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 (“\£ 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.” Rates of Advertising. ~ srtisements will be charged slpcrsquare or or ffcree insertions, and 25 cents for crcp> Bptrlnsertion. Advertisements of less tH*u rq ndered as a square. The subjoined rates will :ed for Quarterly, Half-Yearly and Yearly ad'- 3 mosths. 6 sooths. 12 moxtnr. -«» . . 53,00 J $1,50 $6,00 do, . 5,00 6,‘50 8,00 i , ° 0- 8,50 10,00 i column, . . 8,00 9,50 12,'58 * „ , ‘ la,Of). 20^)0— 30,00 Column, - , 35,00 35,00 “~soj«<—_ Advertisements not having the number of. insertion, desired marked upon them, will he published until Old dered out and charged accordingly. .Posters; Him dibits, Bill-Heads, Letter-Heads and all kinds .of Jobbing done in country establishments ei, eouted neatly and promptly. Justices’, Constable’s; and other BLANKS constantly on hand. NO. 50. 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,