a law yer?—clients are all wealthy, and full of suits. Is he a preacher like myself?—his sheep yield good fleeces/ and are content with such fodder' as they get. Oh ! my hearers, it is a blessed thing to lie down at night with a light stomach and conscience 1 Yon ought to see me sleep sometimes!—‘fourteen mile a ‘our, and sur rounding’ objects rendered inwisible by the ex treme weloeity with which I snooze.” THE DISCONTENT OP HUMANITY. “Man, my hearers, is the fretful babe of trouble amLcare. Ho often frets because he can’t find anything to fret about. You give him his own way, ami he don’t like it, he wants his own wav of having his own way. I know the world; nobody has looked sharper than I have, for a chance of honest happiness in it; but the bubbles that raise on the stream of Time are all vanity. I’ve been down the stream, and I’ve watched the blubbers: and I tell you, my hearers, that all along by the margin of said stream, nests of young humbugsjire con tinually being hatched.” LOVE. “Love, like electricity, pervades every and all bodies. My heart sinks into my trouser’s pocket, when I meditate upon the evil which it has caused. It comes before you know it, and makes you feel queer. Look at yon miserable self-martyr, with the fire’ of liquid predition gleaming through his carbuncle nose: the pangi of despised love pour through every pore of his ruby proboscis. What constitutes the staple of his hard reflections ? tears, kisses,', partings, sawdust, soft sawder) and soft soap !”■ THE HOUSE OF THE HUMAN BODY. “I liken the human body to a house. The big bones are the main timbers. The ribs, are laths, well plastered—or rather rafters, that run into the ridge-pole, or backbone. The mouth is the door, and tho nose is the chimney especially for smokers. The throat is the entry, that leads to the kitchen of the stomach, where all sorts of food arc cooked. The lungs are tho bellows, that blow the flame of life, and keep the pot of existence always boiling; but the heart is the great chamber, where a great vari ety of goods are stored: some good, more mid dUßg, and many bad. My hearers, if you have any rubbish in that chamber, clear it out, and make room for goods which are saleable in the markets of the virtuous. The chambers of some hearts present an awful dirty appearance. Take the bran-new broom of decision, brush out the dirt of and sand the floor with vir tue.” 1 UPON EGOTISM AND DANDIES. “I detest egotism and vanity oa a cat does a wet floor. There are some vain persons in this world, who, after a long incubation; will hatch out from the hofe-bod of pride a sickly brood of fuzzy ideas, and then go strutting along in the path of pompossity, with all the self-importance of a -speckled hen with a black chicken. I have an antipathy to such people.” We’li, Marry this Fall. — l gave her a rose and I gave her a ring, and asked .her to marry me then; but she sent them all back insensible thing, and said she had no notion of men. I told her I’d oceans of money and goods, tried to frighten her with a growl, hut she answered she wasn’t brought up in the, woods, to be scared by the screech of an owl. I called her a beggar, and every thing bad ; I slighted her features and form ; till at length. I succeeded in getting her mad, and she raged like a sea in a storm. And then in a moment I turned and smiled, and called her my angel and all; she fell in my arms like a wearisome child and ex claimed, “We will marry this fall.” Out in Calhoun county, 111., a body with a head severed from the trunk was found recent ly. A corner’s, verdict was empanneled, and rendered the following verdict: “Kerensr’s Vpr dick.—Wee, the jurors, finde the deseezed cum to his death by the Hands of sum Pursen un hon with unlawful weeping naimed ox. “ How do you do, Mr. Smith?” “ Do i chat?” “ Why, how do you find yourself?” “ I never-- lose myself!” “Well, how have you been ?” “ Been—been where ?” “ Pshaw 1 how do you feel ?” “ Feel of .‘me and see.” “ Good morn ing, Mr. Smith.” It’s not a good morning— it’s wot and nasty.” Mistakes of Printers. Some people are continually wondering at the “carelessness” of editors in allowing so many errors and blunders to appear in their columns to mar the print. Some people know very little of the difficulties—we had almost said impossibilities—of keeping them out.— The most careful attention to these matters will not prevent errors from creeping in, even when professional proof-readers are engaged express ly for the purpose. And when it is borne in mind that in most papers such an expense is necessarily dispensed with, and the proofs, on that account, are often hurriedly examined, the fact no longer will appear strange. In connec tion with this subject, the following anecdote is not inappropriate:— “A Glasgow publishing bouse attemted to publish a work that would be a perfect spool- - men of typographical accuraey. After having been carefully read by six experienced proof readers, it was posted up in the hall of the Un iversity, and a reward of fifty pounds offered to any one who should detect an error. Each page remained two weeks in this place, and yet, when this work was issued, several errors were discovered, one of which was in the first line of the first page.” - ' When such was the ease in a city long) cele brated in Great Britain for publishing the finest and most correct editions of the classics,' what is to be expected in a newspaper, which must necessarily be hurried through the press, while it is news ; and where the compensation will hardly afford one “experienced proof-reader,” let alone six. The wonted accuracy of our pa pers is really astonishing. The Best Sewing machine. The very best sewing machine a man can have is a wife. It is one that requires but a kind word to set it in motion, rarely gets out of repair, makes but little noise, at once in motion will go on j uninterruptedly for hours, without the slightest trimming, or the smallest super vision being necessary. It will make shirts, darn stockings, sew on buttons, mark pocket handkerchiefs, cut out pinafores, and manufac ture children’s frocks out of any old thing you may give it; and this it will do behind your back just as well as before your face. In fact, you may leave the house for days, and it will go on working just the same. If it does get out of order a little, from being overworked, it mends itself by being left alone for a short time, after jwhich it returns to its sewing with greater vigor than ever. Of course sewing ma chines varya great deal. . Some are much quick ’er than others. It depends in a vast measure upon the particular pattern you select. If you J.re fortunate in picking out the choicest of a 'Swife—one fur instance, that sings while work ing, and never seems so happy as when the husband’s linen is on hand—the sewing ma chine may bo pronounced perfect of its kind ; so much so) that there is no makeshift in the world thatj can possibly replace it, cither fur love or money. In short no gentleman’s estab . lishmen is complete without one of these sew ing machines in the house! — Punch. TVe have often heard of the ruling passion strong in death'; and here we have a letter from a friend in Rhode Island that gives us ah example of the same principle, not in death but in debt, and we cdpy it: The now retired John B , once, senior ‘partner of the respectable firm of B - —& Co., of this city, during his business career was unfortunate enough to sell quite an amount to one Jones, on time, of course.— Now Jones was an exceedingly polite man ; in fact, as it afterwards proved, that weakness was about the only capital he over did have. Short ly after the’ purchase, Jones failed, in the direct sense of the term, showing nothing to satisfy hisr Creditors, among whom was Sir. A , aforesaid. Notwithstanding Jones’s misfortune he continued the use of his favorite weapon— saluting Mr. B as often as they met, with all the airs of a Brummel. When Mr. B could endure this no longer, he met Jones one Jay, and taking him by the button hole, said, “Jones, you owe me a large sum, and your po liteness annoys me. Wa’k into my store and ! will give you a receipt in full, on condition that you never speak to me again.” Imagine B ’s feelings when Jones struck the old attitude —hat extended in the 4pft hand, right hand on his heart —saying, "Couldn’t think of it, Mr. B , I would not forego that pleasure for four times the amount!” ‘ [ Fretful People.— “ Men make themselves uncomfortable, destroy the peace of their fami lies, and actually make themselves hated, by fretfulness.” Beecher says: _ “It is not work that kills men ; it is worry. Work is healthy ; you can hardly put more upon a man than he cab boar. Worry is rust upon the blade. It is not the revolution that destroys the machinery, but the friction. Fear secretes acid, but love and truth are sweet juices.” . We know a man with a patient, good Chris tain wife, and we never heard him speak a kind, pleasant word to her, and doubt if he ever did in the'half century they have lived together. , He is always in a fret. Everything goes wrong. You would think that he was made of cross-grained timber, and had always been trying to digest a cross-cut saw. lie is certain ly cross, and always thinks that his wife and .children, hired hands, and all the domestic ani mals-have entered into a combination to worry him to death. He is not only rusted but fairly crusted over with it He is incased in a shell .of acid secretions, through which no sweet jui ces etcr distill. Friction has literally worn him out, and he will soon worry himself to death. Of course he never worked to any advantage to himself or any body else. With him every thing always goes wrong. He superstitiously believes it is “because the devil has a spite against him,” when in truth it is nothing but Jua own fretfulness. Many persons have a particular ambition to seem exactly what they are not. We know a rich man, who bought a. most splendid library, andVignod the contract with his mark. EDUCATIONAL. A9DSBSS To the Teachers’ of the “ Tioga County Teachers’ Institute.” Eelivered at Tioga, on Wednesday Eve , May Gth. 1859. BY yiCTOS A. ELLIOTT. ■ Felloe Teachers :—I shall proceed in a very brief manner, to show “The hind of school dis cipline necessary to 'success in the teacher’s profession.” The word discipline, according to Noah Webster, is the latin disciplina , from disco , I learn; and it is defined by that emi nent philologist as follows: 1. “Education; instruction; cultivation and im provement, comprehending instruction in arts, scien ces, correct sentiments, morals, and manners, and due subordination to authority. 2. “Instruction and government, comprehending the communication of knowledge and the regulation of practice; os, military discipline, which includes in struction in’manual exercise, evolutions, and subordi nation. 3. “Halo of government; method of regulating principles and practice. 4. “Subjection to laws, rules, order, precepts, or reg ulations. $. “Correction; chastisement; punishment intend ed to correct crimes or errors; as, the dtscijuftne of the strap." ' These definitions seem,to embrace all the va riousand peculiar relations which the teacher sustains to his pupils. They are broad and comprehensive, as indeed, they need be, to meet all the exigencies of the school room, where characters of every description are to be found; where errors, not only in Geography, Grammar and Arithmetic, but also in manners and senti ments, and not uufrequontly in morals, are to be met, and overcome by the most rigid sytsem of discipline. In order that this may be effect ually accomplished, it is necessary that a teach er should be well versed in the various kinds of school discipline. " Now my friends, the subject which I have chosen, naturally, and very properly divides itself into five parts according to the defi nitions quoted; namely, the kind of mental discipline necessary for the student; physical discipline; method of regulating principles and practice; rules to be obeyed; and punishment to be inflicted. But for the sake of brevity, and for the want of opportunity, I have resolved it into two propositions, viz: How to make scholars learn; [and, How to govern a school. How many young teachers have been disap pointed in their expectations, and have failed of success in their first attempt at teaching, for the want of -some proper plan to make schol ars learn. They may have been well versed in such literary attainments, as pertain to the common schools; and perchance they were fully awake to the great advantage to be de rived from an education, and fullV aroused to the great importance of educating the young. They may have entered the school room with the most joyful anticipations of the pleasure of teaching. They may have possessed sufficient ambition to have made them the most success ful teachers, had their efforts been directed in the right channel, and aided by the right kind of school discipline. Inspired with all the zeal and enthusiasm so characteristic of young hope in a new sphere of action, they spread out before their scholars all the benefit of a good education, and painted them with all the varied hues of their own imagination, think ing that all that was necessary, was to give their scholars a chance to progress, and they would do so, without other means being resorted to by the teacher, to accomplish the work. They probably succeeded in organizing their schools and by their own earnestness managed to infuse sufficient energy into their scholars to last them through the first week. Thipgs went on swimmingly for a time, the teachers acting as the bellows to fan their scholars, brain into a flame.—While they kept up a constant blow ing their scholars were kept alive, but when ever the puffing ceased the fire gradually died oijt. By degrees the scholars lost their energy, and they soon began to lag. They were urged and coaxed, but all to no purpose. Those teachers soon found that they were doing abso lutely nothing in their schools and that their scholars were doing less than they. Their fault was, they did not institute the right kind of discipline in their schools. They possessed sufficient knowledge to be the best kind of teachers. Their interest for their scholars’ wel fare was unbounded. Their will was good enough ; but they did not take the right kind of means to be successful in making their scho lars learn; or more probably, they took no means at all. The great fault with many of our teachers is, that they think they can teach, and i teach successfully, without resorting to any means to make their students learn. But this is a mistaken idea. It is in opposition to the constitution of human nature which in clines to indolence in a majority of cases.— Most teachers must have learned this fact by their own experience. Scholars must feel un der obligations to study, or in other words, they must bo compelled to get their lessons by the discipline of the school, or they will make lit tle or no progress. Some teachers finding it a hard matter to get scholars to work patiently for themselves, have concluded that it is the best or the easiest way, for the teacher to do it all. And hence they have originated the prac tice of commencing school with a great deal of glorification, telling the scholars that it is an easy matter to get an education, if they will only listen to the instruction of the teacher, and try and remember it. And thus they man age to keep up an excitement by this novel way of teaching, which is generally very much liked by the scholars, yvho think it is very nice and pretty for the tedcher to recite all the les sons, only, perhaps .requiring them to repeat after him. Such kinq of discipline in teaching is an absolute curse”to the scholar, and amjnd killing practice to the scholars. It is false in theory, and dangerous in practice. It throws all responsibility from the scholars, and makes him a mere passive recipient. It destroys his independence and self-reliance, if ho has any. It destroys the necessity of study, affording no exercise .for his intellectual faculties, which is the great prime objectof study. If he acquire oyor so much knowledge by such moans ho will not be. sufficiently educated to use jit properly ; Rales of Advertising. Advertisements will bo charged $1 per square of 14 Kcc- 4 , insertions, aod-25 cents for every eubreqaent insertion. Advertisements of less than 14 lines considered as a sqonre. The subjoined roles will bo tbarged for Quarterly, Half-Yearly and Yearly ad* Toiliicmonts; Square, . 2 do. i column, . i • do. Column, - - 18>0 40,00 Adre/il&ements not having thenumberof insert : oa, desu ed marked upon them, wifi be published until o'r- oat, and charged accoidthgly. Posters, Handbills, Bill-Heads, Letter-Heads and all kinds of Jobbing done in country establishments, ex ecuted neatly and promptly. Justices’, Constables’, and township BLANKS: Notes, Bonds,Heeds, Mort gages, Declarations and other Blanks, constant!? on* hand, or printed to order. NO. 43? and bis name will furnish another example of that peculiar character, the learned fool. Another class of teachers, in order to avoid the evils of such kind of discipline, have adopted the plan of making the student do it all; while they remain entirely inactive.— They offer no word of encouragement, no look of kindness, and positively refuse to help their scholars in their lessons. They give out a les son which must be learned by the student with out any help, and recited to the letter; and if he fails, he is called either a drone or a fool.- This method is scarcely better than the other. Though right in one' respect, it fails essentially in another. Where it makes the student feel the necessity of getting his lesson himself, it is right; hut where it reproaches him, after se vere and long-continued study and toil, it is manifestly wrong. Such discipline is, also, at variance with the constitution of human na ture. A child must feel that his efforts are ap preciated, before he can vtork with a cheerful ' heart, and with indomitable courage and ener gy. He requires the sympathy and encourage ment of the teacher, while he strives to master the many perplexing problems of Arithmetic, or abstruse 'sentences of Grammar. Both ways taken together then, are right. The teachers . and scholars should work together. The teacher should be led to perform his part from the prin ciple, from a deep and abiding interest in the cause, and he should institute such discipline in his school as will make the scholars perform theirs. The teacher should not attempt to ad vance bis scholars by hiq own exertions, un aided by their efforts ; if he does, he will fail. Nor should he compel them to perform their work alone, withoat giving them proper in struction and encouragement afterward. lie should not attempt to teach them Grammar, Arithmetic, or Geography, without requiring of them sufficient study in return ; if he does, he will only succeed in giving them a very su perficial and useless knowledge of them. Nor should he think of making them acquire a cor rect and thorough knowledge of those intricate branches, without giving them a thorough dril ling himself. He should not attempt to trans form his mind into theirs by the plastic hand of his genius, without requiring them to do their own moulding; if he does, be will find to his own sorrow, at the close of the term, that be has labored much to little purpose. Nor should he require them to transform their minds into his alone, withoat assisting them, to give the finishing stroke or touch. Men are de pendent beings, dependent upon each other.— But in no case is their dependence more forci bly illustrated than in the relation of scholars to the teacher. They are dependent upon him for instruction ; and it should always be his ob ject to instruct them to be independent. While they should depend upon him for advice, and place implicite confidence in bis judgment, they should, at the same time, be disciplining their own judgment by his counsels, and thus acquire confidence in themselves. On entering the school-room, a teacher should understand what ho is required to teach. No superficial imperfect knowledge should be considered suffi cient. Ue should be thorough. He- should then give to his scholars lessons of sufficient length to occupy their time. He should re quire these lessons to be well learned, and reci ted by the scholars at the regular recitations. Then everything that is hard or difficult about their lessons should be explained andi the rea sons given. The teacher should assist when it is necessary, and he should endeavor to make everything plain, and clear. He should show to the scholars, by Bis earnestness, that be ik interested in their studies, and that he- is wil ling to give his whole mind to them- while in the class. This will inspire them with confi dence, and rouse their ambition, and- ultimate ly crown them with success. Ffirmly believe if this plan of teaching was faithfully carried out, that it would result in great good to our schools. But it must be carried out, in order to be a benefit, and the teacher should take such means as will enable him to carry it out. No school discipline is complete, unless it corrects transgressions whenever and wherever they oc cur. There is no use in having a rule that scholars are to get lessons, unless there is some way to compel them to obey that rule. The power to make a rule pre-supposes power to en force it. And having made the rule that scho lars shall get their lessons, teachers should be prompt in taking means to enforce it. I cer tainly feel that there is a lack among the teach ers of this county in this respect. Scholars have got the very dangerous idea that at the common school, they are not obliged to got their lessons unless they have a mind to. And feeling under no obligation to get their lessons, they are very apt to neglect them for something of less importance. The fault is not so much in the scholars, as in the very easy and lenient discipline adopted by our teachers. This is not the case in high schools and Academies. There the most rigid system of discipline is establish ed. Scholars are compelled to get their les sons, or they are expelled from school. Lot teachers resort to somb sack practice in com mon schools. Let scholars understand that di rectors will uphold teachers in such kind of discipline, and we should soon see a remarka ble change, for the better, in the common schools of our land. Then there would nut bo such a remarkable difference between the com mon school and academic student; for very many go to high schools to study the same branches that might be taught equally as well at the common school, if the discipline wore the same. I trust that my remarks upon tno delicate subject of teachers* and dlrecti r au thority over pupils, will not bo misinter preted and misrepresented. And I hope they will not be thought impertinent on this occa sion. I thought that, it might profitably en gage your consideration at this time; therefore I presented it. Much more might be said about the kind of discipline necessary to make scho lars learn; but my time is short, and I must say something of my second proposition:— How to gorem a school. It has hecn customary to rank the goverh ment of a school of the first and primary im portance, And for this calisc many teachers hare fallen into the error of commencing to ex-* ercise their powers of government before I hey commence to UMvh* Thb b had policy, fuf 13 VOSTQS. $6,00 8.00 10.00 20,08 3 moxths. 6 ho-v-hs. $2,50 $1,50 1.00 6,00 - 6,00- 8,00 10,00 15,00
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