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the quadroon,
nfid the tangled reeds of a damp morass,
j,, T a booted young quadroon ;
And the waving tufts of the tall marsh grass,
w t re before her, and covered the narrow pass;
for the waited the fitful light of the moon.
The bay of the bloodhound was frightfully near,
And ber geared heart chilled at the sound;
It fell like & death toll upon her ear,
And the huntsman’s bugle rang loud and clear;
As he onward aped the fiery hotmda.
The fire-flies danced near the "fetid lake,"
And tboir gay light gleamed around;
And the cold damp folds of the slimy snake
She bad roused, from the shade of the speckled brake,
Dragged heavily on the marshy ground.
And she silently clung to the moss-clad pine.
And silently breathed a prayer;
For 'mid the dark leaves of a poisonous Tine,
Whoso stem with the green sheltering boughs was
entwined;
She knelt in her darkened and deep despair.
No earthly friend knew that young quadroon.
From her sad birth-hour a slave;
And she wailed, os she eagerly looked for the moon,
"Ah! why have they found my track so soon!
*1 will seek for a watery grave!”
, "For my cheek is tinged with a dusky hue.
And the blood of a race despised;
Is coursing my veins with its darkened flow,
■ Oh! the anguish it brings, God only can know ;
He only, is good and wise.
'Till yester morn, —I never heard,
That there dwelt a God above;
Perchance they deemed that His Holy Word,
Could not by a sable ear bo heard.
For they never hear words of love.
Oh God! she cried, who art ever near.
My willing spirit take!
Oh! save me from this ceaseless fear,”
Then the bay of the hounds rang more fearfully near,
And she sprang in the fetid lake.
Covington, 1859. Meeta Mblgrove.
A Perilous Hour.
I was apprenticed to a decorative painter,
but being of a bold, danger-loving turn, I ran
away to sea before my time was out.
After some years of knocking about, I got
tired of maritime life, and having married and
determined to stick to the shore, I got work
with a builder whose peculiar line lay in erect
ion tall chimneys. I had always a very cool
head, and could stand on elevations that made
most men dizzy, and so I was soon a favorite
hand with my master.
IVe had on one occasion to fasten a light
ning-conductor which had sprung near the top
of a very high chimney, and Mr. Staming chose
myself and one James Colly to do it, as the
most daring of his men. About a half a dozen
of us went that morning with a handcart, con
taing the necessary ropes, blocks, the kite, and
a box or cradle. Having' flown the kite, and
dropped its string across the top of the chim
ney, we with the line drew up a rope, at the end
of which soon was a block, through which ran
the line whereby we were to be drawn up.
Colly had only been married a fortnight; and
as we stepped into the cradle, the men banter
ingly asked him if he hadn’t a last dying speech
to leave for his wife; and then Mr. Staming
having shaken hands with us, and bid us be
cool and steady, we were drawn slowly up. It
was known all over the town that the conductor
was to be fixed, though as the day was not
named, I did not expect we should have many
apsetatora; but as we got higher, and the view
opened under our feet, I saw that the streets
were already thronged with staters. Colly was
very quiet; and when I waved my cap to the
people, he said snappishly that this was no
tune for snob folly, and that he thought X might
think of better things than how to amuse these
gaping fools, who he dared say, desired no bet
ter fun than to see us meet with an accident.
I had come up in the best heart, thinking,
indeed, nothing about the danger we incurred;
hut as we drew nearer and nearer to the top,
and had nothing, as it seemed, belonging to this
world near us but this straining rope, I began
to see the peril of the undertaking. What
Colly thought of it, I don’t know—he sat at the
bottom of the cradle, never looking out, though
I told him he would do better to keep his eyes
about him, so that he might grow used to the
height.
Good heaven 1 what was this 7 Here we were
Within a yard of the top projecting coping, and
etill they were winding away, without slacking
speed in the least I I guessed in a moment
that they mistook our height, and that with the
peat purchase of that windlass the rope would
he broken when the cradle came to the block.
I sprang up, and catching the rope, climbed
hand over hand to the coping. Colly, too,
sprang up and followed me. He too, got safe;
and still they went on winding up, till the rope
£ “g again with the strain there was upon it.
Then it snapped, and cradle, hauling line,
and the main rope with its block, fell down.
Ihus were two poor men left in a moat despe
rate situation.
Poor Colly was completely dazed with af
; and the moment he got on the coping,
*incli was only a foot-and-a-balf broad, he called
“Where can I pray ? where can I kneel
j P ra J ■” and bo I said, very solemnly, “Sit
own, Jem ; God will hear us if we pray to him
sitting down/'
The color of his face was a transparent blue;
tod it was distorted and twitching, as if-he was
1° a His eyes were very wild, and drawn
lni ° a squint, and he couldn’t sit steady, but
his body backward and forward, so
tp certa i n that he must topple over.
~ °™ e ’ Jem, lad,” I said thinking to take
e fright off him; “it’s bad enough, but it
dt be mended. Eitoh up a bit, and put your
u , ‘ irou nd the rod—may be it will steady
he U;reare you? and where is this rod?”
I iu a very hollow voice, though he was
>ng straight at mo, and the rod was only a
ot or two to his left. " By this I knew that he
, ? oue Wind with the fright; and self-pres-
K 110 a said, Don’t go near him ; hut then I
!l tin hIS new * TO Jded wife, that
deccM t? trough, he was always a very
liked .. ow > an d I thought bow I should have
case ■ r lO ** ave J° ne T had been in his
Ms fh 80 1 J eter m>ned to run a hit of risk in
f«t- w p°urse X durst not get on my
Jot lurking myself on by my hands; I
un * ““d putting my arm around his
THE AGITATOR
YOL. V.
For the Agitator.
waint, and telling him as cheerily as I coaid to
keep cool, 1 got him with his arm around the
rod. It had, however sprang the stapling for
five yards down, and was so loose that it
swayed with him, and I expected any minute
to see him falling head and heels down, and the
rod tearing away with him.
There was a great bnstle down below; people
were running round the yard and pushing to
get in, but as yet there were but some score of
.men at the foot of the chimney, and, by close
looking, I saw them put somebody on a board,
and carry him gently away towards the engine
house. One of the men walked after with a
hat in his hand: then 1 knew that somebody
bad been hurt by the falling cradle, and that it
must be poor Mr. Staining, as none of our men
wore hats. Not a face was turned up to us. I
learned afterwards that onr men were so taken
up with sorrow that so kind a master shonld he
killed, thatfor awhile they had never a thought
ahont us; and the.people oatsido imagined that
we bad come down- with the cradle, so thus
were we left in total isolation for full twenty
minutes.
While I was watching them below, feeling
very sorry for my poor master, I was startled
by a wild laugh from Golly, who began making
catcalls, and yelling as if he was possessed.-
Then I knew, of course, that he was gone mad.
Even now I tremble when I think of that
time ; it was horrible to peer down the shaft,
black and sooty, and yawning, and scarcely
less so to look outside and see a flight of pig
eons sweeping round at considerably less height
than we were. Then Colly—thank God, he was
so dazed that he could not see me—called my
name three times, as I .sat fairly cringing in
dread that his sight might clear, and with a
ghastly grin, and chewing with his mouth, he
began working himself towards me. I worked
away from him as noiselessly as I could, with
every hair of my head standing on end. He
followed me twice around that horrid coping,
making most hideous noises, and then being
come a second time to the rod, he got an idea in
his 'muddled head that I was fallen over, for he
never lost a sense of where he was all through
this trying time. Then he tried to get on his
feet; but, at the risk of my own life, I could
not let the poor fellow rush on certiain death
without one more effort; and I cried out for
him to sit down, and he cowered down! like a
whipped dog, all trembling. I suppose it had
been put into bis head that I was a dead man
speaking to him.
That morning my wife had got a letter from
her sister in Canada, and as there were parts we
could not make out, I had put it in my pocket,
intending to get our time-keeper to read it for
me. It had a scrap of uncovered paper at the
bottom; and by another good providence, I
happened to have a hit of red lead-pencil in my
pocket. I wrote on the paper, “Got ns down
—Colly’s gone mad this I shut in my tobac
co-box, and was fortunate enough to drop it just
at the feet of a couple of men who were stand
ing by the engine house door.
Directly all was bustle to rescue us. They
got the again, and I watched it mount
ing slowly; and when the slack twine fell be
tween Colly and myself, I took it in my hand
and could have kissed it. Poor Colly, with his
teeth chattering, still fancied I was a spirit,
and I did all 1 could to favor that idea until
they got another cradle np to us. Then having
got him In, I scrambled in myself; and clutch
ing him fast, I shouted for them to lower; and
so we were got down, he wrestling and fighting
all the way.
He was in a madhouse for some months, and
then went to scavengering, for be never could
face any height again; and I have never had
the same clear bead since that adventure.—
Chamber’s Journal of Popular Literature, j
'
“Consider Me Smith.”
There is a very good story in the papers of
the day, of a joke (?) which was played by old
Dr. Caldwell, formerly of the University of
North Carolina.
The old doctor was a small man, and lean,
but as hard and angular as the most irregular
of pine knots.
He looked as if he might be tough, but he
did not seem strong. Nevertheless, he was,
among the knowing ones, reputed to be as agile
as a “ catand in addition, was by no means
deficient in knowledge of the “ noble art of self
defence.” Besides he was as cool as a cucum
ber. Well, in the freshman class, of a certain
year, was a burly beef mountaineer of 18 or 19.
This genius conceived a great contempt for old
Bolus’ physical dimensions ; and his soul was
horrified that one so deficient in muscle should
be so potential in his rule. Y
Poor Jones—that’s what we’ll call him—had
no idea of moral force. At any rate he was not
inclined to knock under, and be controlled des
potically by a man that he imagined he could
tie and whip. He at length determined to give
the gentleman a genteel private thrashing some
night College Campus, pretending to mis
take him for some fellow student.
Shortly after, on a dark and rainy night, Jones
met the doctor crossing the Campus. Walking
up to him abruptly:
“ Hello, Smith! you rascal—is that you }”
And with that be struck the old gentleman a
blow on the side of the face that had nearly
felled him.
Old Bolus said nothing, bat squared himself,
and at it they went. Jones’ youth, weight and
muscle made him an “ ugly customer;” but af
ter a round or two, the doctor’s science began
to tell, and in a short time he had knocked bis
beefy antagonist down, and was astraddle on
his cheat, with one band on his throat, and the
other dealing vigorous caffs on the side of the
head.
“Ah! stopl I beg pardon, doctor I Doctor
Caldwell—a mistake—a mistake—for heaven’s
sake, doctor 1” groaned Jones, who thought he
was about to be eaten up. “ I really thought
it was Smith 1”
The doctor replied with a word , and a blow
alternately. I
And, it is said, old Bolus gave Jones such a
pounding, then and there, as probably prevented
his ever making another mistake as to personal
identity—at least on the College Campus.
atbotcb to rn jgytcngfott Ot the &«a of JFmurom an* the spveab of healths Reform.
WHILE THERE SHAM, BE A WRONG ITNRIGHTED, AND UNTIE "MAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN" SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE.
WELLSBOEOj TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING. JUNE 30, 1859.
A Good Story,
The following amusing sketch of the manner
which an irascible President of old Cam
bridge was once mollified by a mng of flip, is
from the pen of 11 Jack Robinson
Apropos of Porter, whose name I have just
taken in vain: I heard a good college story the
other day, which I may as well set down here.
Porter is an institution in Cambridge. He is a
person of varied accomplishments, and keeps
“o. house of call,” None like him to brew
bishop or mingle a shandy grog. But his chef
d* cEuvre is flip. It is reported among the stu
dents that Ganymede, when dying—because it’s
all nonsense about Ganymede being immortal—
he left Jupiter’s service, married Hebe, set up
an inn with his savings, and died at a good old
age—it is reported that Ganymede left Porter
the recipe for making both nectar and ambro
sia, which' recipe he surreptitiously copied from
Juno’s receipt book, and Porter, improving on
the idea, conceived the happy thought of making
both divine materials, and producing an ineffa
ble beverage—something which should combine
the elements of the supernal drink—a harmony
of solid and fluid, to which each element should
contribute its celestial flavors. He carried out
the idea. He mingled the ambrosia and the
nectar, and all Olympus turned pale with envy
for the result was flip.
With such classic origin it was not to be
wondered at that under-graduates, who are no
torious for their love of mythological matters,
should find themselves attracted to Porter’s, and
there refresh their reminiscences of Olympus
with draughts of the divine beverage. In fact,
such was their devotion to this branch of classic
study, and so inspired did they frequently get
—inspired even to the Pythonic pitch of being
unintelligible in their speech—that the matter
attracted the attention of the President of the
College—a venerable gentleman of the period,
whose name I have forgotten. Heartless and
ignorant persona entirely misconceiving the
spirit in which the under-graduates visited Por
ter's, reported to this worthy person that the
students were in the habit of getting drunk
every night on flip. It must be seen to.
The President puts on his most authoritive
wig and stern countenance, and sallies out to
blow up the Classical Porter, for leading his
students astray. First of all be thinks, in or
der to be able to speak more decisively, that he
will taste this noxious beverage with his own
Ups. Thee there can be no mistake. With
much dignity he enters Porter’s. He is greeted
with respect. He interrogates Porter:
“ Sir, many of the under-graduates come
here, I understand 7"
“ A few,” modestly replied the landlord.
“ They come here frequently, Mr. Porter ?”
“ They drop in now and then, sir."
“ And they drink a beverage called flip, air?”
“ Sometimes, sir.”
“ They drink a great deal of it, Mr. Porter ?”
“ Well, sir, they do take considerable.”
“ They get drunk on it, Mr. Porter ?”
The discreet Porter remained silent.
“ Make me a—a—flip,” at length says the
venerable President; still frowning and indig
nant.
Porter, whose sangfroid has never for a mo
ment forsaken him, employs all the resources of
his art.
Presently a superhuman flip, with an aro
matic foam, which Venus might have arisen
from, creaming over the edge of the goblet, is
the result of his efforts. He bands it respect
fully, and with some anxiety, to the President,
on whose face judicial thunder-clouds have been
gathering. The President tastes it gloomily.
He pauses. Another sip. The thunder clouds
have not yet flashed forth any lightnings. Por
ter, resigned, awaits the outburst. The Presi
dent gazes wonderingly at bis glass. A general
emollient expression seems to glide over his face,
and smooth the frowning brows. The lips re
lax, and a smile seems about to dawn. He lifts
the glass once more to his lips, heaves a sigh,
and puts it down. It is empty!
“ Mr. Porter,” he says, “ the students get
drunk on this, sir?”
Porter sees that the storm is passed, and
boldly answers in the affirmative.
“Sir," says the venerable man, walking
gravely away, “sir, I don’t wonder at it I”
Two Kissing Sensations. —A distinguished
poetess thus describes the sensation produced
on her by a hearty buss from her “lovyer:”
First time he kissed mo be only kissed
The fingers of this hand wherewith I write.
And ever since it grew more clear and white,
Slow to world greeting, quick with it “Oh, list I”
When the angels speak. A ring of Amethyst
1 conld not wear here plainer to my sight
Than that first kiss. The second passed in height
The first and sought the forehead, and half missed,
Halting on my hair. Oh, beyond meed 1
That was the cream of love, which love’s own crown
With sanctifying sweetness did proceed.
That third upon my lips was folded down
In perfect purple state ? since when, indeed,
I have been proud, and said, “My love, my own.”
Our readers are left to draw their own con
clusions as to how she told the tale. There
may be honest differences on the subject; some
may think she tells it exceedingly well, while
others may vote her rendition as wanting in es
sential particulars.
The well known Sut Lovengood describes a
similar sensation. The truth of bis description
will be recognized by all who have had the hap
piness to be in a similar predicament. Hear
the renowned Sut when he met his sweetheart:
“I happened to pass next day; of course I
stopped to enjoy a look at the tempter as she
war mighty luvin to me; put wan arm round
my neck, and 'tuther wnn war the curoingle
goes round a boss, tuk the ’intnrn on me with
her left foot, and gin me a kiss. Says she,
‘Sntty, my love, I’ve got snmthin’ for you —a
new sepsasbun’—and believed it, for I begun
to feel it already. My toes felt like as if min
ners were nibblin at um—a cold streak run up
and down my back like a lizzard with a wild
turkey ben arter him in settin’ time, and my
stummic was hot and onsatisfied like.”
“Wife, ” said a tyrannical husband to his
much abased consort. "I wish you to male me
a pair of false bosoms.” “I should think,” re
plied she, that one bosom as false as yours is,
would be sufficient" Exit husband in a brown
study.
Oan. Washington’s First Love.
A correspondent of the Century in giving
some reminiscences of the old country seat
called “The Cottage,” ur Hanover County, Vir
ginia, gives an account of General Washing
ton's suit and rejection by Mary Cary;
“Her father was Wilson Cary, Esq., of “Cel
eys,” in the county of Elizabeth City, descended
from the noble family of Hunsdon, in England.
His relative, Col. .Archibald Cary, of “Ampt
hill,” in Chesterfield was at his death the heir
apparent to the earldom. The worthy old gen
tleman seems from all we know of him, to have
been as proud as the Coureys or the Somersets;
and to have thought bis family the noblest in
the land.—He lived in great state, with chariot
and horses, plate and velvet and embroidery—
a worthy of the old school, fully satisfied with
the “order of things,” and enjoying serenely
the good gifts of Providence. His beautiful
daughter was a great heiress, and had many
suitors—the accident which befell one of them
has made her remembered in many books.—
He was a young man of very high character, a
relative of Geo. Wm. Fairfax, Esq., who lived
at Belvoir on the Potomac; and here he met
with Miss Cary, who came to visit Mrs. Fair
fax, her eldest sister. The young man at once
proceeded to fall in love, which he did with an
ardor characteristic of his nature. When Mias
Cary went back home to “Celeys,” on James
Elver, he followed her like a courageous gallant,
and laid open siege to the fair fortress. In the
good old times, however, something more was
necessary than the consent of the young lady;
and so the youth duly asked a private interview
with the awful old lord of the manor, who lis
tened to him silently throughout. When the
lover had finished, Mr. Cary rose, made him a
low bow, and said that if this were young Mr.
Washington's errand at “Celeys,” his visit had
better terminate; his “daughter had been ac
customed to ride in her own chariot.” And
with this allusion to the poor condition of the
younger son, the interview terminated. Young
Washington bowed and turned away, and in
due time married Martha Dandridge Custis,
who “resembled Miss Cary,” says my author
ity, “as much as one twin sister ever did an
other.”
But the old tradition does not end here.—
Many years fled away—Mary Cary was Mrs.
Ambler—and her discarded suitor was the man
who had just received the sword of Cornwallis
at Yorktown ; whom the whole civilized world
hailed as the greatest among the great —“the
foremost man,” not only of America but of
“all the world,” He passed through the old
metropolis, Williamsburg, at the bead of his
victorious troops, and the people were crazy
with joy and adoration almost. The vast mul
titude nearly prevented bis horse from proceed
ing—the calm statue on horseback passed on
serenely. All at once he perceived at a win
dow, or in the crowd, bis old love, Mary Cary.
He raised his sword and saluted her profoundly.
She fainted.
But it does not seem that the lovely woman
was to blame. She had not been able to return
the affection of the youth—that was all. She
married him who won her heart, Edward Am
bler.’ He was not unworthy of this noble lady
in rank or in character. He was descended
through his mother from the great Huguenot
bouse of La Roche Jaquelinc, in Vendee, and
inherited the honest instincts of his race. At
twelve be had been sent for his education to
England; he graduated at Cambridge, and then
made the grand tour of Europe, returning to
Virginia when he was twenty-one. He was
married to Miss Cary soon afterward; became
Collector at York, and was so much respected
that when Lord Bottetourt came to Virginia as
Governor, he brought a letter of introduction
to the Collector. He died at thirty-five; and
the Revolutionary War breaking out soon af
terward, his beautiful widow moved away from
the scene of her grief, and took refuge in the
“Cottage,”, far up in Hanover.”
lnsane?
Dr. Wayne, of the New York Medical Col
lege, in a lecture upon the importance to the
medical profession of a careful study of legal
insanity, with a view to their often being called
to give testimony on very difficult and delicate
questions, quoted the following, well-put case
from Knagg’s work on unsoundness of mind:
“ There was an old man well known in Lon
don during the last century, who was of an un
gainly appearance, and subject to occasional
attacks of hereditary melancholy. So inconsis
tent was he in his habits that sometimes be prac
ticed great abstemiousness, and at other times
devoured large meals with brutish slovenliness
and voracity; sometimes ho would persist in
drinking nothing but water, occasionally drank
wine by tumblers full. His income was far
from large, and not of a certain amount, yet he
kept a set of old men and women about bis
house, whose bickerings and disagreements now
and then drove him out of doors; he was in
general, very loquacious, but he has been
known to sit in company and drink a dozen cops
of tea without speaking a syllable; when not
engaged in discoursing, it was his custom to
keep muttering to himself; in walking he per
formed strange gesticulations, and would not
go in at a door unless be could effect his entry
in a certain preconceived number of steps, and
so as to introduce himself on a particular foot
—turning back and recommencing until he suc
ceeded as he desired. There was a row of posts
near his house which he would not pass without
touching singly, and if he omitted one of the
series he retraced his steps to remedy the neg
lect ; he hoarded up orange skins for some mys
terious purpose he never would divulge; be
suffered a remorse of conscience for having
taken milk in his coffee on Good Eriday; he be
lieved in ghosts and went ghost hunting in
Cock Lane, and maintained that he heard his
mother calling for him in the other world. Yet
this man, Dr. Johnson, was so far from insane,
that by common consent, he was regarded as
being the most vigorous thinker and greatest
sage of the time."
A wag on seeing a gobbler trying to swallow
a cotton string, remarked, “that was the last
attempt to introduce cotton into Turkey. "
From tbe Potter Journal.
THE BEAU-CATOHERS.
Her hair was as black as a two-year-old crow,
And her brow was far whiter than chalk;
Of her features and form but little I know,
And of these it ia best not to talk.
Bat her brow! ber beautiful snowy brow,
I will sing of until 1 grow hoarse;
And her hair! her beautiful raven hair,
, I will sing of that too, of course.
Upon that brow three beau-catchers sat,
One in front, and one on each side:
They were curled like the tail of our porker so fat—
Of our dear little porker that died..
What a trouble they were to that charming girl,
As she fussed with each separate lock;
But she felt as if each individual curl
Was a dart in the heart of each bachelor churl
Who might happen to gaze at her beautiful hair.
And she felt that a curl on a brow so fair.
Was of beauty the principal stock.
But her beau-catchers never a beau did catch.
For bachelors always are shy;
But I know that she patiently keeps up her watch,
And ne’er lets a carl grow dry
And time, and affection, and trouble, and talk,
And saliva—many a quart —
Are wasted upon her brow of chalk
To the great neglect of her heart.
There's a moral, dear girls—as you probably know—
Playing hide-aud-go-seek through these lines.
And the moral is this ; “If you do want a beau.
You must not bang out any signs."
Thouas Brown.
COMMUNICATIONS.
for the Agitator.
“The Demand is for Ladies.”
Why, of course it is! Would you have woman
anything else but a honafide lady; whose blood
dances through her veins in tune with the hap
py, healthful emotions of her heart; whose
face beams upon you in frankness and feeling;
whose lips drop words of kindness for all;
whose taper fingers, fear not to tarnish their
beauty in administering comfort to others;
whose fairy feet, “which shine like snow and
fall on earth as light,” shrink not from the toil
and dust of labor?
Sometimes, fair Magdalena, in gathering
pearls, shells are taken ; for the pearls lie hid
from sight, so that the wisdom of man, (those
worthless scamps this side of the Rocky Mount
ains) fails to discover the gem in its uninviting
cover.
May it not be so with many of those strong
minded women, who are fitted to fill every ca
pacity in life, social and domestic, yet are de
prived of the privilege of so doing, by those
frivolous sisters of theirs?
Can it not be possible that the fault lies in
those sound minded women, rather than in so
ciety? Do they render themselves so attractive
that the friend lingereth long by their side ?
Or do they by a chilliness of manner, which
may be the result of modesty, or too great a
fear of display, make you wish for the hour of
parting—and when that cornea, make you wish
for a big fire to warm up the frozen faculties of
your mind.
Let the heart be right, and the conduct of
all be less regulated by the conventionalisms of
society, (which keeps one in constant fear of
having set Madam Grundy’s cap strings quiv
ering) and we should all like each other better,
and see fewer faults in one another. And per
chance the sober industrious men, this side of
the Rocky Mountains, might not be called upon
to weep themselves into despair by witnessing
the departure of the sound minded women for
Oregon, in search of husbands. Agnes.
Change.
On everything in natnre change is percepti
ble. We are reminded of it by the rolling sea
sons, by the growing and fading grass, by the
green and withering leaves. To-day the sun
shines in all his splendor, the gentle breeze
sweeps lightly by, and all nature is in a state
of tranquil repose; to-morrow dark clouds vail
the sun, the tempest moves on with destruction
in its breath, the living lightning glares through
the agitated firmament, while the deep-toned
thunder mingles with the fury of the contend
ing elements. To-day fortune favors us with
her smile, friends cluster round, and a halo of
light beams from heaven along our pathway;
again, misfortune spreads a pall over our hopes,
sorrowing afflictions cast their gloomy shadows
away down the path to pleasure, obscuring our
cup of happiness, and changing sweet to bitter
—the rose to a thorn. Yet when the sad hour
of adversity with relentless clasp clings to us,
we may penetrate the cryptic beauties of na
ture, and drink in draughts of sweet content
ment. When clouds gather, and dark forebod
ings loom up in tbe distance—-approach and
assail us, we may peruse the sacred volume of
God’s word, and in its richness of wisdom in
culcate sacred memories of his goodness, and
rejoice that in his love, wisdom, and kind re
gard for us, he ever is the same unchanging
God, upon whom we may call and he will guide
us safe to that haven of eternal bliss. t .
Ministerial Difficulties.—A clergyman in
a mining village not far from Biccarton, in the
course of his pastorial visits called at a domicile
of a collier in bis parish. Inquiring of the
woman be saw, and whom he presumed to be
the wife, if her husband was at borne, she an
swered ; “Deed na, Sir, he’s at his work.” "Is
your husband, my good woman, a communi
cant ?” “A communicant! He’s naething o’
the kind—he’s just a collier 1" Astonished at
the ignorance displayed, the minister could not
avoid ejaculating, “ Oh, what darkness I" The
collier’s spouse, understanding the language
literally, not figuratively, was also something
astonished. “ Darkness 1 little ye ken o’t; bad
ye been here before we got that extra window
in the gable, ye would scarcely hae been able
to see your finger afore you.” The pastor
sighed ; it was his first visitation of bis flock,
and their ignorance certainly demanded bis
prayers. “ I must, my good woman, put np a
petition for you here.” “Petition! petition I
bide awee ; nae petitions will be put up here
sao lang as lam in the house; but at the term
we’re guan owre to Newbigging, and then ye
may put as many o’ them as ye like.”
Did I understand you to call me a puppy,
ait ?” “ Yes,—l called you a puppy.” “Lucky
for yon. The insult is too small tc notice; but
had yon called me a dog—an old dog—l would
have knocked you down.”
Rates of Advertising,
Advertisements will bo charged $1 per'square of 14
lines, one or three insertions, and 25 eents for every
subsequent insertion. Advertisements of lessdban 14
lines considered as a square. The subjoined rateawill
be charged for Quarterly, Half-Yearly and Yearly ad
vertisements :
3 xosras. 6 mostbs. 12 souths.
Square, - - $2,50 $4,50 $6,00
2 do. . 4,00 6,00 8,00
i column, . . 6,00 8,00 10,00
i do. . 10,00 15,00 20,00
Column, . . 18,00 30,00 40,00
Advertisements not having the number of insertion,
desired marked upon them, will be published until or
dered out and charged accordingly.
Posters, Handbills, Bill-Heads, Better-Heads andal)
kinds of Jobbing done in country establishments, ex*
eouted neatly and promptly. Justices’, Constables',
and township BLANKS: Notes, Bonds,Deeds, Mort.
gages, Declarations and other Blanks, constantly sq
hand, or printed to order. -
NO. 48.
ET> UCATIO NAL,
The system which is deprived of needed
physical recreation, must break down. It ia
the height of folly to suppose that we can ig
nore the demands of Nature in any respect,
without paying the penilty.
A step has been taken in the right direction
by'"the Teachers’ Association of Middlesex
county, Massachusetts." Its members have
adopted resolutions, expressing the opinion that
“children in the primary schools should not be
.confined to study in their seats, more than three
"hours in a day, and if the convenience of their
parents requires that they should he under the
care of their teachers a longer time each day,
the aditional hours should be devoted to exer
cises calculated to promote the morals, the set
cial and physical welfare of the pupils.” We
have not met with anything more sensible or
more commendable for a long time. The mod
ern plan of education ia full of error and dan
ger. In the great majority of oases, the devel
opment of the mind is alone taken into consid
eration while the physical constitution is totally
disregared. There, are, it is true, exceptions,
and we are glad to learn that'several of the
most popular and experienced teachers of Phil
adelphia, have of lata years united the two sys
tems —physical development with mental train
ing. A similar course should be pursued in all
our public schools. The mind cannot strength
en when the body ia neglected or enfeebled.—
The one is measurably dependent npon the oth
er. It is beyond all question, that the seeds of
disease are implanted in many constitutions, by
long confinement in schools, while it is equally
certain that the minds of the young are over
taxed and overtasked, and often with the most
deplorable consequences. We fear, moreover,
that in some cases, the emulation or competition
system ia carried to a hazardous extent. A boy
or girl may be exceedingly ambitions, and .yet
lack the ability to compete with one whose in
tellectual gifts are of a higher character, or
whose memory is particularly retentive, and
thus in the struggle, the mind may overstrain
itself, and sickness, insanity, or even death en
sue. Is this view of the case duly considered
by parents and teaohera? Or, do they not,
sometimes, in their efforts to render their chil
dren or their pupils objects of admiration, for
get the true welfare of beings who are confided
to their care, and by the hot-hed of forcing
process, break them down before their faculties
are sufficiently developed. How common it is to
find a pert, smart, precocious child pushed for
ward with a sort of silly pride, and made an
object of exhibition. The parent, the teacher,
or the guardian, vainly supposing that a being
who, while so young, can accomplish so much,
is destined to achieve still, more extraordinary
intellectual prodigies in the time to come. And
yet, how rarely does it occur, that those who
are so wonderful in childhood, are characterized
by anything remarkable, in a mental point of
view, when they arrive at years of maturity.—
The truth simply is, that they are exhausted
when too young, and after having progressed to
a certain extent, their minds refuse any further
development. It should be remembered that
the brain, physically. Is only half grown at an
early period of life, and undue application, in
stead of assisting and strengthening, impairs
Ar dwarfs its power.
[We mate the following extracts from the
Report of E. Guyer Eaq., the Superintendent
of Bradford County in 1836.}
It requires money io educate. If school
houses, school teachers and school officers could
be had without cost, this theme of popular ed
ucation would run ahead rapidly, and although
people are not all devoid of liberality, yet most
of them, sate their economy for the schools. —
The Legislature may squander millions of the
people’s money on the rotten schemes of design
ing politicians, and hardly a murmur is heard
from the .tax-payer ; hutjif a mite of this same
money is applied to build up the schools,
pseudo patriots forthwith cry robbery, and the
people are exasperated. These men will spend
money freely, and give of their time without
stint to carry an election, or foment sectional -
strife, that does them, their children and their
country no good ; hut if these same persons are
asked to serve as school directors, or give a
little money to build a'-school house, their busi
ness will not allow of- the one, and they are too
poor for the other. And fathers cannot afford
to buy school books for their children ; hut can
purchase tobacco and whiskey and take ihoir
families to degrading circuses. Mother cannot
get together sufficient'clothing to send the small
children to school, yet means can he found
wherewith to purchase worthless trinkets, and
tasteless furbelows, in which to array ignorant
grown-up daughters. These things indicate
some of the obstacles which stand in the way
of the education of the masses.
For the Agitator.
Looking upon high intelligence as the safety
and ornament of organized communities, 1 be
lieve its general diffusion to be the most impor
tant consideration that can engage the attention
of the patriot and philanthropist; but the nar
row views which influence the actions of even
the most cultivated amongst us, excites despon
dency in my heart. For how can we expect
the uninformed to stand by school measures,
when the informed are opposed or indifferent ?
Lawyers think only of their briefs, doctors only
of their patients, divines only of their charges,
merchants only of their wares. All these have
duties to perform to society in advancing edu
cation. But it is neglected, and alone the
school man is left to battle wj}h all the elements
of opposition that war against this noble cause.
Above all is it the duty of the minister to aid
in advancing it. The scholar and the Christian
unite in pronouncing education and religion
twin-sisters ; and the citizen’s dirties and reli
gious obligations unite in constituting ministers
missionaries of the common schools. Still they
stand back. Would that the noble example of
Bishop Potter was more generally followed.
Yon may insert a thousand excellent things
in a newspaper, and never hear a word of appro
' bation from the readers, butjnstlet a paragraph
slip in, (by accident,) of one or two lines, not
suited to their tastes, and yon will be sure to
heat of it.
to Body and the Blind.