Terras of Publication.
E yI0l« A COUNTY AGITATOR is published
Thursday Morning, and mailed to subscribe
'"S rery reasonable price of -
*' ‘ TjS . ONE DOLLAR • PER ANNUM,
". fa advance. It is intended to notify every
fifV* irhen the tcrm'for which he-hai paid shall
by the Stamp—“ Time on the mar
klTC f tbo last paper. The paper wiirthen h© stopped
a farther remittance be received. By this ar-
no man can be brought in debt to the
f The Agitator is the Official Toper of the County,
•*h a large and steadily increasing circulation reach
into every neighborhood in the County. It is sent
'f : , L .f P'ixt'iye to any Post Office within the county
Pi(i- but whoso most convenient post office may bo
friii adjoining County.
Holiness Cards, not exceeding 5 lines, paper inclu
'BUSINESS directory.
iAS. IOWREY & S. F. WIISOH,
A' lIORNEYS A COUNSELLORS AT LAW, will
attend the Court of Tioga, Pnttor and McKean
cjuutier. [AV'cllsboro', Feb. 1, 1853.]
S. B. BROOKS,
,TTORNE¥and counsellor at law
" ‘ ■ ELK I. AX D, TIOGA CO. PA.
~ t i, t . nl ,iititude of Counselors there is safety,” — Bible.
sept
DK. W. VV. WEBB.
OFFICE over Cone’s Law'Office, first door below
Farr’s Hotel. Nights ho will be found at hia
residence, first door above the bridge on Main Street,
[oVards Samuel Dickinson’s.
c. N. DARXT, DENTIST,
_--i t /~\rF[CK at his residence near the
1 F Academy. All work pertaining to
line of business done promptly and
[April 22, 1858.]
rarratueii.
DICKISSOS HOUSE
cOKN X x G . N. T.
p. C. Noe Proprietor.
(Jucsfs taken to ami from tlic Depot free of charge.
PE NNS UVAIUA BOUSE
WKLLSIiOUO', PA.
L. D. TAYLOR. PROPRIETOR.
Xtu- lions© is centrally located, and
nm0 „.j< it-.-lf to the pationnge of the travelling public,
w-j. J . v - •
AMERICAN HOTEL. •
CJIKNIXG, N.Y..
2 FREEMAN, - - - - Proprietor.
Mc.il?. 2j cts. Lodgings. 25 cts. Board, 75 cts. per day.
’ (’..ruing, March .11. 1850. (ly.)
" J. C. WHITTAKER,
Hydropathic Physician and Surgeon,
ELKLAND. TIOGA CO., PEN2TA.
•Will \ hit patients in all parts of the County, or rc
fl.\e them lor treatment at bis house. [June 14,]
r H. O. COLE,
V, An HE it A A'JJ HAIR-DRESSER .
SH"I' in the rear of the Post Office. Everything in
i.i; line will be done ns well and promptly as it
can be done in the city saloons. Preparations for re
:iovin;r dandruff, antLbeautifying the hair,.for sale
cheap" Hair and whiskers dyed any color. Call and
t .\ Wclisbnro, Sept. 22, 1850.
GAINES HOTEL.
ILC. VERMILYEA, PROPRIETOR
Gaines, Tioga County, Pa.
fit|l I. -2 well known hotel is located within easy access
£ of the hot fishing and bunting grounds in Xorth’rn
Xo pains will be spared for the accommodation
rlo.i'tiro seeker? and the traveling public.
*--i> n. I*oo.
THE CORNING JOURNAL.
George W. Pratt, Editor and Proprietor.
I* published at Corning, Steuben Co., N. T., at One
liolUr and Fifty Cents per year, in advance. The
.i.’nuH s Republican in politics, and hfw a circitla-
Misvaching info every part of Steuben County. —
Th‘>*c tKslrbus of extending their business into that
iA the adjoining counties will find it an excellent ad-
Tortiiitic medium. Addrc«s as above.
COUDEBSPOKT HOTEL.
rnI'DLRSPORT POTTER CO., PENXA.
D. F. Glassmirc, - - Proprietor.
IMIIS IIuTKL is located within an hour’s drive o
the head waters of the Allegheny, Genesee, and*
'.i-juvbanna rivers. No efforts are.spared to make
:iLome fur pleasure seekers during tbetroutlug sea
-ji. and for the traveling public at all times.
Jan. 27. 1559. ly.|
JOHN B. SHAKBSPBAR,
TAILOR.
HU’IXO opened bis shop in tho room .over
W'n\. Roberts Tin Shop, respectfully informs the
'’•iiwis of Wrlt.-boro’ and vicinity, that he i a prepared
execute orders in bis .line of business with prompt
tit? and despatch
Cuffing done on short notice.
V-u'd.nro. Oct. 21, 18DS.—6m
WATCHES! WATCHES:
[HIE Subscriber has pot a fine nasortment of heavy
i ESUUSH LEVER HUNTER-CASE
Gold and Sliver Watches,
••*h he w ill sell cheaper than “ dirt’ 5 on ‘Time,’ i. e.
sill ‘Time I’icccs*on n short (approved) credit.
All kind- of HEI’AmiXG done promptly. If a
1 ‘'f «<-rk is not done to the satisfaction of the party
r ’-r ii’ R, mi ihnrgc will be mode.
I V favor-' appreciated and a contmanvc t>f pafron-
A Umllv solicited. AXDIE FOLEY.
JellA in,, June 21, ISIS,
_ HOME INDUSTRY.
THE srnsrillßEß having established a MAR
-1 RLE MANUFACTORY at the village of Tioga.
’•*re he i« prepared to furnish
Monuments, Tomb-Stones, &c., 1
1 the l>C«t
VERMONT & ITALIAN MARBLE
T cM respectfully solicit the patronage of this and ad
■ counties.
.'i\in ’ a good stock on hand be is now ready to cx
all onVrs with neatness, accuracy and dispatch.
•“'V 'd: delivered if desired.
JOHN BLAMPIED*
Tioga Co., Pa., Sept. 28. ISSO.
Win. TERBELL,
CUKNINIJ. X. Y.
Wholesale and Retail Dealer, in
i,s, Mrtlictnr*, Lfnd, Zinc, and Colored
On», Varnish, Jirvuka C‘*mphencand Hnrnuuj
y 4 7' lh r Stuff. S„*h and Glam, J*urc Liquors for
’r. M'Alf'inc*, Artist* Points and Hnu&c*,
" Wc 'y* 1 onry At tide*! Flavorhuq Extracts,
ALSO, ,
general assortment of School Books—
lilank Bonks, Staple and Fancy
. Stationary.
1 ru ??L‘ , ts anil Country Merchants dealing
the above articles can be Supplied at a small
lQr * li n Xew York prices. [Sept 22, 1857.]
at swEMraTiFT
ROY’S DRUG
“ mi ran buy Stoves, Tin, and Japanned
lar f 4t e one-half the usual prices .
f s Ctovattul Oven 1 Cook Stove and Trim
sls,oo.
■» kmdv llf
lit fill and Hardware
ili »i!| thon f,jr Kc:1(I y Pay.
1 -ili’j.j 3 -'' “I’ one wants any tiling in this line
’O' iiu'.w? ° dr i lr ' K ' C3 before purchasing elsewhere,
v, ,V . e place—two doors south of Farr’s Ho-
Drug Store. CALL AND SEE
r Y; H7~DTr) EMIN Gr,
U i. • inn 'Jimce to the people of Tlogn County
f^.C W i, to fill all orders for Apple, Penr
v-^’aui‘ cll * 11 Qo, Apricot. Kvergreen «nd .Deciduous
L e w Curnmts. ila4>pberncfii Gooseberries,
' 1 airau berrie* of all new nnJ approved, varl
, 'JcLS—nf rtvVriJ. Perpetual and Sum-
Uourbon, Noisette, Ten,
™ biDEKosra - .
U,. 'LI BoER, Y_lnclading’all tbe finest new ra-
Lilac- c n - „ rieties of Althea, Calycantbus,
I,O\U t'no’ - ri,! -' ir "- Viburnums, Wigilias Ac.
... ’ IhllS—''“Mine-. Ualiliu, Phloxes. Tnlips,
llyadalhs, Narcissi*; Jouquils. Lit-
C,. Url,.; r , * ;
U -k. - t *rawben-y. 1 dor, plants, sd.
'' r-l, tine. Budding or Pruning will be
• .. 1 0.. Audi cv. / l
- U. D. IIIiMING, ITlii-fc -.-o, Pa.
THE AGITATOR
Scboteb to the Srtcnsion tf>e area of iTvcebom aiib tbe Spreab of HfcaXtbg Htform.
WHILE THERE SHALL BE A WRONG HNRIGHTED, AND UNTIL “MAN’S INHUMANITY TO'AIAN” SHALL CEASE. AGITATION MUST CONTINUE.
VOL. VI.
[From tho Louisville Journal.]
OTHER BATS.
A dream of the past, confused and dim.
Lost night was round my heart,
And I saw again the passing years
Like a vision of love depart;
But the stranger-star in its lofty sphere
With its wings spread eastward bright and clear
Shone like the sun in a brilliant tear.
In the midnight dream once more I saw
The friends of early days;
Friends that I loved before I knew
Life’s varied and shadowy ways j
Friends whose hearts were as real and true i
To me as tho sun to the far-off bine.
And I loved this dream confused and dim
As I love the notes of some half-heard hymn.
And I heard again tho sighing wind.
As It sighed long, long ago.
When it passed through the yellow leaves in fall
Musical, soft and low ;
And the raven perched on the samo dead limb
With glist’ning eye and neck stretched slim,
Is tho same I saw there in those years
When Hope made rainbow’s o’er our tears.
It seems a long and weary path
To tread the hills of life,
To walk the varied rales of earth
ith their pleasures, pains and strife ;
But with pleasure now we fain look back,;
To the past life’s sunny and shady track.
And dreams of the past makb as sweet a spell
As the music of waves or an ocean shell.
There are none that have never felt the touch
Of sorrow’s dark-hued wing.
And there are none but In dark hours
Will to some bright hope cling;
And thus with sorrow, joy and strife,
We pass through the shade and shine of life,
Till, like the sun’s last ray at even.
Our spirits pass to the far-off heaven.
A TRUE STORY
BY BAYARD TAYLOR.
On the 15lh of October, 1850, a celebration
of a peculiar character was held in a small vil
lage near. Jena. It was an occasion of an en
tirely local nature, and might have passed over
unobserved and unknown to all, except the im
mediate vicinity, hut for its connection with the
battle which fifty years and one day before, an
nihilated the power of Prussia. An account of
it, however, was published in most of the Ger
man newspapers, and this circumstance, the
sequel of the story which I am about to relate,
was brought on. At the time the celebration
took place, I was residing in Gotha, not more
than fifty miles from the spot, and received the
story almost in the very words of the chief
actor in it. lam sorry that his name and that
of his village have escaped my memory.
We must first go back to tho 14th of October,
ISOil. On that day the windy nplands north
east of Jena witnessed tho brief but terrible
which resulted in the triumphant
march of the French army into Berlin eleven
days afterward—during which time Pnlssia
had lost 00,000 men, 05,000 standards, and 0,00
cannon. A portion of the French army was
encamped on tho battle-field, or quartered in
the village around. The poor inhabitants over
whelmed by this sudden avalanche of war upon
its quiet fields—whore for a hundred years or
more, they had reaped their harvest in peace—
submitted in helpless apathy while their houses
and barns were plundered by the lawless sol
diery. Tho battle was over, but there was no
lull in the blast of the ruin. Through the
clouds of cannon smoko which settled in the
bosom of the deep valleys as the raw October
evening came on, were heard in all directions
shrieks of fear, yells of rage or triumph, and
cries of pain or lamentation.
Davnust—the “Butcher of Hamburg,” as the
Germans called him—took up his quarters for
the night in one of the most convenient and
comfortable houses which could be found in the
neighborhood of the scene of slaughter. Here
he rapidly issued orders for tho disposition of
the forces under his command, gave directions
for the morrow, and received from his adjutant.
He had taken his cloak, and was about retiring
to an inner chamber for repose, when nn officer
entered. “Pardon me, General,” he said, “but
there is a case which requires attention. The
German canaille must be taught to respect us.
Ten soldiers of Company of the Fourth
infantry, who quartered themselves in the vil
lage of Waldorf, (let us say,) have been driven
away by the people, and two or three of them
arc severely injured.”
Davoust’a cold eye glittered, and his mous
tache curled like the lip of a mastiff, as he
turned and halted a moment at the door of the
bed room. “Send a lieutenant and twenty men
to the village, pick out ton of tho vagabonds
and shoot them down 1” was tho brief order.
“Where is Waldorf?” ho added, turning to one
of those useful creatures who are always wil
ling to act as guides and interpreter for the en
emy in their own land.
“There is a village called Upper Waldorf
which lies near ,the head-of a small valley to
the left; Middle Waldorf is on the other side
of the hill, and tower Waldorf about half au
hour’s distance beyond."
The marshal not caring to make more minute
inquiries, went-to bed. If ten men were shot,
that was sufficient.
The next morning, at sunrise, Lieutenant
Lomottc with twenty men marched over the
trampled hills to seek Waldorf. It was a disa
greeable business, and the sooner it was over
the better. On reaching a ridge which over
looked the intersection of two or three valleys,
more than one village was visible through the
cold fog now beginning to rise. “ Outesi Wal
dorf,” inquired the officer of the, man. whom
lie had impressed by the way. "Das,” an
swered. the man, “ish ober Waldorf,” pointing
to a village on the left. “Enaeani!” and in
fifteen minutes more the Frenchmen marched
into the little hamlet.
Uniting in an open space between the chnrch
and the two principal beer houses, the officer
summoned the inhabitants together. The whole
village was already awake, for few hod slept
during the night. Theiwrara were still stunned
by the thunders of yesterday, and | visions of
burning and pillage still danced before their
eves. At the command of the lieutenant, the
women and children waited near in terrible
anxiety, for no one understood the words which
were spoken, and these ominous preparations
led them to imagine the worst.
At (this juncture the son of tho village pas
tor appeared upon the scene. He was a young
WELLSBORO, TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING. DECEMBER §2, 1859.
man of twenty; who was studying theology in
order to become\his father’s successor, and for
tunately had sonic knowledge of French; The
appearance of thmgs without, the cries and
entreaties of the terrified people told him that
his help was wanted, lie immediately- ad
dressed himself to 'Lieutenant Lamote, and
k e gg®d for an explanation of the proceedings;
“I am ordered to punish this village," an*
swered the latter, “for your treatment of our
soldiers last night. The\ marshal orders that
ten of you must he shot. \The only thing that
I can do is, to allow you to draw lots among
yourselves, or to point out those concerned'in
the outrage.” \
“But, 5 ’ continued the young man, “your Gen
eral has been misinformed. No French sol
diers have visited our village before you. We
truly have been in great fear and anxiety the
whole night; but tlic valley is deep and the
village is_ partly concealed from view by the
woods oh- the side. There are also the villages
of Middle and Lower Waldorf, which lie fur
ther down in the open valley. You can shon
satisfy yourself; sir, that this village is Entirely
innocent; and I entreat you not to shhd the
blood of our harmless people.” \
“There is no time for investigation,”'said
the officer; “I was ordered to proceed to Wal
dorf, and lam guided hither. I will wait tjll
you make your choice of ten to be sacrificed,
but have no authority to do more.” \
By this time the people had learned the fate
in store for them. The women with tears and
appealing gestures, crowded around the officer,
begging him to spare their sons and husbands;
the men stood silent, with bloodless faces and
dumb, imploring eyes. The scene was evi
dently painful both to the officer and the sol
diere, accustomed as they wore to the unmerci
ful code of war. They were anxious to put an
end to it and leave ; but the clergyman’s son
inspired with the belief that the fate of ten men
rested upon his efforts, continued to urge his
plea with a zeal and eloquence that would not
be set aside. Lieutenant Lamotte struggled
awhile between his sense of duty and his natu
ral humanity, while the young advotate ap
pealed to his conscience and to the obedience
which he owed to a higher commander than'
Davoust. Finally he consented to wait while
a sergeant was dispatched to head quarters, ac
companied by a peasant to show him the near
est way. A few lines hastily penciled, stated
the facts in the case, and asked further instruc
tion. ,
Meanwhile, the inhabitants waited in a state
of suspense scarcely to be endured. Lieuten
ant Lamotte— who, rts a thorough Frenchman,
soon wearied of a painful emotion, and shak
ing it off at the risk of appearing heartless —
said: “The morning is keen, and a walk be
fore sunrise doesn't diminish the appetite'; can
you give us some refreshments from your hid
den supplies?” At a word from the young
man, many of the women brought together the
coffee they had prepared for their own break
fast, with black bread, mugs of beer, and a
small cheese or two —sufficient for a rough meal
—of which the soldiers partook with the usual
laughing comments on "la cuisine AUemancle.”
The company of victims looked on in silence,
and more than once muttered, gloomily: “We
are feeding our executioners.”
“Even if that should be true,” said the young
man, “it is but doing as Qhrist taught us.—
Whether or not we obtain Christian charity from
these men, let us, at.least, show them that we
are Christians.”
This solemn rebuke had its effect. A few of
the men assisted in entertaining the soldiers,
and theJatter with their facility of fraterniza
tion, soon made themselves at home. As the
stomach fills, the heart also enlarges, and the
men begin to say among themselves: “It is a
pity that these men should he shot by mis
take.”
It was not long before the sergeant and bis
guide arrived. The former handed the Lieu
tenant a note, which he hastily tore open aid
read. “Waste no time in parley. It is indif
ferent which Tillage is punished; an example
must be made. Do your duty and return in
stantly.” So ran the pitiless answer.
“Choose your men!” said the lieutenant
rising to his feet, and grinding his teeth to keep
down his faltering heart. But now the lamen
tations broke out afresh. The women clung
ground the men that were dear to them, and
many of the latter overcome by the general
distress, uttered loud cries and prayers for
mercy. The young man knelt down in front
of them, saying to the officer: “I do nut kneel
to you ; but I pray to God that ho will remove
the sin of slaughter from your soul.” j
As the officer met his earnest eyes full of a
sublime calmness courage, his own sud
denly filled with tears. He turned to his men
who stood drawn up in a line before [ him, hut
no word was spoken. Their hands were in
their proper places, according to drill regula
tions ; and there were drops on many cheeks
which they could not wipe away. There was
a silent question in the officer’s eye —a silent
answer in theirs. The former turned hurried
ly, beckoned the young man to him, and whis
pered in an agitated voice:
“My friend, I will save you by stratagem.—.
Choose ten of your most courageous men, place
them in a lino before me and I will order my
men to shoot them through the head. At the
instant I give the order to fire, they must fall
flat on the ground; my soldiers will aim high,
and no one will be injured. As soon as the
volley is fired I will give the order to march;
but no one must stir from his place until wo
are out of sight.
These words were instantly translated to the
people, but so great was their panic that no
one offered to move. The pastor’s son then
took his place, alone, in the vacant space before
the line of soldiers. “I offer myself,” said he,
“as one trusting in Gop, that all shall be saved;
and I call upon those of-you who have the
heartsrof men in ydnr bodies to stand beside
me.” Tbnng Gonard, a sturdy farmef.and
but newly a bridegroom, joined—casting as he
did so a single encouraging look upon his wife,
who turned deadly pale but spake not a word.
One by one, as men who have resolved to face
death—for the most of them had but a trem
bling half-confidence in their escape—eight
others walked out and took their places in the
lipel The women shuddered, and hid their
eyes; the men looked steadily on, in the fasci
nation of terror; and the little children in awe
bat ignorant curiosity. The place was silent
as if devoid of life.
Again the Lieutenant surveyed his soldiers.
■. “Take aim 1” he commanded. He continued
—“aim at their heads that your work may be
well done!” But though his voice was clear
and strong, and the tenor of his words not to
be mistaken, a clairvoyant flash of hidden
inoaning ran down the-line, and the men un
derstood him. Then came the last command:
—“Fire /”—but the second which intervened
between the word and the ringing volley the*
ten men were already falling. The cracks of
the muskets and sound of their bodies were
simultaneous. Without pausing an instant,
the lieutenant cried: “Right about wheel!”
“Forward!” and the measured tramp' of the
soldiers rang down the narrow village street. *
The women uncovered their eyes and gazed.
■There lay the ten men, motionless and appa
rently lifeless. With wild cries they gathered
around them; but ere their exclamations of
despair had turned into those of joy, the las
of the soldiers had disappeared in the wood.—
then' followed weeping embraces, and all arose
from the'ground—laughter apd sobs of hyster
ical joy. The pastor’s son, uncovering his
head knelt down; and while reverently fol
lowed in example, uttered an eloquent prayer
, of thanksgiving for their merciful deliverance.
\ What this young man had done was not suf
fered to go unrewarded. A blessing rested
fapon his labors and his life. In the course of
lime he became a clergyman, filling for awhile
his father’s place for the people he had saved,
but was afterwards led to a wider and more
ambitious sphere. Ho was called to Leipzig,
received the degree of Doctor of Divinity, find
finally became known throughout Germany as
the founder of the Gustav Adolf Tereia, (Gus
tavos Adolphus Union,) which has for its ob
ject of the dissemination of protestant princi
ples by means of voluntary contributions. In
some it resembles the Home Mission
of our country. Many churches built by this
association are' now scattered throughout the
United States. \
The inhabitants of Waldorf never forgot their
pastor, nor he them. He came back from time
to time to spend a few days in the quiet little
village of his youth\in which the most eventful
crisis of his life was'passed.
In 1850, three out of the ten pseudo victims
of Davoust were still living in their old homes,
and the people besought them that the semi
centennial anniversary of such an event de
served a special celebration. Dr. ,of
Leipzig, (formerly the pastor’s son,) was in
vited to be with them. ' He came—he would
-have come irom tiic cmi., Or -.email —tmi
after a solemn religious service in the church,
preceded to the very spot, o\ which he had
stood and faced the French muskets, and there
related to the children and grand children of
those he had saved, the narrative \which I have
here given in less moving and eloquent words.
Those who were present described the scene ps
singularly impressive and effective. \ The three
old men sat near him ns he spoke. \ And the
emotions of that hour of trial was so vividly
reproduced in their minds that at the close,
they laughed and wept as they had done on
the same day fifty years before. \
In conclusion, the speaker referred to the
officer whose humane stratagem had preserved
their lives. “Since that day,” said be, “I have
never heard of him. I did not even learn his
name; but he is ever remembered in my
prayers. Most probably he died a soldier’s'
death on one of the many fields of slaughter
which intervened between Jena and Waterloo;
if he should be living, it would cheer my last
days on earth if I could reach him with a sin
gle word of gratitude.”
In the same year there lived—and, no doubt,
still is living—in Lyons, an invalided and pen
sioned captain of the Napoleonic wars. After
a life of vicissitudes, he found himself in old
age, alone, forgotten, poor. His daily- resort
was a cafe, where he could see and read the
principal European journals, and perhaps meas
ure the changed politics of the present time by
the experience of his past life. |
One day in November, 1850, he entered the
cafe, took his accustomed seat and picked up
the nearest paper. It happened to be the Augs
burg Allogeraeine Zeiiung; but he had spent
some years in Germany, and understood the
language tolerably. Ills attention was arrested
by a letter dated Jena. “Jena?” he thinks, “I
was there too. What is going on there now?”
he reads a little further; “Celebration at Wal
dorf?” Waldorf? The name is familiar; where
have I heard it ?” As ho continues his peru
sal, the old captain’s excitement, so unusual a
circumstance, attracts the attention of all th'o
other Jiabilvcs of the cafe. Grand Dim, Da
voust—Waldorf—the ten men—the pastor’s
son ! Did I dream such a thing, or is this the
same? Forgotten for years—effaced by a hun
dred other military adventures—overlaid and
lost in the crowded store of. a soldier’s memory,
the scene came to light again. The pastor’s
son still lived, still remembered,- and thanked
the preserver of his native village! Many a
long year had passed since such a glow warmed
the chambers of tho old man’s heart. |
That evening he wrote to Dr. , in Leip
zig. Ho was ill and but a few months distant
from his last hour; but the soldier’s letter
seemed like a Providential answer to his prayers,
and brightened the flickering close of jhis life.
A manly and affectionate correspondence was
carried on between the two while the latter
lived. The circumstance became public, and
the deed was officially recognized in a way
most Haltering to the pride of Captain Lamotte.
The Grand Duke of Saxe-Weimar and the King
of Saxony conferred upon him the orders of
their respective houses, which were followed
soon afterward by the cross of the legion of
honor from Louis Napoleon, and an increase of
Yiis pension which assured him ease and com
fort the rest of his life. A translation of the
doctor’s narrative, published in the French pa
pers drew attention to’him, and he was no lon
ger a neglected frequenter of the cafe. He was
known and honored, even without his three or
ders.
An Incident of Hamper’s Ferry.
On the trial of Old Brown every witness
swore to the extraordinary efforts'which he
made to save human Hjs conduct in this
respect is the better appreciated when put in
contrast with the barbarities, committed by the
Virginians. In the course of the trial a young
man, 22 years of age, named Hunter, was
called upon the stand. He was the son of the
prosecuting officer. He was to testify concern
ing the shooting pf Thompson, who, it was
thought had some connection with killing Beek
man on the bridge- “Shalllmention names?”
asked the son. “Every bit of it Henry; state
all you saw,” replied the father. Then follow
ing the testimony of the ydnng man. Beek
man, who was shot on the bridge, - was his
grand-uncle ; he “loved him above all others
he went with others to the room where Thomp
son was guarded; a woman sat in his lap, and
when they tried to shoot him protected his head
with her body, as much in the spirit of heroism
as when Pocahontas defended Capt. Smith;
the young man was “cool about it and deliber
ate they pushed Miss Fouke aside, and “slung
him out of doors ;” they “shoved him -along
the platform and down to the trestle work of
the bridge, he begging for his life all the time,
very piteously at first; bye-the-byc, before we
took him out of the room, I asked the question
what he came here for? He said their only
purpose was to free the slaves—that be came
here to free the slaves or die; then he begged,
“Don’t take my life—a prisoner;” but I put
the gun to him and be said. “You may kill me
but it will be revenged ; there are eighty thou
sand persons sworn to carry out this work
that was his last expression; we bore him out
on the bridge with the purpose then of hanging
him; we had no rope, and none could be found;
it was a moment of wild excitement—two of us
raised our guns —which one was first I do not
know—and pulled the triggers, before he had
reached the ground I suppose some five or six
shots had been fired into his body; ho fell on
the railroad track, his back down to the earth,
and his face up.” “Is that all gentlemen ?”
asked the father. It was all. “Stand aside,’/
said the father to jiis heroic son. We suppose
the son did “stand aside,” having in a court of
justice given this testimony in response to the
paternal direotionj and with the paternal eye
beaming directly upon him.
[Perhaps some one who is learned in criminal
trials can find a parallel to this testimony.—
But if in this country it has a paralle’, we do
not know it.
The Sequel.
Our readers have all heard the story of soap
ing the clergyman’s tin horn at camp-meeting—
so that when he Vent to caii”rae congregation
together he blew the “soft soap” over his broth
er clergymen, and how he exclaimed:
“Brethren, I have served the Lord for thirty
years, and in that time have never uttered a
profane word, hut I’ll be d d if I can’t
whip the man that soaped that horn 1”
Our readers, we say, have heard this, hut
perhaps never the sequel as given us yesterday
by a gentleman present.
Some two days after, a tall, swarthy villain
ous looking desperado strolled on the grounds
and loaned against a tree, listening to the elo
quent exhortation to repent, which was being
made by the preacher. After a while he be
came interested and finally affected, and then
took a position on the anxious scat, and \vitfa
his face between* his' hands commenced groan
ing in “the very bitterness” of his sorrow.—
The clergyman walked down and endeavored to
'console him. No consolation—ho was too greatf
a sinner, he said. Ob, no, there was pardon
for the vilest. Ko, he was too wicked —there
was no mercy for him.
“Why, what crime have you committed ?”
said'the benevolent preacher—“have you sto
len ?”
“Ob, worse than that!”
“What! have you by violence robbed female
innocence of its virtue?”
I “Worse—oh worse than that!”
i “Murder, is it?” gasped the horrified preaeh-
“Worse than that,” groaned tho smitten sin-
The excited preacher commenced “peeling
off” his outer garment.
“Here Brother Cole!” shouted he—“hold my
coat—l’ve found the fellow that soaped that
horn!”
Eight Password but W bong Smell.— A high
officer of the Sons of- Temperance presenting
himself frith the smell of grog ho had been
drinking, upon him, at the door of a “Division”
for admission, was waited upon by an Irish
sentinel, to whom he gave the password, when
the following passed:
“Sir’r,” said he, “an’ yez Mister O’ Wright
the Ghrand Worthy Pathriarch of the State of
lyhaintucky, I do be after belavin.”
“Yes,” said Jim, “you are perfectly right
my friend, but why do you ask the question !”
“To tell yez the truth, then sir, and shame
tho devil,” said Pat, “yez |do be having the
right password for a Son Of Tlmperanco, en
tirely, but by the Holy Virgin, and the blessed
Saint Patherick, yez got the wrong smell.”
A little ragged urchin, bogging in'the city
the other day, was asked by a lady who had
filled his basket, if his parents were living ?”
“Only dad, rnarm,” said the boy.
“Then you’ve enough in your basket now to
feed the-family for some time,” said the lady. >
“Oh no, I haven’t neither, said the hid, “fol
ded and me keeps five boarders: he does the
house-work, and I docs the market’n.”
Mrs, Jenkins complained in tfae evening that
the, turkey she had eaten at Thanksgiving did
not set well. “Probably,” said Jenkins, “it
was nut a hen turkey.” He got. a glass of wa
ter in his face.
“Sarah,” said a wag, “it's all over town.”
“What’s all over town ?” was the anxious in
quiry.
“Mud.”
Sarah’s eyes dropped.
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NO. 81.
FROM THE PEOPLE.
For the Agitator.
Have they ewer Changed?
-Frjisd Yocso ; I wish in a few words, to
lay before your Readers the beautiful consistent
cy of the Democratic party. They are daily
charging the Republicans of often changing
their opinions, and at every comer they throw
in your face their life-long usages. But what
are they ? Oan any Administrationist tell mo
what the policy of the Democratic party is or
has been, upon the power of'Congress io con
trol Slavery in our National Territories ? or the
power of the people themselves to control it ?
I here make the charge, and if called upon
will endeavor to fumishj the proof that xi.vk
Presidents have approved of sixteen different
acts of Congress, restricting, modifying or pro
hibiting slavery in the Territories of the U. S.;
that no President from Washington to Polk
ever doubted this power of Congress. No Dcm
osratie President ever doubted this power.—
Jefferson, Madison, Monroe, Jackson and Polk
never dreamed of violating a fundamental prin
ciple of tho Constitution when they approved
of snob measures- No Democratic .statesman
ever doubted this power till the hour when Lew
is CaSs made his famous bid for the Presidency
in 1848, in his celebrated letter to A. 0. P.
Nicholson of Tenn., who was the first to an
nounce this doctrine. This had never been
dreamed of before, and to this country, so far,
this has been “a direful spring of woes unnum
bered.” His doctrine of “Popular Sovereign
ty" proposed to revolutionize the whole policy
of this government. His letter, in so many
words declares this fact. Let us quote Mr.
Cass;
“I perceive that a change has been going on
in the public mind concerning the power of
Congress to legislate upon Slavery in the Terri
tories, and my mind has undergone a change as
well as others." ,
Is not a change in the policy of the Demo
cratic party plainly apparent at this point?—
One of two things however, is very evident. Jf
the early fathers were right, then Cass and his
followers are clearly wrong. Or if Cass & Co.
are right then every President and every Con
gress from 1789 to 1848 have been legislating
in direct violation of the Constitution. Who
are right? Again, when the Kansas Nebraska
Bill was brought forward in the Spring of 18-54,
which proposed to remove the line of 1820, it
was urged upon the country that Congress bad
no power to interdict Slavery, in the national
domain, Dougins & Co. argued that the sover
eign power to prohibit Slavery in the Territo
ries remained with the people of the Territories
themselves. That while the people of the whole
country through the general Congress had no
power over slavery, the people of the Territo
ries had exclusive jurisdiction. This was the
issue upon which the campaign of 1850 was
fought. The country was flooded with docu
ments in which* the right and power of the peo
ple of the Territories over slavery and the im
potency of Congress were plainly held. Thus
far I have given two positions of Democracy
upon the policy of legislating upon the subject
of Slavery.
Now in 1859 we still have another theory
which is held Uy the Administration. It is now
held that neither Congress, nor the •people of the
Territories hate any power to prohibit slavery.
This doctrine is held by the President and hi*
followers all over the country. The arguments
of ’59 are in direct conflict with those of '5O.
Judge Douglas, who firmly stands upon the
Cincinnati platform, finds a mighty gulf be
tween himself and the present self-constituted
leaders of modern Democracy. The difference
between Douglas and Buchanan is os broad as
that between the Democratic and Republican
parties. So that now we have an entirely new
idea which directly gives the lie to all of their
past history, even down to 1855? Democratic
leaders say they ora consistent. To recapitu
late, let us sea: Before 1848, they-believed
that Congress had power to prohibit slavery in
the Territories ; from that time or at least from
1852 or, 54 until 1858, they contended that not
Congress but the people of the Territories them
selves had sovereign power to entirely prohibit
slavery; and from 1858 down to this hour.
Congress and the people are both denied the
power to prohibit this crime of crimes within
their limits, though ninety-ninchnndreths would
be free from this evil they are powerless to do
so. But more of this hereafter.
Mr. Show ’tan Explains. —"Jlr. Showman,
what is that?”
“That, my dear, is the rhynoccry. He is
cousin German or Dutch relation to the unicorn,
lie was born in the desert of Sary Ann, and
fed on bamboo and missionaries. He is very
courageous, and never leaves home unless he
moves, in which case he goes somewhere else,
unless he is overtaken by Die dark. He was
brought to this country much against his will,
which accounts for his lew spirits when lie’s
melancholy rejected. He is now somewhat
aged, but he has seen the day when he was the
youngest specimen of animated nature in the
world. Pass on, my little dear, and allow the
ladies to survive the wonders of creation, ns
displayed in the ring-tailed monkey, a haniinal
that can stand hanging like a.fellow-critter. only
it’s reversed."
A man traveling entered tavern, and seeing
no one present but thie and a negro,
seated himself and entered into conversation
with the negro. Shortly after he asked Samho
if he was dry—Sambo said be was. Stranger
told him to go to the bar and take something
at his expense. Landlord says to stranger.
“Are you acquainted with that negro V r
“Me, never saw him before; bufwhy do you
ask ?”
“I supposed you were from your conversa
tion with him, and asking him to drink.* 1
“Oh,” said the stronger, “I was experiment
ing. The fact ia I was dry too, and 1 thought
it your liquor didn’tkill him in fifteen minute?',
I would venture to take a drink myself.”
Iho landlord’s curiosity was fully satisfied.
“k ou can’t do that again,” as the pig said
when tbo boy cut off bis tail.
3 a asms. ( koxths. 13 xovths
- ' $3,09 $4,50 $9,00
5,09 6,50 8.00
7.00 8,50 10.00
8.00 0,50 12,50
15.00 20,00 30.00
25.00 35,00 59,00
Frank,