Terras of Publication. ' " rrir TIOi.A COUNTY AGITATOR is published W' —M WM . _ ____ 1 HP IT TP A A TAT) »&j£ss-*£ , I I I Ii i f-\ IT I I h\ 111 | \ -M XJL vx X X_ X X J_ \ 7 _l_ X • F B .? farther remittance be received. By this ar- -meat no man can be brought in debt to the _ f iciTATon is the Official Paper] of the County, \. isffre and steadily increasing circulation reach- % 0 every neighborhood in the County. It is sent '? 3 ,*r; potbtgfto any Post Office within the county Cn but whose most convenient post office may be County. j '"teincss Cards, not exceeding 5 lines, paper inclu- per year. j IuSINESS DIRECTORY. Uj;I«WRE¥*S. F. WILSOS, ■' HORNE YS & COUNSELLORS |AT LAW, will A Jucnd the Court of Tioga, Pottor and McKean £* t . e! . [Wellsboro’, Feb. 1, 1853.] [ - S. B. BROOKS, rrmRXEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW iL F.I.KLANB, TIOGA CO. PA. 1 r the niultituile of Couauelorb there is iAfoty.” — Bible. c, p t t J)K. W. w. WEBB. OFFICK over Cone’s Law Office, first door below Farr's Hotel. Nights lie will bo found at bis. -Jcncc fir=t door above tho bridge on Main Street, iTrards Samuel Dickinson's. J " C. >. DABTT, DENTIST, -,i at bis residence near tbe BSfe--j?. \ | Academy. All work pertaining to UtTn-rn his line of business done promptly and [April 22, 1858.] warranted. DICKINSON HOUSE CORNING? N. Y. p, C. Xoe, Proprietor. iluosts taken to aud from the Depot free of charge! pE NT ~'lf S T L V A N 1 A HOUSE wKLisnono’, pa. L. D. TAYLOR, PROPRIETOR. Thii J- -urveillv pxpul.tr house is ceutrnlly located, and WCI .j S itself to the patronage of the travelling public, vn. 23. ly. 'XHEKICAJi HOTEL COKXIXG, N.Y., E FREEMAN, ----- Proprietor. >l,j] 3 25 ets. Lodgings. 25 cts. Board, 75 cts. per day. * faming. -Hare l * 51, 1859. (ly.) " J. C. WHITTAKER, Ilydrup'ithic Physician and Ennjeon. UKLAXD. TIOGA CO., PEX X A. WiilvLit palicuts in all parts of the County, or re (.ivt them lor treatment at his bouse. [June 14,] 11. O. COLE, BAKU Eli ASD HAIR-DRESSER. n HUP in the rear of tho Post Office. Everything in bis line will bo done as well and promptly as it ib- J >ne in the city saloons. Preparations for re ding dandruff, and beautifying the hair, for sale t . ei p. Hair and whiskers dyed any color. Call and « *W«U<horo, Sept. I>2, ISSO. GAINES H OTEI. B C, VEUMILYEA, PROPRIETOR. • Gaines, Tiog-a Connty, Pa. THI' well known hotel is located within easy access of the best fishing and hunting grounds in Xorth'rn 5 l .No pains vs ill be spared for the accommodation t'tlea'tire seekers and the traveling public, i-il U. 11V.I. THE CORDING JOURNAL. George W. Pratt, Editor and Proprietor. I: published at Corning, Steuben Co., N. Y., at One i'yiiar and Fifty Cents per year, in advance. The .imalia Kcj-übhcan in politics, and has a circula .i;r<.a:him: into every part of Steuben County.— h e niMnuis of extending their business into that ulthe adjoining counties will find it an excellent ad- Tui Dp ra'dmin. Address as above. CODDERSPORT HOTEL. j CHDEKSPOKT POTTER CO., PEXNA. D. F. Glassmirc, - - Proprietor. Tills HOTEL is located within <*“ drive n ihchcnd waters of the Allegheny, Genesee, and M-.aeaanna rivers. No efforts are spared to make -iiume fur pleasure seekers during the treating sea ami fur the traveling public at all times. .a 27. 15:,9, ly. JOHN U. SHARESPEAR, TAILOR. HIVIN'; opened bis shop in the room over Wm I'.olicrts Tin Shop, respectfully informs the cf Well‘■boro* and vicinity, that he is prepared J'lt'-utc orders in his line of business with prompt lid iltijuitch V'tHuig done on shoit notice. j’eV;''i'ra, ( 'ct. 21, ISSS.—Cm WATCHES! WATCHES! Ini! has trot a fine aasortment of heavy KS‘iusj[ lever iicxteh-case Gold and Silver Watches, ’-rli he will sell cheaper than “ dirt” on ‘Time,’ i. e. cell * Xiruc Pieces'on a short (approved) credit. U Ur.'l? of RKPAIUIXd done promptly. If a *-rk is nut done to the satisfaction of the party '■ vzi it, no charge will be made. Appreciated and a contmance of patron l*J bnil.y solicited. AXDIE FOLEY, June 21, ISIS. HOME INDUSTRY. pd. r-IT’SCKIBEU having established a MAR -1 RLE .MANUFACTORY at the village of Tioga, be i> prepared to furnish monuments, Tomb-Stones, &c., ‘ I'CJt fERJIOXT & ITALIAN JURBLE ’ - ; 1 respectfully solicit the patronage of this and ad ''7!:? counties. •J I;i ,“t: a baud he is now ready to ex ‘ ..I -riers with neatness, accuracy and dispatch, hi*wk delivered if desired. JOHN BLAMPXED. Co.. Pa.. Sept. 28, ISJ9. Will. TERBELI, COKXIXG, X. Y. wholesale and Retail Dealer, in -hi -V' L'-nd, %inr t Old Cnlorrd : Vuritidi, Ijnmiiiiß Cum, diene and Burning S-tnh uud Glass, J'nrc Liguoi* for ■/ 11 ' -V« ./kuics, .4.) f Paints uud Brushes, • /miry Aitlchs, Flnvotimg Extracts, tfc., J ALSO, "■-* general assortment of School Books' — Blank Books, Staple and Fancy t, T . Stationary. and Country Merchants dealing i S T u lh« above article? can be supplied at a small v. s New York prices. [Sept. 22, 1557.] ttvniu: ud tin shop: OPPOSITE ROY’S DRUG STORE. _©9 ,r - !/'j« <-, ut hfy ( s’/o ces, Tin , and Japanned >*r>. fir ono/udf ike usual jtriccs. ' Elevated Uvcn Couk Stove and Trim- Tin and Hardware - iiS rtl °° for llcad - v Pay ’^an^ 3 ' an "' one wan * B anything ip this line ( !v e ? our prices before purchasing elsewhere. ''' . t!l * place-— two doors south of Furr’s Ho i-./^ s i te Drug Store. CALL AKl> SEE . H tsilr D. DEMIN G-, an *>ouute to the people of Tioga County v ChiLrpr to till all orders for Apple, Pear |s*t mo : ’ •’‘■'•tnrijiv. Apt icot, Kvergreen and Deciduous \ Alsl> Currants, llaspberries. Gooseberries, “* Hntl fctra " bu net, of all new ami approved ari* of Hybrid, Perpetual and Sum <'.rn..n, ni " r Moms! Uourbon, Noisette, Tea, Ll,mWns llo6es * Y— : iHtludlugall the finest nevvva- Ul»r* K,. A nctics of Althea. Calycanthus, y . vriu gias. Viburnums, Wigilias Ac. ” LRS-. l ‘ l< ‘ Dahlias, Phloxes. Tulips, J*- Hyacinths, Narcissus; Jonquils, Lil* Tarip ttp'«. 1 Y''** Sfrawberr > % * doz. plants, $5. / ,ril budding or Pruning will be ’ . * lj - Audi i". U I>. U!.\IING, Well-I oi<*, Pa. to theisyttnotou of the &re& of ifeeehom anh the Spreah of iheaXths Reform. WHILE THEKE SHALL BE A WRONG UNRIGHTED, AND UNTIL “MAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN" SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE. VOL. VI. [From tho Evening Poet.] INDIAN SUMMER It has been said (as common-place as truly), That “e'en a cat may glower upon a king”; Likewise, perchance, who chooses to, is duly . Licensed, of hackneyed themes to rhyme and sing: Therefore X sing of that which, out of view, lay But just before the fall-wind came to fling • The crisp, dead leaves about—a welcome comer, Juno’s late-born peer and sister, Indian Summer. ’Tis but a narrow rift in Autumn's clouds Thro’ which thy softer skies just now appear; A burst of sunlight thro’ the gloom that shrouds Thy charms, 0, second childhood of the year ‘ For thou dost typo the second birth that crowds The young child s cradle on the old man’s bier: And there is healing in thy balmy breath. Which robs the garner of the reaper, Death! , We seem in.gentle dalliance with June— With June the blue-eyed, June the Summer queen : With thy blue skies o’cr-canopying at noon Both field and forest in their Autumn sheen; And tho’ the birds como not as then to tune Mature s great harp, and sanctify the scene. We love thee not the less ; each has its time, June with its birds aud Autumn with its rime. The latest joy we mortals love the best: Summer’s last hour is lovelier than its first; The mother clasps her last-born to her breast— Most precious heart-flower that she ever nurst: The miser drops his last gain in the chest As host of all, (and yet 'tis most accursed:) So, in thy arms we see the year decay, Loving it better as it fades away. November 7, ISSO. M. 11. Cobb. From the Watchman and Roficcior. The Wife’s Sacrifice. “There, Mary—now don’t you think I de serve to be called a pretty good husband ?” laughed the young man as he dropped down in the lady's band half a dozen gold pieces. “Aes, you arc, Edward, the very best hus band in the world,” and she lifted up her sweet face beaming with smiles, as a June day with sunshine. “Thank yon, thank you, for the very flatter ing words. And now, dear, I want you to have the cloak by next Christmas. I'm anxious to know how you will look in it.’P “But Edward," gazing anxiously at the shin ing pieces in her rosy palm, “you know we are not rich people, and it really seems a piece of extravagance for me to give thirty dollars for a velvet cloak." “No, it is not, either. You deserve the cloak, Mary, and I’ve set my mind upon your having it. Then, it’ll last you so many years that it will be more economical in the end than a less expensive article,” It was evident the lady was predisposed to to conviction. She made no further attempt to refute her husband’s arguments, and her small fingers closed over the gold pieces, as she rose up, saying, “Well, dear, the supper has been waiting half an hour, and I know you must bo hungry.” Edward and Mary Clark were the husband •mil nf » year. lie was a uoua-Keeperm a large’ establishment, with a salary of fifteen hundred dollars. His fair young wife made a little earthly paradise of his cottage home in the suburbs of the city, for within its walls dwelt two lives that were set like music to po etry, keeping time to each other. And here dwelt also, the peace that God givcth to those who love him. Mrs. Clark came into the sitting room sud denly, and the girl lifted her head, and then turned it away quickly, but not until the first glance told the lady that the fair face was swol len and stained with tears. Janet Hill was a young seamstress whom Mrs. Clark had occasionally employed for the last sis months. She was always attracted by her young, bright face, her modest yet dignified manners, and now the lady saw at once that some great sorrow had smitten the girl. Obeying the promptings of a warm, impul sive heart, she went to her and laid her hand on her arm, saying, softly, “Won't you tell me what is troubling you, Janet ?” “Nothing that anybody can help,” answered the girl, trying still to avert her face, while the tears swelled in her eyes from the effort which she made to speak. “But berhapS'l can. At any rate, you know, it does us good sometimes-to confide our sor rows to a friend, and I need not assure you that I sincerely grieve because of your dis tress.” And so with kind words and half caressing movements of the little hand, laid on the seam stress’s arm, Mrs. Clark drew from her lips her sad story. She was an orphan, supporting herself by her daily labors, and she had one brother, just sixteen, three years her junior, lie had been for some time a kind of under clerk in a large wholesale establishment, where there was every prospect of his promotion ; but he had seriously injured himself in the summer, by lifting some heavy hales of goods, and, at last a dangerous fever set in, which had finally left him in so exhausted a state that the doctor had no hope of hisirccovcry. “And to think I shall never see him again, Mrs. Clark,” cried the poor girl, with a fresh burst of tears. “To think ho must die away there, among strangers, in the hospital, with no loving face to bend over him in his last hours, or brush away the damp curls from the forehead which mamma used to be so proud o f. o—Georg darling, bright-faced little brother George,” and hero the poor girl broke down in a storqi of sobs and tears. “Poor child, poor child,” murmured Mrs. Clark, her sweet eyes swimming in tears. — “llow much would it cost for you to go to your brother and return ?” she asked at last. •‘About thirty dollars. I haven’t so much money in the world. You see, it’s nearly four hundred miles off; but I could manage to sup port myself after I got there.” A thought passed quickly through Mrs. Clark’s mind. She stood still for a few moments, her blue eyes fixed in deep meditation. At last she said kindly, “Well, my child, try and bear up bravely, and we will see what can bo done for you,” and the warm, cheerful tones com forted the sad heart of the seamstress. The lady went up stairs and took the pieces from her ivory porte-monnaie. There was a brief, sharp struggle in her mind. “Somehow I’ve set my heart on this velvet cloak,” she thought, “and Edward will bo disappointed.— I was going out to select the velvet this very WELLSBORO., TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING. NOVEMBER 24, 1859. afternoon. But then, there’s that dying baby lying there with strange faces all about him, and longing, as the alow hours go by, for a sight of the sister that loves him, and would not this tkp u ght haunt me every time I put on my new cloak? After all, my old broadcloth is not so bad, if it’s only turned. And, Pm sure, I can bring Edward over to my way of thinking. No, you must go without the cloak this time, and hav* the pleasure of knowing you’ve smoothed the path going down to the valley of the shad ow of death, Mary Clark.” And she closed the porte-monnaie resolutely and went down stairs. “Janet, put up your work this moment — there is no time to be lost. .Here is the money. Take it and go to your brother.” The girl lifted up her eyes a moment, almost in bewilderment, to the lady, and then, as she comprehended the truth, a cry of such joy broke from her lips, that its memory never faded from the heart through all the after years of Mrs. Clark’s life. “George! George !” The words leaped from her lips, as the sister sprang forward to the low bed where the youth lay, his white, sharpened face, gleaming death-like from amidst his thick, yellow curls. He opened his large eyes suddenly—a flush passed over his pallid face. He stretched out his thin arms; “0 Janet! Janet! I have prayed to God for the sight of you once more, before I die.” “His pulse is stronger than it's been for two weeks, and his face has a better hue,” said the doctor, a few hours later, as he made his morning visits through the wards of the hos pital. “His sister came yesterday, and watched with him,” answered an attendant, glancing at the young girl, who hung breathless over the sleeping invalid. “Ah, that explains it. I’m not certain but that the young man has recuperative power enough left to recover jf he could have the care and tenderness for the next two months, which love alone can furnish. How Janet's heart leaped at the blessed words! That every morning she had an in terview with her brother’s employers. They had been careless, but not intentionally, un kind, and the girl’s story enlisted their sympa thies. In a day or two, George was removed to a quiet comfortable private home, and his sister installed herself by his couch, his nurse and comforter. Three years have passed. The shadows of the night were dropping already around. Mrs. Clark sat in her chamber, humming a nursery fane, to which the cradle kept a sort of rythmic movement. Sometimes she would miiafl sud denly, ana adjust tne snowy olankets around the face of the little-slumberers, shining ont from their brown curls as red apples shine amid fading leaves ip October orchards. Suddenly the door opened. “Sh—sh,” said the young mother, and she lifted her finger with a smiling warning, as her husband entered. “There’s something for you, Mary. It came by express this afternoon he said the words in an undertone, placing a small packet in her lap. The lady received the packet with cyqs filled with wonder, while her husband leaned over her shoulder and watched her movements. A white box disclosed itself, and removing the cover, Mrs. Clark described a small ele gantly chased hunting watch. She lifted it with a cry of delightful surprise, and touching the spring, the case flew back, and on the in side was engraved these words: “To Mrs* Mery Clark. In token of the life she saved.” “0, Edward, it must have come from George and Janet Hill,” exclaimed the lady, and the quick tears leaped into her eyes. “You know she’s been with him ever since that time, aind she wrote me last spring that he’d obtained an excellent situation as head clerk in the firm.— What an exquisite gift, and how I shall value it. Not simply for itself, either.” “Well, Mary, you were in the right then, though I’m sorry to say, I was half vexed with you for giving up your velvet cloak, and you’ve not had one yet. “No, I’ve not had one, but I’ve never re gretted it.” She said the words with her eyes fastened admiringly on the beautiful gift. “Nor I, Mary, for I cannot douljt that your sacrifice bought the young man’s life. “0, say those words again, Edward. Blessed be God for them,” anded the lady fervently. The husband drew his arm around his wife, and murmured reverently, “Blessed be God, Mary, who put it into your heart to do this good deed.” A Shrewd Idiot. —A well-known idiot, James Fraser, belonging to tbe pariah of Lun an, in Forfarshire, quite surprised people some times by his replies. The congregration of his parish church had for some time distressed their minister by their habit of sleeping in church, lie had often endeavored to impress them with a sense of the impropriety of such conduct; and one day, when Jamie was sitting in the front gallery wide awake, when many were slumbering round him, the clergyman en deavored to awaken the attention of his hear ers by stating the fact, saying, “You see even Jamie Fraser, the idiot, does not fall asleep, as so many of you are doing.” Jamie, not liking, perhaps, to be thus designated, coolly replied, “An’ X hadna been an idiot I wad ha’ been sleeping too.” Weak Christians are overcome with little crosses; the least cross docs not only startle them, but sinks them, and though they have many comforts for one cross, yet their hearts are so damped and daunted that joy and com fort flies away from them, and they sit down overwhelmed. Certainly this speaks but little of Christ within. When you have overcome one temptation, you must be ready to enter the lists with an other. As distrust, in some sense, is the mother of safety, so security is the gate of danger. A mah.bad need to fear this most of all, that he fears "nut at all. Chance For Another “Diamond Marriage.” A well informed Pairsian correspondent, says the Washington States, sends us an account of a contemplated matrimonial project, which, from its extraordinary character and the pecu liar attractions surrounding it, is destined to create quite a sensation on this side of the At lantic, and will probably produce a sudden pal pitation of maiden hearts. It appears that a Spanish nobleman, with the high sounding name of Don Pedro de Aguero, Count of Tir teafuera Duke of Sarataria, Grandee of Spain of the first class, and Knight of the Golden Fleece having sought in vain among the noble families of his native land of France for a dam sel worthy of, his hand and illustrious lineage, and having heard of the pre-eminent charms of American beauty, has at length determined to resort to publicity as the readiest means of ae compPshing the object of his heart—viz: a mat-, rimonial alliance with a young and beautiful girl. The noble duke we are Informed, has passed the heyday of early youth, hut his hair still appears black and glossy, his feeth of ivory whiteness, his check tinged with the bright hue of youth, his form rounded and graceful.- The scandle loving roues of Club, where he is often seen, assert that he is padded, laced, and rouged ; that his hair is from Deschamps, and his teeth from Fattet’s; and that he is turned of seventy. Whatever be the truth of this statement, certainly no more youthful fig ure can he seen in Paris than that of the Duke’s when he rides of an afternoon in the Bois de Boulogne, or gaily saunters, with other lions, along the Boulevard. But the chief attraction of this noble matrimonial aspirant is his enor mous wealth, consisting chiefly in castles in Spain and in plantations in the island of Cuba. From an advance copy of his advertisement, which he intends to publish extensively in this country, we are enabled to state that sealed proposals will be received from the fair bidders for this magnificent parte until the Ist of May, 1860. Although open to all the world, Ameri can offers are particularly solicited. Candidates over eighteen years of age need not present themselves. The bids must contain the exact name, age, place of birth, and description of the accomplishments and disposition of the as pirant, as well as specifications as to the color of hair, weight, &c. Each proposal shall be accompanied by a large and correct photogra phic likeness of the bidder. The Duke promises among other brilliant in ducements, that, if after full examination, the young lady selected shall bo accompanied by all the required virtues her trousseau shall consist of necklaces, bracelets, rings, trinkets, dresses, Alencon point lace, &c., valued at $500,000; that the fortunate fair one shall en- W^inm o neytn n^l(a an a castle in the Pyrenees, brilliant equipl#B§, and boxes at the several operas. The ceremony will be performed at Notre Dame by the Arch bishop of Paris ; and it is even hinted that the Emperor will give the bride away among an immense concourse of invited guests. But, to crown all, the whole proceedings will be minutely chronicled, for the gratification of the young lady’s parents and friends, by the press 1 in Europe and America. Scene in an Editors Room. —Obliging Pal ron. The Altoona Tribune has the following: Now I want you just to put in a little local notice of my new stock, will you ? Editor. —Of course how many lines will you have ? Pat, —Oh I suit yourself. You know where my store is and what it is. Editor. —But our charges are fifteen cents a line, and if you will say how many you want, there will be no difficulty about it hereafter. Pat. —What! do you expect to charge for it! I don’t want to advertise f 1 only want a “puff.” You don’t charge for them, do you? Editor. —Not if you will allow me to come to your store and walk off with whatever I please to take without charge. Will you agree to that? [Exit patron in a rage, with a great big flea in his ear.] Peace is better than joy. Joy is an uneasy guest, and always on tiptoe to depart. It tires and wears us out, and yet keeps us ever fearing that the next moment it will be gone. Peace is not so—it comes more quietly, it stays more contentedly, and it never exhausts strength, nor gives any one anxious forecast thought.— Therefore let us pray for peace. It is the gift of God—promised to all hia children ; and if we have it in our hearts we shall not pine for joy, though its bright wings never touch us while we tarry in the world. A Baker, in England, stole a tombstone for the hearth of his esen. One of his customers, finding a death,s head on the bottom of his loaf of bread, ran in dismay to his deacon, fearing the end of the world was approaching. The latter was in equal trepidation, when, on exam ining his own loaf, he found the marrowbones. In their alarm, 'they had recourse to the parson, who could afford them no consolation, jpasmuch as “Resurgam” was legibly set forth in bold re lief upon his own loaf. Boys, if you don’t want to fall in love, keep away from muslin. You can no more play with those girls without losing your hearts than you can play with gamblers without losing your money. The heart-strings of a wonian, like the tendrils of a vine, are always reaching out for something to cling to. The consequence is, that before you are going you are “gone,” like a lot at auction. ' —Jk Methodist and Quaker having stopped at a public house; agreed to sleep in the same bed. The Methodist knelt down and prayed fervent ly, and confessed a long ’catalogue of sins. After he rose, the Quaker observed: “Really friend, if thou art ns bad as thou sayest thou, art, I think I dare not sleep with thee.” It is said that a waAoh'-dogla hot so largo in* the morning as at night, because he is let out at night and taken in in-the morning. Playing to an Audience of One. Governor Foster the well known theatrical manager, some time ago organized a theatrical company to play short engagements in various towns and cities of the West. A week or two ago they arrived at Bucyrns, Ohio, where bills were issued, a hall rented, and properties enga ged. During their stay a novel incident occur red, which Is told so graphicaley by the Journal of that villagg that we give it in its own words : Mr. Foster was sitting in the Hotel, rumina ting, in all brobability, upon the full house he was to have in the evening, when a stranger entered the room, with the bill of the evening’s entertainment in his hand. “Are you the manager of the Theatre?” quoth the stranger. “I am sir,” replied Mr. Foster. “You are to play Richard 111, to night!” “Yes sir.” “I am and always have been extremely fond of theatricals, but never have had an opportu nity of seeing Bichard III.” “Very well, sir, come in to night.” “Unfortunately, I leave town this evening on the G. 46 train. ; Now how much money would induce your company to play Bichard for me, this afternoon ?” Foster thinking the stranger was joking re plied that he would do it for twenty-five dollars. The stranger looked at the bill again, and in quired what would bo tho extra charge for ti e Bough Diamond. To carry out tho joke.—Fos ter replied ten dollars. To his utter surprise, the stranger “pulled his weasel,’’.counted out thirty-five dollars, and handing it to him, re marked that he would like to have the play commenced no later than two o’clock. Foster got the company together, and related the circumstance. The idea of playing Richard to an audience of one was so excessively ridicu lous, and so new in their experience that they consented. Two o’clock came, and the solitary audience assembled. Choosing an eligible position, and cocking his feet upon the back of the seat in front of him, he waited for the performance to begin. The bell rang,' up went the curtain and the play commenced. Never did actors do bet ter. They all exerted* themselves to give their patron an entertainment fully worth the price paid for it, and they succeeded. The stranger applauded vigorously at different points, and the close of the play called Mr. Foster before the curtain, who responded in speech. A dance and a song followed, after which the farce of the Bough Diamond was played, the audience laughed, reared and applauded, and, as at the close of the first piece, called out the leading actors. Who this liberal patron of the drama is we not, but. a more eccentric operation we never tjritneased. following amusing anecdote comes to us A man having a large family found it rather hard to keep up 1 the table, has adopted the fol lowing plan: At evening just before supper he calls his children around him and addresses them thus— “ Who will take a cent and do without his supper ?” 1 “11 I! I!” Exclaim the children, eager to get the prize, i The old man pulls out a'pocketbook full of red cents which |he keeps for the occasion, and after giving them one apiece, sends them off to bed. j .. Next morning they look like starved Arabs. The old man calls them round and with gravity asks— ! “Who will give a cent to have a nice warm biscuit for breakfast?” It is needless to say the cents were forthcom ing. Good plan. A fashionable doctor lately informed his friends, in a large company, that he had been passing eight days in the country. “Yes,” said one of the party, “it has been announced in one of the journals.” “Ah,” said the doctor stretching hia neck very important, “pray in what terms?” “In what terms? Why, as well as I can re member, in nearly the following: ‘There was last week seventy-seven interments less than the week before.’ ” The doctor’s neck was seen suddenly to shrink down, till his head nearly touched his shoulders ; and shortly after he went from the saloon, to the no small diversion of the com pany. Some of the Indians on Lake Superior have formed a temperance society. The occasion of this was as follows: A large number of them had collected a considerable amount of money in small sums, which they entrusted to the keeping of a chief in whom they had implicit confidence. This dignitary was not infallible, and one day went on a spree and spent it all. The red men held an indignation meeting over it, and after a most emphatic series of grunts, formed a self-protective association, based in fundiroental principles—that is to say, the first Indian who got drunk was to be tied to a stump and whipped with twenty-five lashes. Corny and Patrick, the masons, were looking at a well-made wall, in Germantown, the other day, when the latter, admiring the workman ship, ejaculated, “Faith, an’ that wall wasn’t laid in this country.” “How could that be ?” was the inquiry. “I moan,” he rejoined, “that the man who built and laid that same wall was never in this country, for such work is only done in the ould country.” Idleness is hateful in any, but most abomina ble and intolerable in ministers, and sooner or later none shall pay so dear for it as such ; wit ness the frequent woes that are denounced in Scripture against them. Where should a sol dier die but on the field ? Aud where should a minister die but in the pulpit ? When a man goes from the sun, yet the sun beams follow him; so when we go from the Sun of righteousness, yet then the beams of his love and mercy follow us. Christ first went to Peter, who had denied him, and the rest who had forsaken him. Rates of Advertising. Advertisements will be charged $1 per square of JO lines, one or three insertions, and 25 cents for every subsequent insertion. Advertisements of less then 1P lines considered as a square. Therabjoined rates'rill be Quarterly, Half-Yearly and Yearly ad vertisements: Square, 2 do. 3 do. i column, I do. Column, - Advertisements not having the number of insertion desired marked npoa them, will be published until or dered out and charged &<Wrdingly. Posters, Handbills, Bill-Heads, Letter-Heads and all kinds of Jobbing done in country establishments, ex ecuted neatly and promptly. Justices*, Constables', and other BLAHKS constantly on band- NO. 17. Color and Dress. —You ought never to buy an article because you can afford, it. The ques tion is, whether it is suitable to your position, habits, and the rest of your wardrobe- Thera are certain clothes that require a carriage to be worn in, and are quite unfit to be worn in the streets. Above all, do not buy wearing appar el because it is miscalled cheap. There i« no sach thing, and cheap clothes are dear to wear. The article is unsaleable because it Is either ugly, vulgar, or out of date. One reason why you see colors ill arranged is, that the different articles are purchased each for its imagined virtue, and without any thought of what it is to be worn with. Women, when shopping, buy what pleases the eye on the counter, forgetting what they have got at home. That parasol is pretty, but it will kill by its color one dress in the buyer's wardrobe, and be unsuitable for all the rest. An enormous amount of money is spent yearly upon woman’s dress; yet how seldom is a dress so arranged as to give the beholder any pleasure. To be magnificently dressed cer tainly costs money, but to be dressed in taste is not expensive. It requires good sense, knowl edge, refinement. We have seen foolish gowns and arrogant gowns. AVomen aro too often tempted to imitate the dresses of each other, without considering the differences of climate and complexion. The colors which go best to gether are green and violet; gold color with dark crimson or lilac; pale blue with scarlet or pink. A gold color generally requires a warm tint, to give life to it. Gold and pale blue, for instance, do not combine well, both being cold colors.— All the Year Round. A Woman’s True Life.—To most women, how rarely occurs the opportunity of accom plishing great things, and making great con quests, as the on-looking world estimates great ness. But in every Relation of life, and in almost every day’s and hour’s experience, there are laid in her pathway little crosses to take up and bear, little lessons to learn of patience and forbearance, little sacrifices which seem as noth ing to the looker-on, but which, from peculi arity of temperament, may in reality be costly ones ; Utile victories over nameless developments of selfishness; the culture of many a little hope, and feeling, and principle, and suppres sion of many desires, repinings, or exactions, which make the feeble woman sometimes greater and stronger, in the eyes of Him who looks into the soul’s innermost recesses, than the mighty man who takes a city. To the most of women the great warfare of this probationary life must be a warfare known best by its result—the enemies they would van quish meet them in the little hidden nooks of every-day life, and the victories they gain in the warfare are recorded, not on the scroll of earthly fame, but by watching angels in God’s hook on high. result in this discismien>i‘'u-±ant is each day's it is vrc are to achieve holy victories, and then to receive the plaudit, “Well done I s ' —or at the last to find inscribed upon our course, “Defeat —failure—irretrievable loss,” Thk Mississim cv Night. —Cy night the scene is one of startling interest and magical splendor. Hundreds of lights are g’ancing in different directions, from the villages, towns, farms and plantations on shore., and from the magnificent “floating palaces” of steamers that frequently look like moving mountains of light and flame, so brilliantly are these enormous river leviathans illuminated, outside and inside. Indeed, the spectacle presented is like a dream of enchantment. Imagine steamer after steam er coming, sweeping, sounding, thundering on, blazing with these thousand of lights, casting long brilliant reflections on the fast rolling waters beneath. There is often a number of them, one after another, like so many comets in Indian file. Some of these are so marvellously and dazzlingly lighted, they really look like Aladdin's palace on fire, (which it is in all like lihood it would be in America) and skurrying and dashing down the stream, while, perhaps, just then all else is darkness around it. I de lighted, too, in seeing as you very frequently do, the twinkling lights in the numerous colla ges and homesteads dotted here and there ; and you may often observe large wood fires lit un the banks, looking like merry-making bonfires These, I believe, are usually signals for the different steamers to stop and take up passen gers, goods, and animals. —Lady \Worilcy*s Travels in the U. S. Pinnux Pje.—As the pumpkin pie is the cheapest of all pies, and the season for them now approaching, I give a mode of making au excellent pic of grated raw pumpkin, for a change, as its taste' is not like a stewed pic, which all know how to make: About a tca cupful of grated pumpkin : one pint of im(k, one egg, a little salt, two large sponns sugar, cinnamon, spice or nutmeg. Line the tin and bake until done. The remainder of the pump kin can be cleaned and kept in a cool pantry for several days, and new pies baked each day if you wish, with a little trouble. All who have pumpkins in the Fall ought to dry some for nest summer's use, and the best method I know of is to stew pumpkin down very dry, then spread it on plates or tins, if not old and rusty, to dry. It can be dried in an oven, or in the sun—whichever is most conveni ent. While drying,.cut it as you would a pie and turn it daily until dried enough It should be spread about an inch thick, and when dried, tied up in a clean bag and hung up so that moth or miller can not get in to injure it.—When wanted, soak over night in warm milk and sift : it. ‘‘Dennis, darlint, och, Dennis, what is it you’re doing ?” “Whist, Biddy, I’se trying on experiment.” “Jlurder.l what is it?” “What is it, did you say ? Why’ it’s giving hot water to the chickens I am, so they’il ho after lying boiled eggs !" * A Philosopher, being asked what was t.ho first thing necessary towards winning the love of a woman, answered, “an Opportunity.”' 3 months. 6 months. 12 xosms ss,oo $4,50 $6,00 5.00 6,50 9,00 7.00 8,50 30.00 8.00 9,50 32,50 15,00 20,00 30.00 25,00 50,09 35,00
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers