Publication. rOrSTt AGITATOR is published x lie*’ A y orn iDg, and mailed to subscribers price of DOLLAR PER /■"' It is intended to notify every £rm fo r whioh h 0 h " sha “ "Ah ' b l° iheTSmp—“T'«b Out*on the m»- The paper will then be stopped pittance be received. By this ar ; i caa be brought in debt to the Vtct c ’ y ... the official Paper of the County, d i " TA “ 1 tcaddv increasing circulation reach fli-hborbood in the County. It is sent t l "' to any Post Office within the county > most convenient post office may bo Countv. . 'P'irCardf. not exceeding 5 lines, paper inciu - fi p-tf . v^ r ‘ .[.©•ess wiiw'tmiy. : r o n'BEy & S. F. WILSOJf, Ji" „>-rVS i COUNSELLORS AT 1 LAW, will I 110 tic Court of Tioga, Pottor and McKean \ 11 nvellstoro’. Feb. 1, 1553.] V — r B. BROOKS, '■ AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW W' 1 ei.KI.AXD, TIOGA CO. PA. i __ - Ml uie of Counselor* there is safety.” — Bible. DB. W. W WEBB. ■4 nver Cone’s Law Office, first door below > ;i yf lCC ,[ gK |. Sights ho will be found at his f,rr l duorabovc the bridge on Main Street, Dickinson's. dentist. V _ ‘ rxfFiCE at bis residence near tb© i I Academy. All work pertaining to line of business done promptly and '^- LLL " D [April 22, 1558.3 tfnnw^ nlC |il!»SO» HOUSE V fjjXIXG, N. T. , c \os Proprietor >;•; to asd from the Pepot free of charge. \l V AT*XA BOISE * H ELLSBOHO’. PA. L V. TAYLOR, PROPRIETOR. »h jMit'iiUr ht.iibe is centrally located, and alio lutronage ol the travelling public. ':J ~ hotel. CUBING, N.Y., j FREEMAN, ----- Proprietor. i-«sct'- Udjriugs. 25 cts. Board, 75 cts. per day. March::!, ISM. jlyj j. C. WHITTAKER, Hydropathic rinjtician ctud Surgeon. riKLA.VB. TIOGA CO., PEKNA. f-'lniit patients In dll pai,ts of the .County, orre -rr theta Lr tro.itment at bis house. ‘ [June 14,] H. O. COLE, VARBEIt AXE SiSin-JjRESSER. j;Ap in the rear of the Post Office. Everything in VLlmc I,e as ant * Promptly as it ** i* .Jone ta the city saloons. Preparations for re -*”r:c Jaclruff. and beautifying the hair, for sale W? 5 Hair and whickers dyed any color. Call and ‘Ve’LdnrJ, Sept. 22. 1839. GAINES HOTEL. .EC. VERMILYEA, PROPRIETOR, Gaines. Tioga Connty, Pa. Till? well known hotel is located within easy access f;nel» -ik grounds in Xorth’rn •5. No paios will he spared for the accommodation , i.uiure stokers and the traveling public. THE CORNING JOURNAL. Seorgc W. Pratt, Editor and Proprietor. Tjp3!.:Led at Corning, Steuben Co., If. Y., at One j li-j.ir Fifty Cents per year, in advance. The . .~u\ is republican in politics, and has a circula ;.:rr.-u.minto every part of Steuben County.— ;2 Jcsir.iK uf extending their busmen into that ci ice adj jiuin g counties will find it an excellent ad *r..:ics nicJ'um. Address as above. (OIDKRSPORT HOTEL. f»rDL'RSPORT POTTER CO.. PENJfA. E. r. Glassmire, - . - Proprietor. T:IIS HOTEL !?• located within an hour's drive o ’h» head waters of the Allegheny, Genesee, and •t;uc!iaana rivers. Iso efforts are spared to make s; tee f.ir pleasure-seekers during the trouting sea 2nd for the traveling public at all times. .Tt l!7. 1 >50 r ly. JOHN »: SHAKESPEAR, TAILOR. HAVING opened his shop in the room over Wm. Roberts Tin Shop, respectfully informs the r:iens ofWclhboro' and vicinity, that ho is prepared impute orders in his line of business with prompt :««sad despatch Cutting done on short notice. WellsWo, Oct 21, IS5S.—6m WATCHES! WATCHES! THE J'ubscriber baa got n fine aasortment of heavy EXULISH LEVER J/CXTER-CASE Gold and Silver Watches, *t;ch be will sell cheaper than u dirt” on * Time,' i. e. It will -ell • Time Pieces' on a short (approved) credit. All kinds of REPAIRING done promptly. If a yj of w>>rk h not done to the satisfaction of the party ordering it, no charge will be made. Piii lavors appreciated and a contluance of patron kindly solicited. ANDIE FOLEY. WclUburo, June 2-1, 13-iS. HOME INDUSTRY. THE SUBSCRIBER having established a MAR BLE MANUFACTORY at the village of Tioga, »kere be it prepared to furnish Monuments, Tomb-Stones, fee., ■S the best TERXOa'T A ITALIAN MARBLE * ul I respectfully solicit the patronage of this and ad ;Jl* counties, iiaung a good itock on band he is now ready to cx orders with neatness, accuracy and dispatch. All w«rk delivered if desired. ' JOHN BLAMFIED. lings., Tioga Co.. Pa., Sept. 28, 1859. ' Will, TERBEI jT 9 CORNING, N. Y. Wholesale and Retail Dealer, in fiRLGS, And Ifidiciuf*, Lr-nd, Zinc, and Cnlorvd PvtiU, Odx, I'tr/uVA, Bruekcs Camiihcne awl Burning A By* .Stuff. Sn«k and (Jla**, I“nre JAquurs far • Patent Medicine*, Artist* Paints and Brttvkea, u »icry. i'-mey Articles, FUtvorimg Extract*, Ac., ALSO, —A general assortment of School Books — Blank Books, Staple and Fancy Stationary. Druggists and Country Merchants dealing ic .ibo* e articles can he supplied at a small Yew York prices. [Sept. 22, 1857.] Physicians. any of ih «uv ance on m STOVE MD TIN SHOP! ■s.OPPOSITE ROY’S DRUG STORE, Khm you can huy Slaves, Tin , and Japanned TRirc fur one-half the-usual prices. Lirge Xo S Elevated Oven Cook Stove and Trim sls,oo. Ad kind- ( ,f XI u and Hardware to proportion for Ready Day. will pay any one who wants anything in this line £ail and tec our prices before purchasing elsewhere. Recollect place—two doors south of Farr’s Ho -6 ’ f ’ r O pposite Rov*s Drug Stqre. CALL A2SD SEE .April 2], iSo9. * 1. ____ H, D. DEMING, timl? rtrp l u *ctfuU\ announce to the people of Tioga County * b utm prepared to fill all orders for Apple, Pear OnT° '' ,,err >* Neetdrinp, Apricot, Evergreen and Deciduous *Sf?* nlal tnfoS * Also Currants Raspberries, Gooseberries, ttie* rr,es acJ Strawberries o/ all now and approved vart» ®-OSES-JConfuting of Hybrid, Perpetual and Sum. E*. . ;* uu;r Roses, Moss, Bourbou, Xoisette, Tea, CtTr\ f aDd Climbing Roses. V Including all the finest new ▼*. D.-.,- , 1 v “ricties of Althea, Calycanthus, t~,w ■ i-ilac*. b|»ira<-s, Syringitis. Viburnums, Wigihas 4c, * LOWERS Paeomes, Dahlias, Phloxes, Tulips, Hyacinths, Xarclssis; Jonquils. Lil- varietio?. o«i,_ - 8 *' ew Haut-bois Strawberry. 4 dor. pfants, 46. WL^ re ' I * Ctfllll - 7 Solicited, ffsmntu for Gni hhig. Budding or Pruning will be ! v p .J '"‘.'MK Add res. ■■ ‘ ,l i; D. P!"IIS r r. W-:;.; cr.-, Fa. the agitator Beftoteg to the of the Uttn of ifmhnm anh the Spteah of fheaXth£ Reform. WHILE THERE SHALL BE A WRONG UNRIGHTED, AND UNTIL “MAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN" SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE. j YOl. YI. LUCIA There is one name I never speak la tones of careless mirth, For she who hallowed it for me. Has passed away from earth. Yet ever in my heart, her face, Her, name, and memory have a place. The winds of Spring will lightly blow, •And Summer Sowers will wave. And Winter snows fall cold and deep Above her lonely grave j And I can never on it gaze And dream of other earlier days. And sisters t we are scattered wide. We all bear different names, Yet one tie unites us still, One spot our reverence claims. 'Tis where we laid in love and trust. Our father's, and our mother's dust. I have a little daughter now, With graceful childish ways; * They say, and there could ho to me No more endearing praise. That she has Lncia’a eyes of blue, And Lucia’s form and features too. And if that “country farther on," Is a carer than rre deem, If many graves now wept above Aire emptier than they seem ; Oh I may my mother calm and mild Bond gently down, to bless my child. Virginia. [From “Once a Week/'] How an Advertisement got a Wife. “Tobacco is the tomb of love," writes a mod ern novelist of high standing; but with every respect for his authority, I beg to say it was quite the contrary in ray cose. Twenty-one years ago, I was sitting by my fireside, totting up innumerable pages of my housekeeping book, taking exercise in arithme tic on long columns of “petty cash"—compris ing items for carrots and Bath bricks, metal tacks and mutton chops, until, tired and wear ied, I arrived at the sum total, and jerked the book on the mantel-piece. Nearly at the same time I placed my hand in the pocket of my dressing gown, drew out a leather case and lit a principe. Well, having lit the principe, I placed my feet on the fender and sighed, ex hausted by my long job of domestic accounts. I was then in business—’twaa a small whole sale business then, His a large one now—yet one morning’s tottings of carrots and bath bricks, would tire mo a thousand times more than twenty-four hours of honest ledger work. I sigbedi not from love, but from labor; for, to tell you the truth I had never been in love. Is tins to go on forever? thought I, as I took my third whiff, and looked dreamily through the thin smoke os it ascended between me and a large print of the capture of Gibralter, which hung over the chimney piece. Am Ito spend my prime in totting up parsnips, and computing carrots, and comptrolling washing bills ? I sighed again, and in the act, off flew the button of my neck band, as though some superior power had seasonably sent the accident to remind me of my helplessness. . 1 The button settled the business; though, as it slipped down inside my shirt, and passed with its motber-o’-pearl coldness over my heart, it for a moment threatened to chill my matri monial resolution. I pitied my own lonely state, and pity, we know, is akin to love. But how was the matter to be accomplished? Most men at my age would already have adjusted their inclination to some object; so that having made up their mind and counted the cost, little more would have remained to be done than to decide upon the day, and lay hold upon the li cense. This, however was not the case with me. I had been too much occupied, too idle, or too indolent to devote the time, or make an effort to “form an attachment." Ik was through no dis inclination or difficulty to be pleased ; for had any young lady of moderately agreeable powers taken the trouble, she might have married me long ere then. I should even bavS been grate ful to her for taking the trouble off my hands, but I was too bashful to adopt the Initiative. I was a bashful man. This weakness came from the same cause as my Uncle Toby’s—a want- of acquaintance with female society, which want arose from another cause in my case—namely, too close an application to busi ness. Accordingly I thought of an advertlsmcnt; yet with no practical design of doing business, but as I persuaded myself, for a joke. So I scratched with a pencil on the back of a letter, the following:— "WANTED A WIFE.—None but 1 principals need applv. The advertiser docs not require ca.«h, but only a companion. 310 is six and twenty and tired of sin gle, be thinks he can settle down to married life. As men go. he believes he has a moderate share of temper, and want of time is his only reason for having recourse to the newspapers. lie has enough means for himself and a second party, and is willing to treat at once.— He is'quito aware that a great many attempts to con vert his honest intentions into an extravagant joke will be made, but ho warns nil rash intruders. If he finds a man hardy enough to make sport of his affec tions, he will thrash him; if a woman he will forgive her. Ho has a heart for the sincere, a horsewhip for i the impertinent. In either case all applications will Jbo promptly attended to, if addressed to P. P., at the * office of this paper, t I felt proud of my composition and puffed away at my principe with a vague glee and an ticipation of something coming out of it. I had no very great idea that anything but fun would result; and I certainly had not the slightest notion of involving myself in a per sonal collision with any one. Still the .presen timent that it was not destined to be a barren joke pressed upon me. On Saturday the ad vertisement appeared, and I heard its style can vassed by all my friends, and it was jokingly suggested by more than one, that I was the domestically destitute individual who put it forth. On Monday morning I sent a boy to the newspaper office for P. P.’s letters. I expected he might be followed by some curious and in quisitire persons; so i told him on hia way back to call ht a bachelor neighbor’s of mine for a book. The trick told. The lad was fol lowed by some persons who never lost sight of him until they ran him to my friends, and then they went back and announced that he was the advertiser. I thus discharged in full one or two practical jokes which my neighbor had played ' upon me. The answers were of the usual character —several seeking to elicit my name, and still more suggesting places of meet ing. where I wag to exhibit myself with a WELLSBORO, TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THUESDAY MORNING. JANUARY 12, 1860. For the Agitator. flower in my button hole and a white handker chief in my hand. One -only looked like busi ness. It was from a lady who proposed an in terview in a neighboring city, about forty miles north. She said there was something so frank and straightforward in my advertisement, that she was convinced it was real, and she could rely upon my keeping her name secret, if, after we met, nothing came of the meeting. She would, therefore, see me at the ,at , on d certain day, and if mutual approbation did not follow the interview, why there was no harm done. Most people would have put down this as a trap to give me a journey for nothing. I did not. A presentiment impelled me to accept and keep the engagement. This was in the old coaching days,'when a man had time to make an acquaintance in forty miles, not as now, when you are at your jour ney’s end before you have looked around your company in a railway carriage. There were but two insides—myself and a pleasant, talka tive, honest-faced, elderly gentleman. Shy and timid in female society, I was yet esteemed an imated and agreeable enough amongst my own sex. We had no trouble, therefore, in making ourselves agreeable to one another; so much so, that as the coach approached G : , and the old gentleman learned that I meant to stop there that night, he asked me to waive cere mony and have of tea with him after I had dined at my hotel. My ’“fair engagement” was not until next day, and, ns I liked the old gentleman, I accepted his offer. After my pint of sherry, I brushed my hair and went in search of my coach companion and my promised cup of tea. I had no difficulty in finding him out, for he was a man of substance and some importance in the place. X was shown into the drawing room. My old friend received me heartily, and introduced me to his wife and five daughters, “All spinsters, sir,” said he; “young ladies whom an undisoriminating world seems disposed to leave upon my hands." •Tf we don’t sell, papa,” said the eldest, who with her sisters seemed to reflect her father’s fun, “it is not for want of puffing, for all iyour introductions are advertisements.” At the mention of this last word, I felt a lit tle discomposed, and almost regretted my en gagement for the next day, when that very night, perhaps; my providential opportunity had arrived. 1 X need not trouble my readers with all our sayings and doings during tea, suffice it to say that I found them a very pleasant, friendly fam ily, and was surprised to fijSd I forgot all my shyness and timidity, encouraged by their good tempered ease and conversation. They did not inquire whether I was married or single, for where there were five young unmated daugh ters, the question might seem invidious. I how ever, in the freedom'of the moment, volunteered tho information of my bachelorhood : T thought 1 had no sotmov communicated the fact than the girls passed round a glance of arch intelli gence from one to the other. I cannot tell you how odd I felt at the moment. My sensations were between pleasure and confusion, as a sus picion crossed my mind, and helped, I felt, to color my cheek. Presently, however, the eldest with an assumed indifference which coat her an effort, asked where I was staying. “At the hotel/' 1 answered with some embarrassment. It was with difficulty they restrained a laugh ; they bit their lips, and I had no longer a suspi cion—l was certain. So after having some music, when I rose to depart I mustered cour age, as I bid them good-bye, to say aside to the eldest: “Shall P. P. consider this the interview?" A blush of conscious guilt, I should rather say innocence, told me 1 had sent my random arrow to the right quarter; so I pressed the matter no further at that moment, but I did her hand. I remained in my hotel the next day until an hour after the appointed time, but; no one made their appearance. “Then*,” thought I, brush ing my hair and adjusting my cravat, “since the mountain will not come to Mahomet, Ma homet must go to the mountainso 1 walked across to my old friends. The young ladies were all in. The eldest was engaged with some embroidery at the window. I had therefore an opportunity, as I leant over the frame to whis per: “S. S. is not punctual.” The crimson in her face and neck was now so deep, that a skeptic himself would no longer doubt. I need say no more; lhat evening in her father’s garden, she confessed that she and her sisters had conspired to bring me up to G on a fool's errand, never meaning of course, to keep the engagement. “Then," said I, “since you designed to take me in, you must consent to make me happy l” “And what did she say, papa?" asks my second daughter, who is now looking over my shoulder as I write. “Why, you little goose, she promised to be your mama, and she has kept her word." When you finish reading this little bit of sentiment, Minnie, you won't wonder how 1 came to write it, nor do I think you will be at all displeased that I did so ; perhaps you may say, with that sweet smile on your face, of me s you often said to me, “It is just like him and then you will read this little paragraph over again, and .with a very honest sigh, (al most loud enough to be heard by little Willie, who plays at. your feet,) say, -“Poor Harry— poor Harry!” At least, if you don’t, you won’t blame me for thinking so—will you ? Besides, too, there can be no harm in writing these thoughts of mine, because, eveii though I have addressed you as Minnie, although that is not the name that I once called you by—still you will know who I mean, and honest John, your husband, who believes you one of the best of wives, (and so you are) will not; so you can enjoy the treat all to yourself, without causing John to feel that you ever think of one who, before you were married, was a very near and dear friend to you. (You told me so once, Min nie, you know, and so yon won’t chide me for repeating it here.) Do yru wonder how I came to think o? vou The First Snow of Winter. so particularly this morning ? Not that I don’t always think of you—but how on this particu lar day? Do you see how fast the snow is fall ing outside, and how fleecy are the flakes that mantle the ground? And then don’t yon re member that it is the first snow of winter ? And then, again, don't your thoughts reour to something very important that happened on the first snow of a certain winter f Yes, there you are again, and you can't hide it; Minnie— there you are, with your arms folded tightly across your breast, and your face shaded with such a sweet sad smile; there yon are—think ing of Harry, of the day when he plead—oh 1 how earnestly—that you would love him as he loved you; that you would be to him the dear est object on earth ; that you would wed him, and that ha might call you his “faonnie wife and now you are thinking how the first snow of that winter fell upon his heart—how the life blood paused for a while in his veins when you told him (you are telling those words to me again, this snowy day, Minnie,) "that it could not be so; henceforth we must be but as friends.” Well, if you have ever regretted those words, (mind, I don’t say that you have,) I won’t be so cruel as to stir up again the rec ollections of by-gone days, and will stop here. I have said enough, I think. • You are married, now, Minnie, aiid if before you never had an object for which to live, you have now. Willie and Katie are sweet little children—so rosy-faced, and with their mother’s smile, for all the world. Katie I met just out side the door the other day—the little runa way having no doubt strayed from the nur sery; and just as-I passed she looked up so sweetly into this homely face of mine,- that—l couldn’t help it for the life of me—l stooped downf and kissed her! No one saw me—l think—except a ragged little urchin on the other side of the way, who immediately fell to smacking his lips in .roguish imitation of the “buss” I had given little Italic. Do you won der what my thoughts were at that time ? (There you are, with tbatsame roguish twinkle in your eye.) a I am a clerk yet, Minnie, with Suggs & Muggs, “down on the wharf.” They are very kind to me; and with my economical mode of life, I manage to lay by a pretty snug sum of money yearly. You havu’t seen me for some time, I know, although I caught a glimpse of you, one sunny day, some months ago, on Chestnut strest. lam somewhat changed they say ; they—that is the good old lady who keens my boarding-house, and the boy, “Walt,” who does the errands at the counting-house. Not quite as lively as I once was, and not as cheer ful ; but then you know I am getting old, Min nie, and old age brings its cares, which with the naturally-to-be-expeeted disappointments of life, drives away much of the freshness of our younger days. I. .am eladtp hear that you are doing so well in life, and that _ mestic matters, you have everything to make, you happy. I trust it may always be so, and that you may ever be possessed of the purest and best of life’s blessings. But here comes “the firm," and I must finish this little bit of reverie, for which this snowy day is to be debited. “Walt," who sits by the stove in dulging in a one-eye-open nap, has been east ing occasional suspicious glances at me, all the while I have been writing this—no doubt thinking that I have been writing entirely too long to “post" a single leaf of the ledger, under which pretence I have been jotting down these lines. Well, Suggs', Muggs, or “Walt," shan’t complain of me again on this score, for a long time; neither shall you, Minnie, if I have fallen into the old fault of saying more than I ought to, for which you so often used to chide me. But this “first snow of winter" has done it all; I couldn’t help it. Cor.. A Hoosier, an" awful ugly man, relating his travels in Missouri, said that he arrived at Chickneyville in tho forenoon, and just a few days before there had been a boat busted, and a heap of people scalded and killed, one way and another. So at last I went into & grocery a squad of people followed in, and one bowed and said. “It’s one of the unfortunate sufferers by the bustin’ of the Frankling." Upon that he axed me to drink with him and as I put the tumbler to my mouth he stopped me of a sudden. „ “I beg your pardon, stranger, but— “ But what?" sez I. “Just fix your mouth that way again," sez he. I done it jest as I was gwlne to drink, an I’ll be hanged if I didn’t think they’d all go into tits. They yelled and hooped like a gang of wolves. Finally one of the gang sez: “Don’t make fun of the unfortunate; he’s hardly got over bein’ biowed up yet. Let's make up a puss for him." Then they all throwed in and made up five dollars. As the spokesman handed me the change ; he axed me: “Where did you find yourself 5 after the ’splo sion ?” “In a flat boat," sez I. “teow far from the Frankling?" sez he. “Why sez I, “I never seed her, but as nigh as I can guess, about three hundred and sev enty-five miles." “You’d oughter seen that gang skedaddle." An Irishman who bad jumped into the water to save a man from drowning, on receiving a sixpence from the person as a reward for his services, looked first at the sixpence, and then at him, and at last exclaimed, “Well, I’m over paid for the job.” A lawyer in Lowell having found ninety five dollars, returned the money to the owner. The papers say the act may be honest and honorable, but it is exceedingly unprofessional. A Western paper speaks of a man who “died without the aid of a physician.” Such instances af death are very rare. If a man calls you a liar, a thief and a scoundrel, tell him you have not sufficient con fidence in him to be’iiev? it. Bow Portsmouth was Bombarded. The town of Portsmouth, in the gallant Gran ite State, is a place of quiet habits and com mendable decorum, even in this fast age.— Thirty years ago, in the coursh of examining into the state of the town, sothe of the chaps discovered a dozen old cannonsj “laying around loose,” upon a wharf close to what was called Liberty Bridge, a solitary, unfrequented place at night, though busy enough by day. Those guns had been left upon the wharf by a priva teer, at the close of the War of 1812, and al though they had made soma ndise in their day, yet they were but "dumb dog?” at that time. Inwardly, they might be termeid constipated by an accumulation of dirt and rust, and unfit to “vomit forth,” or “belch” anything, or indeed to make any effort in that direction. It was decided, however, that these! “barkers” had been still long enough, and their throats should be cleaned and allowed to speak once more.— After many weeks of hard night toil, the whole dozen guns were reported in good, clean, relia ble condition for public service. In pursuance of the great rule ndt to let the left hand bother the duties of the right, tfap hoys waited till a very dark, dreary night, for the grand display. On such a night as that, aboup the owlish hour of one, those twelve guns wore loaded with a full three pounds or more of powder each ; the same wore wadded quite up to the muzzle with green grass; twelve alow matches of propor tioned lengths were set in full-piimed touch holes ; and each slow-match 'yras fired by those twelve dutiful servants of thb public, who fled to their homes the instant the deed was done. The reader must imagine tbej innocent charac ter and habits of the good people of Portsmouth —the darkness and lateness jof the startling nature of the interruption to their dreams, to have any sort of] conception of the scenes of confusion and positive terror that en sued. The first gun that thundered upon the sleeping town, waked about everybody in Ports mouth. After soma ten minutes, the second boomed its warning of danger at hand-, and half the nightcaps in town : were dotting the opened windows. The third gun, put every soul into clothing and a, cold sweat; the fourth, filled the streets with exeitod citizens ; the fifth, proved the truth cjf the report that the British were bombarding Fort Constitution and the town; the sixth sent the Selectmen into most solemn conclave J and deliberation ; the seventh, found rusty Ohj Queen’s arms and shot-guns in the hands of jvolunteers • and so on until the firing ceased,-about three of the clock, A. M. Of course, there was no more going to bed in Portsmouth!that night, and no and to the reasons for the awful event that had occurred. Daylight revealed the whole story. Every “son of a gun” had recovered more than pristine vigor, under the peculiar stimu lants applied to them. Three of them had whisked themselves up into the air, and were ivuuu •- - - % .• a t j»_ i s nf them half through the venerable bridge; two had reared up and plunged bodily through an old building on the wharfj; while another, no less frisky, had skipped and gone through an innocent oyster boat which had sank under the affliction. Three of the exbited pieces had cast themselves into the deep, and the rest were scattered in various attitudes about the wharf. The people were mostly indignant at first, but became good humored at last. The Selectmen offered a large reward forithe discovery of the wicked disturbers of the public peace and de stroyers of property. Evjtry one of the crew quaked many a day afterwards, but nothing more came of it. And that is the way Ports mouth was bombarded, j A Slow Steamboat. Some time during the year IS— there was a steamboat coming up thejMississippi on a dark night, and the captain, according to time-hon ored usage, was playing cards in the social ball. The mate stepped in. j “Captain, out of wood; not enough left to make the water hot enough to shave withJf_ “Ring the bell,” replied the captain. “Show a light, and scare some up along the shore." The mate went out, and the captain went on with the game. In a few moments the mate returned: I “Found a yard, sir.” ! The captain left the table and went out. “llow do you sell your wood shouted the captain to the people at!the yard. “Two and a half." j “Too much," said the captain. “However, I’ll take a cord or two, and look farther," A couple of cords wpre taken, the game was resumed in the social liall, and tho boat went on. ‘ { A half hour elapsed- when the mate again appeared: j “Out of wood, sir.” ! “Bell and light—myj deal.” The orders were obeyed, and the mate again announced a wood-yard. The captain went out. I , “What’s the price of wood ?” “Two and a half.” ; “Too high ; but we)U take a couple of cords till we can do better.” As before, a couple of cords were taken in, 1 and not twenty minutes elapsed before themiate again appeared. “Out of wood, sir.’ “Ring the bell.” “Better take more this time.” “Show a light.” i “It’s done, sir.” | In a few minutes a wood-yard was again rung up, and the steamer went in. “How do you sell your wood ?" “Two and a half.”! “Well, captain,” | answered the woodman, “we will put it to yo|u this time at two and a quarter, as this makes the third time you have wooded with us to-night." The captain .had jnothing to say, but took the wood and got quickly out of that stiff cur rent which the Boat! was unable to stem. The B was so solemnly slow, that the captain himself used to say that she must have been intended for ajhoarse. She is the steam boat which the newspapers once said made the trip from New Orleans to Louisville in six days and— f„w wv*-. .1 • 1 Advertisements will be charged $1 per square of 10 lines, one or three insertions, and 25 cents fqp every subsequent insertion. Advertisements of leas than If 1 lines considered as a square. Thesubjoihed rates will bo charged fur Quarterly. Half-Yearly and Yearly ad. vertisements: Square, - 2- do. 3 do. 1 column, . i do. Column, - Advertisements not having thenambor of insertion, desired marked upon them, will be published ontil or. dered out and jebarged accordingly. Posters, Handbills, Bili-Hends. Loltor-Heads and all kinds of .fobbing done in country establishments, ex. ecu ted neatly and promptly. Justices’, Constables', and other BLARES constantly on band. I NO. 24. My father could have told the story better than I—for it was his father who took these pleasant walks to Canada. He went three times during the war. This time he and a neighbor of bis were threshing in his barn I when the loud and continued harking of a dog excited their suspicions that the red-skins were near. They took their rifles and went out to reconoitre. -They looked carefully in all direc tions, behind the trees, up into the trees, under the barn, everywhere where they supposed it possible that a savage could crowd himself, but no signs of one were to be seen. Hardly, how ever, had the two men returned to their labor, when to their astonishment and horror, their dusky foemon crowded in at the broad, open doors of the barn, and announced to them that they were taken captive. Grandfather’s neigh bor, dropping his flail, sprang for his gun, but before he reached it, he was'shot dead. Seeing the fate of his companion, my grandfather swung his flail about his head and with a dead ly force he brought it down upon the skull of the Indian who had shot him. The savage fell upon the floor. Instantly the avenger was seized from behind and jerked to his knees, while the yells of the infuriated red men filled the barn. A tall savage had the whiteman by the hair, and was brandishing his gleaming scalping knife above him, when a commanding voice uttered—“No kill him.” Grandfather thought he knew the voice, nor was he mista ken. There before him stood the very Indian who twice before bad marcbed him into Canada. “You go with me spoke Sosanoa. “Very well," said grandfather, not particu larly sorry to save his life. [The long inarch was accomplished ; and my grandfather remained a prisoner until the peace was concluded. When the exchange of pris oners took place, he was set at liberty. As he walked out one day before he had started for his home, whom should he meet in the street but the identical savage who had three times received for him the bounty money. The old red-skin appeared delighted at tho meeting, and the two men heartily shook hgnds. “You want to go home?” “Yes, that’s what I do," was the answer. “Me take you safe," said Sasanoa, and he was faithM to his word. In due time grand father say his home once more, and in the gen eral joy ad his safe return tho Indian partook, lie was made fully welcome, and remained a week or more in the family, very happy in the company of his old traveling companion. When at last Sasaona felt that be must return to the woods and to 'his own wigwam, he bade bis friends farewell, and took leave of grandfather with these words; “Good bye; s’pose war come ag’in—j re coma ag’n; caich you—carry you io Canada ” What Thirty Mile* an Hour Does. "• - - ■> j 7 ■ ingenious contrivance whereby one can sit BtiH and see the world go "by him at the rate of thirty miles an hour. Before him, there are the rails converged to a V. and a score of calves humped up and cor nered in the vortex, nnd the houses standing impudently on the track, and the trees cluster ing about like “green ones” at a race, and hayricks, squatting unconcernedly in the pass age, and little bushes nestling about them to see the sport, and the curtaining clouds trailing right over the way, as if the track extended into “kingdom-come.” Jar-r-r go the cars with a spindle-Hke hum ; and clearer and quicker the swath-note pant ings of the engine as it cuts down time and space. The iron bars open and open as the train drives on; ,the calves turned-four-year-olds in three minutes, scamper hither and thither; the large houses and phlegmatic barns fall back to the right and the left, and the little cabins dodge away behind their betters; the saucy little ricks magically roll up into stacks and step aside ; the trees hustle themselves with a half-turn off the track, as If the devil had tempted them to waltz for a minute, and they hadn't quite resisted ; the bustling little bushes scud away into the corners of the fences, to see you pass, and the clouds are slowly drawn heavenward to let you through. But behind you, all the while, the world is being set in “minion.” The fences recovered from their fright, are slowly swaying round into the road again; the trees come rustling up to take a last look at the wonder; the bushes come slyly out to see who's hurt; the four-year olds are realizing what poets so often sigh for, without knowing it: “I would I were a calf again and the stacks settle quietly down in the middle of the track, like old Knickerbock ers to their last meerschaum, as if nothing had happened. So man bustles through the world, and whether on railcars or steamboats, on horse back, on foot, or upon his knees, he mistakes his own motion for that of the world eddying around him, and reaches the final “Station” consoled- with the sweet but treacherous off spring of his wish, that Ae, at least, has pro duced a sensation. Did he but look behind him, how would the vision vanish ; the wake he made, closingrap idly up, and all the world in siaiu quo, as be fore he breathed and bustled. —Chicago Journal, In one of our courts lately, a man who was called on to appear as a witness could not be found. On the Judge asking where he was a grave, elderly gentleman rose up, and with much emphasis, said;— “Your honor, he’s gone." “Gone', gone!” said the Judge, “whero is ho gone.” “That I cannot inform yon,” replied the com-- municative gentleman; "but he is dead." This is considered the most guarded answer on record. A poetical genius of Illinois gets off a poem after the style of Loxgfei.low of which the fallowing stanza is a specimen: In the world’s broad field of battle. In the great barn yard of life. Be not a lazy cattle-^ Be a re ester in the strife. Rates of Advertising. 3 MONTBS. 8 MOUTHS. 12 MOUTHS $3,00 $4,50 *«/00 5.00 6,50 8,00 7,00,. 8,50 10,00 8.00 9,50 12,50 15,00 20,00 30,00 35,00 35,00 An Indian Stax;. 50,00
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers