Terns of Publication.
TIOBA COUNTY AGITATOR is published
T ll Thursday M° raln gi ani mailed to subscribers
e«T ■ , ' ;;
ONE doluh.pbr
" . f n advance. It.os Intended to notify every
ffhcn the term for which ho has paid shall
fub ' pird, by the stamp—"TufE Out,” oh the mar
ta TC !s|. last paper. Tha paper will then he stopped
gift 0 farther remittance he received. By this ar
tt:l \nf no man can be brought in debt to the
Tift?®
l * Gr rATOB is the Official Paper of the County,
and steadily Increasing circulation reach
*i‘:. e rery neighborhood in the County. It is sent
to any Post Office’within the county
whoso most convenient post office may be
County.
se ss Cards, not exceeding 5 lines, paper inclu
. f *55 per
ThSMOSMOBiY.
BICKISSOX BOISE
CORNING, 'N.T.
B C. Proprietor.
’ wfftg to and from the Depot free of charge.
S. B. BROOKS,
httorneyand counsellor at law
A IXKLASD, TIOGA CO. PA.
~I o tht nnltitmle ol Counselors there is eafety.”-
Sfpt-23. ISSS.Ir.
" j)it. W. W- WEBB,
OFFICE over Cone’s Law Office, first door below
Farr's Hotel. Sights he will bo found at his
re.-Jence. first door above the bridge on Main Street,
towards Samuel Dickinson’s.
PBNJt S V liV AN I A HOUSE.
vrELLSBOI’.O’. PA.
1. V. TAYLOR, PROPRIETOR.
pepnlar l.ou=e i« coutrally located and
coSmenj S tl.o patronage ot the travellmg Public. ,
•Nor. M. IKS, l.r. j_
DARTT,
»E» TIST.
Oj/ice at hi* Residence, near the Academy.
All work pertaining to ills line of business done
romptly and warranted [April 22, 1858.]
AM
EKICAIV HOTEL.
CORNING, N.Y., •
B FREEMAN, .... Proprietor.
Meals, 25 cts. Lodging?, 25 ot?. Board, 75 cts. per day.
Corning, March 3i, 1559. (iy.)
SPENCER & THOMSON,
Attorneys & Counselors at law,
CORNING,
i iStenben County, New fork.
| Gpo. T. Spencer. C. H. Thompson.
April IS, 1555. —ly- ______________
Hydropathic Physician and Surgeon.
EIKIASD, TIOGA COUNTY, PA.
Will visit paiienls in all parts of the County, or re
ceive them for treatment at his house.
[.Tune 14,1855.]
S. F. WIUSON,
2t?~ Removed to Jan. Lowrnj's Office.
lAS. lOWREI & S. P. IViISOH,
ATTORNEYS i COUNSELLOKS AT LAW, will
alEcml the Court of Tioga, Pottor and McKean
c-'iiiuies. [Wellsboro*, 1 : eb. 1,1553.]
GAINES HOTEL.
H. 0. VERDULYEA, PROPRIETOR.
Gaines, Tioga County, Pa.
Tins well known-hotel is located within easy access
of the best fishing and hunting grounds in Xortbern
Pa, Xo pains will bo spared for the accommodation
of pleasure seekers and the traveling public.
April 14. 1559.
COUDEKSPORT HOTEL,
COCDEUSPORT POTTER CO., PENXA.
D, P. Glassmire - - - Proprietor.
Tins HOTEL is located within an hour’s drive of
the he«d waters of tho Allegheny, Genesee, and
"uiqueh.uma rivers. No efforts are spared to make
it a home for pleasure seekers during the trouting sea
fou, and for the traveling public at all times.
Jan. 2T, IS59*, ly.
WATCHES’
THE Subscriber has pot a fine aasortment of heavy
EXOEISH LEVER HUNTER-CASE
Gold and Sliver Walclics,
which be will sell cheaper than "dirt” on 'Time/ i. c.
hi will sell ‘Time Pieces’ on a short (approved) credit.
All kinds of REPAIRING done promptly. If a
jab of work is not done to the satisfaction of the party
urdering it, no charge will he made.
Past favors appreciated and a contiuance of patron
ace kindly solicited. ANDIE FOLEY.
"Wcllsboro, June 24, ISIS.
JOHN B. SHAKESPEAE,
TAILOR.
HAVING opened his shop In the room over
IVtn, Roberts Tin Shop, respectfully informs the
cumins of Wellshoro’ and vicinity, that he is prepared
to etwute orders in his line of business with prompt
ness and despatch, hoping by strict attention to busi
es to merit the confidence and support of those who
may favor him with their orders.
Cutting done on short notice.
Wellsboro, Oct. 21, ISSS.—Cm
Corning Book Store.
THE Subscribers have removed to the large and
elegantly fitted up Brick Store—four doors east
Concert block, Corning—and will keep on hand a
large assortment of New Books, among which are
Religions Standard Works,
HISTORICAL BOOKS,
Tiles of Fiction, Poetical Works, School Rooks,
SHEET MUSIC,
Blank?, Stationery and Wall Paper, N. Y. Daily and
Weekly papers, all the Magazines at
Publishers prices.
Ah Ar«ale very cheap. ROBINSON & CO.
_ Coining. Sept. 24, ’57. __
WEIXSBOKO’ ACADEMV.
Wellaboro’, Tioga County, Penna*
Letter R. Barling’ame, A. B.; - - Principal
Miss ELIZA J. BEACH, - - - - - Assistant.
The Fall Term will commence Wednesday’, Aug.
and dose Friday Kov. 11.
Tuition.
.'nTi-tnle Dopartmeut.
KngUbh Branches,
English Brunches',
J-mguagtt.,
drawing, (extra)
s2,r»o
. 5.50-
- 5,00
3,00
By order of Trustees, "
_ J, P DONALDSON, PreSt
Aog. 4, 1859.
§W STOVE AND TIN SHOP!
S®. OPPOSITE ROY’S DRUG
'Uicre you can huy Stoves, Tin, and Japanned
TTare for one-half the usual prices.
. : ar geNo, 8 Elevated Oven Cook Stove and Trim
°»»g. for $15,00.
Tililmla of
Tin and Hardware
10 Proportion for Ready Pay.
t will p a y any one who wants anything in this lino
s*ll and see our prices before purchasing elsewhere,
the plh.ce— two doors south of ‘Farr’s Ho
’ot opposite Roy's Drag Store. CALL AND SEE!
A Pnl2J,iBs9. 1.
H. D. DEMING,
that 3 !? l s e *P ec ifally announce to the people of Tioga County.
l*ear* e rx now P r4 3*rcd to fill all orders for Apple, Pear,
l \Z~' ( - lltrr y, Nectarine, Apricot, Evergreen and Deciduous
tree*. Also Currants. Raspberries, Gooseberries,
j tle| and Strawberries of all new and approved yari-
of Hybrid,Perpetual and Sum-
' mer Hoses, Moss, Bourbon, Noisette, Tea,
Ctrl!!* China, and Climbing Hoses.
V Including all the finest new ra-
Iteuri. r-i 1 rieties of Althea, Calycantbnft
w* **daca, Spiraea, Syringitis. Viburnums, Wigilias Ac.
f U)\ypßg Paeonioa. Dahlias, Phloxes, Tulips,
llsj, Hyacinths, Naxciisls;, Jonquils, Lit-
OriJm Haut-bota Strawberry. 4 dor. plants, $5.
solicited,
f r otaptlv7t»L “ r . Grft WDg, Budding or Pruning will be
tkf il to. AddreH* p
. '• w - U. D. DBMING, Wellsboro, Pa.
THE AGITATOIt
) • v . 77 ; --■ 1 ——-- - -
Sehotefr 10 the of the of iFmhom nun the of'healths 3&t£ornt. H
VOL. VI.
LITE BRAVELY.
The world is half darkened with crosses.
Whose burdens are weighing them down *
They croak of their stars and ill usags *
•And gropo in tho ditch for a mown.
Why talk to the wind of thy fortune,
Or clutch at distinction and gold? ■ 1
If thou canst not reach high on the ladder.
Thou canst steady its base by thy hold.
Bor the flower, though Hid in the corner.
Will as faultlessly finish its bloom,
Will reach for a sparkle of sunshine.
That clouds have not dared to consume.
And wofildst thou be less than a flower
*k°°ght, and a brain, and a hand?
WiU wait for the dribbles of fortune,
When there’s something that these may command ?
There is,food to be won from the furrow—
And forests that wait to be hewn,
There is marble untouched by the chisel,
Days that bleak on the forehead of June.
Will you let the plow.rust in the.furfow—
Unbuilded a home or a hall?
2?or bid the stones wake from their silence—
And-fret, as if fretting were all ?
Go, learn of the blossom and ant-hill;
There’s something thy labor must give,
Light the beacon that pierces the tempest,
Strike the clod from thy footing, and live.
Live not trail with thy face in the dross heap.
In the track of the brainless and proud,
Lift the cerements away from thy nnanhotfd,
Thou'rt robbing the dead of a shroud.
There are words and pens to bo wielded,
There are thoughts that must die if unsaid,
Wouldst thou saunter and pine amid roses,
Or sepulchre dreams that are dead ?
Ko, drag thy hope to the pyre,
Dreams, dead from the ashes will rise,
Look not down upon earth for its shadow—
There is sunlight for thee in the skies.
For the Agitator,
Leaves hy the Wayside.
BT AGNES.
“I wish I had a picture there!” emphatically
exclaimed Annie Etherton, as she brought down
her hand upon the bare wall of her parlor. “I
cant help it Edmon, but whenever my eye rests
upon this whole side pf the house, I wish
I had a picture to place upon it.” Our carpet,
and furniture is good enough, although it falls
far below tapestry and velvet. lam proud of
my little home, Edmon, because you and I live
here—But—
‘‘But what Annie?” asked the husband.
‘‘You know Edmon my passion—my weak
ness you may call it, for paintings. I cannot
help it 1 It makes me better, purer, wiser, as
I look upon some such conception of the soul,
so beautifully, so truthfully brought before the
world, by human artistic bands.”
“Yes Annie, we will sometime fill that ob
noxious corner with a picture, but not note, ‘the
times are too tight.’ ” Annie knew that “the
times had been tight” with her husband for
many years, yet broad acres of ground had
stretched themselves farther, and farther, until
for the distance the eye failed to take in the
glowing beauty of their productions. Annie
had like £ true help-male toiled by his side.—
While he' battled with life for her, she had
worked in her department for him.
Years sped by, yet they brought no painting,
as an oasis for the dark side of Annie’s parlor.
Her only picture was a stream of jvater close
by the house. Many an idle hour had she
traced the strange beauty of its placid waters
—as hills, foliage and sky made a picture upon
its surface, more exquisite, than the mortal
main could put upon canvass.
v‘Edmon, dear Edmon!” exclaimed Annie,
‘‘such good news! Cousin Kate is coming to
see us! Long years have gone by. since I have
seen her; and you have never seen her! She
was good, and beautiful then. I wonder if she
is so now ?”
“When does this cousin of thine arrive?”
Before Annie had time to answer, the sound of
wheels coming up the gravel walk to their gate,
caused them both to run to the window. “Kate,
cousin Kate," exclaimed the wife, and away
she flew, and such a time of kissing and shak
ing of hands, as followed.
“My husband, Edmon' Etherton ; Cousin
Kate Andrewsaid Annie, as she led the
way into the house.
Kate wascordially received by Mr. Etherton,
who at first glance rather liked the cousin’s
physiognomy.
Kate was shown to her room. After her bon
net and shawl was removed, she proceeded to
bathe her face and hands in cold water, which
freshened, and brightened her dark complexion.
As the brush laid smooth her dark locks, Annie
exclaimed, “Just as good looking as ever Kate 1
how is the heart ?"
“Perhaps not quite so wicked, and warm, as
when you and I used to sit beneath the apple
trees in old Massachusetts. Annie I have seen
sorrow—such sorrow, as your heart is a stran
ger to. I will not darken our first meeting
with a recital of it. But when the earth is
shrouded in darkness, and we are alone, I will
tell you all."
“Thy sorrows shall be mine, dear Kate. Let
me kiss those lips again, then we will go to my
liege lord and dinner.”
That morning, when the ladies were sleeping
—the lights were burning—and quiet brood
ed over the household and nature. Kate An
drew with folded arms and quivering lips told
her story.
“You know how I married. I had so often
heard of Morton Andrew, that he was no stran
ger to me, when I met him. It was not the
beauty of the face, that attracted me, for he
was plain, oh,.very plain! hut I knew his soul
was strong, lofty in its aspirations, reaching for
a pure atmosphere, above the temptations and
allurements of the world. I loved him madly,
and he loved me with such faith, as few women
obtain. One year after our marriage we went
to Italy to add a finish to my husband’s genius,
for you know Annie, he was an artist. How
happy was that year, and yet —I was not quite
happy. My husband was a devotee to his art,
I liked paintings, but could never give them
but a passing glance. They wore no study to
me. As I walked with my husband through
the long corridors of the Vatican, or the mag
nificent rooms of the Pitti palace amid a wil
derness of sculptures, and paintings from the
hands of the great masters of jmoiont and mod
ern Italy. I could not follow" the soarings of
his spirit, as his eye grew bright in the spirit
worshipping of the forms of beauty around
him. As day, after day went by, I grew weary,
moody, nay, jealous! of what? of Morton’s
ideal forms of worship. As we become mould-
THERE SHALL BE A -WRONG UNRIGHTED, AND UNTHj “MAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN”"SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST, CONTINUE. A
WELLSBOEOj "HOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 15,-1850.
ed to whatever opi minds turn to, so my strange
hallucination grew upon me. I sant.j down—
until I lost sight of my love and dully to my
husband. Morton strove in vain to revive my
spirits—but there was no answering echo in my
bosom to his smiles and caresses. At last he
‘grew weary—hopeless—then came omj total es
trangement. One day he came to mej with an
open letter in his hand. “My roothet is sick,
we must in three days sail for America!” he
said. As I,looked upon his pale facefl longed
to throw m'y arms about his neck, and ask "for
forgiveness. But you know Annie, now hard
it is for me to make the first advance. If he
had only said one word, I would have been at
his feet; never raised his eyes from the
letter, but turned and' (walked from me. In
three days after, we bade adieu to sur ny Italy.
As I looked over “the dark blue Sea” how my
heart thrilled at the thought of h jme, and
friends. I felt that perhaps the unrest in my
bosom might find solace among the friends of
my youth.
The fifth day we experienced a terril >le storm.
As I looked *wildly around mo, and saw the
waves running up mountains high in the gloom
about me, I heard the cry that our vessel was
sinking.
“What wild confusion ensued. Strong men
looked about them in silent despair, ■while pale
women clung to them and prayed. The boats
were lowered. As I clung to Horto i, and re
fused to go without him, he took me in his arms,
and kissed me—then firmly said, “Ton must
go Kate. I will follow when it comes my turn.”
I went Annie, for I supposed he wc uljd come
soon—but as we shot out into the sea, I saw
my husband with clasped bands, and wildly
strained eyes standing upon the helm of the
vessel.
I knew no more. When I again opened my
eyes they rested upon a cabin beautifully fur
nished. . j
“Thank God she is alivecame from the
-jel tru..
lips of Mrs. D , one of'.my fellow passen
gers. We had been taken up by a vessel home
ward hound.
Annio you know the rest. How bis months
ago I landed in New York. Have I found rest
for my soul ? Often such darkness creeps over
my brain, that X feel I tread far b iyond the
boundaries of that twilight ground of which
the Greeks and Romans had such veneration.
If I had cast no shadow on his life, I might
look up. But that last terrible piiture, that
God painted for mo, in which my Mor :on helped
to fill the foreground, hangs in the chambers of
my soul, a haunting phantom which will follow
me through life.
The nest morning a cheery voice dried out at
the front door, “Is Ann at hum ? Ho t do Ann?
Come airly you see 1 Cant do as folrs do now
a-days ; why they go skiting along in their Jur
be-lows and crispiny-pina, with their littletclam
shell bonnets lying upon their baccs, just at
dark, to drink tea with some friend When I
was young them were the hours that lie women
went home to milk the cows and dig the taters
for breakfast. You needn’t faugh ; the men
folks in them days didn’t stick cott m in their
ears when they went to the breakfast table for
fear some low sperited wife would entertain him
with the news that some Bridget had been in
the practice of wiping her face with the dish
cloth, or cooking chickens in embryo for break
fast. In them days the women fqund some
thing to talk about beside their hired gals—
which the women folks now days calhsueh “mis
erable critters,” yet cant do without. Then
Ann, it used to be a misfortune to be sick—so
it is now with some of the folks. lut when I
see women leaving their babies to busses and
cordial, and themselves cantering to ill manner
of fashionable springs, swiling down water
that the dog wouldn’t look at—l tl ink they’d
better be at hum scrubbing the kite ten, which
would make their blood circulate healthfully.
Then so many men and women wouldn’t have
such tragical separations, that cause the world
to weep for them ; and then, when they come
together again, makes the folks mid to think
how they are fooled! Deer me 1 how nice your
parlor looks 1 You oughter to have that picter
that my nephew brought here last week, to hang
right up hero,” said Aunt Betsey, placing her
hand upon the wall, where I bad o ton wished
to place one.
“Is'it a pretty picture aunty 1” I ai
ing it might be a Beatrice, or Anj
pipe stem curls, unearthly bright
some Napolebn, or Byron, or Tom 51
ing at her feet.
“slay be Ann, you would like it ;J it is a ves
sel at sea, the thunder and lightning com
ing about it like all natur, while my nephew
stands on it, with his two big eyes, as big as
my two fists, staring at a beautiful lady in
white, in a boat which hops from pne wave to
another like blazes. Deer me it makes me
kinder weak at my stomach when I think of it.”
So aunt Betsey walked to the wltfdow to hide
the tears that came to her honest e; res.
“Why Ann who is thatl” she asked as she
pointed to Kate who had run out ir to the yard,
after a brush which had fallen from the window.
She wore a white robe with her lo ig hair fall
ing about her, as she had just commenced to
arrange her hair, when laying her brush upon
the window it fell to the ground.
“That aunty, is cousin Kate.”
What a fright she gave me; sht
like the woman in the boat in that
“Where is your nephew aunty ?’
“Oh, he is at my house, poor fell
dreadfully about his wife he says,
er quiet about his own affairs, i
much about him, although he ha
me some of the time ever since he
“What is his name aunty ?”
“Mutton,” she replied. I felt a:
pulse to see the picture; so I
“aunty, I will order the horses.
ride around to your house and see
I can neither eat, drink or sleep,
seen it.” “And like Belvidere Ai
tiful worshipper, whose blood been
marble, will you my sweet Ann]
blood turned to oil or paint?” el
husband, as he entered, “To, neij
tor—l will cause the blood of- oth«
high tide to-night. So hurry, au
bring Kate. It bad been my ci
aunt Betsey riding whenever ehi
me; so she did not marvel at my present pro
seeding.
As we rolled over the road shaded by sugar
maple trees, and looked upon the farms with
their golden harvests; I saw Kate’s eyes dilate
with pleasure—then they would be quenched in
gloom.
“Do Kate, let sweet nature coax you out of
your sorrow. Don’t resist, I whispered.
“Annie, I feel strange—as if some joy was
coming to me. I must resist Annie, for never
a moment must I forget the dead who sleeps
alone beneath the billows.”
Just then we ‘ drove beneath the shadows of
the elms which stood with other trees for a half
a mile around auntie's cottage. As we passed
into her parlor, I took up a hat that stood upon
the table. It had a weed about it but bore no
name inside as I had hoped.
“That's my nephew's last. It looks as mourn
ful as he does poor feller. That picture I am
going to show you Ann, he (I am afraid you
will think him lubberly) cries over morin half
of his time. Don't eat enough to keep the
breath of life in him; that's what worries me
most. X guess after he stops hankering after
*7ter, 9 as he calls his dead wife he will not be so
pimping. Time is a great smoother of grief.”
“Show me the picture alone auntie,” I whis
pered. So aunt Betsey handed around peaches.
While the rest of the party were eating I fol
lowed my aged relative from the room. As I
closed the door after me, I met Kate's eyes.—
There was wonderment in them, and a pleading
to be taken along. “Perhaps it is not what I
wish it may be,” I mentally said as I followed
auntie into a neatly furnished apartment.—
There was the picture ': A vessel at sea—dark
ness above and around it—'as the storm beat
upon it, and it surged mountains high upon the
black waters ; the vivid lightning revealed deg- 1
pairing men clinging to it. One man clung to
the helm of the vessel and watched a ,boat full
of passengers. In the middle stood—yes cous
in Kate in a white robe with her hair tossed
upon the winds, while she stretched her arms
imploringly to the man at the helm - of the
vessel. I wept as I looked upon her—l wept
as I saw the misery depicted in that picture.-
In a moment of forgetfulness I cried, “Will not
Christ still those waves 1”
A groan fell upon my oar. I turned and
there stood Kate white as marble, with her eyes
fixed in one strong concentrated gaze upon the
picture. “Kate,” I cried, “he is alive ! ,f - She
fell to the floor.
“Massy sakes!” cried aunt Betsey; “is she
dead? Hero Mutton! here Mutton! bring
water; here is a gal fainting over your fright of
a picture!”
A light step was heard; the door opened arid
Kate was snatched from my arms, as the words,
“I thank thee father!” fell upon ray ears.
I hurried them all from the room; for I knew
a scene too sacred for my gaping children and
the rest of us, would ensue when Kate recovered
her consciousness. In one hour Kate and her
husband joined ns. • Her eyes were red with
weeping, but such joy as we deem, dwells in the
eyes of angels, beamed from hers.
We all went back to our house to tea. Good
aunt Betsey hurried not home to milk the cows,
as she listened to Morton Andrew’s recital of
his night of suffering and terror—of his escape
from the vessel upon a plank which in a short
time carried him to the friendly assistance of a
vessel which did not bring- him homo quite as
soon as he desired, but which, thank Heaven,
had brought him there at last.
The next morning the sun peeped into my
parlor and threw a bright ray of light in .defi
ance upon my picture of the “wreck at sea”—
which now hung in pleasing contrast with my
statuary of living curly headed children, and a
fond husband, and my united cousins—who for
no strange fancies may never walk apart in
life.
Jenha ffndcth a Location.—He hnldeth ap office under
the Government , and there becometh acquainted with
the focal-Litterati.—He aendeth a contribution from
Jfias Vcrdvjria, &c.,
. Ocrtottx, State.
You may remember, slr. Editor, that I told
you in ray last letter, that I was about to leave
“for parts unknown”; and that when I got
there, you might hear from me again. Well!
I am here at Ourtown, no matter what State ;
but ’tis as good a State as you or any other
man lives in. Dont think I mean State of Mat
rimony. ..Vo sir; old bachelors forever! Our
town is quite a nice littlo and I am con
tented, well pleased with the people and with
my. business. I am clerk in the Post Office ;
not that our P. M. is so overwhelmed with busi
ness, but he is farming, building &0., and is
away much of the time, and I am his deputy.
So I can fancy myself in the employment of
the United States government, and if slr. Har
ris is P. M., why not I, D. P. 51. ? That name
of-mine hasn’t troubled mo here. Once how
ever, “my heart was in my mouth.” At a
small tea party, a lady of a certain age noted
for an inquiring mind, exclaimed, “Do tell me
slr. Jonks what your first name might be?”—
I thought of the old answer “it might be Sam
Patch, but it isn’t,” but I replied, “Cant you
guess? So the girls began. One said Jarvis,
another Jenner, another Julius, &e., till Kate
Stevens declared there was a reason for all
things, and she believed I had one for not tel
ling my name. Perhaps, said she, his mother
made a blander and gave him a girl’s name,
Jemima, or Jerusha; or may be his name is
Japhct, or Jeptha, or Jer-(good gracious! I
thought she was going to say Jcmhhaal)-emiah !
Kate Stevens, you be be-have very oddly
I retort'pd. If Jack Stevens had said that, in
stead of his little black-eyed sister I might:
have finished my sentence differently.
sked, think
eeline, with
jeyes; with
wore, kneel-
looks just
picture.
Ipr; takes on
He is kind
dont know
S lived with
was a boy.
n inward im
exclaimed —
and we will
this picture,
until I have
f polio’s beau
me frozen to
ie have your
Ixolaimed my
kher, tormen
jrs to flow at
!nty, while I
istom to take
, camo to see
Well! to return to the Fust Office. There
are'quite a number of literary young people
here, you must know, and I am asked quite
often, if there are letters for Nimrod Nimshi,
or Beverly Beehive, for Violet Veriligris, or
Paulina Puddingstick. To-day I came early to
the office, despatched the morning mail, and sat
down to read the “Atlantic.” sly first visitor
was Susie Wallace, a sweet little country girl,
with eyes as blue as wood violets, and cheeks
and Ups tinted like her own roses.' -To, her gay
For the Agitator.
Letter From <l. Jenks.
“good morning” I repUccP.by putting a letter
post marked,“Boston,''
and smile ware .pretty epongh to reward me, if
I had brought it all thd iway myaeif.
often has letters from They arcflarge,
fair missives, by rather an unpracticed
hand, and closed by enormous red wax seals.
Her young-friend ignores self-sealing envel
opes. He is' probably of an’economical turn,
and having years ago-laid in a stock of wax,
and the stamp) “Jottb,” whidrornamcntsall bis*
letters, he wishes now to make a proper use of
them! Who knows bathe may be the veritable
“young fellah JFghn” by the Profes-
;
few quiet moments, and then Mr. Thomas
Smith, otherwise Beverly Beehive. Any letters,
Jenks? , I 'handed him one. He tore it open
and read it, the frown on his brow growing
deeper and blacker, like a gathering thunder
cloud. “Dom'd foin that, cool too, precious
cool; read it sir, and see what a reward genius
receives in these degenerate days.” I read as
follows: r
“B^B.—Sir—Tour articles are not needed at
this office, and we beg that we may sec no more
of them. It is not our custom to return a re
jected manuscript, but we do so this time,with
the express request that you will keep it, and
all future effusions, where wc may not be troub
led by thera.”l
I read the pome, entitled, “La of the broken
hart,” and my conscience not allowing me to
blame the editor, I merely remarked as I hand
ed back the documents, ‘ l I am not a judge of
these things-Mr. Smith,” and Mr. Smith left,
disgusted with the world in general and editors
in particular. I read, wrote, opened the mails,
distributing letters and papers to all sorts of
customers, till two o’clock came, and with it
Miss Sally Peters, alias Violet Verdigris. Sbc
colored, hesllated, and finally said, *T* have a
favor to ask.” Granted, if possible Miss Vio
let, I replied with more gallantry than prudence.
“I have written some, as you know for our pa
per here” (I bowed) “but Mr. (our editor)
has not soul or sentiment enough to appreciate
my efforts. Ills early days arc past, he laughs
at romance, and actually said to me the other
day, “Miss Sally I’ll give you a silver thimble
if you won’t; send me another line of poetry,
and my advice is, dont write it.” But said I,
when the muses invite me, and the full tide of
feeling is gushing through my soul, what can I
do? “Mend!your father’s stockings” said old
Mr. Practical. (At this juncture it was hard
to control my feelings but I succeeded and Miss
Violet continued) —“You have a paper at W.,
where you came from ?” Certainly and it is a
paper too. “Do you know the editor ?” Oh
yes. “Is he! young or old, sentimental or the
reverse ?” 1 rejoined, he is young; as to
sentiment I dont know exactly. “Would he be
so unfeeling and harsh to budding < ..lent as our
editor here?” I should not take to be an
unfeeling monster, I replied, and then friend
Young, -she |handed me what follows. Tow
don’tfrown and say, confound that Jenks, what
does he mean by sending me such trash 1 I
had to do it, lor swear you were old, utterly de
void of taste; &c. Tow read as I did: ‘
NIGHT
Oh! how I love the night; when the brazen
sun has sunk to somnolent rest, surrounded by
auriferous clouds, and darkness hangs like a
black pall on Nature’s face. Then gentle Luna
shows her silvery orb, attended by no end of
diamond stars. The wind mourns like a lover’s
sigh, the tall! trees wave like angel’s wings, and
the god of sleep scatters poppies all rounds—
The bold staring sun may do for the worldly
and practical! {’Us quite a handy institution—
Jenks) but all those who are full of soul and
sentiment, love night. It matters not if ’tis
dark and drep,r—so are some lovely hearts.—
Dark, wild ajnd gloomy may be the lot of many.
And the moon looks down with pity on such
tender hearts, tlie stars shine kindly, and the
bitter winds rage and roar like the storm of
sorrow, andjthe rain falls in torrents from the
skies, like the briny tears that course down their
pale and wasted cheeks. ’Tis ever so—the gift
ed and the High-souled are frowned on by a cold
world. ( Violet Verdigris.
“I will send it,” said I. “You said that editor
was young and sentimental,” queried sliss Vi
olei. Yoirxc, yes certainly, and sentimental—
well yes—l Ishould think he was at quite a sen
timental periocrof life. “Not married?” No,
oh no, sliss Violet—certainly not-, and your
fair correspondent departed, and the D. P. 31.
hid his face jin the N. Y. Tribune and laughed
“most cqnsumedly.” He had a reason for that
laugh. Yours truly, J. Jznks.
For"111g Agitator.
I Old Memories.
We live oyer again the ideal past, for as day
after day, weeks, months and years pass by, we
forget the trials and temptations wo have past
through and look back upon those days as bright
and beautiful pictures of perfect enjoyment.
'Near and dear friends are again at our side,
breathing in accents low, some cherished strain
—touching some vibrating cord, which by them
attuned produces sweetest melody ; and we arc
ready to exclaim, “What blissful hours we then
enjoyed.” No .cloud, as we now remember,
darkened for a moment, the horizon of our hap
piness. Let us pause. Has not memory de
ceived us ? | Were we really then so much more
happy than now? Were those dear ones so
true, and these so false ? Were they so lovely,
and these so unlovely ? It is a beautiful belief
that they had no specks of our evil natures in
them, but.j a deceptive one—calculated it is
true, to make our memory of them very pre
cious ; yet, by comparing the real of to-day,
with the remembered of years ago; how apt
we are to wrong our friends, to think the pres
ent,all crosses, and our lot one of bitterness.
There are [many reasons why the past should
appear mote beautiful than the present, for os
year after year rolls onwiu-d, wo are increasing
in experimental knowledge of the world, and
to our knowledge is added wisdom, and wisdom
teaches us that we are not to believe every
sparkling stone is a pure diamond, which in
our youthful credulity we wild, but, to view all
persons and tiling^ as they arc and not as they
seem. |
It is, very beautiful to create an Eden for
one’s self, and pc,ole it with those who have
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■gone before —to encircle their brows with a
ba!o.of purity, scarcely Vllainabljtby angelio
spirits, and fancy ourselves the happy recipients
of the friendshipof such a company—yet surely
the sensation of melancholy—the sinking into
a semi-stoical state of appreciation of the
ness of our every daj companions which fol
lows invariably, does not speak of
such an indulgence. Let old memories come.
Let them whisper of sweet by gones, but do not
let thpm prove other than a blessing by stirring
up a greater spirit of unrest. Let every act of
kindness, every smile, every gentle word be
remembered and" appreciated ; but not to the
discredit of our companions who are daily striv
ing to add to our happiness,
We complain of insincerity—perhaps Wffly,
and pever inquire if a like charge might not
-be urged with equal truth agoyst ourselves.
We forget that we are erring ourselves and live
by far too much in the past, or dream of the
future, while if we would enjoy to-day, and ex
pect to enjoy every passing blessing, and to be
happy anyhow, our very nature would seem to
have undergone a transfiguration, and then those
dear old memories would come bearing sweet
incense until they prove by their refreshing
and beautifying effects to be as “apples of gold
in pictures <A' silver.” Grace Mortq.v.
Hew to Train a Prize Fighter.
Australian Kelly, is in training for a prize
figlit, at Coney Island. A sporting paper shows
how the man is physically trained to make a
brute of himself. It is interesting as a sketch
of the method of physical development;—
In the morning Kelly rises exactly at four
o’clock, proceeds to the sea shore, not fifty
yards from the house, and takes a hath ; re
turns home and goes to bed for three quarters
of an hour. Up again at five o’clock and
washes out the mouth with a little cold water,
partakes of a little water with peppermint in
stead of the usual sherry and egg, walks three
miles, rolls a metal ball three miles, and runs
three-quarters of a mile—returns home at eight
o’clock, gets rubbed dry, and is sponged from
head to foot with spring water—an entire
change of clothes is put on and he descends to
breakfast at half past eight, which is composed
of either calves foot jelly, beefsteaks or mutton
chops; with water biscuit, instead of toast, as
the latter dries op the blood. Water gruel is
substituted for tea on account of its nervous
tendency, and sugar as promoting bile; tea
and sugar also create thirst, while gruel does
not. An hour’s rest is then enjoyed, after
which he starts on a fourteen mile walk, seven
out and seven in. 1
In walking, he carriys the newly introduced
lead plugs, two pounds weight, grasping them
firmly and keeping the arms well up. The ob
ject is to strengthen the muscles of the arm,
and to enable him to keep his arms in position
without fatigue. In a protracted fight it is
generally from weakness, or inability to use the
arms with any force, that the battle is lost. To
avoid these things, it is necessary to attend to
the most minute points as it is to the more
important ones. At 121 o’clock, after being
rubbed, sponged and re-dressed, dinner is ready;
it consists of beef or mutton with water bis
cuit. In place of the water-gruel, beef-tea,
(made from a shin of beef without any mixture)
is taken with the dinner. It serves either for
food or drink, some never take anything at all
with it. Another hours rest and the afternoon
is employed with the dumb bell, (which weighs
from 6 to 14 lbs.) fighting the bag (this, together
with the bells, consumes three hours every day),
and gymnastic exercises.
Changed, rubbed, and sponged again, when
the supper is ready. For this two eggs are
allowed, with water biscuit and gruel. An
other resting spell, and an hour or two's rowing
or four milo walk, and jumping the skipping
rope generally ends the days work. In some
days more work is performed than others, ac
cording as the gentleman feels inclined; but
the average walking is from 21 to 24 miles a
day. The meals are served to a minute, and a
certain quantity only allowed at each. At pre
cisely 8 o’clock ha retires for the night, to rise
at 4. His sleeping apartments are kept pure
and healthy by the sea-breeze continually pass
ing through, and the house itself, and surround
ing country for twenty miles, seem adapted by
nature for training purposes.
When Mr, Kelly went into training hi»
weight was about 108 lbs. It is now reduced
to 146. His fighting weight will be about 148.
Who Sent Them?— Old mother Bender wa»
pious but poor. In the midst of her extrema
want her trust and confidence was in God.
It was late one chilly night in the autumn
of the year, when two rather wild young men
were passing her cottage on their way home.
One of them had under his arm some loves of
bread which he had procured at the village
store. A faint light glimmered from mother
Bender’s casement. Said the one who had the
loaves, to his companion, ‘ - Let us have some
fun with the old woman.”
“Agreed,” said the other. They approached
the house and peeped into the window, saw the
old woman upon her knees hy the hearth, where
a few embers were mouldering in the ashes.
She was engaged in prayer. They listened
and heard her offering an honest petition for
bread. She was utterly destitute of food.
In furtherance of their fun, one of them
with the loaves climbed softly up the roof of
the cottage and dropped one loaf aflei the
other down the ehimney. As the bread rolled
out on the hearth, they caught the old lady’s
eye, and in the fulness of her heart sho ex
claimed—
“Thank, the Lord, bless the Lord for his
bounty.”
“But tlio Lord didn’t send them,” shouted
a voice from the chironev'.
“Yes he did,” cried sho undauntedly ; “tha
Lord sent them, and the devil brought them.”
Joe and Bill Benton want to Xevr Orleans
with a flat , boat of corn. Jo wrote to his fath
er thus:
“An Orleans, June 5 —Deer Bad, market is
dul korn is jni tey hi nml Bills d«d.
• Y'urc sun. J.