The agitator. (Wellsborough, Tioga County, Pa.) 1854-1865, July 19, 1860, Image 1

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    Terras of Publication.
i „r TIOGA COUNTY AGITATOR!! published
a f® Tharsday Morning, and mailed to subscribers
a iTjl rer j reasonable price ,of ■
f a2-ONE DOLLAR PEE ANNUM,
: j '. j/, advance. It is intended to notify every
w |, en the term for which ho bus paid shall
, - by fho stamp— “ Time Oot,” on the mar
f !" e ' [ e last paper. I The paper will then be stopped
E ! s °‘ farther reniittance be received. By this ar
| , ;::^ n cnt no matf can be brought in debt to the
' iIL,. Agitator is the Official Paper of the County,
n lar'e and steadily increasing circulation reach
j ’ ,i: -nto every neighborhood in the County. 1 It is sent
t -i ; r \,!po*la!Jc to any Post Officii within the county
“'.jj i, tt t whose moat convenient post office may bo
Sfjnadjcin'nsCo't'Uy- •
a Jssiness Cards, not exceeding 5 lines, paper mclu
ilj.j, 53 per year.
Tl r S™sS : DIR^CTOM^„
iAS. & s * r - irixsoar,
1 TTORNEYS A COUNSELLORS AT LAUT, will
i attend the Court of Tioga, Potter and McKean
pies. rWellsbpro', Fob. 1, 1853.]
I S. B. BROOKS,
I ifTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW
F ZU LcilvD, TIOGA CO. I-A
1 ,j,r multitude of Counselors there is safety. -Kile.
i L1'X ,1559, ly., I
- OAUTT, dentist,
-1- /“vpFICE at his residence near the
jESS I ) Academy, AH work pertaining to
line of business done promptly and
hls 1 [April 22, 1858.]
irrantedj
PICKISS® 3 * HOUSE
CpRX I X h , N. T.
, \ FiEi.i Proprietor.
i ‘taken to’and of charge^
MOUSE
irKJ.t'UORO’, PA. '
t D TA YLOR, PROPRIETOR.
nd. dcerred’lv ppito l*w ia centrally located, and
im’nd'i Itaelf to the patronage ot the travelling public.
”sor.«. IMS. l.u _.
AMEBIC AN HO TEE..
niHSIXG, N.Y..
, s FREEMAN, - - - - Proprietor.
v„U 25 eta. Lodgings, 23 eta. Board, 75 eta. per day.
* renting, 3tarch_.H, 1559. (IfO
J. \V HITTAIiER,
| Hydropathic Fhytictan and Surgeon.
IIKL4SD, TIOGA CO., PENXA.
Will visit patients in all parts of the County, or re
tire them for treatment at his house. [June U,]
VEHIOIEYEA’S HOTEE.
'* B. 0. VBHItILYEA, PB 0PI!IEJOE.
Gaines, Tioga County, Pa.
THIS is anew hotel located within easy access of
tho best fishing and hunting grounds in Northern
No pains will bo spared tor the accommodation
(it pleasure seekers and tho traveling public.
1 1 April 12. 1860. ,i
11. Rj. CO EE,
BARBER AXD JIAIR JDRES!&R.
SHOP in the rear of-the .Post Office. Everything in
his line will ho done as well and promptly as'it
can he done in the city saloons. Preparations for re
□r.-bc dandruff, and beautifying the hair, for sale
cheap Hair and whiskersidyed any color. Call and
iec. n cllshoro, Sept. 22, 1859. ~
THE CORNING JOERNAE.
George W. Pratt, Editor and Proprietor.
I'h published at Corning, Steuben Co., N. Y.. 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.--
Ttose desirous of extending their business into that
-aod the adjoining counties will find it an excellent aa-
Tertising medium. Address as above. !
DRESS MAjKISG. f
MISS M. A. JOHNSON, respectfully announces td
the citircus of IVellsburo and vicinity, that she
ha-taken rooms over Niles ) A Elliott’s Store, where
th<prepared la execute all orders in the line of
iR£SS MAKING. Having had experience in the
badness, she feels couddent that she can give satisfac
tion to all who may favor her with their patronage.
Sept. 29. 1359.
John b- shakespeab,
TAILOR. !
SWING opened Uis shop in the room over B. B.
Smith & Son's Store, respectfully informs the
cituer.s of Wellsboro’ and vicinity, that he is prepared
to execute orders in his line of business with prompt
ness dcapxbcb.
Cutlinj done or short notice*
■WeUsboro, Oct. 21, ISoS.—Cnw '
I x O MBS IGI A A Sj.
A CHOICE LOT of the best imported Italian anp
Uerman
VIOLIN STRINGS.
Bass Viol strings. Guitar Strings, Tuning Forks
Bridges ic., lust received and for sale at
“ ROT'S DRUG STORE.
WEEESBOBO HOTEL,
WELLSBOROCGH, PA,
B. S. FARR.
{Former?# of the United States Hotel.)
Haring leased this well known and popular House,
solicits the patronage of the public.' Hath attentive
and obliging waiters, together with the Proprietors
knowledge of the business, ho hopes to Wake (he stay
at those who stop with him both pleasant and
agreeable. ;
Wellshoro, May 31, 1800. .!
WATCHES! "WATCHES!
THE Subscriber has pot aHne nn'ortment of heavy
■ ENGLISH LEVELI UVSTEK-CASE
Hold and Silver Watctacs*
trbich he trill sell cheaper than “ dirt” on ‘Time, i. e.‘
U will sell ‘Time Pieces'on a short (approved) credit.
All-kinds of REPAIRING done promptly. If a
)cb of work is not done to the satisfaction of the party
ordering it, no charge will he made.
Past favors appreciated and a contiuaneo of palron-
Ige kindly solicited. ANDIE FOLEYS
Welisboro, June 21, ISIS.
p. w. Kiasih i
SADDLE AKDJIAREESS MAKER,
WEI-LSBORO ST.,TIOGA, TA. ,
TAKES this method of informing the,citizens of
Tioga, and of the County generally, that ho has
established himself'at Tioga, where he will manufac
ture and keep on hand for sale a good stock of
Saddles, Bridles, Heavy Harness, Carnage Harness
of all kinds Ac. Also Hames. Halters, Whips, Traces,
Collars Ac. All work warranted,
impairing done on short notice,
lioga, Sept. 1,1559. —1 y. .
W . ». TERBEII, 0
CORKING, y. Y.
Wholesale and Retail Dealer) in
DRUGS, Jfedieiues, Lead, Zinc, and Colored
Pa\Kt«, Oih, VarnS’hy Brnnhcs Oanpheneand Bimiing
FUid, Due St*jfy Sa*K and Glass, Pure Liquors for
Pettit ifedicincs, Artists Paints and Brushes,
Perfumery, Fonrrj Articles, Flavoring Extracts, <tc.,
1 ALSO,
—A general assortment* of School Books—
Blank Books, Staple and Fahey
Stationary.
Druggists and Country Merchants dealing
in any of the above articles can be supplied at a small
advance on Kew York prices. £Sept. 22, 1857.]
H. I). DEMING,
WouU r“spectfally announce to the people of Tioga County
thw he is now prepared to fill all orders for Apple. Pear
Peach, Cherry, Nectarine, Apricot. Evergreen and Deciduous
Ornamental trees. ATwvCurrants Kaspberrles, Gooseberries,
Blackberries and Strawberries of all new .and approved vari
]> (“\£ pC Consisting of Hybrid, Perpetual and Sum
jA-yoijO—mer row*, jxoss. Bourdon* Noisette, Tea,
Bengal dr China, and Hoses. * r
iiHR ITT) Dpt) V Including*!! the finest newn
a ”t*etiea af r AUhea r .Cal*cantbus
Oectria.'LU&cs, Spiraea, Syiingias. Vibucn«ms, Wlgilias Ac.
FT OW PR g : Gulins,
a Li\JW tiUO— nyaclnthß Narclsriß; Jonquils, Xil
«W. 4c. - <
GRAPES—AII Tarleties.
Peabody's New llaatjbois Strawberry, i doz,plants, $5.
- Orders re*poctfully solicited.
tCB-Ordera for Grafting, Budding or Pruning will bo
fromptiy attended to.‘ Address
w«16,’58. H. D. DEMINQ, W t i i boro, Pa.
r
ITCHELI/E &TET7P OF IPECAC. For Coldf,
'A Coughs, Croup, 4c. At Roy’-e Dreg Store.
Tilt: AdITATQIO
- • -• Squarf
~' T- ■■■■.■-- : ■ - : ...= 2 *■»
YOL. YI.
■WE 3JAYE BEEN FRIENDS.
BT T. HIBJLH JCDSOK. <■
We have been friends together.
But we are parted, now j
X know thou scorn’st me, forX mark
That scorn upon thy brow. '
Thou'st thrust me rudely from thee,
, And oft in pain I sigh— •
We have been friends together, i
W© are not now—and why ? **>
We have been friends together.
In moments past,
When ali seemed bright and beautiful—
Alas! too bright to last.
Those days iof joy and bliss have fled,
And this thought comes to me—
We have been friends together,
Perhaps no more to be.
We hare been friends together
Through many a weary year 5
Together we bare laughed in glee,
Together shed the tear.
Thy'griefs and sorrows were mine own,
Aline were the same to thee.
For wo were friends together,
Alas! no more to be.
We have been friends together,
But we thought best to part;
No eye but God’s can read the grief
Which rends one stricken heart,
j- Farewell! and if, in future years,
1 Thy heart becomes less cold,
Then shed one tear-drop for that friend
Who loved,-theo so of old.
THE BORROWED GARMENTS.
“ Frank, lend me your swallow-tailed coat.”
“ What for ?”
“Here,” and I tossed him a moderate sized
card bearing the following inscription : “ Mr.
and Mrs. Fitzwater’a compliments, and would
be pleased to see Mr. W iikins on Friday eve,
the thirteenth instant, at 8 o’clock.
“ No doubt of it.”
“ No doubt of what?”
. " That the sight of you would please Sir.
and Mrs. Fitzwaters."
“ Probably ; will you lend me the coat ?”
“Yes, certainly.”
Frank Barnes and I were disciples of FEs
culapius, and pursuing our studies at the—
Medical College. We were chums and fast
friends: we studied together, walked together,
ate at the same table, and enjoyed in common
our shuck-mattress and scanty quilts. We had
just finished our raid-day allowance of “ vict
uals,” measured according to the board-house
rule, and called by courtesy and our landlady
“ dinner,” and had lit our pipes for our post
prandial siesta, when the above card' was sent
up to me, and occasioned the remark that opens
this chapter. Frank and I were the same
hight and weight, and his coat would fit me
exactly: hut hero the resemblance ceased en
tirely. Frank, though not foppish in tho least,
was always dressed with scrupulous neatness,
and though he seldom went into' society, al
ways had a complete suit of handsome clothes.
On the other hand, while I was very fond of
society, I was very unfortunate in regard to
my wardrobe, and was rarely the possessor of a
respectable outfit. I had gone one moonlight
night to tho suburbs, with the intention of ser
enading my adorable young lady .ed
ucated, refined and polished according to the
most approved style, but whose father was not
at all romantic, had a lamentably tuneless ear,
and “ didn’t approve of these hero sereynades;
thought young men ought to be in bed time
enough to get up airly ip the mornin’, and not
f i round howlin like a pack o’ painters." Not
ilhstanding this.prejudice on the part of the
parent, I resolved to woo the fair lady with a
song, perhaps with two or three. Having im
portuned her to • Wake, lady, wake/ I was re
spectfully soliciting her to “Meet me by moon
light/ when her father interrupted the strain
in a most inharmonious manner :
PROPRIETOR.
“ Look here, young man, pack up that blas
ted fiddle, and leave here ! How do you s'peso
a man’s goin’ to sleep with such an infernal
screechin’ guin’ on ?”
. I did not dign to reply to his interrogatory,
muttering, “ I go, but X return,” went. Vexed
at such a termination of the affair, I waited
near by till all was again quiet, then went
hack, and taking up the thread of my -song
where it had been broken off, finished it.—
Gathering confidence as I went on, I was pro
ceeding to request her to “ Come over the hills
with me,” and was picturing in glowing colors
the “ sweet content of our humble, happy lot,”
when whack! like a discharge from a catapult,
a body of unknown shape and dimensions, hut
evidently of considerhble weight and density,
struck the fence near me. Instinctively divin
ing that this came from' the hands of the “ en
raged parent,” and fearing lest ho should fol
low up his salute with a volley, I silenced the
vibrating guitar-strings, postponed the “ Good
night, song, sine die, (excuse the hull,) and re
treated. In my hasty and not remarkably
graceful evacuation of the premises, an upstart
n»,\l in the fence made an ugly right-angled
rent in my best broad-cloth.
And now Mr. and Mrs, Fitzwater want to
see me Friday eve : to-day is Thursday : too
late to get a new garment made, to say noth*
ing of my own impecuniosity. But as I said
before, I was very fond of society, especially
that of Amelia, who would certainly be at the
party, as she was on very intimate terms with
Miss Georgia Fitzwater,, So go I must; and
as society had decreed that a coat is an indis
pensable article of apparel at a party, X bor
rowed Frank’s immacculate swallow-tail.
, “ And Frank, I shall want your gaiters,” as
I discovered that one of mine showed a very
ragged abaraion on the side, and the other was
sadly run down at the heel.
“ Take ’em along,” said he, and quietly went
on “ cloud compelling.” But I was too much
agitated to smoke. I let my pipe go out, call
ed Frank'Mrs. Fitzwater, and was only re
called to my senses when he reminded me that
my “doeskins" needed repairing. So I seized
a needle and thread, and after many futile ef
forts succeeded in passing the latter through
the eye of the former. I then ‘ carefully closed
the gapping fissure, not without tangling the
thread several times, .and uttering several ad
jectives not very complimentary to the panta
loons and the maker thereof.
'T were vain to attempt to tell whaf horrid
dreams, racked my brains that night. ’ They
were on olla jmdrifa of absurd incongruities.
At one time I .was making .nay tajaam to
Mrs.' Fitzwater, and repeating the welj-cophed
3*ftote9 to ttic sptwdtaii of tire UvtK of jpmttom antr tt je Wenlttog Hefotm.
WHILE THERE SHALL BE A "WHOSO UNRIQHTED, AND UNTIL "MAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN” SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE,
WELLSBORO, TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING. JULY 19, 1860.
complimentary speech to Miss Georgia, when
suddenly the needle which I inadvertently had
left in my trowsers, made its presence known
in a very insinuating manner. At another,
Mr. Fitzwater, was shaking my hand with one
of hie, and with the other extracting the pins
with which I had tried to cobble the disinte
grated coat-tail; while Amelia’s father stood
by poising two bricks over my devoted head.
Amelia looked charming in Frank’s dress
coat; and Miss Temperance Jones, and elderly
spinster who formerly taught my young idea,
and administered wholesome correction .with
her slipper, (I forgot tfao number, it seemed
Brobdiguagian at that time,) appeared at a
aide door armed with my damaged gaiter.—
This last apparition woke me, and I lay fever
ishly tossing till morning. When morning
come, I rose, hut unrefrethed.- The day was
long and weary, and enjoyed most miserably.
Evening came at last, and with it the necessity
of preparing for the party. Who that has ever
got ready for a party does not remember the
petty annoyances attendant on the operation ?
How the refractory shirt will not be buttoned,
and the razor will cut your chin ! Your re
bellious scalp-lock will not submit even to a
most copious lubrication with fragrant Maocas
sar. All this I suffered and more ; and Frank
complacently sat there laughing at me.
“ Wilkins,” said he, after I had gone through
the trying ordeal of outward purification, and
donned a clean under garment, “Wilkins, have
you polished those gaiters ?”
“ Thunder 1 Nol”
So I had to divest myself of the clean gar
ment, and go at it. As I sat (iifently rubbing
the calf-skins, the thought struck me that per
haps I could not get them on. ’The distressing
idea had not entered my brain before, and now
it came upon me with terrific force. I have
said that Frank was about as tall as myself hut
as he-probably had more aristocratic blood in
him than I have, ho wore shoes two numbers
smaller than mine.. Though those before me
were too large for him, for me they word “ a lee
tle too small by a plaguey sight.” But I had
gone too far to he baffled by this fact; and so
after a great deal of exertion, much perspira
tion, and perhaps a few maledictions, I succee
ded in encasing my extremities in the shoes.—
I performed my ablutions a second time, and
proceeded with my toilet.
“Wilkins,” said Frank, “Miss Georgia is
rather sentimental, isn’t she ?”
“ Father.”
“ Somewhat given to ‘ awakening the slum
bering echoes in the Caverns of memory ?”
“ Somewhat.” I was too much engaged with
my cravat to make any very extended remarks.
“ Well, Wilkins, when she talks to you about
the ‘ hollow-hearted world/ don’t spoil the met
aphor by a description of the auricles and ven
tricles.”
“ There’s my hat on the floor; take it.”
“ No, I thank you ; you need it to-night.”
By this time I was dressed; and leaving the
house I started on foot for the Fitzwater man
sion, ns it was but a few squares distant. I
had not gone far when I discovered that the
shoes were rather tight; but I trudged boldly
on, and by the time X reached the house, my
feet were in an anaesthetic state, and I was com
paratively comfortable.
I pass over my entrance ; the nervous manip
ulation of my cravat in the cloak room, while
I - endeavored to persuade myself that I was
perfectly self-possessed ; my salutation of the
host and hostess, and my chat with Miss Geor
gia, in which the charming moonlight even
ings Mrs. Harlan’s last novel were the predom
inent topics, with a few remarks on the strug
gles of unappreciated genius, and one allusion
to the ‘hollow-hearted world,’ Georgia was
called away by some person to he presented to
Coianel and Mrs. Somebody, and espying Miss
Amelia across the room, I made my way to
her side. With her I forgot all the tribulations
of the day, and was fast losing consciousness
in the intoxication of love, when I was called
back to this world in a very uncomfertable
manner.
“ Sir,” said the editor of the —, with Pick
wickian emphasis and dignity, “ 1 set my foot
down upon such principles!”
The remark was made to Major —, one of
the prominent street-eoner politicians, and in
reference to some of the Major’s principles—
hut the foot—the eighteen inches, rather—was
set down upon my unoffending member, which
I had graoefnlly thrown before me in taking my
favorite attitude. Oh lit was excruciating 1—
That ruthless tread sent a thrill through every
filament of my nervous system, and at the same
time awoke me from my elysian dream. A
howl was upon my lips, but I choked it down
with a congh and a subdued groan, and wiping
the perspiration from my brow, attempted tq,
renew the conversation with Amelia. But the
charm was broken. I made a few disjointed,
spasmodic remarks, wiped more perspiration
from my brow, afilfwas about to plead sudden
indisposition and retire, when a gentleman ap
proached and handed mo a letter, saying I had
dropped it as I drewjmy handkerchief from my
pocket. As ho-was’handing it to me Amelia
snatched it, I trenfbled in my—l beg pardon
j —in Frank’s shoes, dest it might he one of ray
numerous duns, which were just then falling
thick and fast upon me. I begged her not to
read it; tried to seize it; and falling in this, re-,
sorted to strategic measures with equally poor
success. My anxiety only increased her curi
osity, of course; and opening it she began to
read : —“ Dear Frank, your sweet, charming,
lovely, and big"hly-prized letter came —.” The
truth flashed upon me in an instant. It was
one of Frank’s letters which he had left in his
coat pocket, having used the envelope to light
his pipe with. I became more anxious than
ever, and entreated her give it to me and permit
me to explain. For visions of a broken en
gagement, rings and other tokens returned,
blighted hopes, and blasted reputation, passed
quickly through my brain. I had the letter;
ray name was Frank, and it waq indisputably
a love letter. Female logic needed no more de
finite propositions. Calming myself os well'as
L.could, I asked Amelia to come with me out
upon the piazza, and I would explain all.-
We went out, and I was rapidly giving her the
details) telling her that it was my chum's let
ter from his-cousin np in Vermont,'.and that
I hoped she would not read it, as be would be
very angry if the contents were known—”
“ But how did you get it ? He would not let
yon have such a letter.”
“ Here was a dilemma. I must either tell
her a falsehood, or acknowledge that I am wear
ing borrowed garments. My pride revolts from
the latter horn, as would hers at the thought of
a coatless lover. . If I adopted the other alter
native, I sacrifice my sense of right; and be
sides I had not time to concoct a respectable
lie. But pride prevailed, and I did not men
tion the coat. Ido not know what I did tell
her; it must have been an incoherent jargon,
for I remember that she looked at me with cu
rious, inquiring eyes, as though she had suspi
cions concerning either my veracity or my san
ity. She seemed satisfied, however, and gave
me the letter.. The rooms were warm and crowded
—the guests were warm, and many of them
very musky—so wa preferred to promenade on
the cool piazza, and Iwas again oblivions of all
things earthly. I repeated the choice selec
tions I had made from Byron, and what I could
remember of Lalla Booth. Thus, in full en
joyment of the calm autumnal night, were our
souls in sweet commune. As we gazed at the
distant 'stars, and selected one as our future
home, the well-known words of the poet rose
to my lips:
“ Olt in my fancy's wanderings,
I’ve wished this little Isle had wings;
And wo within Its fairy bowers
Were wafted off to—”
“ The devill” I cried, as I struck my foot—
the bruised one—against one of Mrs. Fitzwa
ter’s flower pots. Amelia withdrew her arm
from mine, and easting a scornful, withering
look upon me, said, in a voice husky with emo
tion ;
“ Sir, you are a brute! you are drunk!”
She paused, as though for a reply, and I was
about to say that X wished I were" both, when
she continued :
“ You have insulted me both in your conduct
and your languag*. You carry on flirtations
with other girls. You have a letter from one,
and when I see it, you make a miserable drunk
en apology for it. "We part forever, Never
appear in my presence again.”
And I didn’t. With majestic air she disap
peared ; I left the house as fist as my crippled
feet would take me. I reached home and ta
king off the coat and shoes which were the
cause of all my misery, deliberately threw the
letter at Frank, who sat deeply immersed in the
mysteries of Carpentier. But I was too much
agitated to take aim : one missile shattered the
mirror, the other fractured the wash-bowl and
pitcher.
Frank seized me before I could put the coat
into the Are, held me till I was somewhat calm,
then put me to bed, and went on reading, after
muttering something about ‘ drunk again.’ I
awoke in the night with a high fever ; roused
Frank and sent him for the doctor, who came,
saw, and blistered me most unmercifully.
Thus did I blight my matrimonial prospects,
suffer a brain fever, and break a .looking-glass
and washing utensils, (exorbitant'.ill of dam
ages sent in by our landlady,) all because I
went to a party in borrowed garments.
I bave never seen Amelia since the memora
ble evening ; but have learned that she mar
ried a respectable grain dealer out West, and
has an interesting family of children.
I am a bachelor yet and have an intensely in
teresting family of corns.
Garibaldi’s Strong Men.— A characteris
tic incident occurred at one of the steepest
rocky eminences which Garibaldi wished'to oc
cupy, to obtain command of a position above
Palermo, I£e had a piece of mountain artille
ry, but no means to raise it. While he'was at a
stand, at the base of the rough and almost per
pendicular height, two coniadini (countrymen)
came up and inquired what wae the cause of
the delay. They were brothers, and possessed
the characteristic spirit of the Sicilians, with
even a superior degree of the strength,-activity
and power of endurance of the Islanders gen
erally. | After a short consultation between
themselves, one of them bent bis manly frame
down over the gun, and embracing it as one
friend does another, with an effort which might
be compared with that of Samson, raised it to
his broad shoulders, and with a slow but firm
step, commenced his way up the rocky path.—
Ilis brother performed the same operation with
the carriage of the gun; and both-proceeded
silently, but resolutely, up the rocks, which
were so rough and so steep that few men, ex
cept Sicilian mountaineers, would willingly at
tempt to ascend alone.
The bystanders expressed their joy and sur
prise ; but Garbaldi stood gazing at the noble
patriots as if astonished, and when he recover
ed himself, he exclaimed:
“I knew the Sicilians were brave and devo
ted to liberty; but if I had known that X
should find such men as these, I would have
come alone I”
Old Newspapers.— Many people take news-'
papers, but few preserve them; the moat inter
esting reading imaginable,, is a file of old news
papers, It brings up the very age with all its
genius, and its spirit more than the most la
bored description of the historian. Who can
take a paper dated half a century ago; with
out the thought, that almost every name prin
ted there, is now cut upon a tombstone, at the
head of an epitaph ? The doctor, (cptack or
regular) that there advertised his medicines,
and his cures, has followed the sable train of
his patients—the merchant with ' bis ships—
could get no security on his life, and the actor,
who could make others laugh or weep, can now
only furnish a skull for his successors in Ham
let. It is easy to preserve newspapers, and
"they will repay the trouble, for, like that of
wine, their'value increases with age, and like
old files have sometimes been sold at prices too
starting to mention.-
Some patent curiosity-hunter has found that
the of grains in a bushel of wheat
weighing sikty pounds, is' upward of six hun
dred and thirty-nine thousand. ,
_A Lady’s dressing-table is probably called a
toilet, because it is there that most of her : toll
is generally performed.
A TOUCHING STOBY - :
The following"affective narrative purports to
have been given by a father to His son, as a
warning derived from his own bitter experience
of the sin of grieving and resisting a mother’s
love and counsel; J
"What agony was visible on my mother’s, face
when she saw that all she : said and suffered
failed to move me! She rose to go home and I
followed at a distance. She spoke-no more to
me till she reached her own door.
“It is school time now,” said she. “Go, my
son, and once more let me beseech you to think
upon what I have said,”
“I shan’t go to school,” said I.
"She looked astonished at my boldness, but re
plied firmly; 1
“Certainly you wUI go, Alfred, I command
yon.”
“I will not,” said I in a tone of defiance.
“One of two things you must do, Alfred—ei
ther go to school this moruing, or I will look
you in your room, and keep you there till you
are ready to promise implicit obedience to my
wishes in the future. I
_“I dare you to do it, you can’t get me np
stairs.”
“Alfred, choose now,” said my mother, who
laid her hand upon my arm. She trembled vio
lently and was deadly pale.
“If yon touch me I will kick yon,” said I
in a terrible rage. God knows I knew- not what
I said. !
“Will you go Alfred .
“No,” I replied, but quailed j beneath her
'•Then follow me,.” said she, as she grasped
my arm firmly. '
I raised my foot—oh, my son, hear me !—I
raised my foot and kicked her—my sainted
mother 1 How my head reels as the torrent of
memory rushes over me! I kicked my mother,
a feeble woman—-my mother! !She staggered
back a few steps, and leaned against the wall.
She did not look at me; I saw her heart beat
against her breast, |
“Oh! Heavenly Father)” said she, “forgive
him—he knows not what he does !”
The gardner just then passed the door, and
seeing my mother pale and, almost unable to sup
port herself, he stopped. 1 She | beckoned him
“Take this boy up stairs* and ! )ek him,in his
room,” said she and turned from me. Look
ing-back as she was entering! her room, she
gave such a look of agoriy, mingled with the
most intense love !—it was the last unutterable
pang from a heart that vt’as broken.
In a moment I found myself a prisoner in
my own room. I thought, for a moment, I
would fling myself from the open window, and
dash my brains out, but 1 felt afraid to do it.
I was not penitent. At times my heart was
subdued ; but my stubborn pride rose in an in
stant, and bade me not yield. The pale face of
my mother haunted me. I flung myself on the
bed and fell asleep. Just at twilight I hoard a
footstep approach the door. Xt was my sister.
“What may I tell my mother for you ?” she
asked. ;
“Nothing,” I replied. i
“Oh, Alfred I for my sake, for all our sakes,
say that you are sorry. She . longs to forgive
you.” !
I would not answer.. I heard her footsteps
slowly retreating, and again I threw myself on
the bed, to pass another wretched and fearful
night. ‘
Another footstep slower and feebler than my
sister’s disturbed me. A voice called me by
name. It was my mother’s.
“Alfred my son, shall I come?” she asked.
I cannot tell what influence, operating at
that moment made me speak adverse to my
feelings. The gentle voice of my mother
thrilled through me, and melted the ice of my
obdurate heart, and I longed to throw myself
on her neck, but I did not. But my words gave
the lie to my heart when I said I was not sorry.
I heard her withdraw. I heard her groan. I
longed to call her back, bui-1 did not .
I was awakened from my'uneasy slumber,
by hearing my named called loudly, and my
sister stood at my bedside. .
“Get up Alfred. Ob, don’t wait a minute !
Get up, and come with me. Mother is dying.”
I thought I was yet dreaming, but I got up
and followed my sister. On the
bed, pale and cold as marble lay my mother.
She was not undressed. She had thrown her
self on the bed to rest; arising to go again to
me, she was seized with a palpitation of the
heart, and borne senseless to her room;
I cfuinot tell you with what agony I looked
up6n ner; my remorse was tenfold more bitter
from the thought that she would never know
it. I believed myself to be her I
fell on the bed beside her. I could not weep.
My heart burned in ray bosom ; my brain was
on fire. My sister threw her arms around me
and wept in silence. Suddenly we saw a light
motion of mother’s hand; Her eyes unclosed.
She had recovered consciousness, but not speech.
She looked at me and moved her lips. I could
not understand her words. “Mother, mother!”
I - shrieked, “sriy only that you forgive me.”
She could not say it with her lips, but her hand
pressed mine. She smiled upon me, and lifting
her thin white Hands, sW’clasped my .own with
in them, and oast her eyes upward. She moved
her Ups in prayer, and thus she died. X re
mained still kneeling beside that dear form, till
my gentle sister removed me. The joy of youth
had gone forever.
Boys who spurn a mother’s control, who are
ashamed to own that they are wrong, who think
it manly to resist her authority, or .yield to her
influence, beware! Lay not up for yourselves
bitter memories for future years’.
A man can do without his own approbation
in society, but he must make great,exertions to
gain, it when alone ; without it, solitude is hot
to be endured.
‘i The meanest man in the world lives in Lon
don. ■ lie button’s his shirt with wafers and
looks at his money through-a magnifying glass.
An Exchange saysA party of our
chased a fox thirty-six hours; They actually
“run the thihg into the ground.”
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All classes of men complain of • hard work.’,
The carpenter thinks that it is ‘ too bad’ that
isohl.gcd to if ork so bard foraliring. while hia
neighbor the physician can ride in his carriage
to attend patients or leisurely deal out medi
cines in his office.
The physician thinks it bard work to be in
readiness to obey calls at all hours of the day ;
and night; to travel in cold and heat, 1 through
mud and storms, and not even be, allowed one
hour in the twenty-four which he can
ly call his own. He envies his friend the car;
penter, who, when the day’s work is done-can
return to his family and rest in peace. ?
The blacksmith feels that a hard lot in Ufa
has fallen to him, as he strikes the. anvil thro’
the long day, while on the opposite side of the
street, his neighbor, the lawyer, seems to be
called to the performance of no harder work
than writing at his table or the reading of hia
law books. Bat the lawyer, as his glance falls
upon the blacksmith, thinks of the years spent
in study to fit him for the profession, of other
years of strenuous mental exertion and con
stant application to gain a reputation, of the
still incessant toil necessary to attain, it—of
his frequent unavoidable contacts with most
'hardened villians, of the revolting relations of
crime he is compelled"tir hear, of the hundreds
of suffering, innocent victims, who plead with
him to succor them from powerful oppressors,
but whom he cannot aid. With a sigh he turns
away from the whistling, singing, jolly-faeed
and brawny-armed blacksmith, and feels it
harder to work to hammer and weld the iron
and blow thefoellows of the law in such a man
ner as shall always keep the fires of his repu
tation burning before the world.
So it is in the various branches of and
in all professions. Each is apt to think bis
neighbor’s business light work compared to the
duties incumbent upon him to perform. But it
is not so. The merchant and the mechanic, tho
clergyman and the farmer, have all work to do
—either mental or physical—of equal imports
ance to the general body politic, and requiring
equal exertiohs. This grumbling about bard
work is of m benefit to" us, but decidedly fool
ish and wicked. •
We are made to work. God constituted us
with bones, sinews/ strength, and in every way,
by mental and physical endowment, adapted ua
for the performance of labor. Labor is called
worship : and whether in the mentalor physL
cal sphere of action, he who labors the most
perseveringly, the most unraurmuringly, the •
most efficiently for the good of himself and
welfare of his feUow-me«, must b© accounted
the most faithful and acceptable worshipper.
YAUKEiI GUMPTION.
SaysX.P. Willis. was amused a few
days since, with the contrast between two men
who were working for the same wages, worth
describing, because it illustrates some truth-*-
thc difference between the common American
mind and the common European. TVe were
prepared to throw our bridge across Idlewild
brook. A quiet little harrow-shouldered Amer
ican, with tay Horse hitched to a dray; was draw
ing stone for a railroad beyond, and a broad
shouldered fellow from the old country was dig
ging|earth to fill in. As I stood looking on for
a moment, I saw a thrifty cedar, which
was partly uprooted, and requesting the digger
to set it upright and shovel some dirt around
it, I walked on. Returning jv few minutes af
ter, I saw my cedar straighy enough, but its
roots still exposed, “Why didn’t you cover it
with dirt ?” I asked. “Sure, sir,” said sturdy
Great Britian, with a look of most honest re
gret that he had not been able to oblige me,
“you told me to shovel ii, and I had no shovel.’*
He was working with a Spade!
It was not ten minutes after this that I savr
my little Yankee unhitching the
horse from the dray. “jWhat are you going to
do?” I “Why,.there is no more stone to
begot on this side,” ho said, “and as thie car
penter don’t seem to bccomingto fix this bridge*
I thought I’d step over and get Whot’s-his
name’s oxen and snake them timbers up, and
then haul ’ew-across with a block snd. tackle;
and timber over, and put on the planks. I
could draw stone from the other side then.”
Here was a quiet proposal to do what I looked
forward to as quite a problem for a professed
mechanic. X had bespoken a carpenter fox
the job three weeks before. There stood the
abutments six feet high and twenty-five fe» t
apart,.and a stream swollen by the freshet and ’
hardly fordable on horseback, rushing between ;
ari>Lhow these two immovable timbers, thirtv
feetlong, were to be got across without mat hi
nery and /scaffold to span this chasm of twenty; •
five feet, I was not engineer, enough tu see. 16 -
was among the “chores that a man with coni ’
mon gumption could do easy enough,” howev
er, as my little fried said, and it was done next J
morning, with black and t ickle, rollers and lev- ’•
ers—he going about it as natural and handy as f
if he had been a bridge builder by profession;
There being no higher price foriday labor with
this amount of “gumption,” and day labor sucli
as the other man’s who could not conceive how-'*
a spade might be used for a shovel, shews how
common ingenuity is in our country, and how
characteristic of a Yankee it is to know ho ofi- ;
stacle.” J- . i
PotiTEVE^s. —A -truly refined and Chridtir-im
politeness exhibits itself at home with intimata”
friends. It is manifest toward husband 'qr wife, •
toa-ards children and domestics ; and none are ■
better witnesses to the politeness of the Chris
tian gentleman or lady than inferiors -and de
pendents, and those whQ witness the daily strug
gles of the man for existence.' •
To such is exposed the inner man,'ana to
none is more apparent the utter hypocrisy of'
that individual who affects a gentlemanly bear-"
ing towards superiors, but is,harsh and un
pleasant towards those who ara more in need of*
his soft and lender tones. 1 !
. Counterfeit, politeness affects pinch of cour
tesy in certain places, and people,
but behind the scenes you view the, liaked de-l
furmity of the character mapifosted in .harsh,"
rough tones and words to those who were.' first
won by blandness and suavity. ■ , ’
HARD WORK,