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For the Agitator*
evening thoughts,
at the days declining,
Pale grow the rosy skies,
And stars are calmly shining
Like holy spirit-eyes j ,
Mv thoughts are upward>ovmg
* Unto a higher sphere; 1
Tbcr seek the pure and Ipvmg
Who still to me are dear.
Perhaps, while I am dreaming
Of pleasures that are o'er.
Their tender eyes are beaming
Upon me as of yore.
And while my heart is thrilling
With joys that yet may be,
And tears my eyes are filling,
perhaps they think of me.
And then my truant fancies
Will wander far and near,.
Recalling smiles and glances
Of some who tarry here.
2*ight winds are odors bringing
Of lily and of rose,
Rat memory is singing
Of sweeter things than those.
The d»ys that have departed;
Rise up before my view,
Friends, earnest and true-hearted,
To-night I think of you!
Tho’ distance wide may sever
And many changes grieve,
Oh! friends, beloved forever,
Remember mo at eve.
TO H. V. H.
When twilight lets her curtain fall
o‘er tower and hill and tree,
And as I list the wild-bird's call,
I think, yes, think of thee.
When stars are smiling in the sky,
And trembling on the sea,
I fondly stay the half-breathed sigh,
And think, yes, think of thee*
When slumber binds my weary soul,
Though light the chain may be.
Then comps an hour from heaven stole
I dream, yes, dream of thee!
Clymcr. May 1859,
Letters From Over The River.
It seems no longer ago than yesterday that I
at down, jaded and wet, after mastering my
first lesson in experimental life; yet I may
afely put it at upward of twenty years ago m
the seasons turn. Iw was at the close of one
of those July days ushered in by a round, red
inn, which one may'! gaze at with impunity;
whose mid-days are furnace-like and whose af
ter-Dnon? not seldom are the theatres of those
impromptu meteorological exhibitions conduct
ed behind a murky drop-curtain depending from
zenith to horizon on either hand.
Tho storm had spenHts fury, and a magnifi
cent rainbow spanned the eastern sky. I was
but one of a group of twenty children busied
In speculating upon the nature of the glowing
arch, each joyous, thoughtful, and wondering.
Many and diverse theories touching its nature
and were advanced by the curious lookers
pn; and all failed of other effect than the more
hopeless mystification of their originators. I
believe this, to some extent, is true of the theo
ries hatched in older brains; not that theorizing
i* at all a bad employment for the mind of man,
for I opine that theories oftener lie at the bot
tom of discovered truths in science and nature
than any distinct knowledge of the principles
which govern in either realm. The mind gets
> glimpse of the fact, perhaps ; but the mental
discipline that comes of theorizing renders the
aind better able to grasp the facts which lie
underneath.
"Hullo, there I who wants to be rich V 9
We turned to encounter the quizzical face of
Ben Walter, the “hired man” of the nearest
fvmer. Ben sat composedly on the cart-rail,
pipping a little paddle, left by the shower,
intu 'linjry foam.
“I! II II” shouted the group almost in a
breath.
“Well/' said our interlocutor, changing sides
immense quid of tobacco and spurting
a small deluge of juice some ten feet away, to
intense delight of sundry boys who had
metered their first quid and longed for the
Kwnd, “well, you see that *arf” pointing to
Ik- rainbow.
“Yesl” said the crowd.
‘‘Well, the chap as goes to the end o’ that
'll find a two bushel bag of silver spoons.
Haw, Buck! g’long!” ,
•'ow there was not a boy in the group that
’“d not know Ben Walter as an unconscionable
not over truthful, albeit. But not a doubt
* existence of the “two bushel bag of
’ entered the minds of any. After a
} 5 consultation, sis of us volunteered to go
. e spoons ; the others, meanwhile, to re
in charge of our books and slates. We
Wd upon an equal division of the treasure —
e *uole to be exchanged at the store at the
'“s-roads for sundry, pounds of candy, lumps
pitch, fish-hooks and lineh, efc
our point of observation, the southern
°i the bow” rested, or seemed to rest, on
topmost peak of “Pisgah,” a huge mass of
w k° se sides were dark with hemlock
mass covere d ledges. The older
» : th n Gen BtU(^OUB to people the mountain
t nneP beasts an d bugbears,
was to us little folk a kind of
« In fact, wo had been forbid
r°SS^e **^ tone Brook,” which leaped
i* the rocks, or slept in the dark pools
* mnun taih , a base. But we reasoned
that a humble confession of
accompanied by an offering of
fceth s P 00ns by each of us to our incensed
secure pardon. So we set off.
fop a. 0 i ta °gled grass, over walls, through
0(1 f,ta S na nt swamps ; now wading the
Btreams un d now scrambling over rocks
i our bare feet like knives ; now
f()r r °d s under the matted laurel in
try. rea, i of anacondas and boa constrict
-1 ledges, clinging to a
biting , some prostrate hemlock, or
- Urse re3 t slowly and painfully by the
aserted mto the jagged crevices of the
c r icular rocks - We c ° uid not see
n *? oud8 »” but it was there, un-
Sa amon g ourselves. So we
- _ fj * our eet bleeding, our garments
m Vrt to m . But then, “the spoona”!-
THE
YOL. V.,
We had only to persevere, and then retnm to
our fellows fabulously rich.
The goal was reached. Almost reverently
we turned from the fruitless quest, toward the
West from which the twilight hues were slowly
fading. Not a word was spoken as, jaded with
the ascent, and for the first time seriously
thoughtful of the accounts we must soon ren
der of our disobedience, we proposed to descend.
The return was compounded of groans and
hairbreadth escapes, and each of us found an
anxious watcher at the window when our
homes were reached. No questions were asked,
for our errand had been published in the streets
in the early evening. I leave you to imagine
the figure we ojit for some weeks thereafter.
No doubt Franklin’s story of the “Whistle”
is an admirable thing of its kind ; my grand
father (rest his soul!) was never weary of bring
ing it to bear upon that period of boyhood
when swapping jack-knives becomes epidemic.
Did I ask permission to go a-fishing, he straight
way took down “Poor Richard” and set me to
read the story of the “boy who paid too dear
for the whistle.” But I never profited by the
moral of that stale lesson. I never forgot to
wonder why the fool did not out jack-knife and
make his own whistles—since every willow bore
an indefinite quantity ~of those simple instru
ments of music. As for me—l never bought
whistles; and why should that story be flung
in my face so often ? .1 perversely determined
never to give “Poor Richard” a place in my
library, should I ever own one. And that was
all the benefit I ever got from reading the ad
venture of the boy who fell in love with a
whistle.
VIRGINIA.
For the Agitator.
But the journey to the crest of “Pisgah,”
and the moral attached, sank deep into my life.
I think it plucked up the passion, avarice, root
and branch. If my young companions sug
gested a capital place to make money with
little work, I thought of the “bag of spoons,”
and ate my crust in content. Later, when the
California gold fever broke out, two gentlemen
from the city called to see me on business.
They unfolded their plans, by means of which
a stream of the golden flood was to be diverted
from the main body into their coffers. They
would furnish all—outfit r stock, passage money,
everything. I listened in silence until the
golden scheme was fully revealed. “Would I
go?” I thought of the ascent and descent of
“Pisgah” and very quietly said—
“No!”
A. A. A.
For the Agitator.
Say what you will—we do no|b much profit
by the mishaps of other people. The rod that
sears the back of my neighbor profits me noth
ing. Defeat—Bonaparte had his Waterloo—
but what care I ? I must taste its bitterness
in my own experience ere profit accrue to me.
The sorrows of others may sadden us, but the
griefs ingrained in our very souls can alone
teach us the sublime virtue of patience; these,
alone, can soften and refine; these, alone, are
living preachers. An rtvoir, |j Insomnie.
Our hearts were well nigh broken, as we left
our beautiful and beloved one, to sleep the dark,
mysterious sleep of Death. The winds swept
by us sobbing, as Nature’s falling tear-drops
mingled with our own.
The sweet gush of melody which had so per
vaded our beautiful earth, seemed changed to
tones of sadness and gloom.
One of the bright links of affection had been
severed! As the broken chain of existence
dangled by our side, we felt no wish, no energy,
to go on with our part in the drama of life.
White-robed memory touched our brow! In
stantly we passed through the dim years of the
past.
A blue-eyed child sported amid the flowers.
Yhe sky above her head was bright. The birds
sung in [cadence with the soft murmuring of
the winds, as she gently twined her brow with
wreaths of flowers; and musical peals of laugh
ter broke from her lips, with that joy which
only the heart of childhood feels.
As years speed on, her checks paled, and her
eyes grew brighter with a strange unearthly
light. Her soul sent forth its tendrils of love
and kindness, which crept and clung to the
hearts of her fellow passengers in life's journey.
But their love—no love of carf/t could save her.
She went to sleep, and was laid among the
many who have gone to that far off “Sunset
Land” where
*1 Dwell those cherished ohCs,
With snow white brows and waving hair;
I see them now—l hear their tone*
Of sweetness sigh along the air.
Hark I how their silvery voices ring
In cadence with the wind’s low sigh';
Not sweeter is the wind-harp’s string
That wakes at eve its melody.
They call na; see, they wave their hands—
As hy the mirage lifted high,
That clime in all its beauty stands
Against the fore-head of the sky.
With wreathed brows—with laugh and song>
With tender looks—hand clasped in hand,
They move along that love linked throng—
Within the haunted sunset land.”
Found his Shell. —A traveller called lately
at nightfall at a farmers house in Alabama; the
owner being from home, and the mother and
daughter being alone, they refused to lodge the
wayfarer.
“How far then,” said he, “to a house where
a preacher can get lodgings?”
“Oh I if yon are a preacher,” said the lady,
“you can atop here.”
Accordingly he dismounted, deposited his
saddle bags in the bouse, and led his horse to
the stable. Meanwhile, the mother and daugh
ter were debating the point as to what kind of
a preacher he was:
“He cannot he a Presbyterian,” said one,
‘for he is not dressed well enough.”
“He is not a Methodist;” said the other “for
his coat is not the right cut for a Methodist."
“If I could find his hymn hook,” said the
daughter, “1 could tell what sort of a preacher
he is.” And with that she trust her hands into
the saddle bags, and, pulling out a Bask of Ih
quor, she exclaimed, “La! mother, he’s a hard
shell Baptist.
The paths of virtue, though seldom those of
Worldly greatness, are always those of pleas
antness and peace.
Bebotesr to the Eftension of the area of ifmhom anh the S£reah of fhealths Reform.
WHILE THERE SHALL BE A WRONG UNRXQHTED, AND UNTIL “HAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN” SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE.
fJt the Agitator.
Leave, by the Wayside.
WELLSBORO. TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING. JUNE 2, 1859.
MYSTERIOUS MURDERS DETECTED.
PROIf THE RECORDS OP A FRENCH POLICEMAN.
I had some renown as a sucessfal rogaecntch
er; and I had some experience, too. My field
of operations, as a usual thing, lay within the
confines of the Department of the Lower Alps;
and though I served under the Sub-prefect of
the Third Arrondisment, yet the Prefect of the
Department called upon me when he chose.
One morning—it was in the latter part of May
—I received a note from the Prefect, ordering
me to come to Digne and see him with all pos
sible despatch. The missive came through the
office of our Suh-prefect, so I had nothing to do
but to get ready and start, I took an early din
ner, assumed the dress of a peasant, browned
my face and hands, and set forth. I reached
Dinge just at nightfall, and as soon as it was
dark I waited upon the Prefect. He seemed to
be relieved when he saw me, and at once took
me to his private closet.
“Now,” said I, “have you got work for me ?”
“Yes,” he replied. “Sit down and listen.”
We sat down, and having tasted a glass of
wine, he proceeded.
“Within a few months past there have been
some of the most mysterious murders commit
ted in this department, and in the department
of Var, that have ever come under my notice.
These are done, mostly, on the road from Cas
tellane to Aups. The first victim was a Mar
seilles merchant, who had come up to Castel
lane to purchase preserved fruits. His body
was found by the road-side, near |the line be
tween the two departments; and'at first it was
supposed that he must have fallen there, and died
in a fit, as no mark of violence cbuld be found
upon him. His pockets bad been rifled, howev
er. The next one was found near Annot, and
under the same circumstances. He was a mer
chant also, and from Nice. Since then five or
six more have died in the same mysterious way;
and no marks of ill usage have been found up
on any of them; but they have all been robbed."
“Have most of them stopped in Castellans ?”
I asked.
The Prefect told me that they had.
“And I suppose they must have put up at
some inn there ?” I remarked.
“Yes,” said the Prefect.
I then supposed that some of the landlords
must be concerned. But my companion in
formed me that they had been narrowly watched
and that no shadow of evidence rested against
them.
“But,” said I, “is there not some poison in
this matter ? Some inn-keeper may administer
the potion, and then send an accomplice after
the victim.”
“No, returned the Prefect, with a shako of
the head. “Experienced physicians have exam
ined the stomachs of several of the dead men,
but no trace of poison has been found. It is a
mysterious affair. The Sub-prefect has done
all he could, but without effect; and now we
mean to give the whole thing into your hands.
You must go to Castellaneatone, and there you
can get such information as the Sub-prefect can
give you.”
After eonfering awhile longer with the Pre
fect, ha let me have a suit of ordinary trades
man’s clothing ; and thus habited, I went to a
hotel and put up for the night. In the morn
ing I procured a horse, and set out, reaching
Caatellane before noon. During the day I pre
tended to be doing business. I went to the wool
len factory and examined a lot of stuff; and also
visited several places where preserved fruits were
put up. I learned that most of the people who
came there on business stopped at an inn kept
by a man named Juan Fontaix; so I left my
horse there, and engaged lodgings. I
After dark I called upon the Sub-prefect. He
told me that be had used all the means witbiu
his power, hut had not been able to gain a clue
to the guilty party. Most of the murdered vic
tims had been from Marseilles, and the excite
ment in the city was intense. Gendarmes had
been sent out upon all the roads, and secret po
lice had also been upon the watch. The Iqst
victim had fallen only four days before, and the
deed was done fifteen minutes after the police
man had passed the spot.
I asked the Sub-prefect if he.had any suspi
cions. Ho answered that all the suspicions he
had held was fastened upon Juan Fontaix, the
inn-keeper. Nearly all the murdered men had
stopped at his house, and he must have known
something of their business.
I bade the offiper keep perfectly quiet, and
not even to let one of his own men know of my
presence. Then I returned to the inn, and
finally entered into a conversation with my host
upon the subject of the mysterious deaths. He
pronounced it wonderful, and assured me that
it had injured him than he could tell.
‘.'Par-bleu !” he muttered, “they’ll be suspec
ting me next, if they have not done so already.”
I was soon satisfied that Juan Fontaix knew
toothing of the guilty party. He was very fear
ful, and at times blanched and trembled at the
thought of being apprehended for the crime.
Most people would have seen in this signs of
guilt; but 1 thought differently.
1 spent all the next day in the town, ostensi
bly engaged in business with the factories, but
in reality hunting after some clue to the object
of my mission. Night came again ; but I had
found nothing new. ' I was perfectly satisfied
that the murderer had laid bis plans so deeply,
that no circumstantial clue could be found. If
I would find him, I must catch him with the
proof upon him.
I had given an assumed name at the inn, and
stated that I belonged to Toulon. On the next
morning I called for my bill, and informed my
host that I was off for home. Then I went to
the fruit preserver’s, and told him the same,
stating that I must confer with my partner be
fore I concluded my bargain. After this I went
to the woolen factory, and saw the business
agent. His home was Louis Cazaubon, and he
came to Constellane about a year before. He
seemed to he a straight forward, business man,
and yet he was the only one I hod seen whom
1 really wished to suspect. In conversing upon
the murders, he had been a little too free and
off-handed, treating the subject more coolly than
a man with heart would be apt to do. But still,
1 had thus far beeu able to find nothing against
him. On the present occasion I told him, as I
Agkes-,
AGITATOR.
had told the others, that I mast return to
Toulon.
“If you have not the ready money with you,
we can give you credit,” he said.
I told him 1 had plenty of money, hut I was
not fully prepared to pay the prices he had de
manded.
He said “Very well,?’ and added that he should
be happy to sell to me when I came again. I
bade him good day and then departed. As soon
as I was alone, I began to suspect Monsieur
Louis Cazaubon in earnest. When I told him
that I bad money, but did not purchase because
he charged me too much, why didn’t he banter
me ? Simply because he wished me to leave
town with my money in my pocket—at least, so
it appeared to me. This was sufficient ground
for me to work upon, and I.resolved to watch
the man a little while. So I rode to an out-of
the way place and left my horse, and then re
turned and concealed myself in a position where
I could see the movements of Louis Cazaubon.
In a few minutes he came out from bis facto
ry, and walked away. His step was hurried
and eager. I felt sure he was not the man who
did the direct work of death. The plot was
deeper than that, or he would have been dis
covered ere this. So I resolved to wait a while,
and see if he returned. I would have followed
him if I could have done so with safety; but be
might have detected me, and that would not do.
However, in less than fifteen minutes, he came.
He walked, now, with a sober, innocent air. It
seemed to say—“Oh ! I haven’t been up to any
mischief, as you can see 1”
1 saw Cazaubon at his desk again, and then
I returned to my horse. I knew that I had a
risk to run, now; but was ready for it. If the
factory agent was at the bottom of the crime,
and meant to have me robbed, he had already
set his machinery in motion, and the next de
velopment would he upon the road. I exam
ined my pistols, and then left the town, taking
the road along the river, towards Aups.
At the end of half an hour I came to the
slopes of the Barjois mountains, and soon after
wards entered the wood. I now began to be very
careful, and keep my eyes abont me. I will
not say that I was wholly without fear ; for the
mysterious manner in which the murders ha,d
been done, verged so closely upon the ‘ marvel
lous, that a sort of superstitious dreed attached
to it. Had the victims been shot, or run through
with a sword, or had their throats cut, I should
have felt no sort of dread. But this was new
ground. Death had come here, nobody knew
bow. It might have come from an invisible
hand, and in dead silence. Yet, when I rea
soned upon the subject, I felt sure that the mur
derer must approach very near to his victim ere
the blow was struck, since it must be some di
rect and powerful agent that could cause death
in so strange a manner.
Iliad crossed the little cascade of Saint Es
prit and was decending a short, steep' hillside,
when I saw a boy by the roadside, at the foot
of the descent, engaged in whipping a mule.—
He was a slightly built fellow, not more than
fifteen years af age, and his coarse garments
were covered with meal. I knew that there
was a mill upon a branch of thd Yerdon, not
far back, and I supposed he might be the mill
er’s boy. As I came nearer, I saw a largo sack
upon the ground, close by where the mule stood.
“What’s the matter, my boy ?” I asked, os I
drew up near him.
“This ugly mule has thrown both mo and
my bag of corn from his back," the boy
answered.
“Are you hurt ?” I continued.
“My loft shoulder is hurt,” he said, “and I
can’t lift this sack again. If monsieur would
help me I would be very grateful.
Until this moment the idea of suspecting the
boy had not entered my head; but the suspicion
flashed upon me now. He was altogether too
keen a looking fellow for a miller’s apprentice.
He gave me a glance from a pair of quick, sharp
eyes, that meant more than he had spoken,—
And then, if I had not been very much mista
ken, I had seen him holding his mule firmly
with the left hand.
I leaped from my saddle, and moved towards
the boy, being careful to watch his every move
ment.
“Now,” said he, “if you will take hold of
that end we will put it on.” He, lifted at the
other end, and pretended that it hurt his shoul
der ; and he begged of me to lift it on alone.
I professed to be willing to comply, and
stooped down for that purpose, keeping my head
in such a position that I could watch him with
a sidelong glance.' As I bent over and took
hold of the sack, I saw him carry his hand to
his bosom, and driiw something out. I saw his
dark eye flash, and heard his quick, eager brea
thing. In an instant I seized his wrist, and
bent it upward, and as I did so, I heard a sharp
report, like the explosion of a percussion cap,
and saw a tiny wreath of smoke curl up from
the hand 1 held. He struggled to free himself
from my grasp, but ! held him with a grip of
iron, and fastened my gaze upon him.
“I’ve found you, have I?” I said, drawing
one of my pistols, and cocking it. “1-will simp
ly inform you that I am an officer of the pre
fecture, and that I have been hunting for you.
Just offer a particle more of resistance, and a
bullet goes through your brain! Now give me
the weapon.”
The boy was frightened, and trembled vio
lently.
“It is only a tobacco pipe,” he said, as he
handed it to me.
And certainly it looked like nothing more;
but I had seen enough of it to know that evil
was in it. It appeared to me to be an ordina
ry meerschaum pipe, the bowl being colored as
though by long use—=on!y the amber mouth
piece was missing, t did not stop to examine
it then, but turned my attention to its owner.
I saw that be was still trembling with fear, and
I knew that now Would be the time to work up
on him.
“So you are selling your i soul to Monsieur
Louis Cazaubon ?” I remarked, by way of let
ting him know that I was thoroughly informed.
He started, and I saw very plainly that he
knew just what 1 meant; but he tried to recover
himself, and clumsily asserted that he did not
know anything about the individual I had
named.
“You needn't lie to me,” I sternly replied,
“for I know all about it. Louis Cazaubon has
been watched by me when ho did not dream of
such a thing. He thought I was a trades man.
But you are young, and I would save you.—-
Confess everything to me, and I promise you
that ypur life shall be spared.’’
I saw that the boy wavered, and I followed
up my advantage; and ere long I bad him bent
to my wishes. I made him understand that I
held his life in my bands ; that I could protect
him from the vengeance of any one whom he
might criminate; and that he had everything
to gain and nothing to lose, by a full confession.
He came into it gradually and reluctantly; but
my wit finally triumphed, and I gained his se
cret.
His name he said, was Henry Dupin. He
was born in Paris, but never knew who his pa
rents were. He went to live with Cazaubon
when quite young, and had been with him ever
since. He said Cazaubon used to be a chemist,
and did some business in that line; and it was
in Paris that be invented the infernal machine,
which they had since used with such fatal ef
fect. About two years previous they left Paris
together, and spent nearly a year in traveling
over the kingdom, murdering and robbing for
a living. Finally they came to Castellano,
where the master obtained his present situation,
while the boy went into a mill close at hand.
Cazaubon marked the victims that were to be
robbed, and the boy then did the work. He
used various artifices in carrying out his plan,
but the usual one was the same that he bad
tried upon me.
The boy then cxplaned to me the secret of
the pipe. Only the outer surface was of meer
schaum. Within it was a pistol of the finest
steel, and of the most exquisite workmanship.
The stem was the, barrel, and the lock was con
cealed within the bowl, and covered with tobac
co, A thin plate of metal - protected the cu
riously contrived lock, and upon this the tobac
co rested. A pressure of the thumb or finger
upon this plate discharged the weapon. In or
der to cock it, the plate had to be removed.—
And now comes the infernal feature of the con
trivance. The powder used in the little barrel
was Cazaubon's own manufacture, and very
powerful. For a wad, a piece of felt was used,
and on the top of this was placed the missile
which did the mischief. The boy had two of
them with him, stitched up in the lining of his
cap. He took them out, and showed them to
me. The projectile was a tiny arrow, not lar
ger than a cambric needle, with one end sharp
and the other beat down to a thin feather. It
was of fine steel, but coated with a greenish
yellow substance, which was the mostfvirulent
and speedy poison that the chemists could con
coct. That needle once within the course of
the blood, and death was already at the heart.
Its wounds no mortal eye could detect; It
punctured the skin not so palpably prick
of a pin. He who sent it on its fatal errand
made sure of his aim, generally striking the
neck, and the victim would fall into insensibil
ity ere he could comprehend what bad hurt
him.
I returned to Castellano with the boy; and
having left him in charge of the Sub-prefect, I
took a gendarme along -with me, and went to
the factory. Monsieur Cazaubon was surprised
to see me back so soon ; but he was more sur
prised when I asked him to take a walk with
me, and when I called in the gendarme, and
bade him put the handcuffs upon the agent, he
was ready to sink to the floor. We had him
secured before he had sense enough to resist;
and he was conveyed to the Sub-prefect’s office
without trouble. At first be denied everything;
but when he found that this would not avail
him, he swore he would kill the boy.
In due time Monsieur Louis Cazaubon was
tried and condemed to death ; and the Prefect
of Dinge took possession of the infernal ma
chine. Before the villain was executed he con
fessed his crimes—told how many years he had
worked to perfect his fatal instrument, and pro
duce the poison—and also owned that the boy
Henry had been driven to help him through
fear of his life.
So the rascal Was executed. Henry Dupin
spent two years in confinement, and was then
set free and commenced an honest life. As for
me, I got all the praise I deserved, and perhaps
more. At all events, I had done the country
some service, and the people were not slow to
acknowledge it.
Standing by His Frien-ds. —ln the flush
times of Vicksburg, when the phrase “hard
case” meant something more than it does now,
Harvey Jenkins was admittedly one of the
hardest. By some strange accident Harvey
found himself at church one evening. The
sermon being over, the preacher requested all
who were friendly to religion to rise and hold
up their right hands. The whole audience, ap
parently, were on their feet. After they were
seated again, the minister continued i
“Now, if there is a single one here who de
sires to see Satan and his kingdom prosper, he
will rise and hold up his hand.”
Harvey, with some difficulty, got to an erect
position and said:
“Had the vote been less unanimous, I should
have retained my seat; hut I make it a point
of honor never to abandon a friend under ad
verse circumstances.” (
Jefferson* and his Fiddle.— The writer of
the Declaration of Independence was passion
ately fond of fiddling, and is said to have ex
celled in playing upon that instrument. In
1770 his family mansion was burnt. Mr. Jeffer
son used to tell in after years, with glee, an an
ecdote connected with the fire. He was absent
from home when it occurred ; and a slave ar
rived out of breath, to inform him of the dis
aster. After learning the general destruction,
he inquired, “But were none of my books
saved 1” “No, massa,” was the reply, “but
tee saved de fiddle.”
A married lady out west nearly broke her
neck, a few days since, while learning to skate.
Since that period there has been an extraordi
nary demand for skates, by married men, and
the supply is nut equal to the demand.
Neither to all, nor contend with fools.
Rates of Advertisiiic.
Advertisements will be charged $1 per square of 14
lines, one or three insertions, and 25 cents for every
subsequent insertion. Advertisements of less then 14
lines considered as a square. Tbesabjoined rates will
be charged for Quarterly i Half-Yearly and Yearly ad*
vertisementi:
Square, -
2 do.
i eofatnn, ~
i do.
Column, - - 18,09 30i»0 4*,00
'.Advertisements not having the number of iouftiot,
desired marked upon them, will be published until or
dered onl and charged accordingly.
Posters, Handbills, Bill-Heads, Letter-Heads rad all
kinds of Jobbing done in country establishments, eS«
eouted neatly and promptly. Justices’. Constables*,
and township CLANKS ; Notes, Bunds,Deeds, Mort
gages, Declarations and other Blanks, constantly oil
hand, or printed to order.
NO. 44.
EDUCATIONAL.
Mr. Young: Dear Sir:—l hare been told
that you would willingly answer any ques
tion addressed to yon on educational matters,
through your “Teachers' Columnand thin
must be my apology for troubling you with •
question. On looking in Webster's Dictionary
to find the meaning of the word “Alliteration,"
I find the following:
“■Alliteration, n. [L. ad and Ultra, a letter.}
The repetition of the same letter at the beginning
of two.or more words immediately succeeding each
other, or at short intervals; as/and gin the follow
ing line:
Fields ever fresh, and groves forever green.
* Now I want to know more about Alliteration
than this. Is it not a figure of Rhetoric!
Please reply and oblige.
Mansfield, May 26.
Of coarse we shall willingly answer any
question through our columns, calculated to ben
efit teachers generally, but we would prefer to
have teachers answer each other.
If "A Header” had but looked into her gram
mar, she would have found that alliteration is
not a figure of Rhetoric.
It is simply an ornament of language and is
most generally used in poetry, though we fre
quently meet with it in prose. Of the English
Poets, Spencer used it the most. It is found
also in Pope’s, Wordsworth’s, Moore's and Gray's
Poems. “The Professor at the Breakfast
Table” in the Atlantic Monthly , often uses it—
perhaps unconsciously to him—as all poets do,
more or less. Everybody, remembers the line
in Gray’s “Elegy,”
‘Tull many a flower Is bom to blmh unseen,”
which, we think, is a better example of alliter
ation than the one cited by Webster.
The following poem which went “the rounds
of the press” some years since, may serve as
an illustration-of the extent to which allitera
tion may be carried:
An Austrian army, awfully arrayed.
Boldly by battery besieged Belgrade;
Cossack commanders cannonading come.
Dealing destruction's desolating doom;
Every endeavor engineers essay.
For fame, for fortune, fighting furious fray
Generals’ gainst generals grapple, grimly great
Bow hold heroic hearts hard haggard hate;
Infuriate, indiscriminate in ill.
Jeered joins javelin, jager juvenile.
Kinsmen kill kinsmen, kinsmen kindred kill!
Labor low levels loftiest, longest lines ;
Men march ‘mid mounds; ‘mid moles, ‘mid murder
ous mines.
Now noisy noxious numbers notice nought
Of outward obstacles, opposing ought.
Poor patriots, partly purchased, partly
Quite quailing, quick quarter quest;
-Reason returns, religion’s rijiht resounds,. ,
Suwarrow slops suctLganginnary sounds.
Truce then to Turkey, triumph to thy train,
Unjust, unwise, unmerciful Ukraine!
Vanish vain victory ! vanish victory void I 1
Why wish we warfare ? wherefore welcome were
Xerxes, Ximenus, Xnntheus, Xaviere?
Yield ! yield! ye youths JYeyeoetnen yield your yell I
Zeno’s.-Znrparbhe's, Zoroaster’s zeal,
AH, all arouse I all against arms appeaL
—We shall be glad to hear from our fair
friend, “A Header,” at ahytime, but we trust
she will furnish more fori the Educational Col
umn of the Agitator than questions.— -Ed. Ag
itator.
Good Manners.—^ -The law of the State of
Massachusetts, requires that every teacher shall
be competent to teach “good manners/* To do
it, they must themselves be exemplars of good
manners, refined in their habits, and of easy
and graceful deportment. Very many, proba
bly the majority, are so; neglect, in modern
times, among teachers, to inculcate the virtues,
(for good manners are virtues,) and the omis
sion of all the old-fashioned manifestations of
them on the part of children, are too unplea
santly obvious to be passed by without stricture.
In the place of these we find often a pert for
wardness, a presumptuous assurance, and, not
seldom, a positive audacity of impertinence.
The absence ! of restraint at home, the ill
judged indulgence, or the selfish love of ease,
which often prompt a parent to be too little
watchful of hia children, are all fruitful nour
ishes of this fault,—a fault for which even the
God-fearing Eli was made to feel the awful
judgments of the Almighty. “Manners easily
and rapidly mature into morals, and the neglect
of the proper culture of the former shows itself
in a coarse and boisterous,-way of speaking, in
rough replies to civil qnestions, in profane and
obscene language, and in rudeness and bad
behavior at public assemblies where boorish
stamping of the feet, shrill whistlings and cat
calls, shrieks and yells, disgust all civil* and
refined people, and prevent all comfort and en
joyment of what they may have assembled to
witness.”
It is unnecessary to enter, at present, into a
particular statement of the common defects of
elementary instruction. They may be briefly
summed up in the great neglect of physical ac
comodation, of comfort, and of health; in the
small size, defective ventilation, inconvenient
arrangement, and gloomy aspect of most school
rooms; their uncomfortable seats; the long
continued and painful sedentary attitude of the
little pupils; the entire absence of appropriate
visible objects, addressed to the active feelings
and restless imagination of childhood; the want
of cheering and invigorating exercise; a me
chanical routine of application, producing hut
little effect on the memory, and leaving the un
derstanding and the imagination nearly inac
tive ; lessons presented, in general, in the form
of compulsory tasks; modes of discipline re
trospective rather than anticipative, repulsive,
therefore, and arhitary, not founded on reason
and affection, and influencing the imagination
only through the medium of fear or restraint;
no social intercourse between the pupils per
mitted ; and consequently the natural opportu
nities for influencing feeling and character pre
cluded. Willia* Russet.
The philosophers tell us that the rain which
fails from th cloueds makes a competent part of
whatever grows Upon the earth. Thus in a
passing shower, we may be unconsciously pelted
with the component parts of bolls, sheep padt»,
patriot?, an*l
3 HONTH3. 6 MONTHS. 12 MO NT HI.
32,56 34,50 36,00
4.00 6,00 8.00 .
6.00 B,o> 10,00
10,00 15,00 20,00
A Header.
Heplt.
The Siege of Belgrasb.
Selections.