Terns of Publication.
THE TIOGA COUNTY AGITATOR is published
' Thursday Morning, and .mailed to subscribers.
*1 lie very reasonable price of
* ONE DOLLAR PER ANNUM,•
. anally in advance. It is intended to notify every
'itcriber when the term for which he has paid sbaU
lire expired, by the stamp —“Tike Out," on the mar
jof the last paper. The paper will then be stopped
b;.:] s farther remittance be received. By this ar-
no man can be brought in debt to the
printer*
Xbe Agitator Is the Official Paper uf the County,
,ritb a'large and steadily increasing circulation reach
ing into every neighborhood in the County. It Is schf
fnt °f portage to any Post Office "Within the county
limits, bat whose most convenient post office may be
in an adjoining County.
Business Cards, not exceeding 5 lines, paper inclu
ded, $5 per year.
BUSINESS DIRECTORY.
jIS LOWREt fk S. F. W 11.5031,
Attorneys a counsellors at law, wai
attend the Court of Tioga, Potter and McKean
roupties- [Wellsboro’, Feb. 1,1853.]
S. B. BROOKS,
iTTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW
1 ELKLAN'D, TIOGA CO. PA.
“In the multitude of Counuelora there is safety.” — Bible,
Sept. 23.1558, fy.
' Ct u. DAHTT, DENTIST,
jarin—/"\FFICB at his residence near the
JißBE|aL{J Academy. All work pertaining to
line of business done promptly and
[April 22, 1858.}
warranted.
“1 DICKISSOK house
of ’ cORNIHft, N. T.
I iUj. A. Field, Proprietor,
•1' (iutf'ts taken to and from the Depot free of charge.
[ M? IMEBICAS HOTEL.
• CORNING, N.Y.,
M j; rRESMAN, - - - • Proprietor.
*• Meals,2scts. Lodgings,2s cts. Board, 75cts.per day.
Corning, March 31, 1859. (ly.)
PIJSSIIVAHIA HOUSE
WELLSBORO’, PA,
L. D. TAYLOR, PROPRIETOR.
This deservedly popular house is centrally located, and
commend-* itself to the patronage of the travelling public.
Nor. 25.1855, ly.
J. C. WHITTAKER,
Hydropathic Physician and Surgeon.
ELKLAND, TIOGA CO., PENNA.
Vill Visit patients in all parts of the County, or re
ceive them for treatment at his-honse. , [June 14,]
VEKMIEYEA’S HOTEL.
H. C. VERMIt YEA, PROPRIETOR.
I Gaines, Tioga County, Pa.
THIS is anew hotel located within easy access of
tbe best fishing and bunting grounds in Northern
Pa. Ko pains will be spared for the accommodation
of pleasure seekers and the traveling public.
April 12. 1860.
u. o, coeE,
BARBER AND HAIRDRESSER.
SHOP in the rear of the Post Office. Everything inj
his line will be done as well and promptly 4s it
can bo done in the city saloons. Preparations for re
moving dandruff, and beautifying the hair, for sale
cheap. Hair and whiskers dyed any color. Call and
see. Wellsboro, Sept. 22, 1859.
THE COKIIirG JOUBI»aE.
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
Journal is Republican in politics, and has a circula
tion reaching into every part of Steuben County.—
Those desirous of extending their business into that
and the adjoining counties will find it an excellent ad
vertising medium. Address as above.
PRESS IHAEIIVC.
MI?S M. A. JOHNSON, respectfully announces to
the citizens of Wellsboro and vicinity, that she
has taken rooms over Niles & Elliott's Store, where
she i? prepared to execute all orders in the line of
DRESS MAKING. Having bad experience in the
business, she feels confident that she can give satisfac
tion to all who may favor her with their patronage.
Sept. 29, 1859. ■ ~
JOHN B. SHAKESPEAB,
TAILOR.
HIVING opened his shopin the room over B. B.
’ Smith i Son’s Store, respectfully informs the
citizens of Weilshoro’ and vicinity,that he is prepared
to execute orders in his line of business with prompt
ness and despatch
Cutting done on short notice,
Wellsboro, Oct 21, 1358.—6 m .
WATCHES! WATCHES!
THE Subscriber has got a fine aasortment of heavy
ENGLISH LEVER HUNTER-CASE
Gold and Silver Walclie*,
which he will sell cheaper than “dirt” on ‘Time, i. e.
he will sell ‘Time Pieces’ on a short (approved) credit.
All kinds of REPAIRING done promptly. If a
job of work is not done to the satisfaction pf the party
ordering it, no charge will be made. _
Past favors appreciated and a contiuance of patron
age kindly solicited. , ANDIE FOLEY.
Wellsboro, June 24, 1848. I
WOT. TEBBE1I)
CORNING, N. Y.
Wholesale and Retail Dealer, in
DRUGS, And Medicines, Lead, Zinc, and Colored
Paints, Oils, Varnish. Brashes Cnmpheneand Burning
Plaid, Dye Stuff, Sash and Glass, Pure Liquors for
Medicine, Patent Medicines, Artists Paints and Brushes,
Perfumery, Fancy Articles, Flamrimg Extracts, Ac.,
ALSO,
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 he supplied at a small
advance on New York prices. [Sept. 22, 1857.]^
; m STOVE ASD TINSHOP!
; | B®. OPPOSITE ROY’S DREG STORE,
Where you can buy Stoves, Tin, and Japanned
t Ifare for one-half the usual prices.
:: Largo Xo. 8 Elevated Oven Cook Stove and Trim
i Brings for $15,00.
' All kinds of
i Tin and Hardware
[ in proportion for Ready Pay. , ..
It will pay any one who wants anything in this line
to call and see our prices before purchasing elsewhere.
k Recollect the place—two doors south of Farr s Ho
tel, or opposite Roy's Drug Store. CALL AJiD *-bb
y April 21, 1859. I.
| H. E>. D EMIN G-,
ti respectfully announce to the people of Tioga County
Hutfie {•> now prepared to fill all orders for Apple, Pear
Peach. Cherry, Nectarine, Apricot, Evergreen and Deciduous
Ora-WntaJ trees. Also Currants. Raspberries, Gooseberries,
blackberries and Strawberries of all new and approved varl
ttwsl
Consisting of Hybrid, Perpetual and Sum-
A'-VJoljO— mer Roses, Moss, Bonrbon, Noisette, Tea,
a, and Climbing Roses.
Dl7 D V Including all the finest new ra-
DEiIX X —Reties of Althea, Calycnnthna,
Splraes, Syringias. Viburnums, W igiliaa Ac.
ip C Paeonies, Dahlias, Phloxes, Tulips,
—Hyacinths, N&rcissle; Jonquils, LU
varieties # , , .
.* Hant-bois Strawberry. 4 doz. plants, fo.
tfnllv solicited. , ... .
)r Grafting, Budding or Pruning will be
led to. .Address „ _ _
H.D.DEMINO.W -boro, Pa.
OG.I BEGULATOE.
; P. HUMPHREY has opened a new
’ Store at
Village, Tioga County, Pa.
>repared to do all kinds of Watch, Clock
repairing, in a workmanlike manner. All
.ed to give entire satisfaction,
pretend to do work better than any other
can do as good work as can he done in
Uewhere. Also Watches Plated.
GEORGE P. HUMPHREY.
March 15, 1860. (ly.)
will find it to their advantage to call at
*rug Store, aa be baa just received a large
sfential Oils and Essences of all kinds
filing very cheap for cub*
THE AGITATOR.
Btfcoteß to t&e Extension tfce of if mßom a«B tßc Spreaß of &raltf)B Ifcefotm.
WHILE THERE SHALL BE A WRONG UNRIGHTED, AND UNTIL "SIAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN" SHALL CEASE. AGITATION MUST CONTINUE,
VOL. Yl.
SRI! OtB» HEART.
BT JOSH 0< WHUTDOU
Vor of Hid, And through film,-and to Him are all thing*,
to whom be glory forever! — Paul.
Above, balow, la sky and aod,
la leaf sod spar, In' star aid mai{ t
Well might the sage Athenianioan
The geometric signs of Qod, ,
The measured order of His plan.
And Indian mystics sang aright
Of the One life pervading all,'
One Being’s tidal rise and fall
In eonl and form, in sound and sight*
Eternal outflow and recall.
God is: and man in guilt and fear
The cental fact of nature owns;
Kneels, trembling, by his altar-stones,
And darkly dreams the ghastly smear
Of blood appeases and atones.
Guilt shapes-the tsrror; deep within
>~The human heart the secret lies
Of all tbs hideoua deities;
And, painted on a ground of sin,
The fabled gods of torment rise I
And what is He 1 The ripe grain nods,
‘ The sweet dews fall, the sweet flowers blow,
But darker signs his presence show;
■ The earthquake and the storm are God’s,
And good and evil interflow.
0h« hearts of love! Oh, souls that turn
Like sun-flowers to the pure and best!
To you the truth is manifest:
For they the mind of Christ discern
Who lean like John upon his breast I
In Him of whom the Sybil told,
For whom the prophet’s harp was toned.
Whose need the sage and magfap owned.
The loving heart of God behold.
The hope fdr which the ages groaned 1
Fade pomp of dreadful imagery,
' Wherewith mankind have deified
Their bate and selflhness and pride!
) Let the scared dreamer wake to see
The Christ of Nazareth at his side I
What doth that holy Guide require!
No rite of pain, nor gift of blood,
But, man a kindly brbtherhood.
Looking where duty is desire^
To Him, the beautiful and good.
Gone to the faithlessness of fear;
And let the pitying heaven’s sweet rain
Wash out the altar’s bloody stain,
The law of Hatred disappear
The law of Love alone remain.
How fall the idols false end grim I
Audio/ their hideous wreck above
The emblems of tfao Lamb and Dove!
Man turns from God, not God from him,
And guilt, in suffering, whispers Lovel
The world sits at the feet of Christ,
Unknowing, blind, and unconsoled;
It yet shall touch His garment’s fold,
And feel the heavenly Alchemist
Transform its very dust to gold.
The theme befitting angel tongues
Beyond a mortal's scope has grown.
Oh heart of mine! with rei erence own
The fulness which to it belongs,
And trust the unknown for the known!
—The Independent.
THE WIDOW COBB’S FIRST LOVE,
BY MARY TV. STANLEY GIBSON.
The fire cracked cheerfully on the broad
hearth of the old farm-house kitchen, a oat and
three kittens basked in the warmth, and a de
cre'pid yellow dog lying full in the reflection of
iho tlo**, wwinlrliul Liq VilftoV "PorntinfflY
as he turned his hind feet where hie fore feet
had been. Over the chimney hung several fine
hams and pieces of dried beef. Apples were
festooned along the ceiling, and crooked necked
squashes vied with red peppers and slips of
dried pumpkins, in garnishing each window
frame. There were plants, too, on the window
ledges—horse-shoe geraniums, and dew plants,
and a monthly rose just budding, to say noth
ing of pots of violets that perfumed the whole
place whenever they took it into their purple
heads to bloom. The floor was carefully swept
—the chairs bad not a speck of dust upon leg
or round—the long settee near the fire-place
shone as if it had been just varnished, and the
eight-day clock in the corner had had its white
face newly washed, and seemed determined to
tick the louder for it. Two arm chairs were
drawn up at a cosy distance from the hearth
and each other, a candle, a newspaper, a pair
of spectacles, a dish of red cheeked apples and
a pitcher of cider, filled a little table between
them. In one of these chairs sat a comfortable
looking woman about forty-five, with cheeks as
red as the apples, and eyes as dark and bright
as they had ever been, resting her elbow on the
table, and her head upon her hand, and looking
thoughtfully into the fire. This was the Widow
Cobb—“relict” of Deacon Levi Cobb, who had
been mouldering into dust in the Bytown
church-yard, for more than seven years. She was
thinking of her dead husband, possibly because
—all her work being done, and the servants
goni to bed—the sight of his empty chair-at
the other side of the table, and the silence of
the room made her a little lonely.
“Seven years,” so the widow's reverie ran.—
“It seems as if it was more than fifty—and
yet i don’t look so very old, either. Perhaps
it’s not having any children to bother my life
out, as other people have. They may say what
they like—children are more plauge than profit
—that’s my opinion. Look at my sister Jeru
sha, with her six boys. She’s worn to a shad
ow, and I’m sure they have done it, though she
never will own it,”
The widow took an apple from the dish and
began to peel it.
“How dreadful fond Mr. Cobh used to be of
these grafts. He never will eat any more of
them, poor fellow, for I don’t suppose they have
apples where he has gone to. Heigho ! I're
member very well how I used to throw apple
parings over my head when I was a girl, to see
who I was going to marry.”
Mrs. Cobb stopped short and blushed. For
in those days she did not know Mr. Cobb, and
was always looking eagerly to see if the peel
had formed a capital “S.” Her meditations
took a new turn.
“How handsome Sam Payson'was ! and how
much I used to care about him. I wonder what
has become of him ! Jerusha says he went
away from our/village just after I did, and no
one has ever heard of him since. And what a
tilly thing that quarrel was 1 If it had not
been for that—r—”
Here came a long pause, during which the
widow looked very steadfastly at the empty
arm-chair of Levi Cobb, deceased. Her fingers
played carelessly with the apple paring; she
drew it safely toward her and looked around the
room.
“Upon my word it is very ridiculous, and I
don’t know what the neighbors would say if
they saw me.”
Still the plnrop fingers drew the red, peel
nearer.
“But then they can’t see me, that’s a comfort,
and the eat and old Pewee never will know
WELLSBOEOi TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING. MAY 17, 1860.
what it means. Of coarse I don’t believe any
thing abont it.”
The paring hnng gracefully from her hand.
“Bat still I should like to try; it would seem
like old times, and ”
Over her head it went and curled up quickly
on the floor at a little distance. Old Bowse,
who always slept with one eye open, saw it fall,
and marched deliberately up to smell It.
“Bowse—Bowse—don’t touch it 1” cried his
mistress, and bending over it with ja beating
heart, she turned as red os fire. There was as
handsome a capital “S” as any one could wish
to see.
A great knock came suddenly at the door.—
Bowse growled and the widow screamed, and
snatched up the apple-pearing,
“It’s Mr. Cobb--ifs his spirit • come back
again, because I tried that silly trick,” she
thought fearfully to herself;
Another knock—louder than the first, and a
man's voice exclaimed: \
“Hillo, the honee I”
“Who is it?” asked the widow, somewhat re
lieved to find that the departed Levi was still
safe in his grave upon the hill-side.
“A stranger,” said the voice.
“What do yon want?”
“To get a lodging here for the night.”
The widow deliberated.
“Can't you go on—there's a house half a mile
farther, if you keep to the right hand side of
the road—and turn to the left after yon get
by ”
“It's raining cats and dogs, and I'm very del
icate,” said the stranger, coughing. “I’m wet
to the skin—don’t you think you can accom
modate me—l don’t mind sleeping on the
floor.”
“Raining is it ? I didn’t know that,” and
the kind-hearted little woman unbared the door
very quickly. “Come in who ever you may be
—I only asked you to go on because I am a
lone woman, with only one servant in the
house.”
The stranger entered—shaking himself like
a Newfundland dog upon the step, and scatter
ing- a little shower of drops over his hostess and
her nicely swept floor. 1
“Oh —that looks comfortable after a man has
been out for hours in a storm,” he saie, as he
caught sjght of the fire, and striding along
towards j the hearth, followed by Bowse, who
sniffed suspiciously at his heels, he stationed
himself in the arm-chair— Mr. Cobb’s arm
chair, which had been kept sacred to his mem
ory for seven years 1 The widow was horrified,
but her guest looked so weary and worn out,
that she could not ask him to move, but busied
herself in stirring up the blaze that be might
the sooner dry his dripping clothes. A new
thought struck h.er: MV worn a
comfortable droeemg-gown during his illness,
which still hung in the closet at the right. She
could not let this poor man catch his death by
sitting in thpt wet coat—if he was in Mr. Cobb’s
chair why should he not be in Mr. Cobb’s wrap
per ? She went nimbly to the closet, took it
down, fished out a pair of slippers from a boot
rack below, and brought them to him.
“I think you had better take off your coat
and boots; you will have the rheumatic - fever
or someting like it, if you don’t. Here are
some things for you to wear while they ate dry
ing. And you must be hungry, too; I will go
into the pantry and get you something to eat.”
She bustled away "on hospitable thought in
tent,” and the stranger made the exchange with
a quizzical smile playing around bis lips. He
was a tall, well-formed man, with a bold but
handsome face, sunburned and heavily bearded,
and looking anything but “delicate,” though
his blue eyes glanced out from under a forehead
as white as snow. He looked around the kitch
en with a mischievous air, and stretched out
his feet before him, decorated with the defunct
Deacon’s slippers.
“Upon my word, this is stepping into the old
man’s shoes with a vengeance! And what a
hearty, goodj-humored looking woman she is!
Kind as a kitten,” and he leaned forward and
stroked the cat and her brood, and then patted
old Bowse upon the head. The widow bring
ing in sundry good things, looked pleased at
his attentions' 1 to her dumb friends.
“It’s a wonder Bowse does not growl; he
generally does if strangers touch him. Dear
me! how stupid."
The last remark was neither addressed to
the stranger nor to the dog, but to herself. She
had forgotten that the little stand was not empty
—and there was no room on it for the things
she held. i
“Ob, I’ll manage it,” said the guest, gather
ing up paper, candje, apples and spectacles—
.(it was not without a little pang that she saw
them in his hand, for they had been the Dea
con’s, and were placed each night, like the arm
chair, beside her) —and depositing them on the
settee.
“Owe me the table cloth,ma’am; I can spread
it as well as any woman. I’ve learned that
along with scores of other things in my wan
derings. Now let me relieve you of those dish
es ; they are far too heavy for those little hands
(the widow blushed ;) “and now please sit down
with me, or I cannot eat a morsel.”
“I had supper long ago, hut really I think I
can take something more,” said Mrs. Cobh,
drawing her chair nearer to the table.
“Of course you can, my dear lady—in this
cold autumn weather people ought to eat twice
as much as they do in warm. Let me give you
a piece of this ham—your own curing, I dare
say.”
“Yes; my poor husband was very fond of it.
He used to say that no one understood curing
ham and drying beef better than I.”
“He was a most sensible man, lam sure. I
drink your health, madam, in this cider.”
He took a lopg draught, and set down his
glass. ,
‘ “It is like nectar.”
The widow was feeding Bowse- and the cat,
(who thought they were entitled to a share of
every meal eaten in the house.) and did not
quite hear what be said. 1 fancy she would
hardly have [known what “nectar” was—so it
was quite as well.
“Pine dog, ma'am—and a very pretty cat.”
“They were my husband’s favorites,” and a
sigh followed the answer.
“Ah—your husband must have been a very
happy man.”
The blue eyes looked at her so long that she
grew flurried.
“Is there anything more I can get for you,
sir she asked, at last.
“Nothing, thank you, I have finished.”
She rose to clear the things away. Ho assis
ted her, and somehow their hands had a queer
knack of touching as they carried the dishes to
the pantry shelves. Coming back to the kitch
en, she put the apples and cider in their old
places, and brought out a clean pipe and a box
of tobacco from an arched recess near the chim
ney.
“My husband always said he could not sleep
after eating supper late, unless he smoked,”
she said. “Perhaps you would like to try it."
“Not if it is to drive youaway,” he answered,
for she had her candle in her hand.
.. “Oh. no—l do not object to smoke at all.”—
She put the candle down—some faint sugges
tion about “propriety” troubled her, but she
glanced at the clock and felt reassured. It was
only half-past nine.
The stranger pushed the stand back after the
pipe was lit, and drew her easy chair a little
nearer the fire—and his own.
. “Come, sit down,” he said, pleadingly. “It’s
not late—and when a man has been knocking
about in California and all sorts of places, for
a berth like this—and to have a pretty woman
to speak to once again.”
“California! Have you been in California 7"
she exclaimed, dropping into the chair at once.
Unconsciously she had long cherished the idea
that Sam Payson—the lover of her youth—with
whom she had so foolishly quarreled, had
pitched his tent, after many wanderings, in
that far-off land. Her heart warmed to one
who,-with something of Sam’s look and ways
about him—-had also been sojourning in that
country—and who very possibly had met him
—perhaps had known him intimately! At
that thought her heart beat quick, and she
looked very graciously at the bearded stranger,
who, wrapped in Mr. Cobb’s dressing-gown,
wearing Mr. Cobb’s slippers, and sitting in Mr.
Cobb’s chair, beside Mr. Cobb’s wife, smoking
Mr. Cobb’s pipe with such an air of feeling
moat thoroughly and comfortably at home !
“Yes, ma’am—l’ve been in California for the
l(vst sixyears. And before that I went quite
round tEe world—in a whaling ship.”
“Good gracious!"
The stranger sent a puff of smoke curling
gracefully over his head.
“It’s very strange, my dear lady, how often
you see one thing as you go wandering about
the world after that fashion.”
“And what is that ?”
all sorts of odd places, caring very little for
life as a general thing, and making fortunes
just to sling them away again—and all for one
reason. You don’t ask me what that is! No
doubt you know already very well.”
“I think not air.”
“Because some woman has jilted them ?”
Here was a Jong pause, and Mr. Cobb’s pipe
emitted short- puffs with surprising rapidity.—
A guilty conscience needs no accuser, and the
widow’s cheek was dyed with blushes as she
thought oft the absent Sam.
“I wonder how women manage when they
get served in the same way,” said the stranger,
musingly ? You never meet them roaming up
and down in that style.”
“No,” said Mrs. Cobb, with some spirit—“if
a woman is in trouble, she must stay at home
and bear it the best way she can. . And there’s
more women bearing such things than we know
of, I dare say.”
“Like enough. We never know whoso hand
gets pinched in a trap unless they scream. And
women are too shy or too sensible, which you
choose, for that.”
“Did you ever, in all your wanderings, meet
any one by the name of Samuel Payson?”
asked the widow, unconcernedly. The stranger
looked towards her—she was rummaging her
drawer for her knitting work, and did not no
tice him. When it was found and the needles
in motion, he answered her.
“Payson ? Sam Payson ? Why, he was my
moat intimate friend 1 Do you know him 7”
“A little—that is, I used to, when I was a
girl. Where did you meet him ?"
“He went with me on the whaling voyage I
told you of, and afterwards to California. We
had a tent together, and some other fellows with
us, and we dug in the same claim for more than
six months.”
“ I suppose he was quite well ?"
“Strong as an ox, my dear lady.”
“And—and happy ?” said the widow, bend
ing closer over her knitting.
“Hum—the less said- about that the better,
perhaps. But he seemed to enjoy life after a
fashion of his own. And he got rich out there,
or rather, I will say, well off.”
Mts. Cobb did not pay much attention to that
part of the story. Evidently she had not fin
ished asking questions. But she was puzzled
about her next one. At last she brought it out
beautifully.
“Was bis wife with him in California?”
The stranger looked at her with a twinkling
eye.
“Oh, I thought—l mean I heard”—here the
little widow remembered the fate of Ananias
and Sapphira, and stbpped before she told such
a tremendous fib.
“Whatever you heard of his marrying was
all nonsense, I can. assure you. I know him
well, and he had no thought of the kind about
him. Some of the hoys used to tease him about
it, but he soon made them stop.”
“How?”
“He just told them frankly that the only wo
man ha ever loved had jilted him years before,
and married another man. After that no one
ever mentioned the subject to him again except
me.”
Mrs. Cobh laid her knitting aside and looked
thoughtfully into the fire.
“He was another specimen of the class of
men I was speaking of. 1 hove seen him face
death a score of times as quietly as I face the
fire. *lt matters very little what takes me off,'
he used to say; ‘lve nothing to live for, and
there’s no one that will shed a tear for me when
lam gone/ It’a a sad thought for a man to
have, isn't it 1"
Mrs. Cobb sighed as she said she thought it
was.
“But did he ever tell yon the name of the
lady who jilted him ?”
“I know her first name.”
“What was it ?”
“Maria.”
The plump little widow almost started ont of
her chair; the name was spoken so exactly as
as Sam would have said it.
“Did you know her?" he asked, looking
keenly at her.
“Yes."
“Intimately ?”
“Tea.”
“And where is she now? Still happy with
her husband, I suppose, and never giving a
thought to the poor fellow she drove out into
the world.”
“No," said Mrs. Cobb, shading her face with
her hand, and speaking unsteady. “No, her
husband is dead.”
“Ah. But still she never thinks of Sam.”
There was a dead silence.
“Does she ?”
“How can I tell ?”
“Are you still friends ?"
“Yes.”
“Then you ought to know, and you do. Tell
me.”
“I'm sure I don't 'know why I should. But
if I do you must promise me, on your honor,
never to tell him if you ever meet him again.”
“Madam, what you say to me never shall be
repeated to any mortal man, upon my honor.”
“Well, then, she does remember him.”
“But how ?”
“As kindly, I think, as he could wish.”
“I am glad to hear it for his sake. You and
I are the friends of both parties; we can re
joice with each other.”
He drew his chair nearer hers, and took her
hand. One moment she resisted,- but it was a
magic touch ; the rosy palm lay quietly in his,
and the dark beard bent so low that it nearly
touched her shoulder. It did not matter much.
Was he not Samuel’s dear friend ? If he was
not the rose, had he not dwelt very near it for
a long, long time ?
“It was a foolish quarrel that parted them,”
said the stranger, softly.
“Did ho tell you about it ?”
“Yes, on board the whaler.”
“Did he blame her much ?”
“Not so much as himself. He said that his
jealousy and ill temper drove her to break off
the match; but he thought sometimes if he
had only gone back and spoken kindly to her,
she would have married him after all.”
ous^.“"’-'SH '§ bki
times.”
“She was not happy, then, with another ?”
“Mr. , that is to say her husband—was
very good and kind,” said the little woman,
thinking of the lonely grave on the hillside
rather penitently, “and they lived very pleas
antly together. There never was a harsh word
between them.”
“Still—might she not have been happier with
Sam ? Be honest and say just what you think.”
“Yes.”
“Bravo 1 that is what I wanted to come at.
And now I have a. secret to tall you, and you
must break it to her.”
Mrs. Cobb looked rather scared.
“What is it?”
“I want you to go and see her, wherever she
may be, and say to her, ‘ Maria!’—what makes
you start so ?”
“Nothing—only you speak so like some one
I used to know, once in a while.”
“Do I? Well, take the rest of the message.
Tell her that Sara loved her through the whole;
that when he heard she was free, he began to
work hard at making a fortune ; he has got it,
and he is coming to share it with her, if she
will let him. Will you tell her this?”
The, widow did not answer. She had freed
her hand from his, and covered her face with
it. By and by she looked up again. He was
waiting patiently.
“Well!”
“I will tell her.”
He rose from his seat and walked up and
down the room. .Then he came back and lean
ing on the mantelpiece, stroked the yellow hide
ofßowse with his slipper.
“Make her quite understand that he wants
her for his wife v She may live where she likes,
and how she likes, only it must be with him.”
“I will tell her.”
“Say he has grown old, but not cold ; that he
loves her now perhaps better than he did
twenty years ago ; that he has been faithful to
her all through his life ; and that he will be
faithful till he dies—■”
The Californian broke off suddenly. The
widow answered still:
“I will tell her.”
“And what do you think she will say ?" he
asked, in an altered tone.
“What can she say but— Come!’’
“Hurrah !”
The stranger caught her out of her chair as
if she had been a child, and kissed her.
“Don’t—oh, don’t l”„she cried out. “I am
Sam’s Maria !”
“Well—l am Maria’s Sam !”
Off went the dark wig, and the black whis
kers ; there smiled the dear face she had never
forgotten I I leave you to amagine the tableau
—even the cat got up to look, and Bowse sat
on his stump of a tail* and wondered if he was
on his heels or on his head. The widow gave
one little scream, and then she—•
But stop 1 Quiet people like you and me,
dear reader, who have got over all these follies,
and can do nothing but tumj up our noses at
them, have no business here; I will only add
that two hearts were very happy, that Bowse
concluded after awhile that all was right, and
so laid down to sleep again, and that one week
afterwards there was a wedding at the house
that made the neighboring farmers stare. The
widow Cobb had married her First Love!
Boys should bo very careful how they steer
their |ife-barka if they would arrive without
shipwreck at the Isle of Man,
Rates of Advertising.
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Posters, Handbills, Bill-Heads, Letter-Heads and all
kinds of Jobbing doncg in - country establishments, ex
ecuted neatly and promptly. Justices*, Constables’,
and other BLANKS constantly on hand.
NO, 42,
A Word About School-Girls.
The Principal of one of the beat and moat
popular female boarding-schools in New Tprk
lately said that she considered almost every imo
of her pupils a proper subject for medical treat
ment. At first thought we would say that she
ought to name her school "Mrs. ; —’a Fash
ionable Hospital." But what, then, should wo
style the numerous schools which are not as
good as hers ? The fault is with no one person,
but with our habits of life. It is a notorious
fact that the women of this country are far less
robust and healthy than their cousins in Eng
land. They live too much indoors and in over
heated and ill-ventilated rooms. They take
too little exercise. Their nervous system is
developed too rapidly, and the muscular system,
the vital powers, are too much neglected. The
school occupies the girl’s morning entirely, mu
sic and other accomplishments the afternoon,
study or society the evening and too much of
the night, and the few hours left for sleep do not
shffice to rest and refresh the body for the
same wearying round the next day.
The over-tasked, over-excited frame becomes
an easy prey to insidious disease. Intellectual
and social ambition, both of parents and child,
forbid her to relax her efforts on any slight de
rangement of health, and she toils on under tho
most tremendous pressure, till at last poor na
ture can endure it no longer, and the girl glides
into her grave, or takes her place in that great
and increasing company of permanent invalids,
who remain as mere wrecks of their former
selves, victims of their mistakes, and eloquent
warnings to those who come after them.
We do not now speak of carelessness about
food and dress, which is so fruitful a source of
disease. We limit ourselves to this excessive
stimulation of the brain, this over-working of it
and the body, and the want of proper and suf
ficient-out-door exercise. Owing to our hurry
ing system, there is danger that girls, in the
old-fosbione'd sense of the word, will be classed
among the extinct species, as boys have been
.for years in our cities. We lift up our voice,
askingp arents and educators to try to avert such
a calamity as that. We know that we have
said, and that we can say nothing new upon
this theme: but we can at least cill attention
to these simple fact 4 which everybody sees and
knows. —Providence 'Journal.
A Score of Printers.
In this office are twenty printers engaged.—.
Only look at them ! In ages, they are from
twenty ta forty ; in size and complexion, from
the ordinary stout (we never knew a fat prin
ter) to some that might have crawled through
a greased date. Some as white as a Circassian
and others as brown or rosy as your “Georgia
come ucaiueu nae a pard, Others smooth as
the Greek slave. One has travelled all over the
North American continent, hunted, bears in
Arkansas, or the wild horse in the pampas of
South America ; another has been out on the
broad ocean, has seen life before the mast; an
other graduated at West Point—served in the
army; another accompanied Col. Doniphan in
Xenophonia grand campaign over all New Mex
ico. What a book he could write 1 Another
has kept a tavern, sold goods at auction, trav
elled all over the United States several times,
been well off, and brokers —often. Two have
been on the stage—-a profession printers are
much addicted to; for abopt one-half the. actors
on the American board are printers. One, we
believe, has preached sermons; another has lec
tured to crowded houses; another has served
in Mexico with General Scott; a sixth has been
a stump orator, member of the Legislature “out
West,” and fought a duel, we believe. Three
have practised medicine, kept store, and dealt
in horses, cotton, and negroes. Two have held
municipal offices. Fonr or five have been offi
cers or privates in various military companies.
One served with General Sam Houston in the
Texan revolution; one in the Canada rebellion.
Six or eight have edited and published news
papers in the United States. One has been an
officer of a packet on the “raging canawl.”—
One was wounded—leg off—atjthe battle of Mon
terey. Another has clerked on a Mississippi
steamer, and was blown up and slightly woun
ded. Some are, or have been married, sumo
are old bachelors. All have seen more or less
of life and its changeable scenes. They arc live
mm, good practical printers, speaking various
languages, and fornf a newspaper force hard to
surpass or equal.— Cincinnati Unionist.
Don’t run away from the world’s temptations
and influences. If you are really a coward, go
and hide yourself somewhere, until you h.ave
screwed up back-bone enough to face the
enemy like a man. Don’t run away at 'ho
slightest indication of danger, as if you hadn’t
the slightest confidence in yourself. Nobody
erer conquered a foe by beating a retreat. If
you mean to fight the battle of life like a bero,
you can’t begin too early. Would you respect
yourself, and win the respect of others? Then
don’t shrink away from trials and- temptations,
but encounter them, smite them down, lay
them in the dust at your feet. A man who
has conquered his enemy is immeasurably
greater than the poltroon who creeps away in
abject terror. High or loir, rich or poor, a a
are all soldiers in the action that terminates
only with the sunset of life’s day, and the weak
hearted trembler who shrinks back, and quakes
at the sound of the trumpet; is yet far in tho
rear when the light of victory shines on tho
crest of the warrior who pressed straight on
and fought his way through. A temptation
overcome js better discipline than twenty avoid
ed. No man knows his own strength un it it
has beed tried and proved, and the noblest na
tures have passed oftenest through the tiros of
trial.
_ Marriage without love, ia the suicide of hap
piness* As well might a person undertake to
build a dwelling without either credit, cash or
material, as to expect to live happily‘in t*ie
mamed state, without, love.
An editor of a paper in Indiana, wants to'
know if western whiskey was eye* seen "emmo*
t iru’ the rye V’ ' ~
3 MONTHS. 6 MONTHS. 12 MONTHS,
$3,00 54.50 $6,80'
5.00 6,50 8-,00
7.00 8,50 10?» '
8.00 9,50 12,50
15,00 20,00 . 30,0t>
Don’t Ran Away.