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»o in tending to give bis persoWttl“attention to the business, he will warrant all werk 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. Advertisement* will be charged (1 per iquro of 1B 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 1 Square,—.. ~;$3,00 $4,60 $B,OO 2 do. s,OO 6,60 8,00 3 do 7,00 '8,60 10,00 1 Column,- 0,00 9,50 12,50 i- dt.;, 15,00 20,00 25,00 - 1 , t 25.00 , 35,00 40,00 .Advertisements not hating the number of later 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,