ofPuWlcatlon. . noUNTY AGITATOR ia published TH * Uorningf and maUed to subscribers price of PER ANNUM^SJ? . icance. It is intended to notify every ..jn'nWj„ (he term for which he hae paid ehall ‘‘Sw tie rt»mp—“Tike Oct,” on the mar- Sre ifi ir r’,„«ocr. The paper will then be stopped &of li'Si remittance bo received. By this ar- Cj i can be brought in debt to the S ° Jjittti’ Jj (ho Official Paper of the Connty, r fo A* 1 * 1 , Readily increasing circulation reaofa t\ neieiborhood in the Connty. It is sent into t™ u , ny Post Office within the county 0/ f‘" w L s most convenient post office may be 1B»V“| Xui d»»ty. it it»“!“ ~ jot exceeding 5 lines, paper incln -1 THE BALL. 1 jod combed their beautiful hair, iotr, bright tresses, one by one, ‘" barbed and talked in the chamber there, AitW“ the revel was done. talked of waits and quadrille, lief laughed, like other girls, tuJa the Sre, when all is still, **• r “ Comb out their braids and curls. - of satin and Brussels lace, ! Knots of Sowers and ribbons, too, o.Uored about in every place. For the revel is through. dd Maud and Madgo in robes of white, M The prettiest nightgowns under the sun, Stockinelesa, slipperless, sit in the night, For the revel is done. fit and comb their beautiful hair Those wonderful waves of brown and gold. Till the fire is out in the chamber there, And the little bare feet are cold. ta out of lie gathering winter chill, All out of the bitter St. Agnes weather, Jhile the fire is out and the house is still, Maud and Madge together,— JUad and Madge in robes of white, The prettiest night-gowns under the sun, Ccrtainod awav from the chilly night, After the rerel is done, — Float along in a splendid dream, To a golden gittern's tinkling.tune. IFhilo a thousand lustres shimmering stream, Id a palace's grand saloon. Flashing of jewels, and flutter of laces, Tropical odors sweeter than musk, ilen and women with beautiful faces And eyes of tropical dusk, — And one face shining out like a star, One face haunting the dreams of each. And one voice, sweeter than others are y Breaking into silvery speech,— Telling, through lips of bearded bloom. An old story over again, A? down the royal bannered room, To the golden gittern’s strain, — Two and two, they dreamily walk, While an unseen spirit walks beside, And. all unheard in the lovers’ talk, He claimeth one for a bride. Oli, Maud and Madge, dream on together, With never a pang of jealous fear! For, ere the bitter St. Agnes weather Shall whiten another year. £obed for the bridal, and robed for the tomb. Braided brown hair and golden tress, TkereTl be only one of you left for the bloom Of the bearded lips to press,— Only one for the bridal pearls. The robe of satin and Brussels lace, — Only oce to blush through her curls At the sight of a lover’s face, Ob. beautiful Madge, in your bridal white, For you the revel is just begun; Bat fur her who sleeps in your arms to-night The revel of life is done. Bat roled and crowned with your saintly bliss. Queen of heaven and bride of the sun, Ob, beautiful Maud, you'll never miss The kisses another bath won. Atlantic Monthly. The Captain's Confession. BY BELA BOW PAINTER. Salem, in the State of Massachusetts, is a r.aint oU town, abounding in legendary lore, biditions of strange events, from a period long tlerior to the “witchcraft,” down to the days f the White murder, still hang on the lips of it older inhabitants. Slany of them are no as marvelous than the'well-known legend of t! “Phantom Ship,” yet having far more foun iinon in fact than that romantic tale. Some ilete stories, like the one which I have men tmd, are connected with the sea and sea-faring tin, Salem having been, before the Revolution cl for some time after, a rival of Boston in tamercial prosperity. The story which I pur ls? to relate is of this class, strange in its in nate, but nevertheless strictly true, forming nricellent illustration of the oft-quoted ad ■p-“truth is stranger than fiction.” A short time before the revolution a young Isjiishman by the name of G , arrived in him. His health had been broken by a long uaesF, and he had come on the voyage in the hpe of regaining it. He belonged to a family tf rank and wealth, who had reluctantly con- Ksted to part with him in obedience to the •thea of his physicians. There lived at that time in Salem a well bvn physician, Dr. C , who had been tammended to the parents of the young man Ul person both competent and trustworthy to hie charge of him on his arrival. The captain d the ship in which he came was particularly with the care of him during the voy fB* - This man, whose name was T , had long in the employ of a flourishing mer ■utile house in England, and by them brought «tho notice of the young man’s family as a l«tm of ability in his profession, and worthy the greatest confidence. To the care of these 0 men the anxious family entrusted the in -1 during his absence from home, hoping to himreturtfln due time with renewed health, hen the ship which carried him arrived at en , Dr. C received G , with kind and treated him with utmost care and at ,on; 6 brought a large sum of money him, more than sufficient to supply all his f' 1 " 5 desired to amuse himself by trav n? ™ ou gh the colonies. A portion of this jj o ” k' s stay in Salem, was placed in charge , • doctor for safe keeping. The knowledge e possessed this large sum led the doctor captain to unite in a plot for obtaining pos- f Oll it by destroying the young man, p ll '~~^ ema ined in Salem for some time.— • houbles which gave rise to the Revolution istt (, en a ? t * le ' r climax, and a few months lB ar rival the war broke out. Of course [ , him from carrying out any plans .. m g 'p the colonies; and as his health fctlt '"'proved, he determined to seize k *°PP ort unity for returning to England. Soa % arranged by Dr. C that he i o J=? k»ck as he had come, under the care i Pam T . He left Salem with the Uj , Eoon meeting his parents and friends, ■ r:; aps of further improvements in health, h , . ' CHAPTER 11. ’ Ite ship arrived at her port, but ej I(s ■ The captain informed the rel- y°ung man that he had rapidly iei , t ™ Ihei voyage, had died, and been bnr fcuiyTf' Nothing could have been more Jnt 0 ( ‘Ws story. The family received ? "Olhing and personal property that Stu a, “sen with him. If any doubt 4* test of the disappearance of j, ® omng the money, it was easily ao >by supposing that it had been sto- THE AGITATOR to ttje srtcnflion of tte of ifm&om ana tf>t Spread of ©caXttjg itefo*m. |WHILK THERE SHALL BE A WRONG UNRIGHTBD, AND UNTIIi “MAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN” SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE. VOL. V. len by soma one belonging to the ship. If his friends had wished to make further inquiries in Salem, it would have been very difficult to do so while hostile relations existed between the colonies and the mother country. Besides, it would hare been useless; for the same story had been told there to the few persons who had become acquainted with him and his affairs, da ring his stay in America; and the fate which he was said to have met, although in time of peace it would havh excited the commisseration even of those who had not known him, was soon forgotten by all but his fond parents, amidst the stirring event of the war. Not long after G ’s death. Dr. C- suddenly disap peared from among his neighbors, leaving no clue to tell whither he had gone. Of course this incident caused much astonishment at first among his friends, but as time passed on, he, like young G was gradually forgotten; nor was it ever suspected that the death of the lat ter, was in any way connected with the depart ure of the doctor. Captain T had never been very well known in Salem, for the greater part of his tune was spent on the ocean. He departed on another voyage to some distant place, but not returning as formerly, before long, he too was forgotten. ' chapter in. Years passed away. The American colonies had become the United States, and were al ready far advanced in the march of progress and prosperity, which they had began as soon as their independence was acknowledged by Great Britain. One day a ship arrived in Sa lem harbor, bearing an invalid, an old sailor, whose weather-beaten face showed the traces of long and hard service, wearing at the same time an expression which marked the possessor of a conscience ill at ease. It was Captain T , who had come home with little hope of re gaining bis health, but wishing, at least, to lay bis bones In his native land. He had money and was well cared for, A room and all the comforts possible for a sickman were provided and an excellent nurse was hired to wait on him. and care were of little avail to him. He had murdered tile young man years ago, placed in his charge, for gold; and remorse, far more than disease, was gradually under mining his life. The voice of conscience would never let him rest. Asleep or awake, by day, and a hundred fold more by night, he was con stantly tormented by her “thousand tongues.” Men who have perpetrated horrible crimes sometimes laugh at the idea of a conscience; but afterward, they are the very persons who have been horribly tortured by remorse. So was it with Captain T . The gold for which he committed the deed was worthless to him, and the thought of his crime haunted him con tinually. In vain he attempted to forget it in the excitement and ever varying scenes of his toilsome profession. , He fled from his friends; he fled from the scenes which reminded him of G ; but alas I guilty man that he was, he could not flee from himself! His conscience pursued him everywhere. CHAPTER IV. : Captain T was on his death bed. Some times be was in a raving delirium, at others in a conscious state. Long afterwards his nurse declared that she never spent such fearful hours as those she passed watching Captain T . At first none knew what disturbed his mind, but it was at last discovered in the folloWing manner by the nurse, who before suspected that he had committed some terrible deed, from the broken sentences which he utterred in his rav ings. One night when a fearful storm raged without, beating against the walls of the house, and a solitary lamp flickered in the chamber of the sick man, he was in that half reasonable condition which sometimes intervenes between a state of perfect conciousness and a delirium. “Do you hear that?” said he, calling bis nurse to his bedside. ,t The wind was howling without! and blowing the boughs of the trees against the honse, but the nurse terrified by the loneliness and the sick man’s awful manner, almost thought she did perceive a sound which was supernatural, and could be attributed to neither wind nor rain. “Don’t mind it,” he continued, “it isn’t for you, it’s for me; and then lowering bis voice to a whisper, the conscience-stricken wretch con tinued, “That’s G ’s body beating against the ship! ’Twas just such a night as this when I threw him overboard 1 He begged and prayed for mercy, but I was deaf to his entreaties. — The storm was loud and no one heard him but me. I shall never forget the last look of his white face. It has haunted me ever since. “There! there it is now! I heard him strike the ship’s side just as he does now. Listen! don’t you hear it? I have heard it night and day for years past!” ■ He raved on. Afterwards he confessed to the nurse the compact with Dr. C and all the circumstances of the murder. He also ex plained to her the doctor’s mysterious disap pearance. His conscience also had been at work and had terrified him with the fear of dis covery. He was constantly tormented with the dread of G ’s parents coming to Salem, to institute inquiries about their son. He had carefully concealed himself in his house for many years, known only to a servant and to Captain T .He had made with great care, a contrivance for close concealment, by means of secret panels, in the walls. The place was well stocked with provisions, for he was fearful that the house would some day be searched. — He also had a large chest constructed with ap ertures for the admission of air, in which he was carried about on a cart, when he wished for exercise, without suspicion. Not long after making this confession Cap tain T breathed his last. The nurse then divulged the dreadful secret. Dr. C ’a house was immediately searched; he was discovered in the place of concealment described by the captain, and arrested, but died in prison it is supposed by his own hand, before be could be brought to justice. This tale adds another illustration to the num ber which might be brought to show that wealth or other advantages obtained by crime are never productive of happiness to their possessors; and that all of the ills whioh can beset man kind, none are so terrible as the chidings of a guilty conscience. WELLSBOROj TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING, JULY 21, 1859. From the Boston Olive I Steve Alant’s Treasure Huai BT AUTHOR L. RESERVE. “Well, Uncle Steve, what do you think of the rush to Pike’s Peak V’ inquired I, of |that in teresting old gentleman, while he was busily engaged in hoeing his corn, which by <the way was completely hid from sight by the tail brakes for which the soil seemed better adapted. “Wall, I rather guess they will come out of the same eend of the horn that I did! when I went a bunting arter a treasure ’mong the White Mountains,’’ replied Steve, ceasing his labor in pulling np brakes and leaning on his hoe handle. I "How was that, Uncle Steve ?” “Didn’t I never tell ye? Wall, Ij gness I never did, hut if you will stop and rest awhile under this big maple here, I will tell ye if the skeeters won’t eat us up.’’ I I at once agreecLto old Steve’s proposal and repaired to the tree indicated. He seated him self on a stump and commenced. { "Yes, I guess that the Pike Peakers|b|ave got took in bout’s bad as I was, cording to all counts, if not a leetle more soand that was needless, for that jant come aWful near being the death of me. You see how we come to go off on that scrape was this. Some of your pesky folks from Hosting, or some other un heard of place, cummed up here to plimb up Mount Washington to see the sun rise. That showed that they had dreadful shallow brains, for they might have seen it rise there as well as to have cummed up here. But if theyjhad been contented in seeing that, and gone back agin, I should have been much bliged to them.— When they ptarted from the top of the mount ain, they got lost and tore about in the woods like snakes in the grass for two whole days ; but at last old Crawford found them is he was out hunting bars, and brought them cafe to his clearing. “When they reached his cabin they told him that they had found a great treasure way back in the woods that was guarded by an ivil spent in the shape of an'awful bull whose h'orns were ten feet long. There was gold, and silver, and dimons, and other dreadful valuble things lay ing all around his feet, but when they went to ward him to pocket any of ’em, the critter bowed his horns, and histed his tail! and bel lowed like all persessed; and they] thinking that it was the old chap that goes up and down the airth searching for somebody to eat, turned and ran from him like blazes. J “They said that they could go back to the same place where they left him, and as old Crawford was never afraid of the devil, he made up his mind to get up a company land go in search of the treasure, and the wonderful bull that guarded it. “Wall, so ho come down to my told me the whole particulars, and to go with him, and I agreed to go; ’oman who is alers arter the better ei bargain wouldn’t hear of it until old bad promised that I should fill b<| trowses pockets full of dimons for nv the spiles. We then got two more I us, one, who being so awful bad loi nick-named after that wicked critter died dare acrosst the road in the Progress, and the other a very piou who went by the name of Daddy who said be had not the least donb he coaid lay the old chap if he coulj; a sight of him. So we four and thi chaps that made the wonderful discf posed our company. “Wall, the next morning r we started bright and airly, chuck full of hopbs and New Eng land rum, and my old ’oman gin me a white hanoherchif to wave in triumph wh in we shall come back with our treasures ; but she needn’t have done it, for we all bad flags enough flying, for my trouses and frock were torn all into strips: and I was the best off of any of them. “Wall, we traveled all that day jand all the next, but not a tarnal sign of a bull could we find, nor we could not even hear hinq roar. For two more days we circumnavigated them mount ains, then we gin it up and started for home, feeling mighty crest-fallen, I tell you. ~ “The city chaps were nigh dead, and I was glad of it, for leading us on such a tool’s chase. “When wo had got a good piece towads hum, we cum to the top of a sort of slantingdicular ledge, and I told them it was best to slide down as it would save walking. They said they would if I’d go down first and see how it went. So I squat down and away I went. When I reached the bottom I found that I had much less skin than when I started. The reat of them would not try it after they seed how bad I was served. “I got hum at last, and had larked a lesson, and I tell you what, when you hear of great gold discuverics, jest think of how old Steve got served when he was treasure hunt! og. Rather Complimentary. —We have a blind phrenologist in town, who is great on exami ning bumps. A wag or two got on!e of our dis tinguished judges, who thinks a good deal of himself, and has a very bald head, which he generally covers with a wig, to go to his rooms the other day, and have his head examined. Wags and Judge arrived. “Mr. 8.,” says one, “we have now brought you for examination a head as is a head; we wish to test your science.” "Very well,” said the phrenologist, “place the head under my hand.” “He wears a wig,” says one. “Can’t examine with that on,’ 1 replied the. Professor. Wig was accordingly taken off, and bald bead of highly expectant Judge was placed under manipulations of examiner. “Whafsthief what’s this ?” be id phrenolo gist ; and pressing his hands on the top of the head, ha said, somewhat ruffled, “Gentlemen, God bos visited me with an affliction; I bare lost my eye-sight, but lam not afo )1; you can’t pass this off on me for a head!” “They tell me wine gives strength!” said Fox, one day, “and yet I, who have just drunk three bottles cannot keep myself on my legs A Reminiscence of the old Park Theatre. i ranch. Billy Tilliams of the Tells, as he was famil iarly termed, was an excellent actor of vaigar cockneys, and popular off os well as on the stage. He could speak the language of his au thor tolerably well, but his own diction smacked terribly of Bow Bells. Mr. Abbott, the gen tlemanly comedian, used to relate the following dialogue between Mr. Burton, and Billy Wil liams, with great gusto. Mr. B. was playing a “star” engagement at the Park, and the green room was crowded with the principal members of the company; Mrs. Wheatly, H. Flacide, J. Browne, Fisher, Abbott and his wife, and Billy Williams himself. The conversation was general and lively. Burton, who delighted in quizzing Billy, made some inqniries relative to a horse belonging to Mr. Hamblin, which seemed to arouse Billy, and he said: “Now, Burton, I’ll tell you all about that ’one ; you see when I first arrived, I said to ’Amblin, Tom, I want an ’one ; I ’ave always been used to ’ave an ’orse, and I would like to ’ave one.’ “ ‘Billy,’ says he, ‘you know Hazeppa ; he has earned me a great deal of money, and I will not permit him to be misused; but if yon want to ride him, you may, and my stage man ager, Tom Flynn, will go with you to the sta ble.’ “So down I goes to the stable with Tom Flynn, and told the man to put the saddle on ’im.’ “On Tom Flynn ?” says Burton. “No, on the ’orse. So, after talking with Tom Flynn awhile, I mounted ’im.”, “What, mounted Tom Flynn 1” “No, the ’orse; and then I shook ’ands with ’im, and rode off.” “Shook hands with the horse, Billy ?” “No, d it, with Tom Flynn ; and then I rode off up the bowery, and who should I meet in front of the Bowery but Tom 'Am blin, so I got off, and told the boy to ’old him by the ’ead?” “What! hold Hamblin by the head ?” “No, the ’orse, and then we went and 'ad a drink together.” “What! you and the horse t” “No, me and ’Amblin, and after that I mounted 'im again, and went out of town.” “What! mounted Hamblin again ?” “No, the ’orse; and when I got to Born ham’s, who should be there but Tom Flynn— he’d taken another ’orse and rode out a’ead of me, so I told the 'ostler to tie 'im up.” “Tie Tom Flynn up V’ “No, d it, the ’orse, and we hod a drink there." “What! yon and the horse t” “No, me and Tom Flynn.” At this period, the whole assembly burst into a loud laugh—a horse laugh, and Billy, finding-himself trotted out, finished thus: “Now look here. Burton, —every time I say ’orse you say 'Amblin, and every time I say ’Amblin you say ’orse. Now I’ll be 'anged if I tell you any more about it.” cabin and granted me but my old :nd of the I Crawford ith of my share of The following from the Cairo (111.) Gazette will be understood and appreciated by any one who has ever spent an hour in the place: “Whoop 1 I’m just nat’rally spilin’ for a fight 1” screamed a somewhat “tosticated” indi vidual in front of Springfield Block, the other night. “I’m the best man that ever wore har. I’m the-hig dog of the tan yard—the gray wolf of the prairies, so I am I Jerewsalem, don’t some of these ornary Cairo cusses want to tackle me? I’m the post oak runner—the big boy what’s never been backed; I'm a steam en gine, fired up, with my safety-valve tied down, 190 pounds of steam, and bound to bust, unless I can work it off lickin’ some of these Illinois suckers! I shall die, I know I shall, if I can’t find somebody to fight me. Dare any man that ever wore breeches lend me a dollar! Won’t somebody here just please to call me a liar?’’ Notwithstanding this polite and uncommon request, urged with so much pathos and sincer ity, the gentleman made no impression on the minds of our citizens, and found no one willing to make the required assertion. Next morning we saw the youth sitting on a pile of lumber by the river, both eyes bunged up, nose flattened, half bis teeth knocked out of his bead, and bis coat torn into shreds. Upon kindly inquiring after his health, and how he liked Cairo, he re marked, “Stranger, I like Cairo first rate—it’s a lively place, and has the best society in it I've met with since I left home.” to go with ■pking was that etrad s Pilgrim’s i minester Hebleton, i; but what 11 only get e two city JOTery com- A Goon Story. —An anecdote, worth laugh ing over, is told of a man who bad an infirmity, as well as an appetite for fish. He was anxious to keep up his character for honesty, even while enjoying his favorite meal; and while making a bill with his merchant, as the story goes, and when his back was turned the honest buyer slipped a cod-fish up under his coat tail. But the garment was too short to cover up the theft, and the merchant perceived it. “Now,” said the customer, anxious to im prove all opportunities to call attention to his virtues, ‘Mr. Merchant, I have traded with you a great deal, and paid you up honestly and promptly, haven’t I?” “0, yes,” said the merchant, “I make no complaint." “Well,” said the customer,” I always insis ted that honesty is the best policy, and the best rule to live and die by.” “That’s so,” returned the merchant. And the customer turned to depart. “Hold on, friend,” cried the merchant, — “speaking of honesty,” I have a bit of advice to give you. Whenever you come to trade again, you bad better wear a longer coat, or steal a shorter codfish.” The Key. Mr. , an eccentric preacher in Michigan, was holding forth not long since in Detroit. A young man arose to go out, when the preacher said: “Young man, if you’d rath er go to hell than hear me preach, you may go!” , The sinner stopped and reflected a mo ment, and saying, respectfully, “Well, I believe I would,” went on. Do not all that you can do; spend not all that you have; believe not all that you hear; and tell not all that you know. I WDD KNOTT DYE IN WINTUR, Ac. I wud knott dye in wintor, When whiakio ponchis flo— When peyly gals are skating Oar fcalds of ice and sao— When sassidge meet is phrying And Sicken katatts iz thick; Owe! who knd think of dighing, Or even getting sick ? I wnd knott dye in spring tiem, And miss the turned np greens, And the pootty song by the leetle frawgs; And the ski larks arly skreem ; When bnrds bigin than wobbling l And inters gin to sprout— When turkies go a gobblering, I wud knott then peg out. 1 wnd knott dye in summer, And leeve the gardin sass— The roasted lam and batter milk— ' The kool plase inn the grass; 1 wnd knott dy in summer When ev’ry thing’s so hott, And Iceve the wbiski Jew-lips— Owe know! ide rather knott. I wnd knott di in ortum, With peaches fitt for eating; When the wavy korn is getting wripo And kandidates are treating. Fhor these, and other wreasons, Ide knott die in the pholl; And sense ive tbort it over, I wud knott di a tall. Greeley’s Decent friim Artificial to Sim ple Life. —ln bis last overland letter, Mr. Greeley remarks: “I belive I have now descended the ladder of artificial life nearly to its lowest round. If the Cheyennes—thirty of whom stopped the last express down on the route we must traverse, and tried to beg or. steal from it—should see fit to capture and strip us, we should of course have further experience in the same line; but for the present the progress I have made during the last fortnight, toward the primitive simplicity of human existence, may be roughly noted thus: May loth—Chicago—Chocolate and morning newspapers last seen on the breakfast table. 23d—Leavenworth—Room-bells and baths make their last appearance. 24th—Topeka—Beefsteak and washbowls (other than tin) last visible. Barber ditto. 26th—Manhattan—Potatoes and eggs last recognized among the blessings that “brighten as they take their flight.” Chairs ditto. 27th —Junction City—Last visitation of a bootblack, with dissolving views of a board bed room. Chairs bid us good-by. 28th—Pipe Creek—Benches for seats at meals have disappeared, giving place to bags and boxes. We (two passengers of a scribbling turn) write our letters in the express waggon that has borne us by day and moat supply us lodgings for the night. Thunder and lightning from both south and west give strong promise of a shower before morning. Dubious looks at several holes in the canvass covering of the wag on. Our trust is in buoyant hearts, and an India-rubber blanket. Good night. H. G. The Zouaves. —The Zouaves, one of the most efficient arms of the French service, are thus described : “The dress of the Zouave is that of the Arab pattern ; the cap is a loose fig, or skull cap, of scarlet felt, with a tassel; a turban is worn over this full dress; a cloth vest and loose jacket, which leave the neck unencumbered by collar, stock, or cravat, cover the upper part of his body and allow free movement of the arms; the scarlet pants are of the loose Oriental pat tern, and are tucked under garters like those of the foot rifles of the guard; the overcoat is a loose cloak with a hood; the Chasseurs wear a similar one. The men say that this dress is the most convenient possible and prefer it to any other. The Zouaves are all French ; they are selected from among the old campaigners for their fine physique and tried courage, and have certainly proved that they are, what their appearance would indicate, the most reckless, self-reliant and complete infantry that Europe can produce. With his graceful dress, soldierly bearing, and vigilant attitude, the Zouave at an outpost is the beau ideal of a soldier. They neglect no opportunity of adding to their per sonal comforts; if there is a stream in the vicinity, the party marching on picket is sore to be amply supplied with fishing rods, &c; if anything is to be had, the Zouaves are quite certain to obtain it. Their movements are the most light and graceful I have ever seen ; the stride is long, but the foot seems scarcely to touch the ground, and the march is apparently made without effort or fatigue.” Judicial Dignity. —The following conversa tion is said to have passed between a venerable old lady and a certain presiding judge of this State. The judge was supported on the right hand and on the left by his humble associates, and the old lady was called to give evidence: President Judge—“ Take off your bonnet, madam.” Lady—“l would rather not, sir.” Judge—“l desire you to take off your bon net.” Lady—“l am informed that in public assem blies the women should cover the head ; such is the custom, and of course 1 will not take off my bonnet.” Judge—“ Why you are a pretty woman! — Indeed, I think you had better cume and take a seat on the bench.” Lady—“l thank you kindly, sir—but I really think that there are old women enough there al ready.” Heart Hunger.— The heart hath hunger as the body hath. Where one person dies of phy sical want, a dozen perish from starvation of the affections. Men cannot live by bread alone, bnt the soul must likewise tie fed. A pig can subsist on corn, and a horse on hay and oats ; but men and women have spiritual natures that require spiritual food. He who attempts to live without sympathy makes a beast of himself.— We have seen a poor puny child, to which nei ther nutriment nor medicine could give warmth and strength; suddenly rouse and become rud dy and healthy when some large-hearted, elder ly, unmarried aunt, with no husband or child of her own to bestow the rich store of her af fections upon, came to feed the little thing with her heart’s blood and teaspoon. This hunger for love is a divine appetite, and it is folly to at tempt to starve it out. Rates of Advertising. Advertisements will be charged $1 per square of 14 lines, one or three insertions, and 25 cents for every c , subsequent insertion. Advertisements of less than 14 lines considered as a square* The subjoined rates will be charged for Quarterly, Half-Yearly and Yearly ad vertisements : Square, - 2 do. i column, . J do. ’ Column, - . 18,00 30,00 40^00 Advertisements sot having the number of insertion, desired marked upon them, will be published until or dered out and charged accordingly. Posters, Handbills, Bill-Heads, Letter-Heads and all kinds of Jobbing done in country establishments, ex ecuted neatly and promptly. Justices*, Constables*, and township BLAISES: Notes, Bonds, Deeds, Mort gages, Declarations and other Blanks, constantly on hand, or printed to order. NO. 61. EDUCATIONAL. Editor of the Agitator ; Dear Sir ; With joor permission 1 wiil communicate with some of my fellow teachers in Tioga, through the medium of the Agitator, and thus dispose of my some what voluminous pile of "letters unanswered.” Kentucky, though somewhat proverbial for the aptness and dexterity of her sons in the ap plication of the bowie-knife and revolver, of which her school teachers too, have felt the chastisement; is not wholly lost to the -nobler passions of the human heart, as is evidenced by her zeal for the education of the rising gen eration. As a state she has acted nobly. She has organized a very judicious and tenable school system,—instituted on a very judicious plan a Normal School at Frankfort, and disbur ses annually nearly three hundred thousand dollars for the support of common schools.— The ground work is laid out for a thorough and general system of education. But, as is fre quently the ease with these admirably devised systems, the “deadner” is the indifference and non-performance of duty in the executive de partment. The superintendent, whose duty it is to visit every county, annually—dispensing lectures, advice, life and validity to the system, I am told never leaves his “sanctum.” The school commissioners of the counties whose business it is to examine teachers and inform themselves of the schools in the counties can seldom be found. The trustees are quite indif ferent and frequently inactive. The conse quence is that in the more wealthy and sparse ly settled districts, very little regard is paid to the system. Subscription schools predominate, and the State appropriation is considered a minor affair. In the more able sections, people are becom ing awake to the interest of education, offering good and permanent locations for teachers.— But they must be teachers that can teach ‘everything/ that is, they must possess a ‘smat tering 7 of information at least, on all branches; for where they employ a teacher here, they ex pect him to remain, and hence aim for one who is qualified. The aim of education, here, too, is not to discipline but to adorn; to embellish and ornament rather than ‘lead out 7 by thought and reflection the latent powers of the mind.— If one has acquired the name and appearance of a scholar, the end is thought to be Hence thoroughness is not found an invariable requisite in schools and thorough teachers are not wholly indispensible. Indeed teachers who are advocates of thorough scholarship will find it no easy task to induce the youth of this clime, comparative strangers as they axe to any con siderable tasks either of body or mind, from childhood, to the necessary effort to be come thorough. As there are teachers from nearly all parts of the Union, I apprehend that there are schools of all stamps, good,, had and indifferent. The advantages of teaching in the locality where I am, over those Of Tioga county v are, 1. It is more remunerative; the terms being usually from $1,50 to „$3,00 per scholar, per month, according to branches. 2. It furnishes one with continuous employ ment for ten months of the year. Sessions com mencing invariably the first of September and February. 20 days constitute a month. The disadvantages are, 1. Generally poor school-houses and poorly arranged. 2. They want schools to ‘take in’ at 8 o'clock A. M., and ‘let out* at 5 P. M. 3. Children are quite liable to the chills which pervade the Western country, and break in upon the regularity of attendance; and last but not least, the repugnance and deteriorating influence of the “peculiar institution” in soci ety. J. D. V. In vain you put into the bead of the child the elements of all the sciences; in vain you flatter yourself that you have made him under stand them. If there has not been an endeavor to develop his faculties by continual, yet mod erate exercise suited to the weak state of his organs; if no care baa been taken to preserve their just balance, so that no one may be greatly improved at the expense of the rest, your child will have neither genius nor capacity; he will not think for himself; he will judge only after others; he will have neither taste, nor intelli gence, nor nice apprehension; he will be fit for nothing great or profound; always superfi cial ; learned, perhaps, in appearance, bnt nev er original, and perpetually embarrassed, when ever he is put out of the beaten track; he will live only by his memory, which has been dili gently cultivated, and all his other faculties will remain, as it were, extinct or torpid.— James G. Carter. Children, the most unlike in capacity, are often put together in the same class, and have to learn, each day, a fixed portion of one sci ence or another; and the teat of their acquire ments is a verbal recitation from a book. The memory is charged with the crudest and most heterogeneous conceptions, without allowing the mind the respite to assort and adjust them, much less the time which it needs to reflect npon them, in order to convert them into part of its own substance. Thus, from the first mo ment the hoy goes to school, until the young man leaves the college, he is harrassed and haunted with the variety and unreasonable number of studies he is. obliged to pursue, without spirit or inclination; and it is a Won der if his mental powers are, in this way, pros trated or destroyed.— F. J. Grand. . y Education and Fighting. — By a law of Prussia, every child between the ages of seven and fourteen is required to go to school and to learn to read and write. In 1845 there were but two persons in a hundred who could neither read nor write. 2,328,000 children of the 2,-,' 900,000 between seven and fourteen years, at tended school. In the standing army of 126,000 but two soldiers ate unable to read. In case of her taking part in the war, Prussia can bring into the field 300,000, in one sense the best ed ucated military force in the wbild. 3 MOUTHS. 6 MONTHS. 13 MONTHS, $2,St $4,50 $«,00 4.00 6,00 8,00 6.00 8,00 10,00 10,00 15,00 20,00 Education in Kentucky. Bowling Gbssn, Kt., July, 1859. Selections.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers