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-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.
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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, -
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i column, .
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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.