Terms of FutllcaUdn.
r jiogA COUNTY AGITATOR U published
I® jjnrtdsy Homing, and muled to subscriber*
* reT y reasonable pricaof
(S O-OSE DOLLAR .PER ANNUH,,®^
' fj, in advance, Itds intended to notify every
nhen the term, for which Tic has paid ahaU
ifud, by, the Etainp—'“Tivu: Out/' bn the mar- '
" f tire last paper. The paper will then be slopped
farther remittance be received. By this ar
‘.pect ro man can be brought in debt to the
|>
Official Paper of the County,
k J“ a and steadily increasing circulation reach
every neighborhood in the County. It lament
i'-l'i\fpo(tnge to any Post Office within the County
but whose most convenient post office may be
County. -
’ r -3'e c5 * me ss Cards, not exceeding 5 lines, paper inclu-
per y car - ' .' ~'
& S. F. wiisow,
I , iiO RSEVS & COUNSELLORS AT LAW, will
i -tinul the Court of Tioga, Pottor and McKean
A,| es . pvellsboro’, FeL. 1.1853.]
sTbTbkooks,
: itthKNEY AND COUNSELLOR A. 7 law
* liV \ KLKLAXD, TIOGA CO. PA.
lie innUituck of Counselors there Is safety
espt. 23'
i C \ DAHTT, BEJUISI')
S 5 > office at his residence near the
W Kfca I ) Academy. All work pertaining to
I i line of business done promptly and
t , —[April 22, 1858.]
f nrranted.
DICKINSON HOUSE
CORKING, n. t.
>ju. a. riEw,
Guests taken to and tromfte Dei
PESSSTIVAJUA BOUSE
WELLSBOEO’, PA
L. D. TAYLOR, PROPRIETOR.
This deservedlY pop« Jar house is centrally located, And
tjsmeaJf itself to the patronage Of the travelling public.
f «, c v Iy. * _
—AIERICAH hotel.
CORNING, N.T.,
B FREEMAN, .... Proprietor. '
Ujjls 25 cts. Lodgings, 25 cts. Board, 75 cts. per day.
Coming. Narch dl, 1859. (Iy.)
' ,T. C. WHITTAKER,
Hydroponic Physician and Surgeon,
ELKLAND,, TIOGA CO., PENNA.
tflll visit patients in all parts of the County, or re
them for treatment at his house. [June 14,]
vEbmiltea’s Motet.
s. C. VERitILYEA, PROPRIETOR
Gaines, Tioga County, Pa.
THIS is anew hotel located within easy access of
the bcist fishing and hunting grounds in Northern
h. No pains will be spared for the accommodation
• f pleasure seekers and the traveling public.
"April 12, IS6O.
H. O. COLE,
BARRER AND HAIR-DRESSER.
SHOP in the rear of the Post Office. Everything in
his line will bo done as well and promptly as it
an be done in the city saloons. Preparations for re
ijrmg dandruff, and beautifying the hair, for sale
;-eap. Hair and whiskers dyed any color. Call and
m. Wcllsboro, Sept, 22, 1859.
THE CORNING JOURNAL.
George W. Pratt, Editor and Proprietor.
IS published at Corning, Steuben Co., N. T-, at One
Dollar and Fifty Cents per year, in advance. The
irnal is Republican in politics, and has a circula
•j n reaching into every part of Steuben County.—
Those defirous of extending their business into that
cd the adjoining counties will find it an excellent ad
urliiing medium. Address as above.
DRESS MARINO.
I ri?s M. A. JOHNSON, respectfully announces to
the citizens of Welleboro and vicinity, that she
b' taken rooms over Niles & Klliott’s Store, where
>u prepared to execute all orders in the line of
DRESS MAKING, Having had experience in the
tusiuesE, she feels confident that she can give satlsfae
ntn to all who may favor her with their patronage.
Sept. 29, 1559,
John b. shakespßAr,
TAI l/O R,
HAVING opened his shop in the room over B. B.
Smith & Son’s Store, respectfully informs the
citizens of Wellaboro* nnd vicinity, that he is prepared
13 execute orders in his line of business, with prompt
ifjs and despatch |
Cutting done on short notice.
Hellebore, Oct- 21, 1858. —6m
WATCHES! WATCHES!
THE Subscriber has got a fine aasortmcnt of heavy
ENGLISH LEVER HVNTER-CASE
Gold and Silver Watches,
which bo will sell cheaper than “dirt” on ‘Time/ I. e.
:»will sell ‘Time Pieces’ on a short (approved) credit
All kinds of REPAIRING done promptly. If a
of work is not done to the satisfaction of the party
erdcring it, no charge will be made.
Past favors appreciated and a continence of patron
ise kindly solicited. - ANDIE FOLEY.
Hellsboro, June 24, 1848.
WOT. TEBB Ell,
corking; n. y.
Wholesale and Retail Dealer, in
DRUGS, And Medicines, Lead, Zinc, and Colored
Paints, Oils, Varnish, Brushes Cnmphcne and Burning
fluid. Dye Stuff, Sash and Glass, Pure Liquors for
iftheiw. Patent Medicines, Artists Paintrand Brushes,
Pt’jumtry, fancy Articles, Plavorimg Extracts, «£c.,
ALSO, I
—A general assortment of School Books—
Blank Books, Staple and Fancy
Stationary.
Physicians, Druggists and Country Merchants dealing
in any of the above articles can be supplied at a small
tinnoe on York prices. [Sept. 22, 1857.]
SEW STOVE IND TIN SHOP !
S®. OPPOSITE ROY'S DRUG STORE..®?
Where you can buy Stoves, Tin, and Japanned
TTarc for one-half the usual jnHces.
barge No. 8 Elevated Oven Cook Stove and Trim
sings for $15,00.
AU kinds of
Tin and Hardware
to proportion for Rcadr Pay.
J‘ will pay any one who wants anything in this line
to call and see our prices before purchasing elsewhere.
Recollect the place—two doors south of Farr's Ho
tol. or opposite Roy's Drug Store. CALL AND SEE
April 21,1859. 1.
H. D. DEMING,
respectfully announce to the people of Tioga County
he i« now prepared to fill all orders for Apple, Pear
Cherry, Nectarine, Apricot, Evergreen and Deciduous
Grniraetital Also Curranta. Raspberries, Gooseberries,
Siitkbernesand Strawberries of all new and approved vari-
ROSF^_JConsisting of Hybrid, Perpetual and Sum-
Juer Moss, Bourboh, Noisette, Tea,
k a S*l or China, and Climbing Rosea.
SHRI 7 RRI?PV Including all the finest newva-
Hi O I>I>CiIV i “"rieties of Althea, Calycanthns,
u * Wz ' a * Lihcs, Spiraea, Syringtas. Viburnums, Wigilias &c.
FLOW PR Q Paconiea, Dahlias, Phloxes, Tulips,
YT Narclssir, Jonquils. Lil
varieties.
ifta.xj iv a N\- w Haut-bois Strawberry. 4 doz. plants, $5.
rospcctfunv solicited.
for Grafting, Budding or Pruning will be
f-Wr attends to. Address
** liJ . ’SS. U, D. DEMING, W • boro, Pa.
XIOC\ REGULATOR.
(lEORije F. HUMPHREY has opened a new
Jtwely Store at
Tioga Village, Tioga County, Pa.
tci*? ' ‘ s Prepared to do nil kinds of Watch, Clock
*o-lt *' ry repairing, in a workmanlike manner. Ail
W w . atrante| t to giro entire satisfaction.
Hj V* 4 not protend to do work bettor than an J other
tts r ,- ul wa can do as good work as can bo done in
'ihes or elsewhere. ■ Also Watches Plated.
T; „ „ .GEORGE F. HUMPHREY.
Pa., March 15> 1860 . (i y .)
P wiil fini at 40 Iheir advantage to call at
■ v ru lt Store, as he has just received a large
■ . aeaential Oils and Epsenoes of all kinds
as u selling very cheap for cash.
THE AGITATOR.
YOL. Yl.
BT LONGFELLOW*
The night was made for cooling shade.
For silence and for. sleep;
And when I was a child X laid
My hands upon my breast and prayed.
And sank to slumbers deep.
Child-like as then I lie to-night
And watch my only cabin light.
Each movement of the swaying lamp
Shows how the vessel reels;'
And o'er her deck the billows tramp,
And all her timbers strain and cramp,
With every shock shefeels;
It starts and shndders-whtle it barns,
And in its hinged socket inrns.
Now swinging slow, and slanting low.
It almost level lies,
And yet I know, while 6) and fVo
I watch the seeming pendaio go, *
"With restless fall and rise,
The steady shaft Is still upright,
Poisoning its little globe of light.
0, hand of God I 0, lamp at peace I
0, promise of my soul!
Though weak, and tossed, and ill at ease,
Amid the roar of smiting seas—
The ship’s convulsive roll—
I own, with love and tender awe.
Ton perfect type of faith and law.
.... Proprietor.
:pot free of charge.
A heavenly trust my spirit oalms I
Jly soul is filled with light!
The ocean sings His solemn psalms;
The wild winds chant; Tcross my palms;
Happy as if to-night,
Under the cottage roof again,
I bear the soothing summer rain.
BOW SHE FOUND HER TONGUE.
“Been up in the country?” I queried, as I
met my friend Burner in the street, a few days
since. X hadn’t seen him for some time, and he
looked sun-burnt and rough as if he bad been
exposed to the country sun. He informed me
that he had, and that he had been to visit Tom
Somers, a mutual friend of ours, who -had
moved away from town many years ago. After
inquiries concerning his visit and his enjoy
ment during the warm months, conversation re
verted to our old friend.
“I was never more surprised in my life,”
said Burner, “than I was to see him in the
depot at Ramshead. I had quite forgotten that
he was located there.”
“His wife’s—yes, yes,” continued Burner ;
“singular woman that; did you know her?”
“Yes,” I replied ; “sho is a little, bustling,
talkative thing ; full of fun and chat, and ma
king her house merry by the music of her
voice. Nince little woman.”
Burner looked at me a moment, and burst
into a laugh, to my great wonderment. I re
quested him, in a tone of chagrin, to inform me
what the deuce he was laughing at.
“Talkative!” said he, when he could check
rein his caohinatory colt; “X found her any
thing but that, I can tell you. I never knew
the lady when she lived in town, hut a more
taciturn body I never saw than I found her.”
“Indeed,” I remarked; “then there must
have been a change, truly.”
“I met Summers at the depot,” continued
Burner, “and he was very glad to see me, in
quiring after his old friends, and you with the
rest. -Through all his joy, however, I saw that
there was a vein of sadness; and when I allu
ded to his family, he appeared embarrassed, and
disposed to change the subject. I had no other
object in view in visiting Kamshead, other than
the change of scene, and not intending to re
main there but a day or two ; but meeting Som
ers led me to think that it would not he a bad
thing to tarry there awhile, seeing that there
was a bountiful pond of water in the vicinity,
as I had seen from the care as I came along,
and a deep wood denoting game. Somers used
to be great on those things, you know. I hin
ted at our former sporting practices, and men
tioned my half resolution to stay; but, instead
of manifesting any interest in the subject, he
sighed deeply, and replied:
“Burner, I haven’t taken a pole in my bands,
nor put a gun to my shoulder for five long years,
and I never shall again.”
I looked at him with astonishment, hut I knew
that he was sincere. I fancied that I saw a
tear in his intelligent eye, and my heart grew
stronger towards him than ever. I then quite
resolved to stay, and ordered the porter of the
hotel to carry my baggage—my valise and gun
—up to the house, which was close by. My
rod-cane I carried in my hand. Taking Somers
on my arm, we"followed the porter, and a few
moments later found us seated in my room with
a little rummer of olarot negus between us—an
excellent lubricator for a dusty day.
“■Well, how are you prospering, Somers?” I
asked, wishing to penetrate, if possible, the
mystery that enshrouded him, deeming that it
might be some business difficulty in which he
was involved.
“Doing capitally,” he replied; “havn’t lost a
dollar’ since I came here. People have knick
named me ‘Lucky Tom.’ How wrong people
Judge in measuring men !” .
“What do yon mean by that?” said I, as I
saw the cloud creeping over his face, as you
have, while standing on the mountains seen a
shadow flitting across the meadow.
“I mean,” said he, “that in measuring us,
they take but one feature into the account, and
upon that base a hypothesis of happiness, or
luck, as the case may be.”
“Are you not happy 7” I asked, in a tone
calculated to win his confidence.
“I am far from it,” he replied; “indeed, a
more miserable man is not to be found in these
parts.”
“In what regard 7"
“My wife is dumb,” he almost sobbed, in an
swer to my question.
“Dumb!" I repeated ; and thinking to rally
him, said in a jocular manner, “Well, that is a
Very singular thing to be sad for; I know
many husbands who would be too happy to have
such a calamity happen to them. Burns says,
‘An auld wife’s tongue’s a fackless matter,’ and
there’s no contention in a house where perpetual
silence is the bond of unity." -
“I saw that he was hurt, and hastened to
remedy the evil that I had done. Taking him
by the hand, I said:
“Tom, I assure you I would not wound your
feelings willingly. lam no less your friend
than I ever was. Now I' wish you iff tell me
Sehoteh to the intension 0$ the area of jfmhom anh the Spread of healths XUfotm.
WHILE THERE. SHALL BE A WRONG UNRIGHTED, AND UNTIL “MAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN” SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE.
THE LAMP AT SEA.
BT B. P. SBILLABES.
WELLSBOEOj TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING. MAY H
the cause of your trouble, that I may shire it
With you, or possibly alleviate it.”
He hesitated a.few moments, and then said,
with considerable emotion:
“Well, Burner, old friendship la stirring
within me, and I shall do at its prompting that
which I thought nothing would wring from me.
You remember how happy I was. There was
not a man in the world who had more friends,
than I had. My home waa a happy one—my
wife pleasant, my children handsome and in
telligent. You never saw my wife. Burner ?”
My name in the connection sounded like an
imprecation upon his wife, and the Burner a
wrathful expletive —“hum her” Somers con
tinued: ,
“When we moved up here things went on in
pretty much the_ same pleasant way until there
came to the village a lady whom I had formerly
known, and about whom, and me, there had
been a little gossip in old days. Our acquaint
ance was renewed, and I visited her several
times; made no concealment of my intimacy
with her, and invited my wife to accompany
tne, hill she declined. She wished to make no
new acquaintances, she said. There was a fre
quent visitor at my house—a relative of my
wife’s—who poisoned her ears with suspicions
that it was not right between May Brennon and
myself. She repeated the old gossip with addi
tions, spoke of my visits to Miss Brennon, and
hinted at criminality, as that nasty-minded class
always will, who, having small virtues of their
own, and depraved fancies, conjure up impure
conceits regarding their neighbors, imputing
lasciviousness and wrong where the strictest
purity might not see occasion to blush. I was
returning home one summer evening on foot,
having spent the day in business at a town a
few miles from this, when, by a strange chance,
a short distance from town I met Miss Brennon.
It was a pure accident that brought us togeth
er, and she turned back with me, taking my
arm. IVe walked slowly, ns the weather was
warm, and stopped a moment on the rustic
bridge yonder to look down into the stream and
gay a few pleasant words about old times. I
saw some one pass by us as we stood there, but
was indifferent as to whom it might be, and
bidding my companion good-by I went home,
as happy as a lord in anticipation of meeting
the ones there that I loved so well. I met with
a cold reception. My bane was sitting with my
wife in council, and I read judgment on the face
that had too many times lately turned unkindly
towards me.”
“So yon’ve como, Mr. Hypocrite, have you ?"
was the first salutation.
‘.‘Certainly, my dear, I have come,” I replied,
“though I can scarcely see reason for the ap
plication of the name to me.”
“You cannot! you have just loft that vile
creature on whose account and in whose com
pany you have all day been absent from your
home ! You cannot!"
“I have been away all day on business,”
said I, as oalmly as Socrates. “T was return
ing home and encountered Miss Brennon. We
walked together a little way, and then I left for
my pleasant home, and certainly I did not
expect such a reception.”
“You did not,” said she sneeringiy; "but
you are found out, sir. You stood upon the
bridge with your arm around the strumpet’s
waist and kissed her !”
I felt aroused at this. I can bear any attack
upon myself, but the reflection upon Miss Breu
non was too much for me, who knew her pure
character and exalted worth.
“It is a falsehood!” I shouted, “and your in
formant is a malicious and malignant falsifi
er 1”
The relative gathered herself up to go, but
, before she went I gave her a lesson on lying
and tale-bearing that she has not forgotten yet.
She has never crossed my door since. As soon
as she was gone I turned to my wife and said:
“As for you, madam, if you cannot mrtke a
better use of your tongue, you had better never
speak again.”
I was heated, in a passion, and scarcely
knew what I said, but the unkind words entered
into her soul. I left the house and did not re
turn for a long time. I found her calmly and
undisturbedly sitting where I left her, but she
spoke not. She arose and performed such du
ties as were required of her, but she did not
speak. In vain I addressed her; she made no
reply. I grew alarmed. I begged her to speak
to me. It has continued thus ever since. - Not
one word has she uttered to me or any one.—
My home is as dismal as a tomb, or 1 would
have invited you there."
He ceased his story, and I told him how much
interested I had been in it. “But," said I,
“have you tried no remedy to cure this disease,
for disease it must be ?” He told ine he had
not. “Then,” said I, “take me home with you,
and if I don't cure her, strike the spurs from
my heels as an unworthy knight.”
I went home with the poor fellow, and found
things pretty much as he represented. I was
introduced to the mistress of the mansion, who
received me with a profound bow. i
' “A delightful home, madam, this of yours,"
said I, glancing admiringly oat of the window.
I looked towards her as though expecting a re
ply. She merply nodded her head.
“Are there many such in this vicinity among
the bills ?” I persisted, looking her in the face..
She colored as though she were confused. I’
found subsequently that I was the first stranger
that ho had dared to take home for several
years. I saw by her organism that she was not
naturally a bad woman, and divined at onee /
that she had vowed perpetual silence at the un
kind words of her husband, and that it only
needed but a single word to break the spell that
rested upon her.
X continued my engineering, making all man
ner of domestic inquiries regarding the chil
dren; of whom she appeared very fond, but
could not elicit a word from her. I next allu
ded to her husband and our old acquaintance,
and in the coarse of our remarks made some
reflections in a playful way upon the slight
blemish in one of his eyes—the- only fault in
bis really handsome face. I saw a feeling like
chagrin flit across her brotw, and a moment af
ter; when 1 praised him, a pleased expression
effaced the cloud.
‘‘Ahal’’ said I to myself, “here is pride andi
affection at any rate; those springs hate not
dried up, add I think that language may yet be
unsealed.”
A day passed, but nothing transpired hut
manoeuvres. 1 have never tried so hard to make
myself attraotive ds oh this occasion, and felt
that I had succeeded when on the second morn
ing she greeted me with a smile, and extended
her hand to me as I came from my chamber.—
I chatted and rattled on about the- town and its
splendors, told of mew improvements, changing
fashions, crinoline and lovely bonnets, all of
which were listened to with evident interest.—
Still she wouldn’t speak, confound it 1 I trem
bled for my spurs. Something must be done.
"Mrs. Somers,” said 1 very suddenly, “will
you allow me to look at the palm of your
hand t” i
She extended her hand very readily, and Jl
gazed upon it as though I were a wizard en
gaged in some trick of necromancy involving
the fate of the household. Looking into her
face, I relinquished her hand and sighed deep
ly. She looked surprised, and seemed as if
expecting me to say something.
“You may well be surprised at my conduct,
but your surprise would be overwhelmed could
I dare tell the motive of it. I cannot do so
without compromising others. I may say, how
ever, that in your hand I disern a power that
may be employed for immense good. There
are lines in it that meet and diverge, and come
near together again without meeting. There is
a mystery!” I looked at the hand again,
rubbed my forehead, as though 1 were per
plexed, and went out abruptly. I saw her face
depicted in the glass as I passed out, and it
bore the expression of great wonder.
“How far is it to the top of Rattlesnake Hill,
Somers ?” I asked at dinner, as we' sat at ta
ble. I*
“About fifteen miles; why 1” he replied and
asked.
“Because lam going there to-night. I must
be there precisely at midnight. lam going to
gather a charm from the old Ratler’s cave,
through which I hope to obtain a treasure that
will compensate for all trouble and danger.”
“You cannot go,” he said anxiously, “the
way U one of peril. It is full of ravines and
pitfalls, and the serpents are very numerous.”
I saw that his wife shared in his uneasiness,
and her looks said “Don’t go I” ■ plainer than
words could speak.
“So much the better for my purpose,” said I;
“were it not attended with danger, that which
I seek would be valuless. I shall go, and more
than this, I shall walk.” r
Somers and his wife exchanged looks, 1 which
I interpreted to mean, “Well, isn’t he a queer
one ?” and after a few moments at table I left
the house, telling Somers that I should be back
by the morning. I accordingly struck out stout
ly for Rattlesnake Hill, accompanied by his
littered blessing’’and his wife’s inarticulate ben
izon; but when I reached the first brook, I
made my cane into a fishing rod, and indulged
till sunset in the finest sport. The trout never bit
with more avidity ; and, having caught a good
ly string, I carried them to a farm, house not
far away, and had them cooked for my supper.
Late in the evening I returned to my friend
Somers’, and enjoyed a fine night's rest upon
his hay-mow. At daylight I aroused the fami
ly by knocking at the door, but I greeted them
with a simple shake of the hand, gazing ab
stractly at Mrs. Somers. She looked troubled.
“Somers," said I, “please leave me a moment
with your wife. It is a matter that you may
sometime know, but not at present. Have you
not heard of my wonderful development as a
seer 1” .
He said he had not, but, without explaining,
I pushed him out and closed the door. I knew
that he would listen, however,.
“Mrs. Somers," said I, “my mysterious move
ments are fast growing to a climax. I last
night plucked a dragon’s tongue from the
mouth of a rattlesnake’s den; I laughed with
the midnight echoes, and stood face to face with
the darkness, in order to gain what I sought.—
Your hand, please; thank you. The lines are
brought nearer together, and it needs but one
word of yours, in response to an incantation
that I shall utter, to make my mystic charm
complete. You must say Fes, or all is naught.”
“I looked wildly as I spoke, and I saw that
she was as it were, spell-bound.
“And this is my incantation,” I continued.
“You swear that you hate Tim,Somers.”
“No!” she almost shrieked, i 1
Poor Tim had been listening. Fearing harm
to his wife from my supposed lunacy, hearing
the question I had put and the response, he
rushed in frantic with joy, clasped her in his
arms, kissed ter over and over again, and
jumped about the room with the wildness of a
madman. She did not seem to comprehend
what she had done for an instant, hut when she
remembered that she had spoken, and divined
the meaning of my cabalistic efforts, she came
near fainting with emotion.
“Thank God! the spell is broken ?” she said,
“the hideous spell ihat has bound me to silence
and sorrow so long.”
"The mystical word having been spoken,”
said I, “that brought the diverging lines togeth
er, I am free to tell what I sought at midnight,
on Rattlesnake Hill.”
“What was it 1” they both asked in a breath.
“A woman’s tongue !” I replied ; “and, since
I have found it, never allow any trifling cause
to silence it again."
My theory was correct with regard to her not
speaking. She had vowed perpetual silence,
and had kept her vow until brought to utter one
word by stratagem, which had Unsealed her
tongue again. The children were delighted;
and ran all around the neighborhood telling
everybody that | their mother could talk, and
everybody rushed in to ascertain what it meant.
B'or a time it seemed as though anarchy and
confusion had become installed on Tim Somers’
hearth-stone, tj> make np for the silence that had
so long brooded there; but he bore it all good
humoredly. I left them a week afterwards, the
happiest couple you ever saw, and my midnight
excursion to Rattlesnake Hill was frequently
alluded to.
"Did yon really gof there f” Mrs. Somers
asked before I came away.
“No 1” said I, imitating her emphatic accent
of the same monosylable in reply to my incan
tation, stud- we had a good laugh about it. Turn
), 1860.
Somers swearing that my se'ership waa the beat
eVot known; and my maggio had wrought a
happier effect than that of all the fairies he had
seen exhibited at the museum.
“Good-bye,” said Burner, as he finished his
story, and be left me, well satisfied with the
manner in which he had spent’his vacation.
What a Lady Thinks of Hairy Faces.
A female writer in Xenia, Ohio, is making a
crusade against hairy faced men. Hear her:
“What expression of kindness and mild hu
manity can be observed in a face covered with
hair from the nose down ? Not any. As well
might a poor rat look in the; grizzly muzzle of
a Scotch terrier for mercy i when about to be
caught in his crushing jaws, as to look for an
expression of human kindngss and sympathy
in the face of a hirsute man.
We can appreciate the value of a sniile. It
lightens up the countenance with adorning
sweetness, indicates a kind heart, and radiates
gladness to the hearts of others, encourages
the desponding, soothes the afflicted, cheers
the sorrowing, disarms the wrath and kindles
up genial sympathy and reciprocal regard.—
But a smile cannot drop out from the face of a
mao “boarded and moustached like a pard.”
You suppose, from the agitation of tall grass,
that some animal was crawling through it. So
you may infer from the whisking of hair that
a smile was burrowing along there somewhere
out of sight. The smile of such a man can
not be distinguished from the grin of a ribbed
nose baboon, which had burnt its mouth with
a hot chestnut.
The lips are capable of indicating a variety
of passions and emotional They can express
kindness, good humor, sweetness of disposi
tion, sorrow, firmness and decision of charac
ter, or they may manifest scorn, contempt,
loathing, anger, and threaten like loaded re
volvers. The chief expression of the best
traits in Napoleon’s nature were in his mouth
and chin, which he could clothe with so much
sweet winning, mute, persuasive eloquence as
to render his look irresistible. But when lip
and chin are hovered with hair you might as
well look for expression in the hole of a bank
swallow in the gully, overhung with a tuft of
grass.
The passions and affections have their places
in the face, firmness in the upper lip, mirth
fulness near the corners of the mouth, and the
affections in the edges of the lips, etc., hence
the philosophy and delight of kissing; the
mjjre intense the passion, the more soul-thril
ling and enrapturing the kiss. Behold that
lovely womanj with a form shaped by the hand
of harmony, regular features under clustering
ringlets, bright eyes beaming with intelligence,
well arranged pearly teeth, a soft and delicate
skin, a mouth like Cupid’s bow, a neck like
ivory, a bosom like alabaster, and the undula
tions of love like snow, her lips like two rose
buds, moist with evening dew, and her cheeks
‘‘Where the live crimson through the native white.
Shooting o’er the face, diffuses hloom.
And every nameless grace."
Radiant with beauty, she is surrounded by an
atmosphere of love, as a rose exhales fragrance.
Just think of one of those hairy-faced fellows
attempting to kiss her—see him pulling up his
“ohevaux-de-frise” of bristles to reveal his cav
ernous slit of a mouth. Bah ! it’s abominable
—the idea is disgusting—get out—scat!
“Give me an ounce of civit, good apothecary, to
sweeten my imagination.”
Whom do moustaches and beards become ?.
Brigands, privateers, fillibusters, and especially
professional executioners. Jack Ketch, the
hangman, would effeotally conceal all expres
sions—causing him to look as grim and unre
lenting as death, in whose service he officiates.”
Character.
Benjamin' Franklin attributed his success
as a public man, no't to his talents or his powers
of speaking—for these were but moderate—but
to his known integrity; of character. “Hence
it was,” he says, “that;l had so much weight
with my fellow citizens. I was but a bad
speaker, never eloquent,’subject to much hesi
tation in my choice of words, hardly correct in
language, and yet I generally carried my
point.” Character creates confidence in men
in high station ns well |as in humble life. It
was said of the first .Emperor Alexander of
Russia that his personal character was equiva
lent to a constitution, i During the wars of the
Fronde, Montaigue was the only man among
the French gentry who kept his casteal gates
unbarred; it was said |of him, that his personal
character was worth more to him than a regi
ment of horses. That character is power, is
true in a much higher sense than that knowl
edge is power. Mind without heart, intelli
gence without conduct; cleverness without good
ness, are powers in their way, but they may be
powers only for mischief." We may be instruc
ted or amused, by them; but it is sometimes
as difficult to admire them as it would be to
admire the dexterity of a pickpocket or the
horsemanship of a highwayman. Truthfulness,
integrity, and goodness—qualities that hang
not on any man’s breath—form the essence of
manly chtracter, or, as one of our old writers
has it, “that imbred loyalty unto Virtue which
Can serve her without livery.” When Stephen
of Colonna fell into the hands of his base as
sailants, they asked him in derision, “Where is
now your fortress ?” ‘‘Here, was his bold reply,
placing his hand upon his heart. It is in mis •
fortune that the character of the upright man
shines forth with the greatest lustre; and when
All else fails, he takes stand upon bis integrity
and bis courage.
Deal gently with those who stray. Draw
back by love and persuasion. A kiss is worth
a thousand kicks. A kind word is more valu
able to the last than a mine of gold. Think of
this and be on your guard, ye who would chase
to the grate an erring brother.
“My breathren,” said a good old backwoods
preacher, “I’m gwine to preach you a plain
sarment to day—a sarment that every wtmmen
can understand. You can find my text in the
five verses of the two-eyed chapter of one-eyed
John. It was soma time before it was per
ceived that hC meant John I, chapter 11.
ftatea ot Advjncttsii&
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dered odt and charged accordingly. ... i
Posters,,Handbills, Bill-Htida, Letter-Hcad's and all
kinds of Jobbing done in country establishments, aid
coated neatly and promptly, (Justices’, ConstabWi
and'other BLANKS constantly on hand.
NO. 41.
It would be gratifying if we could meet mow
frequently such men os is described by a cor
respondent in the New York Ledger, as follows i
“Many years ago there lived, in the goodly
town of Burlington, Vt., a merchant who kepi
the usual assortment of a country store of tbs
olden time, embracing every article of merchan
dize usually called for in the country; ffrtrfi &
jack-knife to a cooking-stove; from weak liaise-'
seed to fourth-proof French brandy, from A
skein of cotton-thread to ten-dollar silk, ami
from woolen yarn to twelveklollar broad cloth;
Our merchant was a gentleman of the ‘old
schoolsocial, but dignified; polite and cheer
ful that no ‘shopping’ or tediousneis of coal
tomers was ever permitted to bring a shadow
over His manly and intelligent countenance.
“A gentleman "who “was not personally ac
quainted with our merchant, offered to bet teij
dollars with one of his friends, that he could
go to bis store and so annoy him, on bnsinesa
matters, as to disturb his equanimity and ruffla
bis good humor. The bet was accepted ; and
soon after breakfast on the nest day the gen
tleman who offered it went to the
store and commenced operations. The stocE
of dry goods was large. He commenced mode
rately by examining small and light articles
from the drawers. Then came the shelves:
and the linens and the cottons, the worsted
and the woolen goods were all called for, tnlken
down from the shelves; spread Upon the coun
ter, and deliberately examined. Of course;
nothing suited; some articles were too fine,
others too coarse ; the • color of this was too
glaring, and of that tod faint; the price of
some things seemed [rather high, and others
seemed a little faded ‘or shop-wom; Nothing
was satisfactory. The articles were placed
back upon the shelves, and then onr customer
had them taken down for re-examination, and
with tha same result. Three hours were spent
in this way, which elicited nothing from thd
merchant bat smiles' and pleasant remarks ;
when bis customer said, ‘Please hand dowii
again that roll of twelve-dollar broadcloth ; I
want twenty-five cents worth of it;’ and ha
threw a quarter of a dollar piece upon tha
counter. The merchant took down the cloth;
placed the quartet on the corner of it, took the
scissors and cut Out a piece of cloth of tha
exact size of the coin, folded it in a paper
and delivered it, with tha inquiry, ‘Anything
more this morning sir ?’ The customer re
sponded with a superb ‘No,’ hut was immedi
ately asked, ‘What liquor do yon prefer, my
friend ?’ ‘Brandy,, air.’ ‘I have some genuine
old French rambler, please step this way,’ said
our merchant. ‘Arsa,’ calling to his dork;
‘dean tumblers and ice-water.’ They werd
soon present, and as our merchant and his new
customer imbibed, the - merchant observed, ‘I
always feel happy ot getting a new customer;
give me a call whenever you want anything iii
my line.’ The customer started for the door;
at which he met the gentleman with whom ho
he had made the bet. ‘There,’ he observed, ‘is
your X, fairly won; coufdund the creature;
there is no get mad in his nature.’
"Our good merchant insured anew customer
by his patieht good feeling; and died, a feW
years since, leaving befilrid him an independ
ent fortune and an unblemished name.”
Ages of our Public Mes.— President Bu
chanan was 68 years old On the sth day of
November, 1859. •
Vice President Breckinridge was 39 yeard
old on the 19th day of January, I 860;
Simon Cameron is in hia 60th year.
Stephen A. Douglas was 49 years old on thd
23d of April last.
Lewis Cass is nearly 87 years old;
Caleb Cushing is in his 60£h year.
Franklin Pierce is 54. years old.
Robert Field Stockton is 49 years old.
. John C. Fremont wiis 50 years of age on th<
6th day of January last;
John Bell is 62 years old. .
John J. Crittenden is 73 years old.
Alexander It, Stevens will be 5'S years eld
nest February.
James L. Orr was 47 years old on the 12t.fi
of May last. ' ,L
Jesse D; Bright is in hie 47th year;
Augustus C. Dodge is about 47 years' old;'
James Shields is 65 years old.
Isaac Toucy 1s 61 years old.
Henry A, "Wise is in his 53d year. 1
K. M. T. Hunter is nearly 7CI years old.
Robert Toombs Was 49 years' old on the TtH
of July last.
John M. Read is over 60 years old.
Daniel S. Dickinson is 56 years old.
Horatio Seymour is about 50 yeafs old.
John E. Wool is 55 years old.
John Slidell is in his 56th year 1 .
N. P. Banks was 49 years old iii January;
"Want of Ventilation*. —The following ex
periments, illustrative of the evil-effects of im
perfect ventilation, are from Blackwood:
A sparrow left in a bell-glass to breath over
and over again in tfa® same air, will live in it
for upwards of three hours; but at the close of
the second hour—when there is consequently
still air of sufficient purity Iff perilfit this spar
row's breathing it for more thdn an hour longer
—if a fresh and rigorous sparrow be intro
duced it will etpire almost immediately. Thd
air which would suffice for the respiration- of
one sparrow suffocates another. Nay, more,- if
the sparrow be taken from the glass at the close
of the third hoar, when very feeble, it may bn
restored to activity; and no sOoner has it recov
ered sufficient vigor to fly about again, than if
once more introduced into the dtmOSphere from
which it was taken, it will perish immediately.
Another experiment points to a similar result.
A spafroW is confined in a bell-glass, and i.t
the end of about an hour and a half it is still
active, although obviously suffering; a second
sparrow is introduced; in about ten minutes
the new comer is dead, while the original occu
pant flies about the lectareroom as soon as liber
ated.
"The victory is not always to the strong,"
as the boy said when be killed a skuuk with a
brickbat. J
Patience.’