BE M.- H. COBB.
Published every Wednesday merging and mailed to
jnescribersatONlTDOLLAß ANp,'FIFT;ILCEN3^
free to bonify snfeeriberßj
tboaglubay m»y-r«»aiito=tMu lo
cated iUiCeibWP adjufajiag, ft t conven
ience. * . *
PBBiAqwito* lb'the •paperofTiog* Co.,
SQ d iiisUstb&in every neighborhood therein; -Sib
acciptions being onjtho advance-pay system, it circu
lates among a-ilaienldst tO'-thedntepestof advertisers
to reach. Terms to advertisers os liberal as those of-,
faredby ab.y japbt of e4nal circulation in' Northern
Pennsylvania.
IPS' A, cross on -the. margin if a paper, denotes
that the subscription is about to expire.
IPS' Papers trill be rtoppedT.when the subscription
time expirasjUinlaßs-'the'ajent orders them continu
ance.
& is. ip. WitsoMr
A TTORNEFSA COtTIfSELLORS at LAW,
•JA. trill attend the Courts of Tioga, Potter and
ifcKosji aoantias. 1 ' ' (Weilriforo. JSn. 1863.] -
«N9ff A. MAllHf, -
A TTORNEY '& "COUNSELLOR AT LAW,
attend the severat'Oonrts
tin Potter and McKeantttonntiea. All bnBineas,en.
ctnu'teiAo care wißydeieiye prompt attention, jße
lhas the agency of large tracts of good settling land
iand will attend to the paymbnt of :tlxes on any lands
,jn said counties.' , 1 • Jon. 28,,1863.*
DICKINSON HOUSE,
CORNING, N. ¥.-
Mu. A. FIELD,.'... 1 .?..*. Proprietor.
/”! BESTS taken to and from the Depot free
\JT.of charge. ..... -i .. \ [Jan. 1, IS63.]’
pmsiLriiii house,
CORNER pF- Mils STREET ANJD THEAVENCE,
J. W, SigQITS^..,.;. ..i..
rjpUt§.fl9Pijfr j&viop been, re-iStteJ
X ana re-faimshed throughout, m now i>pe& jtoihe:
public m a first-claw house. ■ [Jan.. 1/1863.] !
IZAA3K WAI-XOW HOUSE,
Qainei, Tio{f»<Joimty, Pa.,
H. C. VERMILYEA,L......i ....Proprietor.
THIS is & new hotel located within easy ac
cess of the bestfiEhligend hunting grounds in
'Kortfaern Pennsylvania-. pains will be spared for
the accommodation of pleAtfhre seekers and the trav
elling public. . • . [Jan. I, 1863.]
A WATCHES, CLOCKS AIUD
Wfa JEW)BUSY I
Repaired at‘BtTLLAßl?*s* A CO’S. STORE, by the
subscriber, in the best manner, and at as low prices as
the same work can bd done’for, by any first rate prac
tical workman in thei" State,'
Wellsboro, July 15,1863*'i A. R. HASCY.
~ WELLSBOBO HOTEL.
B. B;-HOLIDAY,. «...Proprietor.
THE Proprietor having taken possession of
th 9 above Hotel, will spare no pains to insure
-the comfort of guests and the traveling public. At
tentive waiters always ready. Terms‘reasonable.
Wellsboro, Jan. 21,. 186^-tf.
. . A. F|LBT,
Watches, Clocks,[sJewelnr, &c., &c.,
REPAIRED a 4 OLD PRICES.
POST OFFICE, BUILDING,
NO. 5,- UNXPF,BLOCK.
■Wellsboro, May 20, ISf. \ K
E. R. ILACK,
BARBER & H'AIR-DRESSER,
SHpP OYER C. L: WILGOX’S store,
NO. 4=, UNION BLOCK.
Wellsboro, June 24, . _
FLOtU AND TEED STORE.
. WRIGHT BAILEY,
~TTA VH had their’mill thoroughly repaired
JX and are 'teoMvingfrWh ground ’ floor/ feed,
meal, <fco., every day at their store in town.
•Cash paid for all kinds oflgrpin.
WHIG pi A BAILET-
Wellsboro f Aprils, 1363.*
Wool Carding anfl Cloth Dressing.
THE subscriber infornqa his old customers
and the public generally that he is prepared to
card wool and drefia cloth*t r the bid aland, the coming
season, having secured thV services of Mr. J. PEET,
.a competent and. Workman, and ab>o in
tending to give bis persoWttl“attention to the business,
he will warrant all werk <Lss© at liis shdp.
Wool carded at fife per pound, and Cloth
dressed at from ten to ti ppiy ceifts per yard os per
• color and-finish. •* ' J. I. JACKSON.
Wellsboro, May 6,.
marbiM shop.
I AM now receiving aSXOCK. of ITALIAN
and RUTLAND MA&BtB, (bought? with cash)
and am prepared to all kinds of
TOMB-SfONES
.-and MONUMENTS »t the lowest prices.
HARVEY ADAMS is|«x authorised agent and
will sell Stone nt.the same prices as at the shop.
ws BA.YE B&T ONE PRICE.
Tioga, May 20,1863-1=?; ; i „ A. D. COLE.
JOto Jii ROY,
Dealer in pruOs- and medicines,
Chemicals, Varnish'; -Paints, Dyes, Soaps, Per
taiaery, Brushes,-Glass, Putty, Toys, Fancy Goods,
Pure Wines, Brandies, Gins, and other Liquors for
medical use. Agent for the sale of all the best Pat
•ent Medicines of the day. 'Medicines warranted gen-
Tiine ind of the • \
BEST QUALITY.
Physician’s Prescriptions accurately compounded.
The best Petroleum Oil which is superior to any other
for burning in Kerosine Lamps. Also, all other kinds
t>f Oils usually kept in a firs’t class Drag Store.
JShFANCT DTE COLORS in packages all ready
compounded, for the ase rtf private families. Also,
'Pure Loaf Sugar for medibsl compounds. ,
Wellsboro, June 24, 1868-ly.
*Q. V. WELLINGTON & GO’S. BANE,
CORNING, N. Y. s
(Located, in the . ’Dickinson House.)
American G old and Silver Coin bought and sold* -
New York Exchange, do.
l tJneWrent Money, * do.
tyjnlt&i Stated Demsnd‘N°t6B "old issue" bought.
Collections made In all|)krts'of the Union at Cur
rent rates of Exchange,'
Particular pains will h&iaken to accommodate our
patrons from the Tioga Wley. Our Officer will be
open at 7 A. M., and clo&v.nt 7 P. M., giving parties
.passing over the Rail Road ample time to
their business before the departure 1 of. the
drain in the morning, Md after its arrival in'**the
evening. Q. W. W SLLINGTON, President.
Corning, K. Y., Nor. 1% JBO2. . ‘
STATE NORMAI< SCHOOL,
JFor the st!i District, Pfl.]
nmuliolS Classical Seminary*
Sey. W. D. TAYLOR,' A< M Principle
r? r * •••'• -Assistant,
Mn. fi. fi. Tailor, .’....Preceptress,
: Jriss H. A. Farnsworth Assistant.
* *•—« Assistant, and leather in Model School.
..Assistant, and leached of Music.
.i Th t?°!L’ rem ot tide-Institution will ,open Sent.
The Spring Tern,
****• ®Mkjterm ‘lu continue thirteen
Sehoal'-Gouree of study for graduation,
B 4woyea^9 ’ i^a,! ' , P l < M^•
„.l n “i 81 " theTformSl Coarse, and for the Clasai
«»l Department, ere solicited.
, *.M r J mrtie “ Ure ’ Tirtoß, Muns-
Celd, Tioga County Poona.,, Send for • Circular.
_ . V. COCPRAN,
mt
3 Nansfield, August 5,1565.
that'coUjgNbyi using Clipe’e Vegetable
'Z fiawoeaßoa. 1 Pee astroßaenentin another ool
«M. Sold hy DraggljU. . [Feh. 18,1803.]
THE AGITATOR.
to thr hf the Ase» of jFreehont the Spreah of~|&ralthi? »tfotm.
WHILE THERE SHALL BE A WRONG TJNRIGHTED, AND HNTIL "MAN'S inhumanity to man? SHALL OBASB, : AGITATION MBS! CONTINUE,
VOL. X.
Select Doetr£e
OVBB TBE HILL.
Twilight on the brow of night, .
Arid shadows grouped in the rale below:
No star looked out from the distant height,
~ - Andibepnrtof the stream was enchained in enow;
And fiercely the sight wind* roamed abroad,
While' flnata were gathering fast—and still
A wanderer threaded the weary-road.
Which led to the summit and over the hill.
" Does yonr path lie long o’er this lonely wild ?
For the way is dark, and forlorn tbe night!”
He bared his brow and serenely smiled,
And pointed aloft to the ridgy bight;
"Footsore X ? ve traversed the dreary waste,
J In search of the promised- healing'rill;
.iChe. waters of life will be sweet to the taste.
And X know 1 shall drink:, them over the hill."
“ What do yon know of the long-sought shore,
■ Or the greeting tbatawaits in that stranger land ?
For myrids went and returned no more.
And we bear of them now as a silent band.”
' ‘A halo of light crowned the traveller's brow,
u r As he spoke of the summons he went to fulfil;
For the King of that Realm sent a message, and now
£?en waited to welcome him over the bill.
He spoke of the day when an angel came,
-And opened the gateway across the wild,
And a wife passed.out, and she breathed bis name,
As 1 she hastened away with their only child,
And be heard the echo along the moor,
Til) at length it died in a nameless thrill;
And leaving bis woes at bis desolate door.
Her footprints lie sought away over the hill.
TheisUnunU is wrapped in a snowy cloud.
And a river rolls on the other side;
Dense vapors the pilgrim’s form enshroud,
And bis voice is lost in the booming tide.
But still I stand in the twilight dim, '
When'the night grows dark, and the air is chill,
I think of the message that came to him.
And 1 know 1 shall follow him over the hilL
Sclrrt Stars.
NOT DRAFTED.
Sunday afternoon, in a certain rustic town,
the shaded streets were deserted, and the shut
ters of private residences most jealously closed,
for the day was still intensely hot. All the
Week there had been a tempest in this small
teapot yclept Milford, touching upon certain
matters of public and private interest connected
with “the draft;” and very helpful to excited
minds must have been the perfect quiet which,
Tor the last twelve hours, had brooded over the
outward life of the inhabitants.
George Ayres, sauntering down State street,
turned into the gate leading to Squire Peyton’s
residence, and went slowly up the gravelled
walk, switching the roses and honeysuckles
with his cane, and grumbling about the hot
weather. Lizzie Peyton, who had been sitting
on the steps leading out of the library, came
to meet him.
“ What have yon beon doing with yourself
all this hot day, George ?”
“ Trying to keep cool, Lizzie—that’s a fact ;
and I’ve been to church just a little while this
afternoon to return thanks on account of not
being drafted.”
Lizzie blushed indignantly.
0, Geotge, George ! you don’t mean that
surely 7”
•, “ Why not? Patriotism is a very fine thing
incite way; but active service in such hot
weather as this is a little too severe. Probably
a/winter campaign would not be so hard. I'
don’t think I should mind it then.” Now Liz
zie was engaged to George Ayres, and had been
so for two years, and bad fancied tffaTeho was
devoted to him ; bat she bad beon away from
home for tbo last six months, and until lately
knew nothing of his sentiments on war matters.
Coming home, full of loyal enthusiasm for our
cause, she had found him ripened into an alto
gether different man from what her immature
fancy had pictured him. He smiled at her
outburst of generous indignation against the
rebellion, and criticised the conduct of public
affairs bat never lifted band or voice to aid in
the straggle. An indignant aversion to this
cold selfishness had been growing op within
bet for the lust few days ; but, os she listened
to bis last remarks, ntd .thought of recent bat
tles—long rows of graves, hospitals full of
wounded, and streets full of maimed and shat
tered soldiers, and all the generous sacrifices of
a nation made in- the name of truth and free
dom. the hot impulsive thoughts that throbbed
within her congealed into a cold indignation.
She turned her full clear blue eyes upon him
with a steady look, and said with the least spice
of frigid scorn. *
“ I really cannot imagine what the weather
has to do with a man’s doing his duty, under
any circumstances, and in any emergency, in
a manly manner.”
He felt the cut, and endeavored to defend
himself by finding fault with the Government,
as usual.
“ But when the sacrifice of .blood and treas
ure is all in vain, what is the use of wasting
more when nothing is to be gained? We have
been blundering along in such a way that to
day we are as far from a restoration of the
Union as we .were at the beginning of the
war.”
A grand look oame oyer Lizzie’s face, as she
regarded this creature of little faith, with ob
more spiritual vision than a mole and no more
enthusiasm than an oyster; and she had
thought to mate with this harrow son), who
could not see au inch beyond the present, end
to whom the inate justice of a cause gave no
confidence! “'Were it twenty years, instead
of-two, that we have-to-look back upon; and
if, as yon falsely represent, the struggle,had
betn for us on unsuccessful one, my confidence
in our ultimate success would be as strong
as it is now.’.’
The proud look of her eyes cowed him. He
said:
u The blunders made in the generalship of
ourarmies is oooling’iny Shthusiasm.”
The firm response was:
„ v No matter how many mistakes are commit
ted-in tfae'nameof liberty, no crime or mistake
Committed in its name justifies ns in loving it
less or in sacrificing less for it. Suppose any
one had done me a wrong, would you be justi
fied-by that in withholding your help, orin be
ing less my friend 1 Thcw’s y our doctrine .p
-ptfod to a given case.” . jf*
** Lizzie, you ere a perfect monomaniac-jon.
tho-sptject -Ibe war,” he‘ exclaimed itp^i-
WELUSBORO, TIOGA COUNTY, PA., WEDNESDAY MORNING, NOVEMBER 4, 1863.
Gently, feeling however that be bed theworst
of-tbc argument. “Every ruffian bud rowdy
can wear efaoolder-etrape now." . .
“ Pray, sir, don’t get personal in your re
marks. A commission in active service is .the
best letter of recommendation that any gentle
man can bring me."
“ Yes, I know what ails you, Miss Peytoti,”
broke out the. puppyfied young masculine.*—
“ I’ve noticed it ever since your return. You’ys
been getting np some sort of an affair with some
vagabond scamp in shoulder-straps while you've
been gone, and now you want to break with
me.” | . . .
“.You have leaved me the trouble of doing it,
sir," said the indomitable Peyton, getting up
with a grand air, and looking like ah iceberg
sculptured into some beautiful human shape.
She deliberately drew a ring from her. finger,
laid it before him, and swept into the library,
closing the door after her before he could re
cover breath for a second attack.
Bat, oh 1 how she"eat down in the dust and
bewailed over the broken fragment of her idol
—herself a fond, regretful iconoclast 1 For
henceforth theyail was down, and she loathed
from her very, heart the petty malice and .sel
fishness whose existence she had never, sus
pected before.'
' But he had ,wronged her in his grossly word
ed charge. At Newfriars, where she bad been
visiting, it was not known publicly that she
was engaged, and here she met.Legrand Curtis.
They, bad been a good deal together, but she
bad never dreamed of loving him. Her heart
was full of Georgs Ayres. She saw. that Le
grand Curtis was a man of rare qualities, and
she said, proudly, “My George is such an
other !’’
He bad been kind and tender, but she bad
thought him only brotherly. Sbe bad been
obliged to leave for homo very suddenly, du
ring an absence of his from town, and so she
had only left him a friendly parting by proxy.
Now she thongbt of Legrand Curtis, and in
her heart contrasted him with George Ayres.
“ He would never act so, I know,” she mur
mured.
And she began to feel a strange pain at the
thought that sbe should never see him again,
perhaps.
It was now quite dark, and she hod been ly
ing face downward on a divan in the gloomiest
corner of the "library for more than half an
hour, when she beard voices in the adjoining
parlor, and some one asking fcfr Miss Qeyton,
It could never be 1 And yet, surely that
was Legrand Curtis’s voice. But how came he
here ? And with her thoughts in a whirl of
confused perplexity sbe sprahg up, forgetting
her hushed face and disordered hair, and hur
ried at once through the folding-doors to satisfy
herself. '
“ Mis* Peyton!” 1
And Miss Peyton stood half bewildered un
der the bright glare of the gas which the ser
vant lighted just at that moment, with her
band held in both of those of Legrand Cnrtia ;
and seeing in his face what there was no need
for words to tell—that she, and she alone, was
the cause of his being there.
“ 1 have come all this distance to tell yon
eometWnp,” he said, “ and it may as well be
spoken now.”
So they went out into the moonlit garden.—
He had not thought of the posibility of her
being engaged ; end if Lizzie had not been so
preoccupied with the one thought of George
Ayres, she would have seen, long ago, to what
his attentions tended. He had decided to speak
to her before her departure for home; and
when he returned, and found her gone so un
expectedly—himself expecting to take the field
at the head of a company in a week—he was
more than ever strengthened in bis inclination
to follow her aud settle the affair at once. So
be told her about bis approaching campaign.
“ Perhaps you will not like that, Lizzie,” he
said, ruefully.-
“ 0 Legrand 1 Can you think so meanly of
me as that 7” she said reproachfully. “ I’m
only sorry that I cannot go with you ; but I'm
ten times prouder of yoja as it is.”
“ And so you want nfe to go away and get
killed 1 Cruel little thing 1”
But she looked both her hands upon his arm,
and laid her face against his shoulder, like a
petted kitten, and said, sweetly and gravely:
“ Not that, Legrand, you know. But God
makes no mistakes. None of us can die until
our appointed time comes; and you will be
just as safe on the battle-field as you are here,
with my hands clasping you. But 1 don’t
know bow I shall bear it dear.”
Then she told him the story of her engage
ment, and when she had concluded turned
to him with red cheeks and flashing eyes,
saying;
“ Wasn’t I right, Legrand ?”
For an answer bo kissed her.
A penitent note from George Ayres next
morning. Here is the answer to it:
“ Miss Peyton compliments Mr. Ayres on his
escape from the draft; but prefers a 'man who
did not wait to be drafted.” ’ .
An Ekeht’-s Gift. —When the Crusaders un
der King Richard, of England, defeated the
Saracens, the Sultan seeing bis troops fly, asked
what was the number of the Christians who
were making all this slaughter? He was told
that it was only King Richard and his men,
and that they were all afoot,. " Then,” said
the Sultan, " God forbid that snob a noble fel
low as King Richard should march on foot,”
and sent him a noble charger. The messenger
took it, and said; “Sir, the Saltan sends you
this’ charger, in order that yon may not be on
foot.” The king was, canning as his enemy,
aind ordered one of fats squires to mount the
horse,, in order to try him. The Squire did so ;
but the animal was fiery, and bo could not hold
him; he set off. at full speed to the Sultan's
pavilion. The Sultan expected be had got
King Richard, and was not a little mortified to
.discover bis mistake. ,
“Cabbage,” said . the Edinburg Bmeto,
contains more mnsolorsustaining nutriment
than any other, vegetable.” This probably ac
counts fer the fact of theit being to many alb*
: IpticJWlwts-agipnj.to tailors. . ■
, . f
WALTER ORANTLEY’S REVENGE.
The wholesale dry-goods store of Savage &
Co., waa one of the moat eitensire in theaity
and of coprse boasted pi a-large number of
clerks. Among them were two young men of
nearly Jh'e same age,'whom we hare selected to
figure Os the two "principal characters in par
story. Tfaeir names were Walter Qrantley and
George Hill, and both were on equal footing in
the establishment. ,
Walter Grantley wasa whole sobled young
man, andwas aa-earnestly. devoted to bis avo
cations os any other man in the oily.
Knowingly he would not injure any -person
under any cnnsideration. but panned an up
right course, to ail, .especially to bis employers,
by wbom be was highly esteemed.
George Hill was also devoted to bis business,
and held the confidence of his patrons. He
possessed an unbounded* stock of ambition,
which, unfortunately, would not ; -stop at all
times within the Strict bonds of honesty, He
often said that nothing of ah ordinary nature
should stop him in the coarse he had marked
out for himself in bis line of business and ad
vancement. Bat at the ; time we date our story
he fancied an obstacle was in bis path; and
that obstacle was Walter Grantley.
One of the bead clerks bad given notice that
be was about to leave the establishment to en
ter another firm as a partner. This would oc
casion .a desirable -vacancy,- and either be or
Walter would be advanced to that post. He
was convinced that no others, in .the store pos :
esssed the requisite knowledge and ability ; so
there was but one who stood between him and
this much coveted position.
At this position of affairs, be would not
have hesitated to have managed to lay blame
of some sort upon bis rival, had. he not thought
that he at least stood, an .-equal chance with ;
but he did not, as a few days later be discov
ered.
About a week before the head clerk was to
leave, George overheard the members of the
firm discussing his and Walter’s merits, and,
after a somewhat lengthy 'discussion, heard
them arrive at the conclusion to bestow the sit
uation upon his rival. He listened until the
conversation was concluded, and then slunk
away to form some plan for the downfall of his
companion.
Soma three days after bo had overheard the
decision of his employers, he requested an in
terview with them. It was granted during the
day, and George made known his business,
“ What I have to say, sirs, pains me very
much, yet I feel it my duty to make yon aware
of a piece of information that has recently
been connected with this bouse, else I should
not trouble myself about it.”
“ Whom does it concern 1” inquired Mr.
Savage.
“ Your clerk, Walter Grantley.”
Indeed, what of him 1 We have always
considered him one of our most trusty clerks:
honest, steady, and wholly devoted to liis busi
ness. What have you learned of him f”
“ That be frequents a noted gambling saloon,
on A street.”
“ Frequents a gambling house 1 I can hard
ly believe that. I could almost have sworn
that he never saw an inside of such a place in
bis life.” v
“ And yet I have information of a positive
character that suob is the cose.”
“ Perhaps your information was not trust
worthy.” f..
“I could willingly, have believed that, but
to-day all doubts were dissipated, when he
asked me to accompany him there to-night.”
“ What answer did you moke him ?”
“ That I never frequented such places.”
“ Do you think be will go there to-oight ?”
“ I think he will. Such was his intention.”
“ Then it is decided,” Baidilr. Savage, ris
ing. “ I will visit the place to-night, and make
sure with my own eyes that ho is addicted to
this terrible vice. We bad thoughts of advan
cing him to the bead clerkship, but it will nev
er do, if what you state be true.”
“It is -truth, sir, as you will know to-night,
if you enter the saloon,”
“ Thank you for the information, but speak
to no one of it at present.”
So the interview ended.
Let us go back in oar story some three hours.
Walter and George obtained their dinners at
a restaurant close by, and were in the habit of
taking it at the same table. ,
That day, while at dinner, George observed:
“By the way, Walter; do you know Diok
Henley ?”
"Of course, I do. He and I are warm
friends.”
“l am quite intimate with him. But did
you know that he .was addicted to gambling 1”
“ Impossible.”
“ It is too true!”
“ Are you sure V’
“ Yes. 1 beard it from a friend, but would
hardly believe it; so last night, I went to the
saloon in A—**- street, and caught, him in the
very act, and did my best to get bim away
with me, and after a time succeeded, A trio of
fellows were. there who were determined to
fleece bim, and were' angry with me for coax
ing bim away. I tried to extort a promise from
bim that he would not go there again to-night
but be said bs had promised to, but this one
time should be the last. 1 wish Walter that
yon would go there to-night; and try to pro
veni.his playing. 1 .would go, but I have other
business that will not admit of delay.” r
“ I never was inside a gambling saloon in
my life; and Ido not much fancy going there.”
“I do not blame yon for that; but there
would be no harm in going there, I pity Dick,
that’s all,” ,v, ’
“So do I, and if my going will serve to pre
vent-|iis.losing.money and reputation, I will go.
But keep still on this George; for I-should not
want It to get around that I was seen in such a
place.”. r
“ You may rely on my discretion, Walter.”
This.ended,the conversation on the subject,
bat George knew that the dictates of his.rival? s
generous heart would promptiim to.go as be
bad wished. And sO bis .plot cameiout 00 he'
bad meant it should.: _
Walter went.on butfoundno friend there.
In the oootee of tbe evening, Mr. iSavage
looked in, udiM«h>£ Walter moving among!
the players, nolobger doubted, and the result
was that George Hill was protuotedjto the head
clerkship, and no One, save a comrade of bis,
was aware of his little plot to accomplish his
ends. i
Walter though disappointed audj annoyed at
the coolness of his,employers, which. Jm Imag
ined was without a cause, retained his place
for s.fssrmontbs and then was taken into part
nership with an uncle. As the years went on,
prosperity attended his efforts in the city to
which he had removed.
' About a year-after his leaving Savage 4 Co.,
an acquaintance, who possessed the secret of
George Hill, told him of the part bis former
friend bad played; but Walter disdained to re
taliate, .and he was now domgtnoclrbetter than
he would have done had he gained the place he
coveted in the honse of Savage 4 Co.
»*«*«**
Ten.years had rolled around since the first
incident of our sketch .transpired.
cold'day in December, Walter Grantley sat be
fore t,he open grate in his counting room. He
bad prospered well, and was now an opulent
merchant. To-day he was thinking of the
past, and wondering what had become of his
quondam friend, George Hill—for, some years
before, be 1 bad been informed that he bad left
his- place.
The door opened, and a person entered the
apartment and bowed to its occupant. He was
dressed in a rusty suit of black, and bis face
whs wan and thin, as if be bad felt all the
blighting curse of poverty. He seemed to hesi
tate to speak, aud at last the merchant said—
“ Well, sir, what can I do for you to-day?” ■
“ Can you give me work 7”
“ What can you do ?”
“ Anything about the store. Boojt-keeping
would be preferred; but anything' that will
keep my family and myself from starvation.”
There was something in his voice that
sounded very natural to tho merchant and he
asked
" What is your name ?”
“ Greorge Hill,” was the reply.
“ And I am Walter Grantley.”
George Hill started as if he bad received a
blow. J
“Walter Grantley! Then I cat! have no
hope hereand he turned to go.
“ Stop George. I know all about that little
plot of yours, and have long since | forgiven
you. lam in want of a clerk ; and you shall
have the place. What do you say; will you
accept it?” • r
“ I do not deserve this of you. Waller," said
the humbled man, in a tremulous voice.
“ Never mind that; hut why did you.leave
your old place ?”
•' “ A confident of mine, to whom II had dis
"closed the secret of my plot; informed them of
it, and they discharged me.”
' “ Well, never mind; it is all settled and for
given by me.”
A* better clerk, than his repentant enemy
Walter Grantley never had, and this was his
revenge.
Be Tour Own Bight-Band Man.
People who have been bolstered. up and
levered all their liyeg, are seldom good for any
thing in' a crisis.. When -misfortune comes,
they look around for somebody to cling to, or
lean upon. If the prop is down they
go. Once down, they are as helplesss os cap
sized turtles, or unhorsed men in armor, and.
they cannot find their feet again without assis
tance.! Such silken fellows no more resemble
self-made men, who have fought their way to
position, making difficulties their stepping
stones, and deriving determination from their
defeat, than vinos resemble oaks, or spluttering
rushlights the stars of heaven. Efforts per
sisted to Achievements train a man to self-re
liance ;; and when he has proven to (he world
that he can trust himself, the world will trust
him. We say, .therefore, that it is unwise to
deprive young men of the ndvantffgea which
result from energetic action, by “ hjdostirig”
them over obstacles which they ought to sur
mount alone. No one ever swam well who
placed, bis confluence in a cork jacket, and if,
when breasting the sen of life, we cannot buoy
ourselves up and try to force ourselves ahead
bjr dint of our own energies, we are not sal
vage, ahd it is of little consequence whether
we “ sink or swim, survive or perish.” !
One l of the best lessons a father can give his
son' is this : “Work; strengthen your moral
and mental faculties, as strengthen
your muscles by vigorous exercise. Learn to
conquer circumstances; you are then indepen
dent of fortune. Tbe men : of athletic minds,
who left their marks on the years in which
they lived, were nil trained in -a rough school.
They did not mount to their high position by
the help of leverage; they leaped into chasms,
grappled with the opposing rocks, avoided
qvalancbes, and when the goal was reached,
felt that but for the toil that ■ had strengthened
them its they strove, it couid never have been
attained.” 1
Affecting Instance op Reverse o> For
tune.—i-At a London police court,-lately, a man
was charged with stealing lead from ah empty
bouse. He admitted to the constable who ap
prehended him that he had taken/the lead,
and added mournfully, “ It certoinly4a a very
paltry ncti for in my time I have broken into
and robbed jewellers’ shop See what it is to
be reduced.” ’
A Person complained to Dr. Franklin of
having been insulted by one who called him a
scoundrel. “Ah,” replied the]doctor, “and
what did; you call him ?” ■ “ said he.
“ I.called bim a scoundrel, too.” “Well,” re
sumed Franklin, “I presume you!are both
gentlemen of veracity, and as the! account
seems balanced between you, each should re
gard it asj a beceipt in full.*' j i
It is difficult, if not impossible, fpr men to
love.and be wise even.the.heathen gods, when
they vrere in love, tha’dc fools bf themselves.
A New- Zee ante -CHiEr-waln tain e 1 that ho
had a gobdf-title to bis land, becaosni be bad
eaten its former owner. ;- • ■- ■ j....;'
‘ i
Rates of Advertising.
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lines, one or threo-iinartipnyand 38 cents fcr erery
subtoquint,insertion. -Advertisements of leu-theo IS
lines .considered u a squsie, The subjoined rata
will be charged for Quarterly .Half-Yearly and Y osrly
advertisements;
JntmTHß. SnbsTßi. 12 uojiTas.i
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tiene- desired marked upon them, will bo published
until ordered out and charged accordingly. . '
fosters, Handbills, Bill-Heads, Letter-Beads, amt
all kinds of Jobbing done in country establishments,,
executed.neatly and promptly. Justices’, Constable’s
and other BLANKS, conepmfly on band.
m 11.
I dined yesterday at ——and Tresslowell
wot one of 'the company. Now if Providence
makes a man ignoble, and grants him not only
nothing of the spirit, but. forbids him also tha
appearance of a gentleman, it does seem an
excess of npkindness not to make him in thp
least aware of it. That Tresslewell is an In
significant', vulgar-looking man in his misfor
tune. That he dresses like a bar-keeper or a
flash stage-driver is probably bis misfortune
also. That he is certainly what Miss I— t—b
calls “ a won’erfdl or’nary-looking man" is the
one point about him which is known to every
body. No } there is another well-known fact.
He is rich. He is not clever ihe it not well
bred j he is not well educated'; he is vulgar}
but he is also rich. Now certainly it is plea
santer to be rich than poor. What other con
sideration could have persuaded Mrs. Tressla
jvell to marry him ? She, too, was at table.—
Her head was something “ won’erful"—upon
the ouside at least.
. She began to talk to me about the “gentle
men” from the South whom she eo regretted to
miss from society. I told her that I had seen
a great many people from that part of the conn
try, but that I bad not’yet seen the gentlemen-
I have met plenty of persons who dressed well,
and spoke in a low voice, and- knew; French,
and complimented women very prettily, and •
talked horses, and dogs and boats with othsr
men, but 1 had not seen the gentlemen.
Why, how fanny I" said she, “we used to
meet so many every Summer at Newport."
“ I knew, them," anewered L
“ And yet you say you never met any gentle-'’*’ 1
men from the -South ?" ,
“I do" '
“ Wbat.do yoh mean I"
“ I mean that all those men knew that women
were inhumanly whipped in order that they
might dance and flirt In Newport and else
where ; and they did not protest, bat insisted
that it was necessary and right.' Now, Mrs,
Tresslewell, I do not think that women whip
pers, eithor personally or by proxy, can possi
bly be gentlemen.”
“ Dear me,” said Mrs. Tresslewell," what an
awful abolitionist yon are I” . ¥
“ I suppose I am, dear Madam, andT suppose
it’s some dreadful thing; but, seriously, 1 had
rather be an Abolitionist than a gentleman who
whips women.”
At this point Tresslewell spoke from the
other side of the table:
“ Are you talking of gentlemen f Welt, let
me tell you a story. 1 When I was in London I
went to the opera, forgetting that yon bad to
wear a dress coat, etc., but dressed as lam
when Igo to the opera here. They stopped me
at the door and sent me back, saying that, to
get in there, a man moat he dressed like a
gentleman. So I Went home and chanded my
clothes. 'But w&en I returned the impudent
fellow at the door was just going to turn me
away again ; but 1 shook my coat-skirts at him
as he was in the'midst of saying again that to
get in a man must be dressed like a gentleman
—and be let me pass. Bat isn’t it remarkable
that people, whoso business it is to he on the
look out, don’t know a gentleman when they
see him ?”
“ Perhaps they do," ejaculated X
There was one moment's pause and then sini*
nltaneously eveybody turned and began to chat
with his neighbor.— Harper’s Weekly.
Hunting for Ocdar Timber.
In New Jersy there are men who matte It a
business to dig up the cedar trees buried fur
centuries in the swamps, aud cat them into
shingles of, it is said, extraordinary excellence.
A correspondent of the New York -Post thus
describes, the timber, and the process of getting
it out:
"These swamps are very valuable,anTicre
of such timber commanding from five hundred
to a thousand dollars. A peculiar feature of
the swamps is that the soil is of ‘purely vcgo*
table growth, often twenty feet or more in
depth. This peaty earth is constantly accu
mulating, from the fall of leaves and boughs,
and trees are found in it buried at all depths,
quite down to solid ground. The timber so
buried retaifc its buoyancy and color, and it is
considered So valuable, that large.numbers of
work men are constantly employed in raising
and splitting the logs up into rails and shingles,
lo searching for these logs the'workman uses
an iron rod, which he thrusts into the soil, and
by repeated trials ascertains tbesise andleugth
of the wood he strikes," and then by digging
down he obtains a chip, by the smell of which
he can determine whether it is worth removal.
The number of shingles produced from the
wood of these submerged forests is very great t
from the little town ofDennisville, in this
county, as many as eight hundred thousand,
valued at twelve' thousand dollars, have been
sent to market in a year. From the same place
thousands of dollars' worth of white cedar
rails are annually sent oat. The deposit of
timber at this point', extends to an indefiuato
debth, and although, from (be growth above ft,
believed to be two thousand years old, is all
entirely sound, and will .supply for years to
come, the draft upon it,”
Weddings a Modern Lcxubt.—A religion*
ceremony, at a wedding is in perfect harmony
with the present state of feeling; bnt those
who are shocked at tire idea of a marriage being.
performed anywhere but in a church or chapel
may be surprised to bear that the celebration
of marriages in churches first took place abbot
1200, A. D. r before which the only ceremony
was .that of a man publicly leading hie bride
home to hie own house.
Tab Fitter MABBiAOB.-—Tbe first marriage
notice ever, published is tepnblished from an
old record and finished in- the modern style, os
follows
: “ And Adam said: This is now bona of my
hone, and flesh of my flesh; abe shall be called
woman, because she was-taken out of roitn.
Therefore ■'■'shall a .man' leave his father and
mothorrand shall cleave onto his wife. They
shall be bee-flesh;”- -No cards.
-r. A LiTpxAicr. GxsrrunfAN at agraat fir* ex
claimed: Jfticia,
Southern Gentlemen,