Publication,
, \ COUNTY AGITATOR is published
-US I 1 /* Morning, and mailed to subscribers
price of
O.VE DOLLAR PER ANNUM,,gar
• dr'iii'-c It is intended to notify every
.. r .c^ v \ n
i ibe term for ■which he has paid shall
r.j' cr T! ? j‘ v t j 3e stamp —“Time Oct,” on the mor
,,-c!j p ,pcr. The paper will then be stopped
'■ :l,c r remittance be received. By this ar
,,.3 man can be brought in debt to tho
EU «
' : t i .jvronisthc Official Paper of tho County,
*-J . itul fteudily increasing circulation reach-
r ’ : " l3 [ r *V\ neighborhood in the County. It is sent
t<> any Post Office within tho county
r‘ "■ t‘ ’’ ffhi> s c most convenient post office may be
du miu’' ull^y*
;!=’ • c a rj= not exceeding 5 lines, paper inclu-
C-MIICSS '•**
per year. •
<** l , 1 - I ~ ~
DIRECTORY.
■ is I offBBT & S. F. WILSON,
TOIINEA'S i COUNSELLORS AT LAW, will
A 11 1 the Court of Tioga, Pottor and McKean
Anc’ ' ['Velisboro', Feb. 1, 1533.]
g b. BROOKS, %
counsellor at law
itfOM* KUvUND, TIOGA CO. PA.
rinlfitiM'- of Counselors there is safety.”-
fpf
j)K. W. W. WEBB.
rKY over Cone's Law Office, first door below
J Hotel. Xights he will bo found at bis
•. c a-M.rabove. the bridge on Main Street,
Saiiiuol Dkkinson’s. f
PARTT, dentist,
_ /OFFICE at his residence nesr the
\ } Academy. Alt ivork pertaining to
hoc of business done promptly and
' [April 22, 1855.]
house
coksis ('■, 'x; Y.
r, c. Xor
. ,^ C ji to and from the B<?j
PE SSS IITAMIA HOUSE
* ' WKhLSDOIIO', PA.
L. D. TAYLOR, PROPRIETOR.
~ _ ■ _ ir houMf is csiitmlly located, and
...\ i. ", V' the p.itrun.ijto ol the travclliug public.
HOTEL,
c <lll X I XG, X. Y.,
g FREEMAN, - - - - Proprietor.
,i - «‘ u i< Lodgings. 25 cts. Board, 7j cts. per day
'('"rr!,?. M.m.hjQsSQ. (ly.)
j. c. WHITTAKER,
jl,j<l,nj>nthic Physician and Surgeon.
ELKLANB, TIO(J a CO., PE NX A.
Tuiluiit patients in nil parts of the County, orre
e t-icm lor treatment at !i* bouse. [June 14,]
" H. O. COLE,
r.AnnPii amp hairdresser.
m the rear of the Post Office. Everything in
S :;i' hue v. ill he done as well and promptly as it
\\\, j I)C . the city saloons. Preparations for re
uu" diindiuli. and beautifying the hair, fur sale
H.iir and whiskers dyed any color. Call unci
I* ‘\VelM»oro, Sept. 22, 1S»)9.
GAINES HOTEL.
lie. Vi:PM IP YEA, PROPRIETOR
Gaines, Tioga County, Pa.
Tff fknown hotel is located within easy access
,/ thel.o't fishing and hunting grounds in North’rn
ti Ny ji.tins will be spared for the accommodation
I k‘jsup i.--c‘ekers and the traveling public.
li.’l'-'-O. __________
THE COUNING JOLRAAL.
George W. Pratt, Editor and Proprietor.
rt i nMh'ieil at Corning, Steuben Co., N. Y., at One
| iiM'Ur un i Fifty Cents per year, in advance. The
..-adi' Republican in politics, and has a circula
';:rn!ung into "'every part of Steuben County.—
.ledrous of extending 'their business into that
i !:w adjoining Jounties will find it tin excellent ad
.-•-.ri: me hum. I Address as above.
OKESS MAKING.
I’irw- M. A. JnIIN'SOX. respectfully announccsto
jl_ the citizens of WclUboro and vicinity, that she
*iKcn rooms over Niles A Elliott's Store, where
.<• .. i n p.ire'l to execute all orders in the* line of
i;!''- Having had experience in the
•>. 'he feels confident that she can give satisfac
ai! uinr inav favor her with their patronage.
l&jih * ) .
*i ! ~
JOIIS «. SHAH.ESPEAJR,
TAILOR.
n\VIX<« opened his shop in the room over
1! nbi-rf« Tin Shop, respectfully informs the
~» W.-IM-uro’ and vicinity, that he is prepared
v ,i!o ..rdm in his line of business with prompt
jifl ilo s paUli
• Cutting done o» *horl notice.
"VUlmro. Oct. 21, ISjS.—6m _
A XA TC’HES ’ AVAXCHES I
THE s ,tl.*rril>' r ,iiis .-ot a fine aasortraent of heavy
h'X>, USII LEVint UL -V TEH-CASE --
Gold ami Silver Watches,
l.e mil sell cheaper than “ dirt” on 'Time/ i. e.
lifl.U-.il •Time Pieces’on a short (approved) credit.
A.I km.!* of REPAIRING done promptly. If a
> of v.urk is not done to the satisfaction of the party
it. no charge will be made.
Pa?t ta\ ur tf appreciated and a contiunncc of patron
ize kir.dlv solicited. ANDIE FOLEY.
iVilsb.'.ro, June 24, IS4S.
HOME INDUSTRY.
THE SL’BSCUIBER having established a MAR
11LB -MANUFACTORY at the village of Tioga,
iiu i- prepared to furnish , .
Honuments, Tomb-Stones, &c.,
■•■uCh-t 1
tEHJIoST & ITALIAN MARBIE
r 1 ! ;i;:fully solicit the patronage of this and ad
-z men tie=.
'i-olrn a Umui stock on hand hc-is now ready to ex
': :.U nrilers v. ilh neatness, accuracy and dispatch,
hlaijrk delivered if desired.
JOHN BLASfPIED.
I. ;i. Th.ga To., l’a„ Pent. 23, 1859.
IVM. TEKB Ell,
CORNING. N. Y.
Wholesale and Retail Dealer, in
hill'/, v q, w ' /,,,,,{' Zinc, find Colored
' '"0. 0,;., V. Broshes Cnmphcne and Burning
- "o h : ;f din it. Sn.k ond Gloss, Pure Jdqnoi s for
-■ ‘ ini-nIM. din hies, Artists Paints find Brushes,
■ -oj. idling Artifice, Plaiorimg Extracts, Ac.,
ALSO,
—A general assortment of School Books—
Blank Books, Staple and Fancy
Statiunarj*.
Druggiats and Country Merchants dealing
■■arr. v f ji lC a ' D ,, vc articles can be supplied at a small
‘• r aiu-e nn New York prices. [Sept. 22, lS37.]j
U\l MOVE INK TIN SHOP!
HOY’S DKUG STOKE.
" ‘‘■‘C ,V'"(-<a/c buy Sloven, Tin, and Japanned
, Hive f„ r uiu-hulf the usual prices.
l ' s Kio\atcd Oven Cook istove and Trim
sls.oo.
An lid.u c.r
Tin and Hardware
'! f-jr Keady Pay.
luv any one who wants anything in Ibis line
“Oi u.d vo<? mir prices before purchasing elsewhere,
. '•'- •I tlie place—two doors south of Farr’s Ho
puv's Drug Store. CAIjL-AXD SLL
!<oi* ’i. _
H. D. b E MING,
' v ‘ - M ’n"v .iT'D'ior.ce to *lip people of Tioga Countv
■ o\ to fill all order* for Apple, Penr
1 v - N' ■ uiinc. Apricot. Kvergieeu nml Deciduous
Abo Cmiants Kii-pberri.'- 5 . Gooseberries,
rr * ' *u. 1 Mr.iw hoi non of all new and approved vari-
ROSES-T ‘"‘-"Mi: "f tlibriil, Perpetual and Sum
‘ 1- ju t Uoj.-«. Moss* Bourbon, Noisette, Tea,
< oj.' r i. -u< ] Climbing Hoses.
, 'IiIIURRpPV Including all the finest newra
: X A rietieg of Altbea.i Calycnnthus,
pr “ ,L ' '• ?pn’.t<'a, Sjringias. Viburuuni?|lVigilias <ic.
r L(J \y P D Cpaoonies. Dahlias. Phloxes. Tulips,
- ir Hyacinths, Narciabin; Jonquils, Lil*
b’.JhW laii.tioi.
’r., ,v HauM.ob Strawberry- 4 tloz. plants, so.
. twlicited.
’’ "to, '* f, ' r <: rnfiinp. Budding or Pruning will be
: • A-Mr.-s
U. D. DKMIXG, WriUborc, Z’u.
THE AGITATOR
VOL. VI.
THE LAST GOOD NIGHT.
Close her eyelids—press them gently
O’er the dead and leaden eyes,
For the*-soul that made them lovely,
Hath returned unto the skies ;
Wipe the death-drops from her forehead.
Sever one dear golden tress,
5 Fold her icy hands all meekly.
Smooth the little snowy dress;
Scatter flowers o’er her pillow—
Gentle flowers, so pure and white—
Lay the bud upon her bosom.
There—now softly say, Good-mght.
Though our tears flow fast and faster,
Yet wo would not call her back, •
We are glad her feet no longer
Tread life’s rough and thorny track;
We aro glad our Heavenly Father
Took her while her heart was pure,
We are glad ho did not leave her
All life’s trial* to endure ; <5,
We are glad—and yet the tear-drop
Faileth; for alas we know
’ T-That our fireside will be lonely.
Wo shall miss our darling so.
While the twilight shadows gather.
We shall wait iu vain to feel
Little arms, all white and dimpled,
Hound our neck so softly steal;
Our wet cheek will miss the pressure
Of sweet lips so warm and red.
And our bosom sadly, sadly
Miss that darling little head
Which was wont to rest there sweetly;
And those golden eyes so bright.
We shall miss their loving glances,
We shall miss their soft Good-night
JBible.
... . Proprietor.
>ot free of charge.
When the morrow's sun is shining,,
They will take this cherished form,
They will bear it to the church-yard,
And consign it to the worm ;
Well—what matter 1 It is only
The clay dress our darling wore ;
God hath robed her as an angel,
She hath need of this no more:
Fold her hands, and o'er her pillow
Scatter flowers all pure and white,
Kiss the marble brow, and whisper,
Once again,.a last Good-night.
There is an old saying that the friendship of
a dog is better than his ill will, and for many
years, in my capacity as a railroad conductor
I happily found the above true to the letter—
but mind, I am not saying I have no enemies,
I, undoubtedly, have a few, and I don’t think
there is a man lites but that has more or less.
A little kindness now and then, to many ones,
a conductor will find almost every trip over his
road, will not be lost, and he wiU in many
cases find from his bread cast upon the waters,
a return four fold. Yet he must use a great
deal of judgment in bestowing his charity upon
those ho thinks entirely worthy of such be
stowal. I will, in connection, relate a little in
cident by which a little kindness saved my life,
and the lives of all the passengers on bdhrd my
train.
The Western division of our road runs
through a very mountainous part of Virginia,
and the stations are few and far between.—
About three miles from one of these stations,
the road runs through a deep gorge of the Blue
Ridge, and near the centre is a small valley,
and there hemmed in by the everlasting hills,
stood a small one and a half story log caßin.
The few acres that surrounded it were well cul
tivated as a garden, and upon the fruits thereof,
lived a widow and her three children by the
name of Graff. They were, indeed, untutored
in the cold chrudtics of an outside world —I
doubt much if they ever saw the sun sbino be
yond their own native hills. In the summer
time the children brought berries to the near
est station to sell, tmd with the money thus
earned they bought a few of the necessities of
the outside refinement.
The eldest of these children I should judge'
to be about twelve years, and the youngest
seven. They are all girls, and looked nice and
clean, and their healthful appearance and natu
ral delicacy gave them a ready welcome. They
appeared as if they had been brought up to
fear God, and love their humble home and
mothqr. I had often stopped ray train and left
them off at their home, having found them at
The station some miles from home, after dispo
sing of their berries. .
I had children at homo, and I knew their
little feet would be tired in walking throe miles,
and therefore felt that it would be the same
with those fatherless little ones. They seemed
pleased to ride, and thanked mo with such
hearty thanks after letting them off near home !
They frequently offered me nice, tempting
baskets of fruit, for my kindness, yet I never
accepted any without paying their full value.
Now, if you remember, the winter of 1854
was very cold in that part of the State and the
snow was nearly three feet deep upon the
mountains.
On the night of the 20 th of December, of
that year, it turned around warm and the rain
fell in torrents. A terrible storm swept the
mountain tops, and almost filled the rallies with
water. Upon that night my train was winding
its way, at its usual speed, around the hills and
through the Tallies, and as the road bod was of
solid rock I had no fear of the banks giving
out. The night was intensely dark and the
wind noaned piteously through the deep gorges
of the mountains. Some passengers were try
ing to sleep, others were talking in a low voice
to relieve the monotony of the scene. Mothers
had their little children upon their knees as if
to shield them from some unknown danger
without. ' .
It was near midnight, when a sharp whistle
from the engine brought me to my feet. I
knew there was clanger hy that whistle, and
sprung to the brakes at once, but the brakesmen
were all at their posts, and soon brought the
train to a stop. I seized my lantum and found
my way forward as soon as possible, when what
a sight met my gaze! A bright fire of pine
logs ijluminated the track for some distance
and not over forty rods- ahead ot our train a
horrible gulf had' opened its maw to receive
-us!
The snow, together with the rain, had torn
the whole side of the mountain out, eternity
itself seemed spread out before us. The widow
Graff and hor children had found it out, and
brought light brush from their home below and
built a large fire to warn-us of our danger.—
They had been watching more than two hours
beside that beacon of safety. As I went up
where the old lady and children stood, drenched
Jo the skin by the rain and sleet, she grasped
me by the arm and cued:
HefcotcU to tpc igjcteusfCott of tfce of iFmtom anU t&e Spread of fgealtbs Reform.
WHILE THERE SHALL BE A WRONG UNRIGHTED, AND UNTIL “MAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN" SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE.
WELLSBORCL TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING. FEBRUARY 16, 1860.
Life Upon the Railroad.
‘►Thank Godl Mr. Sherbourn, we stopped
you in time. I would hare lost my life before
, onelhair of your head should have been hurt.
Ob, X prayed to Heaven we might stop the train,
and my God, I thank Thee !”
The children were crying for joy. I confess
I don’t very often pray, hut I did then and
there. 1 kneeled down beside the good old
woman and offered np thanks to an All wise
being for our safe deliverence from a most ter
rible death, and called down blessings without
number upon that good old woman and her
children. Near by stood the engineer, fireman
and brakesmen, the tears streaming down their
bronzed faces.
I immediately prevailed on Mrs. Graff and
her children to go back to the cars out of the
storm and cold. After reaching the cars, I re
lated our hair breadth escape and to whom we
■were indebted for our lives, and begged the
passengers to go forward and see for themselves.
They soon returned and their pale faces gave
evidence of the frightful death we had escaped.
The ladies and gentlemen vied with each other
in their thanks and heartfelt gratitude toward
Mrs. Graff and her children, and assured her
that they would never, never forget her; and
before the widow left the train she was pre
sented with a purse of four-hundred and sixty
dollars, the voluntary offering of a whole train
of grateful passengers. She refused the prof
fered gift for some time, and said she had only
done her duty, and the knowledge of having
done so was all the reward she asked. How
ever, she finally accepted the money and said
it should go to educate her children.
The railroad company built her a new bouse,
gave her and her children a life pass over the
railroad, and ordered all trains to stop |and let
them off at home when they wished. But the
employees needed no such orders ; they can
appreciate all such kindness better than the di
rectors themselves.
The old lady frequently visited ray home at
II , and she is at all times a welcome visitor
at my fireside. Two of the children arc at
tending school at the same place. So, you see,
a little well directed kindness has brought its
reward in more ways than one.
A Disconsolate Widow.
After nine miles of the most lonesome, dreary
*nd hilly road that ever mortal man traveled, in
Litchfield Co., Conn., I came in sight of what
I supposed to be the widow’s house. It was a
low at the foot of a hill, with a tremen
dous oak in front of it. I saw some one sitting
■under the tree, and, as I approached nearer, I
discovered it was a woman, with her face buried
in her hands and weeping violently. As soon
as I reached the spot,* I addressed her some
what in the following words:
“I do not wish to be impertinent, madam,
but I feel some concern to know what is the
matter with you ?” I .
“0! boo-hoo —ee! ouh 1 oh, me 1 1100 oo
lioo hoo
“My dear madam, what is the matter ?” I
demanded, becoming really concerned at the
manner in which she was acting. She kept up
her agony of distress, while a group of six or
seven children began to come from the
boring bushes and gather close about her.
“Madam !” cried I, “in the namoof all that’s
good, toll me what ails you 1”
“0, stranger!” she exclaimed, raising her
eyes, bloodshot with weeping, “my —boo hoo I
bus—boo —band is—boo-hoo—dead!” and once
more she relapsed into her fit qFweeping. I
was truly affected by the poor woman’s distress,
and though a poor sinner myself, I could not
refrain from offering her some consolation.
“My dear madam, do not give up to distress.
Heaven has promised to be a husband to the
widow, and a father to the fatherless. Cheer
up my good woman; tho cloud may be dark,
but the sun will eventually dissipate.it. You
may have to labor hard for your children, but
Heaven will aid you !” 1
“That arn’t nothin’, stranger I” exclaimed
the woman; as fiir the children, I han’t got
but seventeen? an’ I make s’port for thim easy
enough. Heaven must be ray husband, and I
has no doubt he’d make a mighty good husband,
but I want a sure nuf husband, a real live one
like my poor John was afore he died—poor
John !—poor John! 0, me !—boo boo—ee ee!”
When I had listened to this speech, there was
something so absolutely and purely original in
its ridiculous ideas that I could not help laugh
ing at the mourner. As soon as possible I re
covered myself and changed my tactics.
“Well* ma’am,” I said “if that’s all, for
Ilcaven’fi sake don’t give 3’ourself any trouble.
There are plenty of men in the world ; surely
you can’kgot another husband.”
“I mout git another husband, stranger, but
oh I I couldn’t find nary ‘nother like John—
poor John! —poor John I oh, me! boo hoo ee
“What was there remarkable about him,
ma’am? If he was uncommonly likely, there
are plenty of handsome menJeft in the world.
If he was an extraordinary strong man, I know
of some giants in strength. Was he good, kind
and gentle, there are such still left on earth.—
Was he a man of extraordinary intellect, wis
dom or genius, depend upon it there are others
equal to him on earth. Depend upon it, that
no matter what extra gift he may have pos
sessed, with patience and diligence you may
find another to smooth the rough way of life
for you, and fill that vacancy which now dis
tresses you so.”
“0, stranger ! returned the woman, “I know
it's your kindheariahiess what makes you speak
so, but ‘taftit worth while; John wasn’t nothin’
extraordinary in none o' them things as you
speak of. But still I never, no never 1 I know
I never kin find the likes of John again on
yuth 1 0, John! poor John!—poor John!—
boo hoo-ee 1”
“Well, madam, I have guessed till I’m tired,
What was there about John so remarkable ?”
“Markebull!” she exclaimed, “why stran
ger, John was the best fiddler on yearth. How
he’d lay back behind his fiddle and roll his
beautiful red head about from side to side, as
he played: ‘Sugar in de Gourd/ ‘Pig in de
Tatar Patch/ *ole dan Tucker/ an’ all them
tunes ! Just to think! It ha’n’t been a month
biuoo he sit rite here under this tree and played
for me while I got up and danced just this way
to that good old iune.
*oh, she wouldn’t an’ she couldn't, an she wouldn't
come at all!
Te nm turn diddle dum doolo nddy day 1"
And here the woman jumped up and cut two
or three very difficult steps—half way between
the pigeon wing and old Virginia back step —
while she sang the above tune : then falling,
she screamed in all the agony of distress—
“ And now he’s gone !—dead 1 0, me 1”
I gazed at the woman for one moment, and
then told hec I knew some very good fiddlers.
She immediately became calm, and looking up
into my face with an inquiring glance, she
said; -
“Stranger, maybe you is a good fiddler; I’ll
go an’ git John’s fiddle !”
And off she started for the house ! As soon
as she was out of sight, I struck spurs to my
horse.
Few can understand the depth of such feel
ing as that.
Hints to Young Gentlemen,
Don’t give up your scat in the cars, when you
are tired out with your day’s work, to a pert
young miss who has been amusing herself with
a little shopping—she won’t even thank you for
it; and if a man to sacrifice hist com
fort, he has a reasonable right to expect, at
least, a little gratitude. No use being polite to
some ladies—there’s an old proverb about east
ing pearls before —what’s their names?
Don't submit to he crowded off the pavement
into a muddy gutter by two advancing balloons
of silk and whalebone. Haven’t your newly
blacked boots as good a claim to respect as
their skirts? Look straight before you, and
stand up for your rights like a man—the ladies
can contract themselves a little if they sec
there’s no help fur it!
Don’t talk literature and the fine arts to the
pretty girls of your acquaintance until you are
sure they know the difference between Thomp
son’s Seasons and Thompson’s Arithmetic.—
And if they look particularly sentimental, then
you may know they don’t understand what
you’re talking about I ,
Don’t ask a nice little girl about her dolls,
unless you are very certain she hasn’t “come
out,” and been engaged in two or three flirta
tions already. 1 .
Don’t say complimentary things to a young
lady at a party without first making sure that
her “intended” is not standing behind you all
the time.
-Don’t accept a .lady’s invitation to go shop
ping with her,-unless you have previously
measured the length of your purse.
Don’t stay later than cloven o’clock when
you spend the evening with a pretty friend—
the wisest and wittiest man in Christendom be
comes a bore after that hour.
■Don’t believe any woman to be an angel. If
you feel any symptoms of that disease, take a
dose of sago tea and go to bed —it is as much
a malady as the small-pox, and it is your busi
ness to get over it as soon as possible. An an
gel indeed I If you don’t find out pretty soon
that she lacks _ considerably more than the
wings, ice are mistaken !
Don’t make up your mind about any creature
in belt ribbon and velvet rosettes without first
asking your sister’s advice. Depend upon it,
one woman can read another better in five min
utes than you can in five years 1
And above all, don’t imagine that you must
keep your lady-talk and gentleman-talk in sep
arate budgets, labeled and sorted, unless you
want the girls to laugh in their sleeves at your
wishy-washy sentimentalisms. Talk to them
in a frank, manly style, as you would to an in
telligent gentleman. Don't suppose, because
they arc women, they don’t know anything.
Ilemember all this advice, sir, and you may
make rather less of a fool of yourself than you
would otherwise.— Jfrs, George Washington
I \~ylis in Life Illustrated.
Dutchman’s Distinction.
In the ninth Ward, New York, lives ’an ec
centric butcher, by name Herr Vonsclup, He
keeps a liltlo meat store, and often amuses his
customers with his curious comments on mat
ters and things in general. Ilia wife is a pa
tient bard working woman, willing to turn her
hand*to anything to gratify him. When her
husband goes out she attends tho store, and can
cut off a roast or carvo a steak as well as her
husband.
Mr. Brown is a regular customer of Butcher
Vonsclup. Ho is a cash customer, and has an
abhorrence of accounts. One day when he
purchased a roast he was short just five cents.
served him, and be said to her :
“I will take the meat home and return with
the five cents. Don’t mark it down.”
“Dat bees all, all right, MeUtcr Brown/’ re
plied the butcher’s wife.
Brown hurried home. During his absence
the butcher returned, and his wife went back
to her house. <
Presently Brown came and hurriedly
approaching the butcher sa?d : ,
“Here is the five cents I owe you,” at the
same time handing him tho^coin.
“Vot?” asked the astonished Vonsclup.
‘T owe you five cents, and here it is.”
“You make mistake Mcister Brown, I never
trust you mit anything,” said the butcher.
“No, no, I o\vo it to you. Since you’ve
been gone I bought some meat of the lady and
did not have enough to pay her into five cents
and—”
“Lady! You buy meat of a lady in my
shop! Vot in der tuvfcl you mean by dat—
eh?”
“Are you crazy, man? I mean I purchased
ft roast of the woman who attends here when
you are absent.”
“Der woman as sells meat here ?”
“Yes.”
“Mein Cot! rat yon mean den ? She lees no
lady—she ish mein wife I” i
“You rtre an infernal old fool!” replied)
Brown, throwing the five cent piece at the
butcher and leaving in disgust.
• “You bees anuder fool, Meister Brown, to
dake mine frau for a lady. 11a! Ha! dat ish
a goot choke !”
Dobbs ix the Legislature. —Dobbs was
elected to the Legislature from a district in
Long Island, where the grasshospors climb up
the mullen stalks \ and with tears in thdlr eyes
voinly look around for a spire of grass.—
Though gratified he was also a little intimida
ted by the honor.
All things went on smoothly for a time Mr,
Dobbs could vote on other people’s motions,
though he could not make any himself. One
unlucky day, however, the proceedings being
rather dull, and Dobbs being rather thirsty, he
concluded to go over to the hotel and take a
drink. Here it will be seen that Dobbs com
mitted a heinous offence—one which should
have caused his brother Legislators to blush
with shame. As Dobbs rose to leave the hall,
he caught the Speaker’s eye. The Speaker,
supposing ho intended to address, the House an
nounced* with a lould voice “Mr. Dobbs.”
Dobbs started as if he had been shot. The
assembled wisdom of the State had their eyes
upon him. He pulled out his pocket hand
kerchief to wipe away perspiration, and feeling
it necessary to say something he blundered out:
“Second the motion.”
“There is no motion before the House,” said
the Speaker.
“Then I—I.”
The silence was breathless.
“I.”
Dobbs could nob think of any thing to say.
But a bright idea came to him, and ho fin
ished with-^_^
“I move we adjoum/^
The motion didn’t go, did and
nothing more was seen of him that day.
Mr. Whitcfield had a brother, who fur some
years appeared to be an earnest, sincere Chris
tian. But he declined, and finally wandered
from the path of duty. After hearing his bro
ther preach one afternoon, 1 he retired in distress
of mind. At the supper tabic he groanedf and
could neither eat or drink, saying “I am a lost
j
—TKe Countess of Huntington, who sat oppo
site, exclaimed, “I am glad of it; I am glad
of it.”
“It Is very wicked in you to say you are glad
of it that I am a lost said he.
“I repeat it,” said she, ’‘T am heartily glad
of it.”
lie looked at her, astonished at her barbar
ity.
“I am glad of it,” said she, because it is writ*
ton, “The Son of man came to seek and to save
that which was lost.”
With tears rolling down his cheeks, he said.
“What a precious Scripture truth is that. And
how is it that it comes with such power to my
mind? 01 Madam,” said he, “I bless God for
that. Then he will save me ; I trust my soul
in his hands : lie has forgiven me.”
Ilg-soon after went out,; felt unwell, fell down
and expired.
We are all lost; happy' will it he for us if wc
become'scnsiblc of it, and are found before ths
summons of death shall dome. Let» backsliderg
take warning and see to that they return to the
Great Shepherd ere their feet stumble on the
dark mountains .of death.— Sturgeon's Ser
mons.
Sleeping Experience.— -“ Tripping,” the hu
morous correspondent of the Cincinnati Rail
road Record , lately made a trip cast, over the
Baltimore and Ohio Kailroad, and reports his
night’s coquetry with Somnus on the cars in the
following pleasant vein:
At Wheeling I took a sleeping car, just to
try it. The chambermaid, dressed in male at
tird, was very accommodating and pleasant,
and gave me an under berth, where I took
twenty-five sleeps, being very tired. Between
the sleeps I noticed that it rained. A sleeping
car is a great convenience—you can lay at
length—that tired spinal column instead of
being humped together, is shook delightfully
loose, and the two-fifths of the body that is fluid,
has its throbbing waves contra splashed like a
pickle pottle on its side, essentially changing
the current of one’s feelings. you
the quiet of a public sleeping room, no one
feeling privileged'to talk across the aisle to his
neighbor more than an hour at a time—no one
feeling privileged to make more than twice as
much noise as they would in another car. The
odor of forty pairs of boots laid along the floor
—the perfume of the coal and lubricating oils,
and the aroma of tobacco squirted over the
passage between tho berths, intermingled with
forty breathy, is all ventilated at each station,
by opening the doors and letting the“ weary,
passengers walk through. I commend the
sleeping car as a variety to spicy travel.
A certain Irish litcrateur, the other day, mot
the I author of “Ben Bolt” on tho steamboat,
and in the course of conversation, said:—
“Ah! but that is the way with you. A child
of genius, you give everything the most bril
liant hues.”
“But” replied E., “I .am no child of gen
ius. Xam a citizen of Ncw-Jcrsey. Child of
genius, indeed!”
“Well, but/’said the other, “don’t you see
the compliment I'm paying you ?”
“I cant say that 1 do/’ retorted the poet.—
- conception of a child of genius is a fel
low with a hole in his breeches ; and a very
dirty shirt.”
Life.—Ah, there is a touching beauty in the
radiant up-look of a girl just crosaiujj the limits
of youth, and commencing her Journey through
the checkered sphere of womanhood. It is all
dow-sparkle ami morning glory to her ardent,
buoyant spirit, and sho presses forward exult
ing in blissful anticipations. But the withering
heat of the conflict of life creeps on ; the dew
drops exhale; tho garlands of hope shattered
and dead, strew the path; and too often, ere
noon-tide, the clear brow and sweet smile are
exchanged for the weary look of one longing
for the evening rest, the twilight, the night.—
Oh, may the good God give his sleep early unto
these many !
Mr. J. S. Fall, a Mississippi editor, asks
when shall we get wise. Undoubted before Fall,
if ever,
Rates of Advertising.
Advertisements will bo charged $1 per square of 10
linos, one or three insertions, and 25 cents fi>r every
subsequent insertion. Advertisements of less than I?
lines considered as a square. Thesubjoined rates will
be charged for Quarterly, Half-Yearly and Yearly ad.
vertiacments:
Square,
2 do.
3 do.
i column, -
i do.
Column, -
Advertisements not having thonumberof .insertion,
desired marked upon them, will ho published until or.
dered out and charged accordingly.
Posters, Handbills, Bill-Heads, Lettor-Hcads and all
kinds of Jobbing done in country establishments, ex
ecuted neatly and promptly. Justices’, Constables’,
and other BLANKS constantly on band.
NO. 29.
COMMUNICATION.
It must be a cheerful thought to all engaged
in the cause of popular education, that though
the efforts of its many and ardent supporters, in.
themselves , are little heeded, under the press of
more exciting themes, yet the teachings they
instill. ,md powers they diffuse,-shall stand, an
cnd»ripg on moment to themselves am! the
country th*\\ li- 'n-• of noble and phi-*
lanthrnpic hwari> ii-.\o e, a-’od to teat ore tHo
cause they espoused and f>r \\h o:< fl.cv'Hved
and hoped, accorded them the meiii : iey : aa
nobly deserved. But to suoh gninrou »*. form
ers, the posterity which they serve deals out a
just reward. ,
Cotcmpnraneons fame faint l ! into Insignifi
cant pomp when posted beside the lasting praise
of p« parity. In that day when the now living
workers strenuously laboring for future gener
ations, shall have become thg justly remembered
and generou>3y sacrificing philanthropists of
the past, where will be the remembrance of tho
sycophantic dissensionists of to-day, who are
only serving themselves, or it may be their own
generation. It is ours to take care of our in
heritance, to transmit it with all its well-do
served interest, and to contribute even of our
selves to that posterity, which, then will be nil
that remains of us. Such disintopekltod sacri
fice eclipses the self-love in the nature of man :
while he no longer is servant to himself, but
the cause which is now his other self.
It is thus the teacher who accomplishes the
errand of his mission, posts the emblem «>f hi*
profession upon the living institution* of tho
-future. lie assists In building up the human
ami liberal in,all things; while he In tho
demolition of the towers of injuMh- which
harbor the forces of error and shh'hi the en
gines of destruction. Controlling the infant
mind and shaping its deallny for year?, he w
the author to a great extent, of the character of
mind which shall mark the histor}* of tin* future.
In no country more than in America, have
the citizens such great reason to prize the ins
titutions of their laud. High hopes of future
greatness flood the universal mind; while no
class, more than the teaching profession, has
so essentially within itself the agency by which
these ambitious hopes arc to be realized. To
them is given the important trust of governing
the universal family of the country; and thus
they become the bearers of many a weighty
responsibility. In this broad sense, the teach
er is to the world, what a parent is to his fam
ily. How feeble, at best, are our efforts to per
form this sacred duty \ How much that word
duty means ; no man ever yet so perfect as to
have given an experimental definition.
In correcting and instructing youth, the
teacher has to contend with the same imperfect
and rebellious nature as prompts disobedience
or causes failure in the child. They can mod
ify the mind of the future, being the recipients
of a power delegated from the Prime Original;
byt cannot at once perfect though they may im
prove its kind. By reason, applied to our own
life experience, we may rectify our own! mis
takes, and why may wo not guard others against
theirs ? This much is our manifest duty ; anfl
how much it has to do in bringing around a
universally perfect state of the mind, vre may
not know.
One thin" is at least certain : Wc arc at all
times exerting an “unconscious influence” over
others, either for right or wrong. It is thus we
transmit the very nature of our being, improved
if we will it, to our children, and through them
to all posterity.
It is a generally conceded principle of meta
physics, that our greatest source of knowledge
is from exarftple; while there is very littlo
originality in our nature. It is thus the infant
begins fo draw from the fountam of all learn
ing as soon as its senses am to outward
influences. From that moment,- % thcre is no
time in which some impression, cither right or
wrong, is not seeking a lodgement within thn
rece>s of the mind. This fact makes the mind
our «no-“h'>u<e for the future. Xow, the true
t'M tow ih* young mind in this promts
cu-i'i' L'.'ii” .• ’i -‘f knowledge; and he it i*
who '•»
and sen-e, Uiruu^'i
mind. Wbat kind ot _
laid down as best for a sure f uim! I;
shall it bo labeled, that it nmy U* 2
use when wanted, without disturbing ioe <>v.h*p
of the faculties or impairing their uses ? lu
short, how shall we make tin mind a sn-vie
paying hank : how teach the young to derevt
spurious and "nly pay genuine drafts upon iho
depnsi»s undo in the safe of wisdom? All
these .v*«- t « be answered by constant appeal" to
tin* peusoverenoe, [and patience of
t ie tea' her.
It is no casv task: but "all the difficulties
trials of patience and victories over the imper
fections of our nature, arc working out an in
heritance for posterity, which shall raise ilmin
above the level of their predecessors. l>y the
contiuutincc of such a process, for what lofty
accomplishments may we not hope in this
scheme for the elevation of our kind ? 1: »tm
beany plan of redemption— • my mc.r..s o- • . m.
cipating humanity from tlicpi'*\a ’.r„ sr
fections and false theories of h —.r' a thU
natural tendency of onr e-.mplus t.> m'
—and :iqy means by which man Is lo aivcm
plish the design of his creation, it idusHmj by
patient perscvcfcncc in training the
mind. The task is great, and its '
must be content to see its progves:
they aim to make it steady. It is only 10. il.o
most patient and judicious management, lint it
ean be accomplished at ail; while impatient
impetuosity will ruin all/T While this rme
universally, it is equally $o individually To
govern the world, each must govern himself;
in this we fail. But we may benefit l>\ ..».r
mistakne/and thus may make others our
riors, if not perfect. This then is the mi "rut
of the teacher; To guide and guard the y<*mig
toward self-government, and through then*, hu
manity to ultimate perfection.
Three things that nevir agree—two cits m-ep
one mouse, two wives in ono house, and twtj
lovers after one voung ladv.
3 Moxnfs. 6 stoxrns. 13 moxthj
$3,00 $4.60 ' $6.00
6.00 6,50 . 8,00
7.00 8,60 ; ll#,oo
s,oo gJo 12,50
15.00 20,00 . 39.00
25.00 35,00 50,00
For tlu> Asitntur,
The Teacher's Mission.
*' lop "fit* of iv.i<oii
of tin;
h: .11 first hn
‘ } l( ,w
fi»r
AMATOR JCaTtCJ *,F
!■. >rt«TN
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